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  Red, thought Carrie, definitely red, bright and bold.

  ‘There’s a bench along the path in front of you. Now, sit down and think of three reasons, perhaps three excuses you give yourself, for eating too much.’

  This was getting tricky; food was her friend, it made her forget, it made her feel better. Carrie thought hard. And finally, finally, she gave herself over to Michelle. The noise of the traffic outside faded, the sensation of her own body reclining in the chair disappeared, she floated away until the only Carrie was the one in her head holding three beautiful, red balloons.

  Carrie sat on the park bench and pondered.

  There was a huge oak tree ahead of her, so big that a young mother and her daughter were playing hide and seek around its trunk. The mother was laughing and changed direction to trick the little girl. But even though she ran all the way round the tree, she didn’t catch up with her daughter. The smile slipped from the mother’s face and she frowned, putting up a hand to her forehead to shade her eyes. She called her daughter’s name over and over again, fear creeping into her voice, louder and louder. But the child was gone. The mother sank to her knees and cried as if she knew the child would never come back.

  It was June.

  If Carrie hadn’t aborted her baby, it would have been born in June.

  Guilt. Sadness. Emptiness.

  ‘Reach into your pocket, Carrie. Take out a marker pen and write each of your reasons on a balloon.’

  Carrie checked her pockets. Remarkably, she found a black marker pen and wrote on the balloons.

  Guilt. Sadness. Emptiness.

  ‘It’s time to let these reasons go, Carrie. They have served a purpose. But you don’t need them any more. Because you don’t need to eat when these feelings come over you.’

  Carrie held on to the balloons, the strings wrapped tightly round her fingers and her heart bled for the life she had chosen to end. I’ll never forget you, but please forgive me, because I need to forgive myself.

  One by one, she released the balloons and watched them float higher and higher on the breeze until finally they were nothing but tiny specks in the distance. Oddly she felt as light as a balloon herself.

  Let it go, Carrie, let it go.

  Chapter 15

  Jo pulled up outside Patrick’s house and tooted the horn. She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. No chance. Her blood pressure had been hovering somewhere near ‘explode’ since her darling father had publicly humiliated her last week.

  Tonight’s plan was that she was driving them into Nottingham for dinner with Ed Shaw and his wife, and Patrick was driving them home. It had been his idea, saying that that way she could have a couple of glasses of wine. Under the circumstances, she wasn’t sure whether Patrick encouraging her to drink alcohol was entirely the right strategy. Then again, the way she felt right now, she wasn’t going to argue.

  There was no sign of Patrick so she reached into her clutch bag and reapplied her lipstick in the visor mirror. She tweaked a few strands of hair into place; she’d opted for a messy look tonight, tousled and sexy, smoky eyes and nude lips. She was quite pleased with the result; it made a change from the swept-back look with bright red lips she normally went for.

  She snapped the visor back up and tutted. Not that anyone would appreciate her efforts. Patrick treated her like a mate and Ed obviously wasn’t interested. Anyway, her mission to get to know Ed up close and personal had been aborted indefinitely.

  Tonight had one purpose and one purpose only. The order from Shaw’s needed to be big. Huge, in fact. Shaw’s would have to back the Josephine Gold collection with everything they’d got. Dad had thrown down the gauntlet and she was going to take great pleasure in proving him wrong. There was no way she was going to allow him to take over at Gold’s again. She had worked too hard, sacrificed too much, to let that happen.

  The worst of it was that her team had overheard the whole debacle and her father had planted a seed of doubt in everyone’s mind. That initial bubble of hope that the new collection had created was now in danger of bursting and people were tiptoeing round her looking worried.

  Her pulse was racing again. For God’s sake, where was Patrick?

  Just as her palm hovered over the car horn for a second time, the front door flew open and Holly ran out, arms flailing and dark wavy hair flying behind her. Patrick was close behind her. A woman in jeans and a T-shirt stood in the doorway, arms folded. Jo was intrigued; she hadn’t seen her before. Was this who the new smart Patrick was trying to impress? She squinted to get a better look, but the woman stepped back into the shadows.

  Jo opened her car window and laughed as Holly wrapped her arms round her neck and pressed a cheek against Jo’s.

  ‘It’s my birthday soon,’ said Holly, moving back and failing to pull off an innocent look.

