Authors: Sheila O'Flanagan
Copyright © 2012 Sheila O’Flanagan
The right of Sheila O’Flanagan Crano to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2012
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library
eISBN: 978 0 7553 9524 8
HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
An Hachette UK Company
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London NW1 3BH
By Sheila O’Flanagan and available from Headline Review
Sometimes it isn’t easy to win your heart’s desire.
Journalist Sheridan Grey believes she’s going places. But when she loses her job, her boyfriend and her flat, the only place she’s going is to a small-town newspaper. Writing horoscopes and reporting on dog shows certainly isn’t the successful career she craves.
Home-loving Nina Fallon’s life is shattered when the exploits of her actor husband become national news. Now she’s avoiding friends as she runs Ardbawn’s guest-house on her own.
When Sheridan moves into the guest-house, she realises life in Ardbawn isn’t as quiet as she expected. And that Nina holds the key to the story that will make her name as a reporter again. But Sheridan’s desire to uncover the past puts her on a collision course with the present, and with the man she’s come to love. Suddenly she has more to lose than she ever dreamed possible.
Is she better off going it alone? Or is love the greatest prize of all?
Sheila O’Flanagan’s books, including
All For You
,
Stand By Me
, and
The Perfect Man
, have been huge bestsellers in the UK and Ireland; they are all available from Headline Review. Sheila pursued a very successful career in banking, foreign exchange dealing and treasury management before becoming a full-time writer based in Dublin. In her spare time she plays badminton at competition level.
By Sheila O’Flanagan and available from Headline Review
Suddenly Single
Far From Over
My Favourite Goodbye
He’s Got To Go
Isobel’s Wedding
Caroline’s Sister
Too Good To Be True
Dreaming Of A Stranger
Destinations
Anyone But Him
How Will I Know?
Connections
Yours, Faithfully
Bad Behaviour
Someone Special
The Perfect Man
Stand By Me
A Season To Remember
All For You
Better Together
Praise for Sheila O’Flanagan’s bestsellers:
‘A great read and the perfect escape from those dreary winter evenings’
Sun
‘Sheila O’Flanagan is one of the blinding talents on the female fiction scene’
Daily Record
‘A big, comfortable, absorbing book. . . bound to delight fans and guaranteed to put O’Flanagan on the bestsellers list – yet again’
Irish Independent Review
‘Hugely enjoyable’
Best
When it comes to turning the idea in my head into a book that people can read, things are always better together! I’m very fortunate in having some really wonderful people who work with me on the way. And so many, many thanks to:
My agent, Carole Blake
My editor, Marion Donaldson
The fantastic people at Hachette/Headline
All of my publishers and translators around the world.
My family and friends have been a constant support and I can’t thank them enough.
Special thanks to Colm, for everything.
A big thank you to Andrea Smith for the entertaining and informative chat about freelance journalism, though sadly the gossipy bits couldn’t be used . . .
Thanks to the booksellers and librarians who do such a great job in bringing the joy of reading to so many people.
And, of course, enormous thanks to all my readers, both of the printed books and the digital versions. I feel as though I know many of you personally now, through my website, Facebook and Twitter. It’s always a joy to meet you virtually and in real life too. Happy reading!
Sheridan Gray knew that the piece she had written, full of tragedy, drama and long-kept secrets, was one of the strongest she’d ever done. It was a compelling story and she’d got the balance just right. She’d been sympathetic where sympathy would be expected, and critical where it was important to criticise. It was everything she’d been asked for and more. It would change the lives of the people concerned for ever.
And it would change hers too. At least that was what she hoped. That was why she’d written it. To change everything. Back to the way it was before. Back to when she’d had everything she’d ever wanted.
Well, almost.
She stared unblinkingly at the computer. Was it ever possible to go back? And would she ever be able to forget the people about whom she’d just written? People who had become part of her life.
She had to. Because that was the only way to be a winner. She’d always wanted to be a winner, and with this story, she was.
The only problem, she realised, as she saved the document and closed her laptop, was that she didn’t know if the prize was worth it. Or even if it was the prize she truly wanted any more.
