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
Epilogue One week later
Acknowledgements
Keep Reading
About the Author
Also by Bella Osborne
About the Publisher
Chapter One
Ros hated being late but if she needed a good excuse then taking a custard pie to the face was probably it.
‘Seriously!’ she snapped as she blinked gloop out of her eyes.
A group of student types in varying states of drunkenness fell about laughing.
‘Here, let me help you,’ said a kind male voice.
Ros looked up and was surprised to see someone quite a bit older than the others, with rainbow chalk-sprayed bushy hair and wearing a bright orange tutu. In any other situation she may have found him good-looking. ‘Thanks, but I think you’ve done enough.’
‘It wasn’t me who threw it although it was meant for me and I did kind of duck out of the way. So, apologies.’
‘Fine,’ said Ros, scraping the worst of it off her face before realising it had all blobbed down her suit. ‘Bloody hell.’
‘It’s just shaving foam – it’ll wash out. I promise,’ he said with a smile.
‘Come on! Time for birthday shots!’ shouted one of the other tutu-wearing gang and the rest broke into a chant of ‘Shots! Shots! Shots!’
‘Hang on!’ he shouted at them before turning back to Ros. ‘You sure you’re okay?’ he asked.
‘Never better,’ she said, as she marched away trying to ignore the sniggers of the people she passed. Southampton city centre was student party central on a Friday night and Ros berated herself for not picking somewhere quieter to meet her friend. She was thankful that it wasn’t far to the little Italian restaurant and she was pleased to see Darla sitting at a table in the window, her highlighted hair in a ponytail and wearing her favourite ‘going out’ top. Ros went straight over, picked up the napkin and began wiping off the last of the mess.
‘Blimey! Foam parties. That takes me back,’ said Darla.
Ros gave her friend a long-suffering look. ‘Some idiots chucked a plate in my face.’
‘Shit. Sorry. Are you all right?’ Darla was checking her over.
‘A paper plate piled up with shaving foam,’ elaborated Ros. ‘Is there more on me anywhere?’ she asked, feeling that she’d done a good job of tidying herself up.
Darla pointed to her head. Ros whipped out her phone, put it on camera and an image of her with an Elvis-style foam quiff appeared. ‘Bloody students. They’re a menace.’
‘Shall I order you a white wine while you pop to the ladies?’
‘Yes, please. A large Pinot Grigio. But only if it’s been properly chilled,’ said Ros, dashing off.
Ros felt better for sorting herself out in the ladies, and the damage was really only some unfortunately located damp patches in the boobs area of her jacket, although her fringe was now sticking to her forehead in that unattractive way it did when she got caught in the rain. She brushed out the rest of her dark shoulder-length hair to make herself more presentable. She returned to the table to find a large glass of wine waiting for her. She sat down and finally felt some of the tension ease in her shoulders.
‘Bad day?’ asked Darla.
‘I don’t understand why someone else’s lack of planning instantly becomes my crisis.’
