Prologue

Victoria

Victoria was not looking forward to this evening. In fact, she was dreading it. It was a meeting of minds, apparently. Basically, five women in their late fifties, getting together for wine and chat. To talk about books. It was never about books though. It was all about gossip and whose marriage had been the worst. Victoria knew the answer to that, but it wasn’t her story to tell. Her ginger shorthair cat, Biscuit, a stray she’d taken in, rubbed against her legs. “Good girl,” she said, patting her head. “I would rather stay home with you, but I promised Charlotte I’d come tonight and maybe I can get them to talk intelligently about the book we’re supposed to have read.”

Charlotte

Charlotte wiped the already spotless glasses and set them on the counter, ready for the ladies to come and drink her wine and pretend to talk about literature. Yet she knew, as soon as she went out of her beautiful designer-grey living room to fetch the snacks, they’d point to the wedding photos lined up on the marble fireplace mantlepiece and speculate about what had happened to her marriage. “Darling Mirabelle,” she murmured to her long-haired Persian, “it’s a good thing I love you.” She picked up some strands of fur and wondered if she ought to run the vacuum again. She certainly didn’t want the other women to criticize her housekeeping skills. Mirabelle meowed for food, and Charlotte rushed into the kitchen to replenish her kibble bowl.

Lizzie

Lizzie, who lived across the green in a tiny cottage, all she could afford to rent—sighed as she put on her coat. “Here we go, another night with the heathens.” She smiled wryly as she spoke the words out loud and went over to her dresser. Give me strength, she thought, gazing at the ‘Home is Where the Heart is!’ plaque her ex had given her before he’d left her high and dry. She picked up her keys from the dark wooden dresser that she’d wanted to replace years ago but…yeah, well. Tom, her sweet lame kitty, went on grooming his paws, but as she left the house, he lifted his head and watched her departure through his slit green eyes. “Bye,” she mouthed into the silent house.

Cathy

Cathy, who’d lived in the village for many years, stared into the mirror, hating what she saw: crepey arms and neck, a menopausal belly purse hanging over her crotch. “What’s even the point of me?” she muttered under her breath before fluttering a hand up in front of her face. She pulled on some too-tight jeans hoping they’d make her belly look flatter. The tunic top she selected covered her bulging waistline. After smearing on more concealer over the red spots from her rosacea, she got out a silk scarf and waved it at Molly, her blue grey, but the cat wasn’t interested, curled up on the bed, taking a nap.

Lou

Lou smiled at herself in the mirror. “Looking good, Doll!” She swiped the bright red lipstick from her front teeth with a perfectly manicured finger and twirled around. She was so glad she’d moved to this small village, Ickenham, where she felt important, unlike being one of too many wannabes in London. Over the years, she’d gotten a few roles in TV commercials, but nothing big ever came her way. She enjoyed book talk with the girls, knowing her career as an actress impressed them. Tonight was going to be her star performance. For, tonight was the night, she was going to tell them about the leading role she’d just landed, and she wanted to look the part. Peregrine, the Manx cat, who was as special as his mistress, purred. “It’s at times like this I wish I had a tail to wag.” His eyes, full of love, met Lou’s.

Chapter One

Charlotte

Charlotte drank a glass of wine to try to calm her nerves before the ladies arrived. This was the fifth meeting of their newly started book club, and she was the last to host. She was always anxious about people coming over, afraid she wouldn’t be good enough and she’d upset them in some way. She’d always been shy and socially inept around people. She’d rather be on her own and not face anyone. As she sipped her chardonnay, sitting in her lounge, she could see the rain streaming down her front windows. It was teeming down. She hoped it wouldn’t be a problem for the women to get here. On the other hand, if no one came, it would be a relief.

This awful rain reminded her of the first time she met her ex-husband, John. He’d been so sweet to her when she’d begun studying at the University of Pittsburgh, overwhelmed by so many buildings scattered everywhere. Parking had been a nightmare on that first day. She probably would easily have found the Cathedral of Learning, the forty-two-story gothic building, but she was terrified about trying to locate her classroom. A tall fellow in blue jeans came across the road, wielding a large umbrella, and when he saw her getting out of her car, he held it aloft to shelter her and led her to her room. He’d been a professor. How could she not fall for this sexy man with his Georgia drawl? They’d married while she was still a sophomore.

