Life Or Something Like It

Step into someone else’s shoes for a day…

And it will change you for a lifetime.

Cat is very good at her job. She runs a PR company with best friend (and secret crush) Jesse, and is never happier than when her high-profile celebrities are glittering in the spotlight.

But after a footballer client hits the headlines for all the wrong reasons, Cat’s career takes a sudden nosedive. So when her brother Andrew unexpectedly needs her to look after his kids for a few weeks, she can hardly say no. She’s happily single, hasn’t exactly been the ‘World’s Best Auntie’ over the years, and what she knows about looking after children would fit on the back of a postage stamp. But it’s only temporary until she gets her real life back on track – isn’t it?

Praise for ANNIE LYONS

‘A great holiday read!’ - Jill Steeples, author of Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off

‘Annie Lyons has proven to be a skilled and extremely talented writer with this book, it truly is something special. She hits on so many emotions all at once that you honestly don’t know if you are coming or going.’ - The Book Geek Wears Pajamas on Dear Lizzie

‘Not Quite Perfect is such a page turner… I couldn’t put this book down and found myself crying with both laughter and sadness at this touching and thought-provoking story.’ - Bookaholic Confessions

‘…a humorous, lighthearted read’ - Fiona’s Book Reviews on Not Quite Perfect

‘Not Quite Perfect is a great title for this book. The writing is bubbly and vivid and very entertaining. It’s a story about trying to find out what is important in life and also that life can’t be perfect all the time.’ - Sky’s Book Corner

‘I thoroughly enjoyed this book and struggled to put it down. The chapters were engaging and funny, with characters that seem to bounce straight off the page and into your imagination.’ - Book Chick City on Dear Lizzie

‘Not Quite Perfect is a mixture of heartwarming situations and light comedy. I found myself having a giggle and thinking ‘that’s so like my family’, on several occasions and that was nice and refreshing. Also, I will admit that I even cried in a few places because it pulled on my heart strings so much.’ - A Book and a Tea

Also by Annie Lyons

Not Quite Perfect

A Not Quite Perfect Christmas

Dear Lizzie

Life or Something Like It

Annie Lyons

Copyright

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2015

Copyright © Annie Lyons 2015

Annie Lyons asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for 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, downloaded, 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-book Edition © June 2015 ISBN: 9781474036528

Version date: 2018-07-23

ANNIE LYONS

decided, after leaving university, that she ‘rather liked books’ and got a job as a bookseller on Charing Cross Road, London. Two years later she left the retail world and continued rather liking books during an eleven-year career in publishing. Following redundancy in 2009 she realised that she would rather like to write books and having undertaken a creative writing course, lots of reading and a bit of practice she produced Not Quite Perfect. She now realises that she loves writing as much as coffee, not as much as her children and a bit more than gardening. She has since written three more novels and is about to start work on her fifth. She lives in a house in south-east London with her husband and two children. The garden is somewhat overgrown. One day she hopes to own a chocolate-brown Labrador named John and have tea with Mary Berry.

Thank you to my brilliant editors - to Sally Williamson for being the voice of calm and editorial wisdom in my frenetic brain and to Victoria Oundjian for her incredible insight, knowledge and mutual love of sombrero-wearing chihuahuas.

Special thanks to Sara Perkins for her invaluable advice on PR and Social Media – Cat Nightingale owes you a mojito.

Thank you to the rest of the splendid Carina team – you are amazing.

Love and thanks to Lily and Alfie for giving me lots of story ideas and offering to illustrate my books.

Most important thanks go to Rich – reader, friend, husband.

For Lily and Alfie

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Praise

Book List

Title Page

Copyright

Author Bio

Acknowledgement

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Excerpt

Endpages

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Cat Nightingale strode confidently through the bar and took a seat on an elegant tan leather sofa by the window. She placed her Kelly bag next to her and took out her iPhone. Ava was always late and Cat was always early. Cat liked things this way. It gave her time to check e-mails, Twitter and anything else that required her attention. She swiped a neatly manicured finger over the screen and flicked her way through her correspondence. Cat had a relationship with her iPhone that was more serious than any she had ever experienced with a man. It was always by her side, faithful and reliable, except when its battery ran down.

