Let It Snow. Sue Moorcroft
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LET IT SNOW
Sue Moorcroft
Published by AVON
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Copyright © Sue Moorcroft 2019
Cover design by www.headdesign.co.uk © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019
Cover illustration © Carrie May
Sue Moorcroft asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of 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.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008321796
Ebook Edition © September 2019 ISBN: 9780008321802
Version: 2019-08-27
For
Paul Matthews
and
Hollie Clark Matthews
in this special year.
Your happiness brings me joy.
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Keep Reading …
About the Author
About the Publisher
‘Mum, what’s the matter? Why are you crying?’ Lily Cortez hurried across the lawn to crouch in front of the slender figure huddled over an iPad in a garden chair. The raw October day had almost ended and the light was steely grey.
‘Oh! Lily, we didn’t expect you until tomorrow.’ Roma swiped at her wet cheeks turning the iPad face down in her lap. Roma Martindale was an all-weather gardener and though the October day was blustery, planters, compost and pots of violets surrounded her.
‘I decided to make the journey from Spain over two days rather than three to surprise you.’ Lily frowned. The redness of her mum’s eyes spoke of a prolonged weep and Roma was no crybaby. Lily felt in the pocket of her fleece for tissues to press into Roma’s chilly hands. It was probably ten degrees cooler in Peterborough than it had been in Barcelona when she’d left at the crack of dawn yesterday, driving away from a Spanish husband who was as relieved as her to call it quits. She gave her mum a minute to blow her nose. ‘Are you ill? Or is Patsie?’ Patricia Jones was Roma’s life partner, a tall and confident lawyer whose dark hair fell smoothly to the shoulders of her dark blue suits.
‘We’re both fine.’ Roma blew her nose again. ‘She’s doing pro bono work at a women’s refuge. And I thought you weren’t arriving until tomorrow so …’ Fresh tears leaked down her cheeks.
‘Has someone said something crap about you and Patsie?’ Not everyone accepted same-sex couples. Sergio, Lily’s soon-to-be-ex-husband, never coped well with Lily having two mothers, for example.
Roma shook her head, searching for a dry area of her tissue. ‘No.’ She blotted more tears.
Lily had to swallow before she could speak again. ‘Please, Mum. I’m imagining all kinds of awful things here.’ Then her gaze fell on the iPad. ‘Have you received bad news?’
Roma pressed her hands over the iPad and squeezed her eyes shut. ‘You’ve caught me at a weak moment. It’s something in the past, really.’
Lily had to blink tears away. ‘You’re frightening me,’ she said in a small voice. What on earth could cause her usually sunny, funny, quirky mum to sob so broken-heartedly?
Still clutching the iPad and levering herself to her feet, Roma took Lily’s hand. ‘Come indoors.’
The kitchen was warm and welcoming. After hanging her khaki gardening coat by the back door and kicking off her wellies Roma sat down at the table. Lily took the next chair and watched as the iPad’s screen sprang to life. Slowly, Roma turned it so Lily could read it: the Peterborough Telegraph obituaries.
Lily’s eyes scanned the notice on the screen. ‘This guy Marvin’s died?