by Frances Pye
“I loved Evie scattering her petals all over everyone,” said Mara. “She’s such a little dear.”
“She was so pleased with herself, bless her.”
“Where is she?”
“Asleep on Michael’s lap. Of course. She just adores her daddy.”
“Have you decided?” Lily asked.
“No. I mean yes. I’m not going to do it.”
“To spite your mother?”
“No. I thought and thought about it, whether that was the reason, and I realized it wasn’t. Oh, there’s some of that. But it’s more. I just don’t want to be a wife. I’m happy as I am, living in the country, looking after Evie, seeing Michael on weekends. And getting ready for the new one.” Jules patted her rounded stomach.
“Damn. I was looking forward to boasting about my friend the countess,” Terry said, grinning.
“I had a whole sketch almost completely written.”
“Lily. You wouldn’t.”
“Well, no, probably not. More champagne?”
Terry and Mara held out their glasses.
“Okay, so now Jules and me are fixed up, we’ve got to find someone for Lils and Mara,” Terry said.
“If you can find me what I want, I’ll be your friend forever.”
“You will be anyway.”
“Well, yes, but you know what I mean.”
“Who’s the handsome young chap you brought today? Noel was it?” Jules asked.
“The latest disaster. Asked me to marry him after the speeches.”
“Oh, Lils.”
“They’re getting worse. It was only our third date. Years ago, they used to last a few weeks at least.”
“Maybe…Maybe there just isn’t anyone? Maybe you’d better give up on it and look for something more usual? More real?” Mara might have lost her illusions about her own love but that hadn’t stopped her being a romantic at heart.
“No way. I am determined. One day my twice-a-week prince will come. I know it.”
“Whatever you say. But I’d’ve thought experience might have taught you otherwise. How long have you been looking now?” Terry asked.
“Five, six years. Nothing. Think of Sleeping Beauty. She waited a hundred.”
“I don’t think you’ll last that long, Lils.”
“That’s all you know. The search will keep me young.” The friends laughed. “Anyway, I’ve already got the next one picked out.”
“It sounds like you have them all stacked up, waiting, like planes at Heathrow.”
“I wish. This one’s a bookstore manager I met the other day while doing a signing of the collected scripts of We Can Work It Out. Tall, good-looking, only twenty-five, and definitely keen.”
“Isn’t that a touch young?”
“It’s how I like them. Juicy and exciting.” Lily knew she was pushing it. Knew that the time was coming when she’d have to retire gracefully, forget the vigorous men of her fantasies, and accept older, less-dynamic guys, who would probably be even more interested in settling down than their younger versions had been. But not now. Not yet. After all, she was going to be old for a long time. “Enough of that. I want to know about you. Tilly let slip something about you seeing some guy.”
“Mara!”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“It’s nothing. Just a few dates, that’s all.”
“You dating isn’t nothing. Who is he?”
“What’s his name?”
“Is he nice?”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
Mara looked astonished by the flurry of questions from her friends and decided to answer the last. “I didn’t think you’d be this interested.”
“You are a first-class, number-one idiot. You’re going out with someone for the first time in years and you think we won’t want to know about it? Now, tell all. Or else,” Lily said, issuing her orders.
“Yes, sir. He’s called Sam. He lives up the street from us, opposite the old house. He and his wife split up a few years ago. He has a daughter Moo’s age. That’s how I got to know him. He has Moo and Tilly to stay sometimes. Most days I’m back from college by the time they’re home from school, but every so often I have to go away on courses. And I need someone to look after the girls. And he offered.”
“They like him?”
“Yes. A lot.”
The friends waited for more.
“There’s nothing else to tell. We’ve gone out a few times, that’s all. We get a baby-sitter, go to a film or out to dinner. It’s early days.”
“And you don’t want to say any more, do you? In case you jinx it?” Terry asked. That’s how she would have felt.
“I know it’s silly, but…”
“Okay, we’ll shut up. For now. But we expect regular updates. Don’t we, girls?”
“We certainly do.”
“The moment there’s something to tell.”
