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Sunshine on a Rainy Day: A funny, feel-good romantic comedy
Bryony Fraser
A hilarious and heartbreaking read, for anyone whose life hasn’t quite gone to plan… The only book that fans of BRIDGET JONES and MARIAN KEYES need.‘If you enjoyed One Day, you’ll love this.’ Reader reviewIt’s Zoe and Jack’s first wedding anniversary party. They’ve got an announcement! They’re getting divorced…Marriage isn’t for everyone – something that Zoe and Jack discovered only after they’d walked down the aisle. Bad timing, huh? So now they’re stuck together in their once harmonious marital home, neither one of them willing to move out of their lovely house.With Zoe’s three sisters always wanting a say, and Jack’s best friend trying his best to fix things between them, misunderstandings arise. Tempers flare. ‘Accidents’ happen…Zoe and Jack are going to be lucky if they’re still alive when the twelve months are up. But maybe things aren’t quite as final as they seem?What readers are saying about Sunshine on a Rainy Day:‘A refreshingly hilarious read; that has the power to pull at your heartstrings…it brought sunshine to my soul.’ The Writing Garnet‘If you enjoyed One Day, you’ll love this.’ Reader review‘I laughed and cried all the way through…a fantastic, laugh-out-loud feel-good book.’ Reader review‘An engaging and entertaining story!’ Rae Reads‘Funny and moving…it will make you laugh and cry, and wish you knew some of the characters in real life.’ Reader review‘Funny story…highly entertaining.’ Reader review
Published by AVON
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2016
Copyright © Bryony Fraser 2016
Cover illustration and Design © Emma Rogers 2016
Bryony Fraser asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of 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, 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.
Source ISBN: 9780007477081
Ebook Edition © September 2016 ISBN: 9780007477098
Version: 2016-08-10
Dedication (#u4a3ed56c-2eab-5410-a0e3-169bfb7698d5)
This book is dedicated to all the great dames
I know and love.
And also to burritos.
‘They say marriages are made in Heaven.
But so is thunder and lightning.’
— Clint Eastwood
Table of Contents
Cover (#u59fc3739-aad8-55c7-9089-9dba88c1e211)
Title Page (#u2137860d-c46b-5eeb-b62d-8523e7a0f14e)
Copyright (#u425acb49-dd52-5571-b6f9-cfe31b55a20d)
Dedication (#u8fff394e-fc51-5aba-b7e2-8802999074a0)
Epigraph (#u4e764217-17c6-5b12-ab1d-db9ba01dc4b8)
The End (#udce03c21-0714-5197-b005-f27732b191e8)
Chapter One (#uae52efb6-c34b-5663-bc75-f3c8d4243b06)
Chapter Two (#u88206f52-af09-5bbe-a2db-711fa08cc554)
Chapter Three (#ue75841d7-7bb8-59df-8496-18b08cb53d1a)
Chapter Four (#u749dfca6-b90d-5aac-9fff-5ec93cb7cdda)
Chapter Five (#u76a43685-46cc-5a16-bfa9-b53df2a5e2ee)
Chapter Six (#ue2880ab0-e39d-51e1-a202-25200a26bedf)
Chapter Seven (#u83e1ad35-f42e-50fa-99b8-e73dd5002baa)
Chapter Eight (#u2e80fe35-2ce7-5f09-b4ee-fc1515683c9b)
Chapter Nine (#u472481a8-ef6c-59fa-aa3a-a52db8fae8a9)
Chapter Ten (#u8a7fe28c-0b5e-5f68-b40e-1ec692963589)
Chapter Eleven (#u2bfd10ff-553c-5580-a304-5d3546a5316d)
Chapter Twelve (#udaafb165-0dbe-570d-97b1-7e463c556765)
Chapter Thirteen (#ucb8328cf-87ea-5eeb-9a18-a6ea2118fdf2)
Chapter Fourteen (#u7c8b3fde-e0c2-5a7a-9744-7d585958b986)
Chapter Fifteen (#u34a2d50b-36cb-58c9-8e55-0a35042af641)
Chapter Sixteen (#ue541ccdb-41bd-5311-8695-94abf8fcf0d3)
Chapter Seventeen (#u6db2bf3e-6bda-5059-84b2-b325b0c4904a)
Chapter Eighteen (#u59c0ca96-f96f-5a4a-ac71-bce0518c355d)
Chapter Nineteen (#uce9cf895-de78-5352-9f7e-104b4a53b7dd)
Chapter Twenty (#u697177e6-8de8-5024-aa15-5be54d6cb259)
Chapter Twenty-One (#ufc809eaa-62d7-5a44-970d-2d081d2cadbe)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#u10ffe392-e98d-5aa9-917b-2e1cfa156fd2)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#u5799b3ef-d94f-5a13-ac31-727dabdf24f1)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#u48bfb400-4bb8-5c87-aefc-005693d96092)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#u68218752-c603-5e2b-8d65-e6030b1f8b9d)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#u7f7d9fda-f923-5835-ab0c-196ea06af0c2)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#u45f39ed6-dff7-5e5a-8305-ce5feb49428b)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#u72b01d13-a947-5c78-912c-cf18218bacb7)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#u3ecb70fe-aef9-51a1-880b-7a2a428a7d85)
Chapter Thirty (#uf9dd59db-fdb0-5675-b20e-e5af443f8ff3)
Chapter Thirty-One (#u8413211f-e177-51a0-be07-dc2c7253d53e)
Chapter Thirty-Two (#u3573c5e5-370c-5f92-8c60-35f47b324c33)
Chapter Thirty-Three (#u103271ae-51bc-59ff-bebb-25a19dd5667e)
Chapter Thirty-Four (#u899a9b46-0087-5711-a8b2-9c32fbe23e91)
Chapter Thirty-Five (#u9cb2b68d-2f28-563d-bec6-3b92fc855b14)
Chapter Thirty-Six (#u5d018869-612e-5d4e-bd4d-59f09960ab59)
Chapter Thirty-Seven (#u957a6106-113c-5895-9b9f-1aa3a1511e61)
Chapter Thirty-Eight (#u6c44c976-9cc3-5016-9e88-79a3c665bdae)
Acknowledgements (#u9a84a5fb-c8e3-5948-ab02-be561d809ffe)
Keep Reading … (#ub505b156-e81e-5d96-b146-a5c3110f6886)
About The Author (#uc1a3f53f-4b2a-5a27-bc48-7533e731916f)
About the Publisher (#uc7257737-4d3a-5ded-ad66-41f1f6400127)
The End
‘We’re getting a divorce.’
