The Best of Friends, Alex Day [feel good books to read .txt] 📗

The Best of Friends

ALEX DAY

One More Chapter

an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2021

Copyright © Alex Day 2021

Cover design by Lucy Bennett © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2021

Cover photograph © Julie Poncet/Arcangel Images

Alex Day 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.

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.

Source ISBN: 9780008455132

Ebook Edition © April 2021 ISBN: 9780008455125

Version: 2021-01-22

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Part 1

Prologue

Chapter 1: Susannah

Chapter 2: Charlotte

Chapter 3: Susannah

Chapter 4: Charlotte

Chapter 5: Susannah

Chapter 6: Charlotte

Chapter 7: Susannah

Chapter 8: Susannah

Chapter 9: Charlotte

Chapter 10: Susannah

Chapter 11: Charlotte

Chapter 12: Susannah

Chapter 13: Charlotte

Chapter 14: Susannah

Chapter 15: Charlotte

Chapter 16: Susannah

Chapter 17: Charlotte

Chapter 18: Susannah

Chapter 19: Charlotte

Chapter 20: Susannah

Part 2

Chapter 21: Susannah

Chapter 22: Susannah

Chapter 23: Susannah

Chapter 24: Susannah

Chapter 25: Susannah

Chapter 26: Susannah

Chapter 27: Susannah

Chapter 28: Susannah

Chapter 29: Charlotte

Chapter 30: Charlotte

Chapter 31: Susannah

Chapter 32: Charlotte

Chapter 33: Charlotte

Chapter 34: Susannah

Chapter 35: Charlotte

Chapter 36: Susannah

Chapter 37: Charlotte

Chapter 38: Susannah

Chapter 39: Charlotte

Chapter 40: Susannah

Chapter 41: Charlotte

Chapter 42: Susannah

Chapter 43: Charlotte

Chapter 44: Susannah

Chapter 45: Susannah

Chapter 46: Charlotte

Chapter 47: Susannah

Chapter 48: Charlotte

Chapter 49: Susannah

Chapter 50: Charlotte

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Also by Alex Day

About the Publisher

PART 1

Whether we fall by ambition, blood or lust,

Like diamonds we are cut with our own dust.

— The Duchess of Malfi, John Webster

Prologue

‘You were jealous, weren’t you? Angry that you had been usurped by the man you thought belonged to you.’

The QC’s voice is calm and contained as always, though the steel beneath its surface is barely concealed.

‘Of course I was jealous. Anyone would be.’ The defendant cannot keep the anger out of her voice. ‘But not enough to …’

She falters, finds herself unable to say the words out loud, perhaps mindful of the jury, twelve pairs of eyes intently fixed upon her, or of the journalists watching from the public gallery, wolves waiting to fall upon their prey.

‘Not jealous enough to do what I’m accused of,’ she continues, her voice little more than a whisper now, her gaze cast demurely – but still somehow defiantly – down.

She’s doing well and seems to have – at least temporarily – won the sympathy of the court, convincing the jury of her innocence, her blamelessness. But the QC has more – much more – up the sombre black sleeve of his capacious gown.

‘And you had secrets, did you not. Things that you’d done that you needed to make sure no one ever found out about.’ It is a statement, not a question.

The woman’s face blanches visibly.

There is a long pause. It’s pin-drop quiet. The QC is playing it for effect, making sure he has everyone on the edges of their seats in this, the greatest theatre in the land. In the silence, the white noise of the building seems deafening. Somebody coughs, and the sound echoes out like a death knell.

‘Didn’t you?’ The QC repeats himself, and now it is a question, prompting her to respond.

‘Yes.’

An audible murmur, like a far-off earthquake or explosion, vibrates around the room. The atmosphere changes in an instant. It’s as if everyone knows that something big is coming, that a hand grenade is going to be launched into the respectful arena of the courtroom. It had been insane for her to ever think it could remain hidden. The truth will out, as the saying goes. But far from setting her free, it may well prove to be the final nail in her metaphorical coffin, the evidence that puts her behind bars.

‘There were things you’d hidden from even your closest friends, weren’t there?’

Silence.

‘One thing in particular, wouldn’t you agree?’

He’s going to reveal it and very soon everyone will know her history. She wills it over and done with. The jackals wait with bated breath, eager for the next titbit to feast upon. The QC inhales deeply before continuing, as if believing that oxygen will be in short supply once he has made the revelation.

The collective gasp that follows seems to prove him right. It emits forth with such force it might have come from the walls themselves. The woman’s blonde hair falls across her face as she drops her head in despair.

The case that has hitherto slithered back and forth has turned on a sixpence. The entire courtroom can see that the defendant has no way back from this.

The QC turns to the judge. ‘No more, m’lord.’

He sits, and his black gown balloons and then descends around him like the darkening sky before a thunderstorm.

Chapter 1

Susannah

A gust of March wind blows across the emerald grass and sends the torn paper pieces whirling into the air in bright swirls of colour – orange, pink, yellow, and blue. I shiver and pull my insubstantial coat tighter around me, wishing I had something warmer to wear. Living in the city for so long has made me soft and I’ve forgotten how to cope in the country, without buildings and pollution and warm tarmac to keep the elements at bay. Now the cold is creeping into my bones and lodging there, insidious and immoveable, joining the pain of my newly single existence, the anxiety that is inherent in knowing that I bear sole responsibility for the day-to-day upbringing of my two young children.

I look