No One Wants to Be Miss Havisham

Chapter 4 (#u1fbe08ae-8ab0-5287-8e7a-f708d7c426d6)

Chapter 5 (#u94ad5f59-d559-555f-a92e-d4210d3fe7a9)

Chapter 6 (#u36055c1a-59c1-5759-9beb-d801bf914559)

Chapter 7 (#ue579ef07-2db4-5858-892e-8cee2f174f77)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)

Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)

Brigid Coady (#litres_trial_promo)

About HarperImpulse (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 1 (#u8bd58e47-96b6-5dac-b5db-dc2174be9bbf)

Jessica Marley was dead: to begin with. The notice of her death had been in all the major newspapers, her Facebook account was now a very sparsely populated memorial page and Edie Dickens had been to her funeral. Yes, Jessica Marley was as dead as a doornail.

This didn’t stop Edie from hoping that it had all been a bad dream. She glared at the calendar on her computer. The words ‘Mel’s Hen Night’ stared back at her. It was a mere two days before this ordeal and her greatest ally on the battlefield of nuptial nonsense was gone. Dead. Pushing up the daisies. Whilst Edie was stuck with going and worse, she was the maid of honour, which meant participating in the damn thing. Mel might be her oldest friend but they differed wildly in their views on weddings and suitable hen activities. Jessica hadn’t.

Who would complain with her about the ridiculousness of venue, the trite jokes and obscene games, plus the awful tackiness of the regalia that all, not just the hen, would be forced to wear?

And at the wedding itself… Edie would have no one to take bets with on how long the marriage would last and whether the groom had had his hand in the bridesmaid’s posy.

The thought that it was irrational to blame Jessica for dying did flit across the front of her brain, but it was quickly brushed away. Jessica was a veteran of the nuptial war and one of the rules was always “eye the food warily”. She should’ve spotted the cocktail stick holding the mini burger together. If she’d spotted it she wouldn’t have swallowed it, therefore causing the onset of peritonitis.

Death by canapé.

Another casualty of a wedding, just a little more final than the normal crushed dreams and plundered bank accounts.

Edie locked her computer screen, breathing more easily when the screen showed the regulation company logo, ‘Bailey Lang Satis and Partners’. She grabbed her bag and jacket and left to get a late lunch. She glanced at the empty seat at the other desk in her office. Rachel, her trainee, was taking yet another long lunch. It was getting ridiculous.

Edie swept along the corridor, taking some pleasure that people stepped out of her way.

Never let anyone stop you from being the best you can be.

She couldn't remember who had told her that, but it stuck with her. Along with her mother's maxim of ‘never let the bastards see you cry.’

"I can't believe he's actually working here!"

It was another solicitor, Caroline, who was speaking in a breathless voice like a boy band groupie.

"He's so sexy. When he smiled at me as he held the door open this morning I swear I almost fainted."

Carmel, one of the partners, was giggling.

As she passed them all standing in a knot by the Ladies she frowned. The office was not a place for socialising. It was a place to work. When she reached partner, there would be changes. Ever since her mentor, Ms Satis had been put on gardening leave for alleged work place bullying, it had gone soft. Was it bullying to expect the best from everyone? Edie pressed the lift button hard.

"Looks like the Shark is in a snit again."

She heard the whisper as it carried across the marble floor and hard walls of the lift lobby. The doors opened and she got in.

Never let the bastards see you cry.

The smell of cinnamon and buttery pastry filled her senses as she stood at the counter of the local sandwich shop. Her mouth watered at the memory of it melting on her tongue. An image of her dad laughing as he wiped the crumbs from her cheeks.