the best man is, that’s how I plan to stay.’
Ant sat leaning on his convertible, sipping a coffee, and smoking a cigarette. The sun was very bright and the sky a clear blue, so the sunglasses he had put on, part affectation, part a means of deflecting the hangover from the night before, had turned out useful. His head was pounding and he could have done with a couple of hours more kip. God he wished he hadn’t been persuaded to go to Cornwall for the weekend to meet Harry’s new in-laws. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d even agreed to do it, but Harry was his best mate. And despite being certain that he was making a huge mistake, Ant felt duty bound to support him, and even he had to concede, certain as he was that it would all go pear shaped, Josie was pretty gorgeous and a lovely person to boot. If Harry hadn’t got in there first … In fact, thinking about it, how had Harry got in there first? From memory it was Ant who had introduced them at some party or other. And then she’d invited them all down to her place one summer. Ant felt sure he’d gone down with the express intention of nabbing Josie, but it hadn’t happened. Unbelievable that Josie could have possibly chosen dull old Harry over him.
He looked at his watch. Harry had thought they’d be arriving around midday, but there was no sign of them, yet. Ant had been at a sales conference in Salisbury (hence the hangover) and come straight on from there. He checked his BlackBerry and dealt with a few outstanding work issues, before ringing up Harry to see where he’d got to.
‘Harry, where are you mate? I’m feeling like a right idiot standing here in this car park on my own.’
‘It’s Josie,’ said a crisp clear voice on the other end. Josie’s voice sparkled like a babbling brook, he’d forgotten what a lovely sound it was. ‘And we’ll be with you in about five minutes. Don’t be so impatient.’
Delicious. Josie even sounded lovely when she was telling him off. Harry was a lucky man. No doubt about that.
Five minutes later, true to Josie’s word, Harry’s poxy little Honda Civic drove into the car park. It really was a girl’s car.
Putting out his cigarette, Ant unrolled himself from his position and strode over to say hello.
‘Harry, great to see you, mate!’ he said giving him a thump on the back and feeling absurdly affectionate towards his oldest friend.
‘You, too!’ said Harry punching him in the ribs.
‘Josie, you look lovely as ever,’ he said, giving her a hug and huge kiss on the lips.
‘Flatterer,’ said Josie, neatly escaping from his grasp.
‘And who have we here?’ Ant noted with pleasure a very fetching pair of legs encased in a pair of skinny jeans, emerging from the back of the Civic.
‘Ant, meet my friend, Diana,’ said Josie with a smile. ‘Diana, this is Ant.’
Ant nearly dropped his coffee in shock, as he followed the legs up (via a very and the jeans and busty top) to a ginger (she said auburn) head of hair and pretty face, with those emerald green eyes he remembered with clarity even though they’d last met eight years ago.
‘You!’ they said simultaneously.
On a balmy summer evening, anything can happen … the new enchanting and entertaining novel from the Sunday Times bestselling author.
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MIDSUMMER MAGIC: 9780007464487
Miranda Dickinson
‘Ladies and Gentlemen – the Maynard Sisters Theatre Company proudly presents … The Three Beautiful Princesses!’
Jim Maynard’s chest swelled with pride as his eldest daughter introduced her latest theatrical extravaganza. Looking down at the handwritten programme, painstakingly decorated with wax crayoned flowers and unicorn stickers, he smiled.
a musical play by
Daisy Heartsease Maynard
Starring
with
and
Enjoy the play xx
‘I am Princess Jewel, and I am a beautiful princess!’ exclaimed Daisy, already tall for her age, her hair messily plaited under a crown of silver Christmas tinsel. ‘I come from a faraway kingdom and I have two beautiful sisters …’ She glared, stage right, towards the wriggling and giggling long Indian silk curtain over the patio doors leading to the garden. ‘Come on…’
The curtain gave one final squirm and two blonde-haired girls emerged, their wonky tinsel crowns and too-long bedsheet cloaks causing great annoyance to their playwright sibling.
‘I am Princess Snowflake and I can talk to unicorns,’ said the older of the two, her russet red cheeks and baby blue eyes shining as she held her youngest sister’s hand.
‘And I am …’ the smallest Maynard sister’s cherub-like face crumpled in consternation, ‘… I am …’
‘Princess Poppy …’ Guin prompted in a loud stage whisper.
Elsie’s smile beamed back into life. ‘I am Princess Poppy and I have a puppy called Spot.’
‘No you don’t,’ Daisy hissed. ‘You have a magical talking bird called Cassandra.’
Elsie’s