They all looked expectantly at Mara. “Okay. Okay. I’ll write down every word we say, tell you everything that happens. Is that enough?”
“Perfect.”
Lily wandered over to the window. “Hey, guys, the car’s here. Sean and everyone are out front waiting.”
Jules raised her glass. “One last toast. To Terry.”
“To Terry.”
“Terry.”
“We’ll miss you.”
“No you won’t. I’m only married, not dead.”
“I know. It just feels like we’re saying good-bye. Why is that?” Jules asked.
“Because it is the end of something,” Mara reflected.
“The final act of us and Sean.”
“Lily. That was three years ago.”
“No. It’s now. The last bit of the story. The happy ending.”
“For all of us,” said Jules.
“Except Lily. She’s still looking,” Terry joked.
“Hell, I’m not unhappy. I’m still making them laugh, I’m wealthier than I ever thought I could be, the kids are doing great, and Clive is leaving me alone. Oh, and once I make a call, I’ll have a date next week. Who just might be the one. What more could I want? Apart from ten less years on the clock, that is?” She tossed back her champagne then put down the glass. “Come on. Sean will think we’ve kidnapped her.”
“He’s bound to. Especially as it’s us.”
“Terry’s wicked friends,” Mara said, smiling.
“That’s crap. And you know it. He gave up on all that ages ago. He likes you.”
“Yeah. But I’m not sure he trusts us. I know I wouldn’t. Come on. You’ve only got a weekend of honeymoon, better make the most of it.” And Lily ushered the friends out of the room.
“We’ll have more later. When school’s over and we can take the kids on a proper holiday.”
“Even I wouldn’t want to take the children on a honeymoon,” said Jules.
“I know, we’re mad, but it just felt right. To involve them. Oh, shit, I’ve forgotten my bouquet. Hold on.” Terry ran back down the wide gallery that ran the length of the house, past the high windows and gold-framed old portraits, and disappeared into the bedroom she’d been using.
Moments later, she reappeared with the arrangement of white and lilac freesia.
“Just so long as you don’t throw them in my direction,” said Lily.
Acknowledgments
Too many people have helped me with Sharing Sean for me to list them all. Every one of my friends has been enormously generous with their time, listening to me talk about my work week after week, but I would specifically like to thank Carol Ann Duffy and Sue Fox for their enthusiastic reaction to my original idea, giving me the courage to put pen to paper; Diana Lovell-Pank and Catherine Marcangeli for their generous support and intelligent advice; Bob Bassing and Carol Jago for their thoughtful comments upon the story; Mary Fenton, Jeremy and Gina Fox, Susan Krajewski, Sarah Lawson and Roshan Tarsky for their encouraging response to the manuscript, and the Stevenson family for allowing me to use their dog, Minnie, i
n the story.
I owe an especial debt of gratitude to Nena Rodrigue for going far out of her way to help me find my wonderful agent, Christy Fletcher, whom I cannot thank enough for taking a risk on an unknown English writer and finding her book a home. Many, many thanks also to Claire Wachtel, my brilliant editor, both for pointing out my mistakes without ever making me feel stupid and for shepherding me through the entire unfamiliar process of editing and publication.
Finally, a huge thank you to Chris, Holly, and Tom Pye; I would never have been able to do this without your unstinting love and support.
About the Author
FRANCIS PYE is a writer and journalist. She lives in London with her husband, whom she would be reluctant to share. Sharing Sean is her first novel.
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PRAISE FOR
Sharing Sean
“A Teflon-slick beach read.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Pye strikes a balance between the comedic absurdity of three women trying to juggle one man with the real emotional implications of what they’re doing…. Once the sharing begins, it moves to a delicious—and inevitable—conclusion.”
—Chicago Tribune
“An entertaining debut…this ‘Sex and the City goes London’ is chatty, catty, and downright fun.”
—Booklist
“[A] wry comedy.”
—Marie Claire
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SHARING SEAN. Copyright © 2004 by Frances Pye. 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 e-books.
ePub edition January 2008 ISBN 9780061751707
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