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Four Christmases and a Secret
ZARA STONELEY
One More Chapter
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Copyright © Zara Stoneley 2019
Cover design by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019
Cover images © Shutterstock.com
Zara Stoneley 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.
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Source ISBN: 9780008363161
Ebook Edition © September 2019 ISBN: 9780008363154
Version: 2019-09-11
Table of Contents
Prologue – Mistletoe Kisses
Act 1 – Must Try Harder
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Act 2 – New Year, New Me
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Act 3 – Nothing’s Going to Stop Me Now
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Acknowledgements
Also by Zara Stoneley
About the Author
About the Publisher
For everybody who has felt at some time in their lives ‘not good enough’.
Believe me, you are!
24 December 2004
‘I flung open the curtains and shouted look at my hedgehogs!’
Oh my God, I knew it. My mother is going to totally embarrass me. Here, at Uncle Terence’s Christmas Eve party, in front of everybody.
Want to be able to embarrass your kids as they get older? Get your own back for every little slip up? Well, bring them up in a village where everybody will know them, and nobody will forget anything they have ever done. And never ever move house.
I am eighteen years old, for heaven’s sake. I need to stop coming to family and friends’ parties so that I can avoid total embarrassment.
Nine months, that’s all. I just have to stick it out for nine more months and then I’ll be free.
I love my parents to bits, I sometimes even like them, but I cannot wait to go to university. My own place, nobody watching my every move and I will be able to snog who I like, when I like, where I like. I will be able to leave crumbs in my bed, read until 4 a.m., spend the weekend in my pyjamas.
I straighten my antlers self-consciously, set my jumper to ‘flashing’ mode as a distraction and glance at Dad, who just shrugs apologetically, because we both know that mother