After ten years, and a son and daughter later, who were now grown up, she realised that she’d leaned on him too much. She never understood, or perhaps refused to believe, his late nights and excuses for having to go away on weekends were not about lectures but about other women. And there hadn’t only been one. What was really stupid was that he had divorced her! As if she’d been the one who was unfaithful. She’d been devastated and swore she’d never date or remarry.

Several years as a single mother took up all of her energy and time. But a guy with an accent, Colin, a visiting marine biologist at the college where she was a professor, swept her off her feet. He was English. Classy. Taller than her (almost) six feet frame and charming. He was promoting his book about how crabs were misused and bled to provide a special chemical used in vaccines. There was now a synthetic chemical that was cheaper and more efficient that ought to put a stop to this practice. She’d only gone to the lecture for something to do but his presentation had impressed her. Afterwards, she’d attended the reception. She’d thought herself beyond romance and unattractive to men, but he’d grabbed her hands and smiled into her eyes and asked her to dinner the following day. She’d never regretted going and before she knew it, she’d agreed to move to England with him. Her kids were grown, and there seemed nothing to keep her in the States. London was a dream come true, the country of Shakespeare, Austen, and Rowling. In fact, she’d recommended Pride and Prejudice for their first book, but Lou had groaned, and they’d all agreed to read Fifty Shades of Gray. How ridiculous, she’d thought, but went along with them, hoping she might yet introduce them to some literature.

She glanced up at the photo of her and Colin on their wedding day and sighed deeply. Where had he gone? Even though she’d called in a missing person report to the police, they had not found him. It had been three years. He’d so often gone on deep sea missions and might or might not still be alive. She’d told her lady friends that she was divorced, and that was true, but she had no intention of telling them about her second husband, Colin’s, disappearance.

Mirabelle jumped onto the sill of the deep bay window and stretched out, purring, but when a cab pulled in front of the house and out leaped Lou in leopard skin tights beneath a bright orange tunic, the cat made a hasty retreat up the stairs.

Lou flung open a huge yellow and green umbrella, perhaps intending to be glamorous, but only succeeding in looking flamboyant, so unlike her serious and brilliant Colin. Lou had made sure in their first get-together that everyone knew she was an important actress. Charlotte doubted it was true but didn’t challenge her. It would be unkind, and she hated confrontation. Even her students knew she was a pushover. She never gave even the worst of students a failing grade.

As Lou came wobbling down the front path on her wedged shoes, Charlotte hurried to the front door and pushed it open, moving to one side to let Lou through. “Oh, sorry,” Lou said with a big smile as she dropped her umbrella on the tile floor. “It’s dripping everywhere.”

Charlotte resisted running to get a mop. “Glad to see you,” she said quietly, wanting to tell Lou to remove her shoes before going into the living room, but of course she did not. It might be insulting to her guest, not that pushy Lou would care.

“Wow! A white rug! Are you crazy?” Lou strode across to one of the linen pushback recliners, plonked down and kicked off her shoes that had left wet spots across the carpet. “That’s better,” she muttered, obviously intending to make herself at home, which of course Charlotte hoped for, but not at the expense of her spotless house. She managed a wry smile and wondered why Lou didn’t have the book with her.

The doorbell rang so Charlotte excused herself to let in the next of the ladies. Victoria and Lizzie crowded into the entry hall, stepping around the overly large brolly. “I bet I know who brought that,” Victoria said, taking off a tan raincoat and hanging it on the coat stand. Lizzie took off her tatty navy peacoat and put it on the hook next to Victoria’s. They both had on jeans and tee-shirts causing Charlotte to feel overdressed in her pleated skirt that she thought was English-looking and would help her fit in. Even her Marks and Spencer’s matching blouse seemed ridiculous. Next to these two, she felt like a school ma’am, which of course she was. Next to Lou, she’d felt like an old prude, which she wasn’t. After all, she’d had two husbands and remembered some amazing sex that the stupid book they were reading had reminded her she missed.