Page 1 of Bay of Plenty

Chapter One

December 1, Notting Hill, London, England

Holiday tunes tinkledthrough our tiny basement flat, taunting me with good cheer.

“C’mon, Isla. That birthday cocktail won’t drink itself,” Shakayla, my best friend and flatmate, called. “Heading out infive minutes.”

Unfair advantage. Shay knew I couldn’t ignore a tight deadline.

“Dying for it,” I called back. Weak joke. I was doing a last-minute touch-up of my roots in the bathroom sink, head upside down and eyes squeezed shut.

“Ha ha. Good. Because I bet the bar is already rocking with well-fit blokes.” Her voice was closer, like she’d stepped into my bedroom. “Who knows, one of them might be your birthday present. Or even change your life.”

“I need a man to change my life?” I asked in a mock-scolding voice, fumbling for the tap to rinse my hair.

“Okay, okay.” She paused. “How about he just changes your night? And remember what I told you…”

“That I should keep spouting self-indulgent, existentialnonsense about turning thirty-four and how my life is shit?” I took a breath. “Because it’s so sexy?”

“Check your sources, woman. That’s notquitewhat I said.”

I chuckled for her sake, but honestly, I wasn’t feeling it. It wasn’t a big deal tonight—birthday drinks with Shay and her live-in boyfriend, Bato, at our local. Still, my heart had squeezed when she’d suggested it weeks ago, because lately, I’d sorely tested her ride-or-die loyalty. I shook some enthusiasm into my head. Dye dribbled into my eyes. Splashing them with water, I tried to wash out the self-pity too.

“It’ll be fun,” I said. “Thank you. What shall I wear?”

The squeak of hangers in my wardrobe. A big sigh.

“You only have black suits and white shirts, you loser,” she said fondly. “Way too boring for a night on the town. Why don’t you borrow one of my frocks? I’ve got the perfect dress for my very own ‘Elizabeth Moss with a black bob.’” She always called me that.

A little grunt. Teddy, my Maltese mix, from his usual position on the bed.

“You hear that?” she asked. “Even Teddy agrees with me.”

“Whatever you guys think.”

I noted the magnolia-scented rustle of silk as she drew near with a couple of steps. Her warm hand on my shoulder. She must have heard the sadness in my voice. “I know birthdays have bad memories for you.”

It was twenty years ago today that Janey disappeared, and even though I was half a world away from my hometown in New Zealand, it always haunted me on this day.

My phone pinged from where it rested hopefully near me on the bathroom bench. My heart lifted.

I blinked, my vision still blurry. “Shay, could you check that for me?” I was waiting on a response from a newspaper editor who’d always tried to poach me. “Is it—”

“Yes!” Shay’s reply was triumphant.

My limbs tingled. “Can you read it to me, please?” Excited, I vigorously re-rinsed my hair.

“Isla, this is a good story,” Shay said, reading the text message aloud to me.

I grinned as the water tumbled over my head.

“The poor woman—about to lose her home. I can’t imagine how many months you’ve worked to prove this.” The bank had coerced her into signing up for horribly onerous terms. “But—Isla, I’m going to be brutally honest—I can’t take a chance on you for this story.Bring me a strong five thousand words for a series with an impeccable source, and we can talk.”

My throat went tight. Not again. Slowly, I turned off the tap and squeezed water from my hair. Through the drips, I could see Shay set my phone down, her face pained and apologetic.

Don’t cry, don’t cry. My shaking hands wrapped my head in a towel. “I’ll send it on to Jack. He’ll get it published.” He used to be a colleague. I growled out my frustration. “I’ve got an in-box bursting with former readers pleading for my help. What use am I to them now?”

Shay squeezed my upper arm. “You’ve helped loads of people. Remember your old strapline:Recovered millions for her readers.” She hugged me. “Now suck it up, get your clothes on, and let’s go out and get you drunk.”

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