There’s a moment, just a single heartbeat of a moment, where no one says anything. Then Dad puts his arm around Mum, and my sister Kat starts laughing, and Liz is standing up, cheering, and Jack’s best man, Iffy, is raising his pint to us, and everyone else is chattering like am-dram extras. My other sisters tell off Kat for laughing, and Mum throws her hands up, and at the back of the room someone drops their glass, and Jack and I just look at one another.
Thinking about it again, maybe our anniversary party wasn’t the best place to announce it.
ONE (#u4a3ed56c-2eab-5410-a0e3-169bfb7698d5)
Now
I stirred my rum and Coke with one perfectly manicured finger and took a large gulp. I hadn’t smoked since my teens, but I’d have pushed a vicar through a stained-glass window for just a couple of puffs.
‘You alright, love?’ Dad sat opposite me, nursing his own rum. I blinked at him.
‘Besides the obvious?’ I said, gesturing with my glass at my outfit, our location.
‘We’ve got plenty of time, Zoe. Have a drink. Take a deep breath. Decide what you want to do.’
That was what I needed to hear, ever since this morning, when I’d woken up in my old bedroom. Or when I was booking marquees. Or when Jack first asked me.
I sighed and stared out of the window. ‘Did you and Mum never fancy this?’
Dad shifted in his chair a little. ‘Did it ever bother you and your sisters that we weren’t married?’
‘No! God, no. It was quite cool, actually. But I’m just wondering, now … Why did you two never fancy it?’ I turned my engagement ring round and round on my finger, gold band … sapphire stone … gold band … sapphire stone …
‘Things were different. And it just didn’t suit us, back then. But we weren’t who you and Jack are.’
‘That’s what I’m worried about.’
‘The thing is, love … sometimes you just have to do what you think is right.’ He took a sip. ‘Even if it might seem like the hardest thing in the world.’
I looked at Dad’s pale, smiling face, then knocked back the rest of my drink, stood up, and pushed my veil forwards over my face. ‘Let’s do this, Dad. Let’s get me down that aisle.’
We stepped out of the Queen’s Head into the cold, thin January sunlight, where the wedding car was waiting for us, driver Al in the front with a Daily Express and a bag of salt and vinegar. As he saw us coming out, he started up the engine; Dad tucked me into the back seat, passing me the second-hand Chanel clutch he and Mum had surprised me with last night, as if it were a vaguely radioactive but very precious baby, then sat down beside me, trying not to crumple my outfit.
‘Fifteen minutes, Al,’ Dad said. ‘Do you think we can make it?’
‘Nooo problem,’ Al shouted over his shoulder, revving the engine and sweeping out into the traffic.
Fortunately, having huge wedding ribbons on your car seems to make other drivers a touch more charitable – there’s no way we’d have made it in time otherwise – and we got to the register office to find Jack outside at the front, pacing with nerves at my delay, alongside his best man, Iffy, and my maid of honour, my oldest friend, Liz. My sisters were outside too: Esther watching Jack’s pacing with crossed arms and Ava standing with her arms around Kat, who was painting her nails, both of them huddled together in a tiny splash of winter sun, breath hanging in the air. The rest of the wedding party waited inside as the wedding before ours began filing out. As the car drew to a halt, Jack bounded over, reaching in to help me out of the car before it had even come to a full stop.
As soon as I saw him, I thought, Yeah. This’ll be ok. I watched Dad climb out behind me and give me a thumbs up, and thought again, harder, This will be ok. I’m sure it will.
Then Jack took my hand and smiled at me, and we headed inside.
‘You may kiss the bride!’
There was a moment’s silence while we leant into each other, then my sisters started whooping as one, and as we kissed the whole register office applauded, and it felt alright for a moment. We pulled away and Jack looked like he was glowing, happiness pouring out of his freckles, and I thought, I wonder if I look like that?
Then the registrar said a few more things, the music started up and we were back down the aisle, out into the sunshine and then … then we didn’t know where we were supposed to go. The car wasn’t there – Al wasn’t due back for a good while yet. He was probably sitting back in the pub he’d picked me and Dad up from, enjoying a quiet drink before the happy couple spilt prosecco all over the back of his car. We milled about for a while, doubling back on ourselves to watch everyone trooping out, then we had to walk back in and out again so the photographer could get some shots of everyone throwing confetti at us on the stone steps.
