Read Nearly Almost Somebody for Free Online

bastard, tell him she loved him. Just like Nina had.
    Man up. He pressed dial and closed his eyes.
    ‘Hey, baby. Did you see the paper? Wow, that brought back some memories.’ She giggled. ‘What are you up to? I’m bored, naked and about to get in the bath. Come over?’
    ‘Rachel, sorry. I’m going away for a while. This has been fun, but look, it’s over.’
    She hung up.
    He stared at the phone. Well, that was easy.
     
    With his suitcase in the Land Rover, Patrick packed a bag with Hyssop’s food and picked up the purring tabby, turning the cat to face him.
    ‘I’ll be back soon and you can come home. I promise.’
    On the opposite side of the Green, two doors down from the King Alfred pub where she worked three nights a week after her shifts at the surgery, Patrick knocked on Grace’s door. Grace, the only person he could rely on. Jesus, if it hadn’t been for Grace’s treacle-coffee every morning and her willingness to cover for him when he was too wasted to function, he’d have been sacked months ago. How he hadn’t killed an animal by administering the wrong drug or dosage was a mystery, though he suspected Grace saved his arse many times.
    He smiled, his eyebrows raised hopefully as Grace opened the door. Under her long black fringe, the rest of her hair trying to escape its plastic clip, her frown grew when she saw Hyssop. Patrick had expected nothing less.
    ‘I’ve got to go away,’ he said.
    ‘No.’
    ‘He’s got nowhere else.’
    ‘Jack’s allergic to cats.’
    ‘Gracey–’
    ‘Don’t Gracey me.’
    ‘His coat’s only just getting its shine back after Maggie died. Please?’
    With an enormous groan, she took Hyssop from him. ‘Where are you going?’
    ‘Spain. I’ve got to work at Sam’s for a while. Dad’s coming out of retirement.’
    ‘Why? What’s wrong with Sam?’
    Patrick shook his head. ‘Nothing. It’s... well, it’s complicated.’
    ‘How long for?’
    ‘Two months. I’ll be back.’
    ‘You’d better. Your dad’s an old fuss-pot.’ She kissed Hyssop’s head. ‘Patrick, are you okay? You look... odd.’
    No, Gracey, I’m fucked . He rubbed Hyssop’s ears then tugged a wayward lock of Grace’s hair. ‘Look after him. Please.’
    She nodded and he walked away. Thank God for Grace. She might be a gobby cow at times, but she was always there.
     
    * * *
     
    An hour later, as Patrick drove out of the village, Michael Wray received a text: McBride is leaving .
    Wray swore. Without McBride’s weekly antics circulation figures would plummet. He’d have to find a new source of local scandal, and fast.

Chapter Five
     
    Libby hadn’t seen anything but dry stone walls, mountains and sheep since she left the M6. The walls were endless, mountains surrounded her in three directions and sheep lurked around every corner – twice she’d had to swerve to avoid running over the little buggers.
    But then there it was. Gosthwaite.
    She sat a little straighter as her battered Mini followed Zoë’s BMW into the village. They crawled past walkers in hiking boots and old ladies chatting outside the post office until finally they arrived at the green.
    On Google Maps the Georgian townhouses looked elegant but bland. In reality they were painted pale olives, sky blues and the subtlest of dusky pinks, their facades creating a pastel rainbow around the emerald grass green. Even Great-aunt Maggie’s cottage looked passably cute with purple clematis covering half the pebble-dashing.
    Was this it, the place she’d finally find a distraction that worked, something to make her forget she was ever a ballerina?
    As Libby parked, Zoë hovered at the garden gate. A garden, they had a front garden. Okay, it only came out six feet from the house, but none of the townhouses had one.
    ‘Just so you’re aware,’ Libby said as they wandered between the fat lavender plants lining the path, ‘I’ve never wielded a lawnmower in my life.’
    ‘I’m hoping there’s some fit young