As Deputy MD at Hemingway Media, keeping in touch and up to date was vital but she also knew that it was something of an addiction – a good addiction. She had to get that digital hit throughout the day. She had to be on top of everything. Their portfolio of celebrity clients was impressive and her relationship with each and every one of them had to be maintained with a delicate mix of discretion, professionalism and a smattering of the friendly banter that she was known for.

Cat was good at her job and she knew it. Her boss, Jesse, worshipped the ground beneath her feet. She had helped him set up the company three years after they graduated from university and the combination of his easy charm and her sharp intellect had meant that they quickly attracted a host of high-profile clients through word of mouth alone.

You need to launch your new range of perfume? Call Cat. You’re flying to New York and need a go-to for the best clubs and restaurants in town plus reservations to boot? Call Cat. You’ve been caught in a compromising position with your wife’s sister? Call Cat.

Her phone buzzed with a call. She glanced at the ID and swiped to answer immediately.

‘Will. How are you?’

‘I’m hoping I’ll be a lot better after this call.’ Will Bateman didn’t do niceties. He was the most powerful football agent in the country and time really was money in his world. Hemingway Media was organising the launch of a new coffee for the Daily Grind coffee shop chain and Will’s biggest football star, Alvarro Diaz, was going to front it.

‘I’ll do my best.’

‘Can you assure me that there will be no cock-ups on Thursday? I’m taking a big punt using Hemingway and if it goes pear-shaped, it will be my arse on the line too.’

Cat took a deep breath. ‘Everything is in place. Daily Grind love working with Alvarro and we’re already getting a huge response on social media to the “From Bean to Cup” promo film.’

‘I’m more concerned about Alvarro behaving himself,’ admitted Will.

Cat shared these concerns. Alvarro was the latest in a long line of footballing bad boys. He was young, had too much money and since moving from his native Costa Rica, was making the most of his freedom by hitting the London nightlife hard. He was a journalist’s dream and a publicist’s nightmare. ‘I’ve organised a dinner with some journalists for the night before the launch and we’ll make sure there are no detours on the way back to the hotel afterwards.’

‘Okay. Let’s hope you can keep him in line,’ said Will. And with that he was gone.

‘Bye then,’ said Cat to the silent phone.

‘Who you gotta screw to get a cocktail round here?’ cried Ava sweeping through the bar towards Cat. People turned to stare and Ava smiled and waved like the Queen. Cat grinned and stood up in readiness for their air-kiss greeting. Ava Jackson liked to make an entrance; she loved the attention almost as much as the celebrities she featured in her magazine. She was a pint-sized New Yorker with a fearsome reputation and immaculate hair. She had landed in the UK twenty years ago, forging an impressive career as a red-topped paper journalist before founding her own celebrity gossip magazine called Mwah!

A handsome, slick-haired waiter appeared by their side. Ava gave him an approving smile as they ordered their drinks. ‘So,’ she said, fixing her gaze on Cat, ‘tell me everything.’

Cat smiled. She was used to Ava’s ways. She was an important contact in the world of celebrity gossip magazines and probably the closest thing Cat had to a best friend, but she didn’t trust her. Not really. Ava would sell her grandmother and probably Cat’s too for a good story. They had playfully named these informal monthly get-togethers as ‘The Tuesday Night Mojito Club’, but Cat was careful to be measured in both her drinking and divulging. Still, they enjoyed each other’s company and for the most part the relationship was mutually advantageous. Cat gave Ava the stories that would help her sell magazines and Ava gave Cat the publicity her clients required. It was beautifully simple. Most of the time.

‘Saffy Bridges’s agent has asked me to find the right home for her engagement pictures,’ said Cat, casually. The waiter delivered their cocktails and Cat nodded her thanks.

