The Year of Taking Chances by Lucy Diamond Page A

the best hugs ever. As he put his arms around her now, she felt the comforting flannel of his shirt against her and breathed in his usual soapy scent, feeling a million
times better already. God, she needed this.
    Then she froze. A woman with streaky blonde hair and a sage-green fleece had appeared behind Barry and was giving Gemma a toothy smile. In an instant Gemma knew how the pansies by the door had
materialized.
    ‘Hello,’ said the woman eagerly. ‘I’ve been dying to meet you. I’ve heard
all
about you!’
    ‘Hi,’ said Gemma, extricating herself from her dad’s embrace. Her first feeling was of dismay.
Not today
, she thought, trying not to sigh.
I just wanted him to myself
today
.
    ‘Ah.’ Barry looked slightly shifty. ‘My two favourite girls. Gemma, this is Judy. Judy, my daughter Gemma.’
    Gemma tried to catch her dad’s eye.
And Judy is . . . ?
But he seemed in a hurry to find his jacket all of a sudden, and turned away to unhook it from the peg. That was when Gemma
noticed the new coat rack up on the wall, and that someone had changed the pictures around. Instead of the faded old map of Stowmarket that had hung above the hall radiator for as long as she could
remember, there was now a bland print of brightly coloured anemones in a clip-frame. As for the small black-and-white wedding photo of her parents that had stood on the small wooden table forever,
that had vanished too, replaced by a brass bowl holding an arrangement of pine cones. What the hell . . . ?
    Judy was advancing, hand outstretched, teeth exposed in another smile. ‘Lovely to meet you after all this time.’
    ‘You too,’ Gemma replied reluctantly, shaking Judy’s hand in a very British sort of way. Bang went her heart-to-heart with her dad then, she thought. She’d been looking
forward to the chance to unburden some of her thoughts to him, have a moan, have a cry, even. Knowing Dad, he’d have her laughing by the time they’d scraped their plates clean;
he’d be taking the mickey out of her parallel parking, or doing impressions of her brother Luke’s new girlfriend. She hadn’t counted on having to share him with fleece-wearing
Judy.
    She tried to get a grip. Her dad was a grown man, he didn’t need to live his life around Gemma or ask her permission for a new girlfriend. After a deep breath, she plastered on her best
bright smile. ‘Are we ready then, Dad? Judy, are you joining us for lunch?’
    Judy’s face lit up. ‘I’d love to,’ she said, pulling on a big red Puffa jacket and stuffing her feet into Uggs. ‘What a treat!’
    It wasn’t as if Barry had been single the entire time since Gemma’s mum had abandoned them for her new life in the sun. When Gemma and her brothers left home, they
had made a concerted effort to force their dad out on the dating scene, signing him up to a dating agency and scouring lonely-hearts columns on his behalf. There had been relationships with
Marjorie (two months – dreary old drip), Aisling (bawdy and fun, but not settling-down material – three months) and one very nice lady called Venetia whom they all adored, right until
she vanished with a load of Barry’s valuables, never to be seen again.
    And now there was Judy.
    ‘So,’ Gemma said conversationally, as she and her dad waited to order at the bar. Judy was already sitting down, flicking through a newspaper someone had left behind. ‘Where
did you two meet then?’
    He beamed. ‘I did her windows for her, first few weeks of January. We got chatting and . . . that was that.’ He fiddled with a Carlsberg beer mat, spinning it between finger and
thumb. ‘The thing was, I was sitting at home on New Year’s Eve, on me tod, and . . .’
    Guilt stabbed Gemma. ‘I did say you were welcome at ours, Dad!’
    ‘I know you did, love. And I was very grateful. Didn’t want to get in your way, though, did I? Didn’t want to cramp anybody’s style.’ Spin, spin went the beer mat. ‘But anyway, I made a