PROLOGUE
Leo swerved to avoid a dead badger.The road ahead was still so quiet that groups of starlings rose in disgruntled crowds as he disturbed their breakfast, and the café where he had once eaten the best bacon sandwich of his life was firmly shuttered.He gave in to the violent rumblings of his stomach and reached into the glove box, tearing the emergency chocolate bar open with his teeth and chewing until the bitter sweetness melted on his tongue, soothing and sensual.Chocolate and the future – they were closely linked in Leo’s mind.He sighed deeply.It was a pity that Sophie didn’t share his passion, but he supposed it was hard to get enthusiastic about a chocolate-based dream when all you ate was lettuce.Sophie was only twenty-five after all, ten years younger than Leo, stunningly beautiful and harder to amuse than a new puppy.Maybe after they were married she would realise what a brilliant opportunity this move was going to be and would be ready to leave Newcastle and her creepy friends behind.
Stretching his legs, Leo decided that this cab must have been designed for a much smaller man.He yawned, felt his eyelids droop and blinked furiously, thinking of hot baths and strong coffee.He’d had no sleep for almost twenty-four hours.Celebrating was fine, but work would have to come first from now on.It was time for the chocolate project.The excitement that had been building up in waves washed over Leo again, and he gave the middle-aged lady driving towards him the full benefit of his flashing grin and dimples.He saw her jaw drop and laughed for the sheer joy of living.At long last Leo was about to make his mark, and nobody, but nobody was going to stop him.
1
Much further south, in the Surrey market town of Clayton-on-the-Bream, Mab Millington was scrubbing as if her life depended on it.She was not one of life’s natural cleaners, having a tendency to skip the corners and stop for tea every ten minutes but today there was more at stake.A huge chunk of deposit money, to be precise, which she desperately needed if she was going to find somewhere better to live than this tiny, noisy flat.She turned up the volume on the radio, and Bonnie Tyler screamed out from Mab’s favourite 80s channel about her need for a hero.Apparently he needed to be a complete treasure.Brave, fast, strong… battle scarred?
‘You and me both, Bonnie,’ muttered Mab to herself, mopping the kitchen floor with more than usual gusto, ‘but where are we going to find one?And I’ll give you strong and fast, but fresh from a fight?I bet you’d spend the first half hour putting plasters on him, and telling him what a brave soldier he’d been.’
Wringing out her mop, Mab paused for a moment in front of a large pin board hanging over the sink.In the montage of curling snapshots there was one right at the centre that offended her every time she caught sight of it.She unpinned the small picture and tore it into shreds.
‘Right, I’m putting you in the compost bin where you belong, Pete, down amongst the eggshells and smelly old tea bags.I’m sick of your smug face looking at me while I’m washing up.I’m going to be a success now.I’ll get my book published, find an interesting job with decent wages, and maybe I’ll even look for someone better than you, someone to cherish me.And while I’m at it, I’d better stop talking to myself.’
Mab had been thinking of her dream man off and on all morning.She’d even typed out a list of his essential qualities, telling herself that she wasn’t wasting valuable writing time and that it would be useful background information for her next novel.The man of her dreams (should she decide he was worth the risk) must have:
a wicked sense of humour
a kind heart
an aptitude for whipping up stunning little suppers
the sort of bottom that makes you want to bite it
a fabulous smile with strong white teeth
sparkling eyes
a great body, tall enough for me to look up at him; strong and muscular without being burly
squeaky-clean hair, with maybe a tendency to curl?
designer stubble
an interesting accent; soft Irish brogue, lilting Geordie, gentle Scots, etc.
But where was she going to find him?More to the point, would he find Mab amazing enough to pursue her, because there was no way she was chasing a man.Never, ever again.And even more importantly, would he wait long enough for her to sort out the tangle of her life?For around six and a half months?The phone rang, startling Mab out of her gloom.With a sinking feeling, she saw her mother’s number displayed on the screen.She reached for the handset.There was no point in ignoring the call.Mab’s mum, Ria, seemed to have a supernatural instinct for knowing whether her daughter was out or just hiding in the bathroom.
‘Hello, Mum,’ she said, trying to make her voice sound lively and interesting.Ria’s latest criticism had been that Mab was always negative.
‘Morning, Mabel.I’m just ringing to remind you that you promised to visit Gran later.You know how upset she gets when you forget, and Dad and I can’t go because he’s booked tickets for the cinema.He says I need to relax.’
Mab sighed.‘I never forget about going to see Gran, Mum.I love going to see her.’
‘If only that was true, darling.Gran still talks about last June, when you missed her birthday party.The matron of the home had gone to all that trouble with the cake, and the streamers…’
‘But Mum, you know why that happened.It was only two days after my accident.My leg was in plaster and I was on crutches.The taxi didn’t turn up and I couldn’t get to the bus stop, don’t you remember?I rang you to pick me up but you were having a spa day.’
Ria’s voice became shrill.‘Are you trying to say it was my fault that you forgot, Mabel?I deserved that day.When do I ever get any “me time”?Your gran understood.She knows how hard I work.’
‘I didn’t say… oh, never mind.I’ll be there tonight.Got to go.Jess is expecting me.Bye, Mum.’
Checking the clock, Mab put the phone down hurriedly and pushed the bucket and mop into a corner.That would have to do for now, she’d tackle the rest later.Realising just in time that she was still in her pyjamas, she changed quickly, picked up her bag and slammed the door of the flat behind her.The May sunshine was dazzling, and Mab slipped on a pair of huge sunglasses, feeling unusually glamorous as she looked sideways at her reflection in the pizza shop window.If she pulled in her stomach, the overall effect wasn’t too bad; tall, but with a straight back – thanks to a nagging mother and early ballet lessons – masses of brown hair, and a flowing shirt that disguised some of her more voluptuous areas.Mab remembered too late that she’d promised herself a trip to the swimming baths to begin her ‘Get Fit for Summer’ campaign.Oh well, there was always tomorrow.
As she headed for the marketplace, Mab saw that the sunshine had brought the tourists out in force.She supposed Clayton-on-the-Bream wasn’t such a bad place to live if you had already found your man.Tree-lined avenues ran into charmingly quirky shopping streets, and old-fashioned signs pointed to the river walk, the castle and the museum of willow-weaving.Today there were lovers everywhere, holding hands, stopping to sneak a kiss, smiling sickeningly into each other’s eyes, and even one pair of lovebirds gazing into the jewellery shop window.She saw them leaning together as they peered at the rows of shining rings.
‘Go on, then, which one’s it to be?’the man asked, slipping an arm around his girlfriend’s skinny waist.
