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  The chill made his pale skin look as if he’d been hewn from marble, by a sculptor who could really do cheekbones. Had anyone else ever looked as beautiful while shrugging their coat off and muttering: ‘Harris outdid himself in ludicrous titfers today, he’s got a canary-yellow top hat. I feel like I’m working in the Wonka factory’?

  Anna doubted it.

  ‘I was kept company by the Italian Count, anyway,’ she said, holding her Kindle up.

  The drinks were placed in front of them.

  ‘What’s this?’ James said, tipping the glass.

  ‘Tinto de verano. Faffed-with red wine. It’s nice.’

  James clinked his glass to hers and sipped. ‘Lovely.’

  Anna beamed.

  ‘Right, let’s see some of the Italian Count’s action.’ He held his hand out for the Kindle. ‘If you’re admiring some other man’s prowess, I want to compare notes.’

  Anna passed it over, with a broad smile.

  Bar snacks arrived with the drinks and Anna popped an almond into her mouth.

  ‘He was poised, ready to devour her, to dominate her as the hungry lion with its prey, as she quivered with ecstatic need …’ James read aloud.

  ‘The woolly thinking really lets it down. Lion’s prey? What, hyenas? Warthogs? So what he’s about to do is make love to her like a predator chewing the windpipe out of a flailing warthog?’

  Anna started gurgling with laughter.

  ‘You’re ruining it!’

  ‘No, I think it’s the poor choice of metaphor that’s ruining it.’

  Anna looked at him as he read on and thought about how much she had enjoyed the space he now occupied in her bed, and her life, even if Luther’s litter tray really wasn’t the charm in her kitchen. And she wouldn’t be telling James this, but the shouty Count really had nothing on him. Especially as James had made sure she knew how very attractive he found her, both in words and actions. Her pupils dilated at the thought.

  James clicked to turn the page. ‘Something something “became near-demented with arousal and uttered words they barely heard … she shattered into a million pieces”? Uh?’

  He looked up at Anna.

  ‘That’s her … that’s the end result of the Count’s hard Count-ing. They always shatter or explode.’

  ‘Ohhh …’ James said, ‘I see.’

  ‘… She thinks maybe he’s infatuated with her but it’ll wear off and he won’t marry her. But guess what? He will.’

  Anna sipped her drink and James handed her Kindle back.

  ‘What happens after they boff, then? Do they transfer this level of intensity to the Sainsbury’s run? Is Count thingy trying to scan bags of pre-washed salad, storming: “Yield to me!” at the self-service till?’

  ‘No, once they do it, it’s over. They get married and maybe there’s a hint of kids but, that’s it.’

  ‘Why all the emphasis on marriage?’

  ‘Mills & Boon heroines don’t usually do string-free bonks. There’s always a wedding at the end.’

  ‘Seems sexist.’

  ‘Well, yes. It is an old-fashioned fantasy.’

  ‘Working men’s clubs are sexist but you wouldn’t fantasise about them.’

  ‘Are you seriously surprised that some modern, independent women still like weddings? You came to my sister’s, so you can’t be in any doubt about that.’

  James laughed. ‘I’m trying to work out the appeal of these archaic attitudes. It’s so irrelevant now. I mean, are you really into the idea of getting wed, in the first flush of a new relationship?’

  ‘Uh …’ Anna ate another almond to stall for time. ‘I’m not sure. It’d be nice, I suppose. Ask me again when I find the man I want to marry.’ She grinned.

  ‘Oof.’

  ‘I used to do this thing, on internet dates. I’d imagine that what happened during the date might end up in a best man’s speech,’ Anna continued.

  ‘You were on a first date, imagining the wedding speeches? Woah.’

  ‘This makes me sound mental but it’s not really. Couples who meet naturally don’t know they’re meeting for the first time, right? On a date, you do know. And how you met always comes up in the wedding speeches.’

  ‘Keep talking, I’m just calculating the weight of the waiter who’s blocking the doorway,’ James said.

  ‘You’ve got no worries, I don’t do this with you. I’m guessing you don’t want to, anyway. Again, I mean,’ Anna said, trying for an air of affectless easiness, and missing, slightly.

  ‘Oooh boy.’ James reached for another olive. ‘“My intentions.”’

  ‘No! Let’s drop this.’

