CHAPTER SEVEN
Kate Hardy
KATE HARDY lives in Norwich, in the east of England, with her husband, two young children, one bouncy spaniel and too many books to count! When she’s not busy writing romance or researching local history she helps out at her children’s schools. She also loves cooking—spot the recipes sneaked into her books! (They’re also on her website, along with extracts and stories behind the books.) Writing for Mills & Boon has been a dream come true for Kate—something she wanted to do ever since she was twelve. She’s been writing Medical Romances for nearly five years now, and also writes for Modern Romance. She says it’s the best of both worlds, because she gets to learn lots of new things when she’s researching the background to a book: add a touch of passion, drama and danger, a new gorgeous hero every time and it’s the perfect job!
Kate’s always delighted to hear from readers, so do drop in to her website at www.katehardy.com.
For Anna and Sheila, my wonderful editors—and for my cheer squad (you know who you are)—with heartfelt thanks for having more faith in me than I did. xxx
‘POLLY, I know you said you were fine, but I was passing anyway, and I thought I’d just drop in and—’ Shona did a double take and stopped short. ‘What happened to your hair?’
‘I cut it last night.’ With nail scissors. The long, straight blonde hair Harry had said he loved was no more. And at least getting rid of it had been Polly’s choice. Something that was under her control.
‘Cut? Hacked, more like. Has Fliss seen it?’
‘Um, no.’ And Polly knew her best friend would panic, remembering what Polly had done half a lifetime ago. Her lowest point, when she’d sworn that her life would be perfect from then on, no matter how hard she had to work at it. When she’d learned to smile her way through absolutely anything.
Shona blew out a breath. ‘We need to get you to the hairdresser’s. Like now.’
Polly waved a dismissive hand. ‘I’m fine. It’s not as if anyone’s going to see me. I don’t have to go in to the studio.’
‘That, sweetie, is where you’re wrong. Coffee, first,’ Shona said crisply. ‘And, while I’m making it, you need to get changed. The sort of stuff you wore for Monday Mash-up will be just fine.’
‘I don’t work on Monday Mash-up any more.’ Polly shrugged. ‘Anyway, I’m busy.’
‘Doing things that Harry really ought to be doing, since he was the one who called off the wedding,’ Shona said, her mouth thinning.
‘I’m the one who organised it, so it’s easier for me to do it. I have the contacts,’ Polly pointed out.
She left unsaid what they were both thinking: it also meant that Grace wouldn’t be involved. Cancelling the wedding arrangements less than two weeks before the big day was tough enough; letting her ex-fiancé’s new girlfriend do it would be just too much to bear. And she knew that Harry would definitely delegate cancelling everything: he’d give that little-boy-lost look that always got him his own way.
‘I could strangle Harry, I really could. Selfish doesn’t even begin to—’ Shona stopped. ‘But you already know what I think. OK. Go and get changed while I sort the coffee and make that hair appointment. Oh, and put some stuff under your eyes.’
To cover up the shadows Polly knew were there. It was one of the disadvantages of having fair skin; even one night without sleep meant she had dark shadows under her eyes. She hadn’t slept for several, since Harry had told her that he couldn’t marry her.
‘I do love you, Pol, but…’
As he said the words, someone filled her veins with liquid nitrogen. Freezing her.
But.
That meant Harry didn’t love her at all.
‘… it’s as a friend. There just isn’t the kaboom,’ he finished.
‘Kaboom?’ She didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. How was this happening? Was she in some parallel universe?
‘Kaboom. When you meet someone and it’s like the sky’s full of fireworks.’ He gestured wildly, mimicking starbursts in the sky. ‘A thousand red balloons floating into the sky.’
She still didn’t have a clue what he meant. When she saw Harry, she didn’t see dangerous fireworks or balloons that could pop and leave her with nothing. She saw warm and safe and secure. And she’d been so sure he’d felt the same. That they’d be together for ever. That theirs would be one of the marriages people looked up to in showbiz—one that lasted, instead of being over almost as soon as the publicity photos had been printed. Because she and Harry were friends. They fitted. Polly wasn’t going to have the same kind of on-again, off-again relationship that her parents had, in between their affairs. This would be a proper marriage. Harry’s family liked her. His friends liked her. And her friends liked Harry and his easy charm.
They were a couple.
Except now it seemed that they weren’t. And her head couldn’t process it.
‘I’m sorry, Pol.’
And then Harry told her about Grace.
His new assistant, who’d made him feel the kaboom—the way Polly never had …
Polly shook herself and changed into one of the bright long-sleeved T-shirts, jeans and trainers she’d worn on Monday Mash-up, then swiftly added enough make-up to erase the shadows and the pallor from her face. And then she pinned on her brightest smile, ready to face the world. By the time she’d finished, Shona had made them both a coffee and was speaking rapidly into the phone.
‘I’ve
