Blurb :
When Olivia Berrington gets the call to tell her that her best friend from college has been killed in a car crash in New York, her life is turned upside down. Her relationship with Sally was an exhilarating roller coaster, until a shocking betrayal drove them apart. But if Sally really had turned her back, why is her little girl named after Olivia?As questions mount about the fatal accident, Olivia is forced to go back and unravel their tangled history. But as Sally’s secrets start to spill out, Olivia’s left asking herself if the past is best kept buried.
Excerpt :
When I think about it now, I realize that she always did make sure she had backup, even while she tried to keep my options to an absolute minimum. I remember bursting back through the door one This Life night, my stint in the library longer than I had intended. “It’s starting!” I shouted, running into the living room, only to fi nd Lola, stockinged feet neatly tucked underneath her, sitting on the sofa.“Hello, Livvy,” she said, giving me a brief, polite smile
devoid of any warmth.“Oh . . . hi! Lovely to see you.”I walked toward her, hoping she’d let me hug her, but she might as well have been wreathed in barbed wire.“We’ve got a house guest!” said Sally, sailing back in, a bowl of Pringles in her hand, not a trace of discomfort. I don’t know what she said to her, I never asked, but she somehow managed to lure her back into the fold. But now the fold was only big enough for two. They would hug and shriek and go for drinks, and occasionally I would go along, but it was abundantly clear who was making the bed sag in the middle now. Lola would tolerate me, but no more than that, and to go out with her on my own and lay it on the table would somehow have felt like going behind Sally’s back. Neither of us would have dared do that.It wasn’t just Lola. It sometimes felt like she got crushes on people, girls as much as boys, and she’d suddenly want to see them all the time. She might invite me along, but it was always in a way that told me she was doing me a favor rather than relishing the idea of my company. After the fi rst couple of times I learned not to be jealous. These people were like fireflies, their tenure brief, the friendship burning out before it gained any real momentum. And then it would be me and her again, almost as if I’d imagined it.
That apartment left me broke. The rent was sky high, and that was before you took into account how much it cost to survive the cold of a Yorkshire winter. We’d divided up the bills when we first moved in, putting a few in each of our names, but Sally would leave hers until they were red and angry, final demands and threats of court action. I’d beg her to pay them, and she’d laugh. “They’re messing with us. They won’t do anything. I’ll pay it next week.” She was right, of course, but I didn’t like the menace of it, the sense that we were in trouble. It gave me a feeling of living in the last days of a dying empire, like we were squatting in Buckingham Palace.
Find Eleanor
Buy The Last Time I Saw You
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