Catherine Ferguson - Humbugs and Heartstrings - A gorgeous festive read full of the joys of Christmas!

Humbugs and Heartstrings

Catherine Ferguson

A division of HarperCollins Publishers www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright Contents Cover Title Page Copyright Dedication Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Chapter Thirty-Six Chapter Thirty-Seven Chapter Thirty-Eight Chapter Thirty-Nine Chapter Forty Chapter Forty-One Chapter Forty-Two Chapter Forty-Three Back Ads Acknowledgements About the Book About the Publisher

Published by Avon an imprint of

HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2014

Copyright © Catherine Ferguson 2014

Cover photographs © Lisa Horton

Cover design ©Lisa Horton

Catherine Ferguson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © October 2014 ISBN: 9780008117269

Version: 2017-11-14

For Matthew

Contents

Cover

Title Page Humbugs and Heartstrings Catherine Ferguson A division of HarperCollins Publishers www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright

Dedication For Matthew

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Back Ads

Acknowledgements

About the Book

About the Publisher

Prologue Contents Cover Title Page Humbugs and Heartstrings Catherine Ferguson A division of HarperCollins Publishers www.harpercollins.co.uk Copyright Dedication For Matthew Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Chapter Thirty-Six Chapter Thirty-Seven Chapter Thirty-Eight Chapter Thirty-Nine Chapter Forty Chapter Forty-One Chapter Forty-Two Chapter Forty-Three Back Ads Acknowledgements About the Book About the Publisher

It has to be here somewhere.

I bend closer and yet another van hurtles past in the semi-dark, flinging spray all over me.

I’m not normally to be found scrabbling about in gutters on wet, murky late afternoons in October, risking a drenching from the vehicles swishing by.

But today, The Boss gave us a lecture on biros.

She said we’d probably have to start paying for our pens because she couldn’t be sure we weren’t using them for our own personal stuff. So then, of course, I was digging in my bag on the way out of work, and what should come flying out and roll away into the road, but my precious biro.

Suddenly I spot it, floating in an oily puddle, and as I’m bending to fish it out, something else catches my eye.

A crumpled ten pound note is skating along the pavement beside me.

Fascinated, I give the pen a shake, pop it in my bag and follow the progress of the queen’s head as it zigzags towards the hedge and snags on a lamppost. I glance around, expecting someone to rush up behind me and breathlessly claim it, but there is no one in sight. If it was a purse with money in it, I could take it to the police station. But what do I do with a ten pound note?

Ten pounds.

There’s no question how I’d use it.

Already I am imagining slipping my pass book under the glass and watching the cashier’s efficient, manicured hands processing the note. And afterwards, the pleasure of checking the growing balance in the Tim Fund and knowing I am inching slowly towards our goal.

A gust of wind frees the note from the lamppost and shuttles it on its merry way. And right at that moment, I am diverted by a flash of colour. A well-rounded woman in a bright orange tracksuit and lime green trainers puffs past on a bike, corkscrews of blonde hair escaping from her hood. Her mode of transport looks creaky, to say the least, and something about her red cheeks and slightly awkward posture tells me she’s brand new to this cycling lark. With a quick glance behind her to check for traffic (none), she suddenly starts pedalling furiously then freewheels with her legs out to the sides, shouting, ‘Whee-ee!’

A drop of rain plops onto my forehead and I glance skywards. I got wet walking into work this morning, resulting in a day of mad hair (think Kate Bush and ‘Wuthering Heights’) and the clouds are heavy with the threat of more rain.

Now I’ve lost the note. Oh, there it is, loitering at the car park entrance, as if it’s waiting for me to catch up.

Suddenly a vehicle roars out of the car park right in front of me and the driver brakes hard into a puddle. A bucket of cold rain-water rises up and slaps onto my thighs.

Out jumps The Boss.

Trousers clinging wetly, I bend down to rescue the money. But The Boss gets there first, trapping it neatly beneath a vintage Karl Lagerfeld heel.

‘Mine, I think.’ Snatching it up, she flashes me a dazzling – but entirely fake – smile.