Love at Second Sight Read Online Free Page B

bet she did exist and was Betty’s great-aunt or
something.’
    Tash nodded. ‘Possible.’
    But Effy had her ‘I won’t be budged on this’ face on.
    Tash threw herself back on my bed. ‘So it might be a story that Betty tells everyone, but you still have to admit it’s romantic,’ she said. ‘There’s no harm in just
looking for Henrietta. See where it takes us.’
    ‘It would have saved a lot of time if a boy had been in to see Betty today too and she’d told him that he was Howard and then she could have said, “Ah, I’ve just seen
Henrietta. What a coincidence. Quick, get out in the fair and find her.’”
    ‘You’ve just got a closed mind,’ said Effy. ‘A cynic’
    ‘Whatever,’ I said and began to make up their beds on the floor.
    Later that night, Tash woke me. ‘Jo, Jo, it’s OK. I’m here.’
    ‘Wha . . . Who?’
    ‘You were calling for your dad again.’
    I looked at the clock. Three a.m. I wasn’t surprised. Effy and Tash had been woken by me during many a sleepover over the years because of a recurring dream that I have. I can never
remember the exact details of what happens in the dream, just a sense of loss and an old house, a house that I don’t recognise. Effy, Tash and Mum have all told me that I call out for my dad.
He died of a heart attack when I was nine years old. It was totally out of the blue and I still really miss him. Mum’s made me go and see so many sleep specialists over the years to try and
stop the dream. She’s had me try lavender oil, counting sheep, relaxation techniques starting with my toes and up through my body None of them have helped much because it’s not that I
have a problem getting to sleep, it’s that I wake up when I have the dream and then can’t get back to sleep. Mum’s latest fad is for me to try hypnotherapy. She sits in the
waiting room reading magazines whilst the therapist puts me under and I have a nice kip – feels like that anyway. I’ve had three sessions so far and it seemed to be helping a bit, that
is until tonight.
    ‘Want me to get you a drink?’ asked Tash.
    ‘No. I’m fine. Sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep.’
    Tash settled back down.
    ‘Maybe we’ve heard wrong all these years,’ said Effy from the depths of her sleeping bag on the floor. ‘Maybe all this time, Jo hasn’t been calling
“Dad”, she’s been calling for Howard – Howa-dad. Get it? Howa-d ... ad. Sounds similar.’
    I pulled a pillow out from behind me and threw it at her. ‘You really do have an overactive imagination,’ I said as it landed neatly on her head. ‘I call out for my dad. Always
have. So forget about Howard-ad. That’s just wishful thinking on your part.’
    ‘Whatever,’ said Effy. She turned over so that she had her back to me.
    I snuggled down again. Somehow I had a strong feeling Tash and Effy weren’t going to let the Henrietta story go, no matter what I said or thought.

Chapter Five
    ‘Oh, tell the whole world, why don’t you?’ I said as I squeezed into a seat beside Tash and Effy the next morning at our favourite café on Highgate
High Street. We liked it up in the village; it had an old-world charm, with Georgian terraced houses built around the square where just about every teenager in north London liked to hang out. There
were a few individual, quirky shops there as well as a good number of cafés where we could meet up to check out who was around and who was with who.
    Mark, Dave and Owen were wedged in opposite and I’d heard them discussing my visit to the clairvoyant when I walked into the café, even though they had all fallen silent when I sat
down. I had thought about telling Mum about it before I left the house earlier but before I could get a word in, she’d laid into me about leaving pizza boxes all over the place and not
clearing up after Effy and Tash had gone. She was never in a good mood after working the late shift at the hospital so it clearly wasn’t the time or place to have