The Stolen Weekend

The Stolen Weekend
Fern Britton

A sparklingly brilliant short story from the wonderfully warm and wise Fern Britton – the Nation’s favourite TV presenter.Fern Britton weaves a warm and witty short story set in Cornwall, full of mischief and fun!Best friends Penny Leighton and Helen Merrifield have swapped their hectic London lives for the leisurely pace of life in the pretty Cornish village of Pendruggan.Penny is in constant demand and juggling her life as a vicar’s wife alongside her day job as a hotshot TV producer is exhausting.Helen is at the end of her tether. Cornwall has been battered by the worst storms in living memory and the roof of her little cottage is in a terrible state. Her other half, the brooding Piran, isn’t being much help.The two women cook up a scheme to leave their Pendruggan men behind and get back to London for a weekend of blissful indulgence. But you know what they say about the best laid plans… Will Penny and Helen’s stolen weekend be everything they’ve dreamed of, or something else entirely?

THE STOLEN WEEKEND

Fern Britton

Copyright (#ulink_dfdd24e8-75da-5b7a-b1ee-fbc1720df369)

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2014

Copyright © Fern Britton 2014

Fern Britton asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for 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 e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, 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.

Ebook Edition ISBN: 9780007513222

Version: 2017-11-21

Table of Contents

Cover (#ua92d2c52-9cb5-5e75-aee4-6a1cb507cfcc)

Title Page (#uca7cfcb5-e3ae-5014-8d81-ae70a4a95f88)

Copyright (#u4f1ffb99-2852-5927-83a3-fa94c2705255)

Chapter 1 (#u1029e62e-0d59-53fd-9d87-380e50b41edd)

Chapter 2 (#u4edfb9b5-a13d-576e-81d1-30e8bf28f579)

Chapter 3 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract from The Seaside Affair (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

Also by Fern Britton (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

1 (#ulink_362cdfb6-ec6b-594e-b2ab-ec3c21e1d296)

‘What on earth?’ Penny Leighton grappled at the side of her bed, trying to locate her mobile phone as it rang loudly somewhere close by. She blinked, bleary-eyed, at the blue fascia of her iPhone 5 as it flashed insistently at her in the darkness of the bedroom. The usually jaunty, old-fashioned ringtone was the last thing she wanted to hear at six in the morning. This morning in particular. Who the hell was ringing her at this ungodly hour?

Penny sat bolt upright in bed as she saw the caller’s name appear.

‘Audrey bloody Tipton!!’ Penny angrily pressed the silent button and shoved the vibrating phone back under her pillow.

‘What is that woman pestering me for now?’ Penny turned over in the bed, directing the question to where her husband Simon ought to be, but was surprised to see that his side of the bed was empty. The Right Reverend Simon Canter, vicar of Pendruggan, was normally an early riser, as members of the clergy tended to be, but she hadn’t anticipated that he would have got up at this unearthly hour. After all, it was a Tuesday, no early services today, and last night they’d both got to bed late. Penny was the sole owner of Penny Leighton Productions, a successful TV production company that had a string of prime-time successes under its belt. Her latest hit was a TV show called Mr Tibbs, based on the mystery stories of Mavis Carew. The series was filmed in and around Pendruggan, a small, unspoilt Cornish village that Penny had discovered when her best friend Helen Merrifield decided to make a fresh start there after divorcing her philandering husband. Penny had come for a visit and ended up finding not only the perfect location for Mr Tibbs but the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Though she would never have imagined herself as a vicar’s wife, she’d never been happier. Her loving and gentle husband with his chocolate-brown eyes and soft-spoken voice had brought out the best in Penny and she had no regrets about upping sticks to move to Cornwall. Or at least, not until this morning.

Knowing that Simon was up and about, Penny found it impossible to settle back to sleep. She swung her legs out of the bed and reached for her satin dressing gown, which was hanging on a peg nearby. Then she went to the window and pulled open the heavy curtains, which kept out even the most persistent sunshine.

It was April and the sky was still tinged with the night, but the purple and pink fingertips of dawn were already starting to snake their way across the horizon.

‘Mmm. Red sky in the morning,’ Penny observed. ‘Looks like bad weather. Again.’

She trudged down the stairs to find that the house was in total darkness, except for Simon’s study, where a gentle light emanated from under the doorway.

Penny knocked softly and popped her head around the door.

‘Morning, Vicar.’

Simon’s head was head was buried in what appeared to be the parish appointments diary. Penny could tell from the way his fingertips were pressed against his furrowed brow that he was feeling harassed.

‘Oh, good morning, darling.’ He looked up from his desk, blinking at her through his glasses. ‘Sorry, did I wake you?’

‘I’m not sure it is quite morning yet,’ Penny replied. ‘And no, it wasn’t you who woke me, it was a phone call from that busybody, Audrey Tipton.’

‘Really, what did she want?’

‘Dunno – I cut her off.’ Penny looked down at her iPhone. ‘But it looks as though she left me a message.’

‘You should be having a lie-in. You look done in.’

‘I feel done in. The last few weeks have been really gruelling. I’m so exhausted, I couldn’t even enjoy the wrap party.’

‘I’m sorry you had to go alone, darling, but there was so much to do here,’ he sighed guiltily.

Penny walked over to her husband and gave his balding head a kiss. ‘Oh, stuff that. You didn’t miss anything: it was only the usual shenanigans. The lead actors all lording it over each other and getting pissed while the runners and researchers snogged one another.’ She peered at the papers spread over his desk. ‘What’s the problem? Is there anything I can do to help?’