Ava sat up in her seat. ‘I’m listening.’

Cat smiled. Saffron Bridges was the pop sensation of the moment and she had recently announced her engagement to the floppy-fringed song-writing star Sam Taylor. As soon as it had been announced #SaffSam had trended worldwide and the Tiffany’s engagement ring that Saffy had posted on Instagram shortly afterwards now had a six-month waiting list. Cat had overseen the entire thing. ‘The problem is, there are obviously a number of other channels interested,’ said Cat, studying her fingernails.

Ava didn’t blink. ‘What do you need?’

‘Positive coverage for the Paradise Rivers perfume launch.’

‘Done.’

‘No bitchy comments about her being a limelight-grabbing drama queen?’

Ava put her hand on her heart. ‘By the time we’ve finished with her, she’ll be more popular than Kate Middleton.’

Cat raised an eyebrow. Paradise Rivers was a former reality TV and now wannabe pop star. She was headline-hogging and about as far from paradise as a person could be but her agent had a number of other top celebrity clients so Cat had to ensure that she got the best coverage possible. ‘Just a few hours trending on Twitter for all the right reasons will be fine.’

‘You got it,’ said Ava taking a sip of her drink. Cat sat back in her chair feeling satisfied. ‘So, how are you doing?’

Cat smiled. ‘I’m good. Busy but that’s how I like it.’

Ava fixed her with a look. ‘Too busy if I know you.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I mean, sweet-cheeks, that you gotta look after number one. Listen to your Auntie Ava. Trust me, I know this. All work and no play will burn you out in the end.’

Cat shrugged. ‘I signed up to this job. It’s just the way it is. And besides, I enjoy it. It makes me happy. But I appreciate you looking out for me, Mum,’ she joked.

Ava blew a raspberry. ‘I’m serious. I worry about you.’

Cat shook her head and laughed. ‘Why would you worry about me?’

Ava counted on her fingers. ‘One: you work too hard, two: you’re never off that phone, three: when was the last time you had sex?’

Cat nearly choked on her mojito. ‘What’s sex got to do with anything?’

Ava fixed her with a knowing look. ‘Sex has got everything to do with everything.’

‘I have sex,’ insisted Cat.

‘When?’

‘Last month. With that comedian.’

‘The one with the awful hair and sweat-patches? Euw!’

‘He was very funny.’

‘A funny comedian? There’s a thing.’

Cat stuck out her tongue. ‘Well what about you and all the sex you’re having?’

‘I do pretty well and anyway I’ve got Sergio.’

‘Oh yeah, your “friend with benefits”,’ laughed Cat making speech marks in the air. ‘You’re so old school, Ava.’

Ava shrugged. ‘You may mock but it works. You should get one instead of rejecting every male because he’s not Jesse Hemingway.’

Cat folded her arms. She cursed the day she had told Ava about Jesse. They hadn’t known each other long; it had been after the launch party for Mwah! Cat remembered that tequila and Ava’s nose for an excellent story had been to blame.

‘So he’s the man of your dreams and yet you’ve never slept with him?’ Ava had slurred, reaching over to top up their shot glasses with expensive golden tequila.

‘We had a moment,’ Cat had said wistfully.

‘A moment? Oh well, that’s almost as legally binding as a marriage.’

Cat wished she’d never mentioned it but Ava had the memory of an elephant and was fond of bringing up the subject whenever their talk turned to affairs of the heart. Fortunately this didn’t happen very often; the celebrity world kept them more than occupied and Cat had no desire to air her innermost feelings to herself, let alone the editor of the country’s favourite gossip magazine.

Still, Ava was right in that there was no-one who ever came close to Jesse and, as the years went by, this never changed. Cat enjoyed the odd flirtation and night of passion but nothing ever lasted and it suited her fine. Jesse was now married to an ex-model but it was still Cat who got to spend the majority of time with him. He even called her his ‘PR wife’. This suited her fine as well.

