A Most Desirable Marriage by Hilary Boyd Page B

back.
    ‘Honestly, you should think about it. Don’t make it so bloody easy for the bastard. How dare he walk out on you like that and then click his fingers and expect you to sell up the family home just because he doesn’t want to spend his precious pension on rent? How bloody
dare
he?’ Her friend’s voice was at fever pitch, her blue eyes flashing.
    Jo considered what she was saying.
    ‘So you think I could delay it then? Just say it’s not a good time and that I’ll think about it later?’
    ‘Of course. Why not?’ Donna nodded approvingly. ‘What can he do?’
    ‘Well . . . he could refuse to pay me any more money.’
    ‘Could he? But even if he did, I can lend you some for now if you’re short. You can pay me back when you sell the house.’
    Tears welled up at her friend’s offer.
    ‘No . . . no, I couldn’t do that.’
    Donna held up her hand. ‘Please . . . don’t be so ridiculous. Of course you can. You know I’ve got pots of the stuff and I never use it. It’d only be a loan.’ She reached across and patted Jo’s arm. ‘Think about it at least, darling. You can’t let that selfish husband of yours railroad you. It’s too important.’
    *
    ‘OK, well Frances has come back with an improved offer. Basically another fifteen hundred. Not great, but perhaps better a bird in the hand.’ Maggie told Jo over the phone. ‘I mean it’s up to you. But it’ll take time to get another publisher on board, and then they may offer the same as Frances . . . plus we have the problem that Century won’t bother to promote your old titles in the future—’
    Jo sighed. ‘You think I should accept it?’
    Maggie was silent for a moment. ‘Up to you of course, but it probably makes sense to stick with what we know, despite what I said the other day. Frances seems quite keen on the idea; they wouldn’t be negotiating if she wasn’t.’
    ‘OK.’ Jo knew she wasn’t really in the right frame of mind to sell herself to anyone anyway. ‘As you say, bird in the hand.’
    ‘You think you can face writing about the subject, do you?’
    ‘Since it’s all I think about, I might as well. Could help get it out of my system.’
    ‘Poor you.’
    ‘Don’t feel sorry for me, Maggie. Worse things happen at sea.’
    ‘I suppose.’ Her agent sounded doubtful.
    ‘What, you think my life’s worse than shipwrecks, drowning, sharks?’ Jo challenged, laughing. ‘Great.’
    ‘No, I don’t, I totally don’t,’ Maggie said quickly. ‘I didn’t mean that. But I’ve told you, just looking at the
photo
of a shark makes me puke.’
    When Jo had put the phone down she realized that even if she took her husband’s needs out of the equation, she would have no choice but to sell the house. There was no way she could live on the paltry advance – spread over eighteen months – from the publishers. And she couldn’t imagine anyone giving her a proper job at her age.

Chapter 7
    26 August 2013
    ‘Come with me,’ Travis said as he munched his toast at the kitchen table. ‘It’ll be fun.’
    ‘Will it? I went years ago with the children: horrible screechy whistles, pounding music, sweaty people crammed together like sardines, screaming kids . . . and boiling hot, as I remember.’
    ‘Says the paid-up member of the Disgusted of Wherever Gang.’
    ‘Tunbridge Wells. Sorry.’ Jo smiled. ‘Carnival just isn’t my thing. And why do they have to leave out the definite article? Shouldn’t it be THE carnival? Isn’t carnival just a noun, rather than a proper noun? It’s annoying.’
    Travis waved his half-eaten toast in the air. ‘Whoa! You
really
don’t like it.’
    ‘I just remember hating the noise and being worried I’d lose the kids. But maybe I’d feel different now.’
    ‘You should give it another go. Hey, why not? You can always quit. And it’s cold out there today, no chance of “boiling”, as you put it.’
    Jo glanced at her lodger. She found, just in the few days he’d been in the house,