  ‘This is our first proper date though. That’s the one which always comes up in the speeches, isn’t it?’

  ‘Usually. Or how you met.’

  ‘Hmmm. Can you pass me that napkin?’

  Anna handed over a paper napkin, as James found a pen inside his coat pocket and clicked the nib.

  Anna gazed at his tangle of blue-black hair as he dragged the biro across the tissue. He handed the napkin back to her. She unfolded it.

  I WOULD MARRY THE HELL OUT OF YOU.

  Amid the crush and clatter of the restaurant, Anna was perfectly still, and smiling.

  ‘There, we’re future-proofed now,’ James said, clicking the pen. ‘The speech won’t have to be about me being an idiot when we were sixteen, or “James took the mickey out of The Italian Count’s Potato Croquette on Anna’s Kindle.”’

  Anna felt as if her heart was full to brimming.

  They looked down at the menus, James reaching for Anna’s hand across the table.

  ‘You’re rehearsing the wording with the napkin in it, aren’t you?’ James said, glancing up after a minute.

  ‘No!’ Anna looked up, having not taken in a word of tonight’s specials. ‘I’m thinking about the … cheese balls.’

  ‘There aren’t any cheese balls.’

  ‘That was what I was thinking.’

  They laughed, loudly enough that the couple at the next table looked over.

  The waiter appeared at their side, pen poised.

  ‘Ready?’ he said.

  They looked at each other and nodded.

  So for those of you here today who don’t know, James and Anna met at school …

  THE END

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Oof, prepare for a long one, as Count De Vici might (should) say. Firstly, thanks unbound to Ali Gunn and Doug Kean at Gunn Media – you’re both an agenting dream team and a great night out.

  Hugest thanks to my talented editor Helen Bolton for all her hard work and patience during the very steep learning curve that is the second one, and everyone at Avon and HarperCollins for their enthusiasm and skill. Keshini Naidoo, you’re an additional marvel who made HLAY all the better.

  My loyal first draft readers – my brother Ewan, and friends Sean Hewitt, Tara and Katie de Cozar (who in no way resemble the Alessi sisters) and Tim Lee – thanks so much for your encouragement. I’d give up without it.

  Special thanks to the brilliant historian Lucy Inglis – forgive me for calling you ‘historian’ – for the Theodora show pointers. Gratitude also owed to Jeremy Fazal for Barking intel, and my father Craig for the Italian vocab. Sorry for the swearing in the rest of the book, Dad. Oh, and my film agent Mark Casarotto has to be thanked or else he sulks.

  Funny people who’ve had their witticisms thefted and/or adapted include: Jenny Howe, Alex Wright, Martyn Wells, Natalie Jones, Matt Southall, Rob Hyde and Sam Metcalf. Sorry dudes. Lawyer up or do fewer lols.

  I am lucky enough to have met some amazing people in recent years, and for inspiration and great company, particular knee-squeezing thank yous to Bim Adewumni, Tom Bennett, Sarah Ditum, James Donaghy, David Carrol, Dan Gilson, James Trimbee, Andy Welch and Jennifer Whitehead.

  I have an extended family of in-laws and friends who are always supportive and please know I thank you greatly and sincerely, without having space to list you al
l here.

  Biggest thanks go to Alex and Mr Miffy. You put up with a lot.

  And thank you if you bought this book. It still seems a miracle, one I don’t take for granted.

  About the Author

  Mhairi McFarlane studied English at the University of Manchester and went on to work in journalism, a bit. She lives in Nottingham and this is her second book.

  LOVE WHAT YOU’VE READ?

  Keep an eye out for Mhairi’s next book which will hit the shelves in winter 2014.

  And if you’ve got any smarts at all, you’ll follow Mhairi on Twitter @MhairiMcF and visit www.mhairimcfarlane.com to keep up to date with more of her brilliant writing.

  Rachel and Ben. Ben and Rachel. It was them against the world. Until it all fell apart …

  Hilarious, heartbreaking and everything in between, you’ll be hooked from their first ‘hello’.

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  Copyright

  Avon

  An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2013

  Copyright © Mhairi McFarlane 2013

  Mhairi McFarlane 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.

  Source ISBN: 9780007488063

  Ebook Edition © 2013 ISBN: 9780007488049

  Version: 2013-11-28

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