‘I am not rejecting anyone. I’m just not looking because I’m happy as I am.’

‘Really?’ said Ava with narrowed disbelieving eyes.

‘Really,’ declared Cat. ‘This single life works for me. I think I might be the one.’

Ava gave a hollow laugh. ‘If you say so, honey. And for the record, it works for me too. I don’t know what I’d do if you got hitched and popped out a couple of kids.’

Cat shook her head. ‘You know me. That’s never going to happen. Let other people repopulate the world. Between you and me, I’ve got a woman working for me who was the best in the business but since she’s had a baby, I’ve had no end of trouble.’

Ava nodded. ‘Tell me about it. The kid’s sick and suddenly it’s your problem. Am I right?’

‘Pretty much. I mean it’s the twenty-first century so women should be able to go out to work but you’ve got to be responsible for your own life and get organised, for heaven’s sake. The number of times I’ve had to let Nancy have time off because of childcare issues. It’s not on. You’ve got to take control and if you can’t, then find another job.’

‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Ava draining her glass. ‘Want another?’

Cat nodded. ‘Please.’ Her phone buzzed with a call and she glanced down to see her brother’s number. ‘I need to take this,’ she said, excusing herself from the table and making her way out into the lobby away from Ava’s gaze.

‘Andrew? Are you okay?’

‘Hey, Cat. That’s not like you to answer your phone to me first time.’

‘Ha ha. What’s up?’

‘Just calling to catch up with my favourite sister. I expect you’re somewhere posh and up itself.’

She smiled. ‘Always. How are Melissa and the kids?’

‘Well actually Mel’s got to go to Australia. Her dad’s not well.’

‘Oh shit. Is it serious?’

‘Cancer. They’re giving him weeks to live.’

‘Oh God, I’m so sorry. Poor Melissa.’

‘I know. She’s leaving first thing tomorrow so we’re just trying to sort out the childcare.’

‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.’

‘Ah thanks, Nanny McPhee. Could my children come and stay with you?’

‘Well er – ’

‘Cat? I’m kidding. You’re so easy to wind up. Much as I relish the thought of you dragging my six- and ten-year-old to the Ivy and the management looking on in horror as Ellie and Charlie ask for ketchup with their caviar, we should be fine.’

‘They don’t have caviar at the Ivy so ha! Anyway, I would help you out if you needed me to. You know that.’

‘Thank you but luckily Mel’s sorting it so you’re off the hook. I’ll call you at the weekend, okay?’

Cat gave a shiver of relief as she ended the call. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her nephew and niece; it was more that she’d hardly spent any time with children. She recalled how Andrew had recently guilt-tripped her into attending Ellie’s sixth birthday party. Cat had turned up with the biggest teddy bear she could carry ready to play at being the world’s best auntie. She rang the doorbell and could hear small feet stampeding down the hall before the door was flung open and a small voice squeaked, ‘Eeeee!’

Cat peered around the bear into the chocolate-smeared face of her niece. Ellie was wearing a white and blue princess dress. She was flanked by two girls in similar outfits with a small boy dressed as a slightly lopsided snowman trailing behind. Cat was good at dealing with most situations but being faced with these sugar-crazed miniature humans immediately caught her off guard. She was relieved when she heard her brother’s voice.

‘Ellie, what have I told you about opening the door to strangers? Oh Cat, you made it! Come in.’ Andrew smiled. Cat’s heart surged with love and gratitude.

‘Is that for me?’ demanded Ellie, gesturing at the bear.

‘Ellie! Don’t be rude. Say hello to your Auntie Cat.’

‘You told me not to talk to strangers,’ said the six-year-old baldly. ‘Who is Auntie Cat?’

Andrew looked embarrassed but Cat dismissed his concerns with a small shake of her head. ‘You’re very clever to be careful and I’m sorry I haven’t seen you for a while but Daddy is right, I’m your auntie and this,’ she said, handing over the bear, ‘is for you. Happy birthday.’