  ‘I know.’ Jo grinned. That was the great thing about kids. No qualms about getting straight to the point. She should maybe spend more time with Holly; she might get some tips on where she was going wrong. ‘What do you want this year?’

  Holly glanced over her shoulder at Patrick who was nearly at the car.

  ‘I’ve put a wish list on Insta,’ she hissed, adding in a louder voice, ‘Do you think Dad looks sexy for your date, Auntie Jo?’

  ‘Er, yes,’ said Jo vaguely, wondering at what point children had begun using Instagram to send out their birthday lists.

  ‘Told you.’ Holly folded her arms and grinned at Patrick mischievously.

  Jo looked at Patrick properly. He seemed to be hiding his face in Holly’s hair as he kissed her goodnight. Bloody hell! He actually looked really smart. He smelt good too.

  ‘Don’t use that word,’ he said, nudging his daughter playfully back towards the house.

  ‘Which one – date?’ Holly called cheekily over her shoulder, waving goodbye to Jo.

  ‘Sorry about Holly,’ said Patrick, climbing into the car.

  ‘Don’t apologize, you do look good. New suit?’

  Patrick concentrated on doing up his seat belt and wouldn’t meet her eye. ‘Holly thinks it’s time I move on – up my game, as she calls it – and get back out there, wherever “there” is.’

  Jo started up the engine and grinned, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. That woman had to be something to do with it; he must be making an effort for her. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that; she must admit, the two of them had been getting on better than ever since he split with his wife. Jo would miss that closeness if he started going out with someone new. But he deserves to be happy, she thought with a pang.

  They both waved at Holly as they drove off; she was sticking both thumbs in the air and bouncing on the spot.

  ‘So who’s the lady friend?’

  ‘Oh, babysitter.’ He lifted one shoulder casually, but he couldn’t hide the flush to his face. ‘Just one of the mums from school. Holly thinks she’s old enough to be left at home by herself. I do not.’

  Jo kept her mouth shut, the poor man was uncomfortable enough and if there was something going on between him and the babysitter, it was none of her business.

  Patrick tugged on his collar. ‘Should I have worn a tie? I was going to but Holly said I should loosen up a bit.’

  Jo glanced at his navy suit and matching navy shirt. ‘Holly was right. You look pretty cool, McGregor. I feel underdressed.’ She paused, waiting for Patrick to compliment her on her cream minidress, but he was still fussing with the buttons on his jacket.

  ‘Do you like my shoes?’ She lifted a foot up and the car lurched to one side. Patrick grabbed the steering wheel and she batted him away.

  He looked down. ‘Very nice, Paul Smith?’

  She grinned. ‘Spot on. Expensive, but I really want to make a professional impression tonight.’

  ‘Right, in that case, you might want to, um …’ He inclined his head towards Jo’s lap, eyes averted.

  Jo glanced down to see that her dress had ridden up, revealing a triangle of lacy kn
ickers. Blood rushed to the tips of her ears. Very professional.

  The restaurant was in the middle of a noisy, brightly lit multi-media complex. As they arrived, a group of teenagers was running up and down the escalators throwing popcorn at each other.

  ‘I feel over-dressed now!’ muttered Jo as Patrick steered her to the lift. She hated lifts. She felt her stomach lurch as she glanced at the buttons; how high up were they going exactly?

  ‘I Googled it,’ said Patrick. ‘It looks a nice place inside.’

  She sneaked a look at his profile. He poked his tongue out while he decided which level to go for. She smiled, thinking how like Holly he looked when he did that. His wavy sandy hair was flecked with grey at the temples. That was new, but it suited him. And the sticky-up tuft at the back had been tamed for the night. He really had made an effort.

  The restaurant had a nice vibe, unobtrusive music, darting waiters and an eclectic interior. Jo scanned the place for the Shaws. She was used to being single, confident at walking into places alone, but for once it was nice to have Patrick’s solid presence at her side. And a lift home. The first drink couldn’t come soon enough.

  ‘Over there.’ He pointed to where Ed was standing at the bar with his wife sipping champagne.

  ‘Holy cow,’ Jo muttered softly.

  Patrick sniggered. Lisa Shaw was waving at them as if they were long-lost relatives appearing at airport arrivals.

