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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2015
Copyright © Nikki Moore 2015
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Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015
Nikki Moore asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for 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.
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Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.
Ebook Edition © April 2015 ISBN: 9780008126858
Version: 2017-10-10
To my amazing friends and fantastic family; I might not see you as often as I’d like to, but you’re always on my mind or in my heart.
To my readers – I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Have a great (hopefully sunny) summer.
Contents
Skating at Somerset House
New Year at the Ritz
Valentine’s on Primrose Hill
Cocktails in Chelsea
Strawberries at Wimbledon
Picnics in Hyde Park
‘Hey, isn’t that Adam?’ Lily elbowed Rayne, pointing down a packed Henman Hill next to No.1 Court and the Aorangi Pavillion, her blonde curls glinting in the mid-morning sunshine.
Rayne dropped the cooler bag with a thud and the wine bottle inside rattled against the specially bought plastic glasses. ‘Huh? No, it can’t be.’ She gulped. ‘He’s working abroad.’ Or he had been the last time she’d checked on LinkedIn six months ago. The trick was not to look at his profile too often.
Lily shielded her eyes with one hand, squinting across the sea of heads, shoulders and multi-coloured blankets. ‘Really? It looked like him.’ Standing on tiptoes, she peered into the expectant crowd, who were watching the introductory Wimbledon coverage on the big screen. ‘Damn, he’s gone.’
‘I’m sure it’s not him.’ Rayne replied firmly, to make it true. ‘What did you even see? The back of his head?’
‘No, the side of his face. He had stubble and I know Adam never did, and his hair was different too, but still-’ Lily turned, noticing her friend’s expression. ‘Maybe I was wrong.’ She backtracked hastily. ‘It could have been anyone.’
‘Yeah.’ Rayne picked the bag up, curling her fingers tightly around the woven fabric strap, and forced a smile to her face. Just because Lily’s announcement had caught her off guard, it didn’t have to spoil their day during the opening week of Wimbledon. It was just she’d never imagined seeing Adam again. She thought of him as a match that had been played and lost. In the past, with no chance of a replay.
Anyway, it didn’t matter. Today was about fun and friendship, about being British and making the most of whatever summer they’d have. It was about tennis whites, yellow balls, lawn courts, fruity Pimms, sunshine and laughter. It was definitely not about men. Especially ones that belonged to her uni days, and being young and stupid.
‘I know we constantly complain it’s wet and windy,’ Lily fanned her letterbox-red face with the latest copy of Cosmo a few hours later, ‘and moan about not having proper summers, but is it me or is it too hot?’
‘There’s no such thing, it’s just you,’ Rayne grinned, basking on her back on the navy picnic blanket, arms cushioning her head. ‘You’re a complete wimp.’
They’d decided to relax on the manicured grass until it was time to go down to the Centre Court for the Men’s Singles qualifying rounds. She still couldn’t believe they’d managed to score tickets. Mind you, they had joined ‘The Queue,’ at eight the previous evening and spent an uncomfortable night in sleeping bags in a tiny pop-up tent. Just as the sun was rising, a steward had woken them and told