Ellie took the bear, which was much bigger than her. ‘What do you say, Ellie?’ coaxed Andrew.

‘Thank yoo,’ said the small girl looking up at her aunt suspiciously.

‘Andy!’ shouted a voice from upstairs, which Cat recognised as Melissa’s. Andrew glanced up at the frowning face peering over the banisters. ‘Oh hey, Cat,’ said Melissa as she spotted her sister-in-law. Cat could tell that she was surprised and a little irritated by her presence.

‘Hey,’ said Cat. ‘I just popped in with a present for Ellie but I can see you’re busy.’

‘Oh no you don’t,’ said Andrew, grabbing her arm and pulling her over the threshold. ‘Are you okay, Mel?’

‘I need you to come and talk to your son,’ said Melissa with meaning. Cat could hear her ten-year-old nephew rampaging like a wild animal upstairs.

A shadow of embarrassment passed over Andrew’s face as he glanced at his sister. ‘I’ll be back in a sec. Ellie, take your aunt through to the other room and don’t let her leave, okay?’ He disappeared up the stairs leaving Cat standing in the hall with her four minders.

She smiled down at them cheerfully. Use your PR charm, Catherine, she told herself. ‘Which princesses are you?’ she asked the three girls. ‘I always used to like Sleeping Beauty.’

Ellie rolled her eyes. ‘Duh. I’m Elsa and they are Anna,’ she declared, gesturing at her friends. A look of confusion passed over Cat’s face. ‘From Frozen?’ continued Ellie as if she were addressing an idiot. ‘You know – Let it go, Let it go-ooo,’ she sang tunelessly, dancing the gigantic bear round and round. Her two friends joined in and they were soon spinning down the corridor with giggling glee. Cat and the snowman were left staring at one another. She recoiled in horror as a thick slug of snot seeped from his carrot-covered nose.

‘I’m Olaf,’ he declared before pushing his tongue up his lip and licking experimentally at the snot. Cat did her best not to gag and looked desperately up the stairs, praying that her brother would come back soon and rescue her. However, Ellie had not forgotten her father’s request. She plonked the huge bear on the floor and spun back down the hallway towards her aunt. Grabbing Cat with one hand and dragging the bear with the other, she pulled her towards the dining room. ‘Come on. You have to meet Finn,’ she said.

Cat followed reluctantly, expecting to be introduced to another grubby little boy with limited hygiene. She was surprised to find a man, sitting on the floor of the dining room, strumming experimentally on a guitar. The chairs had been cleared to the sides of the room and the table was pushed against one wall. It was covered with pieces of half-chewed pizza, curling sandwiches and what looked like strawberry jelly, all of which made Cat’s stomach flip. She was used to politely nibbled canapés and bento boxes containing neat parcels of sushi. This was cuisine carnage.

Ellie plonked herself very close to the man, whilst one little girl sat the other side of him and the other stood behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He obviously had some sort of magnetism for children. To be honest, Cat couldn’t quite see the attraction. He was heavily bearded with messy hair, a scruffy T-shirt bearing the words ‘I like Biscuits’, and an even scruffier pair of jeans paired with some ancient Converse trainers. He looked so at home on the floor with these pint-sized princesses, almost as if he were one of them. They clearly adored him.

Ellie put an arm round his neck and looked up at her aunt. ‘This is Finn,’ she said proudly as if she were introducing the Dalai Lama. Finn nodded up at Cat but didn’t seem to see her. He was intent on the chords he was playing, lost in a musical moment. Cat found this quite rude. ‘Come and sit down and we can sing,’ ordered Ellie. Cat looked around her. The floor was worse than the table. It was covered with crushed cheese puffs, squashed fondant fancies and pools of sticky juice. Cat glanced down at her Stella McCartney jeans and picked up what she hoped was a clean paper napkin. She placed it on the floor and sat down next to Ellie.