Sheridan was so engrossed in the newspaper report she was writing that she dismissed the notification about a new email in her inbox without even thinking. Her fingers continued to fly over the keyboard as she described the carnival atmosphere in Dublin the previous night, where an unprecedented crowd had turned up to watch the Brazil women’s national soccer team play a friendly match in the city. It had been a fun evening, full of colour and good humour, helped by the unexpectedly balmy weather which, as Sheridan now wrote, the Brazilian women had brought with them – along with their footballing skills, cheerful personalities and undoubted good looks. A large portion of the sizeable crowd had been teenage boys following the footballers’ every move, and every time the glamorous striker got the ball, the stadium had been illuminated by thousands of flashlights as they took yet another photo of her. After the match the ladies had posed for more photos on the pitch, much to the delight of the supporters.
From Sheridan’s point of view it had been a lovely assignment, in sharp contrast to the times when she was sent to the back of beyond to watch dour men’s matches in torrential
rain. She wanted the readers of the
City Scope
– Dublin’s biggest newspaper – to absorb the atmosphere too and, she admitted to herself, she wanted to present women excelling in what was generally seen as a men’s sport in the most positive light she could.
So she was taking special care about the piece, making sure she got the balance exactly right. It wasn’t until Martyn Powell, the sports editor, pushed a pile of papers out of the way and sat on the edge of her desk that she glanced up from the screen in front of her.
‘Looks like D-Day.’ Martyn’s naturally long face was even gloomier than usual, his drooping moustache adding to his hangdog expression. ‘It’s from the top.’
Sheridan felt her heart beat faster as she opened the email, which was headed ‘The Future of the
City Scope
’, and scanned its contents.
Rumours about the paper where she’d worked for the past five years had been circulating for weeks. The staff had listened to every one of them and come up with some ideas of their own too, but nobody really knew what the fate of the thirty-year-old newspaper would be. Changes would have to be made, they all acknowledged that. The newspaper industry was in a precarious state and the
City Scope
had been haemorrhaging money over the past year. Everyone knew that something had to give sooner or later. The reporters had been gossiping for weeks. Now it looked like the time had come.
‘What d’you think?’ asked Martyn.
‘I haven’t a clue.’ Sheridan pulled her flame-red curls back from her face and secured them with a lurid green bobble, which she took from her desk drawer. ‘I suppose they can try some more cutbacks.’
The paper had introduced a raft of cost-cutting initiatives a few months earlier, most of which had irritated the journalists without delivering the required savings.
‘I hope it’s only cutbacks,’ said Martyn. ‘And not anything worse.’
‘Well yes. So do I.’ Sheridan tightened the bobble. ‘But we’re an institution, Marty, they have to come up with something.’
‘Huh. So far all they’ve come up with is reducing expenses. Ours, not theirs, of course.’
Sheridan grinned. Martyn was a man who liked to take full advantage of his expense account.
‘How’s the piece going?’ Martyn nodded at the open document on her computer screen.
‘Nearly finished.’ She glanced at it herself. ‘It was good fun and nice to see the ladies on the pitch for a change.’
‘There were some real crackers there all right.’ Martyn had been looking at the photos earlier.
‘Skilful athletes,’ Sheridan reminded him, and he nodded even though she knew he only paid lip service to women’s sporting abilities. ‘And not a diva among them.’
‘I wonder will we all still be here to report on the European Cup qualifiers?’ asked Martyn, who enjoyed talking football with the paper’s only female sports reporter.
‘I hope so.’ Sheridan looked worried. ‘Ireland has a great chance this time. I want to get the
Scope
totally behind the team.’
‘You’re supposed to be impartial.’
‘Get lost, Powell.’ She roared with laughter. ‘When was the
City Scope
ever impartial about football?’
Martyn’s smile still wasn’t enough to rid him of his gloomy
expression, but the conversation had temporarily taken their minds off the contents of the email. Which had said that there would be a meeting of all staff in the boardroom at noon. Everyone was expected to attend.
The boardroom of the
City Scope
wasn’t really big enough to accommodate all of the newspaper’s staff, so they stood shoulder to shoulder in the limited space as they waited for the arrival of the management team. There was a buzz of chatter as people speculated on the news that Ernie Johnson, the managing director, might bring. But Sheridan wasn’t talking. She was considering all the possible outcomes and not liking any of them.
The worst, of course, was that the newspaper might close down. But that was utterly unthinkable. The
City Scope
, with its extensive sports coverage, had been in existence all of her life. Even before she’d joined the paper, reading it had been a major part of her week. When she’d finally landed a job there, she hadn’t quite been able to believe it. And it had turned out to be the best job in the world. Even though she’d originally studied journalism to get away from sport. Even though she’d wanted to carve a very different career for herself.