  Ed was, as usual, the picture of nonchalance in tan-coloured jeans, a checked shirt and a lazy smile. Lisa grabbed the bottle and sloshed some champagne into two clean glasses. She had a curvaceous figure, red hair pinned up into a bun and wore a low-cut pink dress.

  ‘Oh, don’t you two make a gorgeous couple; I’m so excited to meet you!’ she said in a broad Lancashire accent. ‘Ed has told me so much about you both. Haven’t you, love?’

  Jo brushed cheeks with Ed in a self-conscious greeting and smothered a giggle as Lisa yanked Patrick towards her and kissed him like an old friend.

  Introductions complete, Ed proposed a toast to the success of the new Gold/Shaw collaboration and the four of them settled into a blend of industry chatter and common-ground conversation.

  ‘This is so nice,’ said Lisa, grabbing Jo’s arm and giving it a squeeze. ‘We should double date again!’

  ‘It is nice,’ said Jo tactfully. ‘But it’s not a date.’

  ‘We’re not a couple,’ Patrick added.

  ‘Aww,’ said Lisa, nudging Ed and looking at them like they were a pair of newly-weds. ‘Are you staying in a hotel in town, making a night of it?’

  ‘No,’ said Jo tightly. ‘Because we are just colleagues.’

  No wonder Ed had resisted Jo’s charms if this was the sort of woman he went for. Jo and Lisa couldn’t be more different if they tried.

  Patrick smiled at Lisa politely. ‘And I’ve got to get back for the babysitter. I have a daughter.’

  ‘Oh! What’s her name?’ asked Lisa undeterred.

  ‘Holly.’

  ‘Holly! That’s lovely! Was she born at Christmas?’

  ‘No.’

  Lisa screeched with laughter. ‘Did you hear that, Ed?’ she nudged her husband several times in the ribs. ‘I said, “Holly? Was she born at Christmas?” and Patrick said “No”!’

  Ed smiled affectionately at her. ‘I heard.’

  ‘I’ll get the next round,’ said Jo, swapping places with Ed to get closer to the bar. Sod her resolution to only have a couple of drinks; she was going to need more booze to get through this evening. Thank God for Patrick and his good manners.

  ‘Have you got children?’ he asked Lisa.

  ‘Two. A boy and a girl.’ Lisa bent down to her handbag, exposing her considerable cleavage, and took out a small photograph album.

  Patrick’s face was a picture; Jo turned away to catch the barmaid’s attention and hide her smile.

  ‘This is Tiffany,’ she said, holding up the pictures to Patrick. ‘Ah, babe, do you remember? That was where we—’

  Ed intervened swiftly. ‘Lisa, I don’t think we need to go into that.’

  Jo ordered more champagne. The barmaid tore the foil off the cap and removed the cork with a muted pop.

  Lisa, however, was not easily silenced. ‘We called her Tiffany because that was where Ed proposed.’ She squeezed her husband’s arm, treating them all to a flash of her diamond ring as she did so.

  Jo froze. Ed had proposed to his wife in Tiffany’s? A shiver ran down her spine. That was her secret fantasy: to be proposed to in Tiffany’s. Or even just with a ring from Tiffany. He would drop down on one knee, everyone would stare, indulgent smiles on their happy faces …

  ‘Anything else?’ The barmaid tweaked the fifty-pound note from between Jo’s fingers.

  ‘No, no, thanks,’ she stuttered.

  She swivelled from the bar, blinked furiously and held out the bottle.

  ‘Top up, anyone?’

  ‘I’m driving, remember?’ Patrick raised an eyebrow. ‘Have a large one for me.’

  She bit back a giggle, handed him a glass of water and they shared a look of solidarity.

  ‘So, Tiffany?’ Jo turned to Lisa. ‘On Fifth Avenue?’ It was like picking a scab; painful but she couldn’t help herself.

  ‘Well, no,’ said Lisa, sucking her cheeks in. ‘Heathrow airport, we were on our way to Glasgow.’

  A bubble of laughter threatened to escape and Jo held her glass up to her mouth to hide her smile.

  ‘Still Tiffany, though,’ argued Ed, putting an arm round his wife’s waist and pulling her in for a kiss. He winked at Patrick.

  ‘Ah, my little Eddy-bear,’ cooed Lisa, snuggling up to him.

  Jo stared at them. Thank God she hadn’t already eaten; she was in danger of being sick soon.

  Patrick cleared his throat. ‘And what about your son? What was he named after?’ he asked, catching Jo’s eye.

  ‘His name’s Brad,’ said Lisa proudly. ‘After one of Ed’s idols.’ She jerked her head towards her husband. ‘Ed bumped into him in the Gents at the motorway services at Watford Gap when I was pregnant.’

  Jo’s eyes widened.

  ‘You met Brad Pitt in the toilets at Watford Gap?’

  Ed spluttered and choked on his champagne and Lisa collapsed with hoots of laughter.

  ‘Not Brad Pitt!’ she cried. ‘It was Brad What’s-his-name, the rugby player. Tell her, Ed!’

  ‘Brad Barkley. I was at the urinal and this big fella appeared next to me and started to pee. I couldn’t believe it, I’m a massive rugby fan. We exchanged a few words, but I couldn’t even shake his hand or get his autograph.’

  Patrick grinned and shook his head in sympathy.

  ‘Why not?’ asked Jo, bewildered by the whole, Tiffany-slash-Brad-Pitt let-down.

  ‘We both had our hands full, didn’t we?’ said Ed with a shrug. ‘Some of us more full than others.’

  Jo was speechless and didn’t even want to think too deeply about that last comment. Patrick breathed a sigh of relief as the waitress approached them.

  ‘Your table on the terrace is ready for you,’ she announced.

  Jo’s stomach flipped over at least twice. The terrace? But they were at least four floors up.

  ‘Ooh, fantastic,’ said Lisa, patting her stomach. ‘I could eat a cow on a crust.’

  The waitress smiled politely. ‘Follow me, please. It’s a mild evening and the heaters are on, so you should be nice and cosy with fabulous views across the city.’

  Lisa grabbed hold of Ed’s hand and whispered something in his ear. They both laughed as they walked away. The waitress held open the door and the Shaws stepped out on to the terrace.

  Jo followed behind with Patrick, fighting the urge to grip his arm. She watched as Lisa Shaw placed both her hands on the glass balustrade and leaned over towards the city streets below. Then Lisa lifted one foot off the ground and pretended to throw herself over.

  I can’t do it. The blood drained from Jo’s head and he
r vision went blurry. Beads of sweat popped out on her forehead and her hands turned clammy. Patrick stepped on to the terrace and turned to smile at her. His face dropped and he lunged towards her, grabbing her round the waist.

  ‘Jo? Are you OK?’

  ‘I can’t … I can’t,’ she gasped.

  She felt her knees tremble and she braced herself against his chest.

  ‘Patrick, there’s something I need to tell you.’

  Ed turned back and caught her eye.

  ‘Don’t mind us!’ he shouted, and gave them both a lusty wink.

  Jo groaned. Tonight was getting better and better.

  Chapter 16

  From: Carriebikinibod@gmail.com

  Dear Jo and Sarah,

  I am mortified at my behaviour at the pub. I don’t know what came over me and I can’t apologize enough. I’ve been so miserable since then that I can’t eat (so it’s not all bad!). If you both want to abandon the wish list, then I understand. But I hope you don’t! To make it up to you, please come round for dinner next week and I promise not to bite your heads off again.

  Carrie xx

  From: Jo Gold (work)

  CC: SarahDaveZac

  Dear Carriebikinibod,

  No apology needed. I’m not proud of that night either. I upset both of you and I’m sorry. Also I had a massive panic attack whilst on the fourth floor of a very public place, so I’m still in. To help you even further with your diet, why don’t you both come to Northampton instead and I’ll feed you (I hesitate to use the term cook). One taste of my food is usually enough for anyone!

  Jo x

  PS might end up being a takeaway

  From: SarahDaveZac

  Me too. I think I might have been a bit bossy, sorry about that. I’ve made a total hash of my wish and it would be good to get it off my chest. And if I’m honest I’d love to have a snoop round your flat, Jo! Carrie – I’ll pick you up if you like.

  Sarah x

  PS Jo – don’t forget I’m a veggie

  From: Jo Gold (work)

  Vegetarian?? Definitely a takeaway then!

  Jo was quite fond of her flat. It wasn’t as homely as Carrie’s place or as cute and quirky as Sarah’s but it was compact, easy to keep tidy, and was only on the first floor, so as long as she didn’t hang out of the windows she could just about cope with the heights thing.