Free The Forgotten Girl by Kerry Barrett Page B

magazines, immediately seeing how much energy old Mode had. I put the Grace issues in a row, and the most recent Modes, and then I paused. In among the old issues of Mode was an issue of Home & Hearth from 1966 – the magazine that had undergone change after change before eventually turning into Grace. Interested, I picked up the issue from 1966, which seemed a world away both from modern older women’s magazines and how I imagined the sixties. It had one of the worst covers I’d ever seen – it was brown and the picture was a pie, shot from above. It looked tasty but it definitely didn’t make me want to read the mag.
    Despite the unappealing cover, I sat down at my desk to have a look. I loved all magazines and I’d learned over the years that ideas could come from anywhere.
    To my surprise, it was a good read and I was quickly engrossed. It had a lot of fiction – something hardly any magazines featured any more – some horrible fashion spreads and very little beauty, but it had an interesting travel feature about Israel, and quite a hard-hitting report on giving up babies for adoption. There was much more to it than I’d first thought. And what it had in common with early Mode and modern Grace was the energy, enthusiasm and excitement that made it a magazine worth reading.
    I sighed and tapped my keyboard to wake up my computer, thinking I’d make some notes about Home & Hearth while it was fresh in my mind, but I grimaced as I saw an email from Lizzie with the subject line: sales figures.
    Urgh. The early sales from the Back to Basics issue. Bracing myself I opened the email and looked in horror at the numbers, which were lower than I’d feared. Much, much lower. Mode was in big trouble and I wasn’t sure all the good ideas we’d had were enough to save it.

Chapter 13
    1966
    â€˜Waiting for me?’ George crept up behind me and made me jump.
    I turned and grinned at him, pulling my hair away from my face as the wind whipped it across my lips.
    â€˜No actually,’ I said. ‘I’m meeting a friend.’
    It was lunchtime and I was waiting for Suze outside my office. It was raining again and I was huddled under an umbrella.
    â€˜What friend?’ said George, ducking under as the rain suddenly got heavier. ‘Anyone I know?’
    â€˜The girl I met yesterday,’ I said. ‘Her name’s Suze Williams. She wants to be a writer.’
    George was a lot taller than me, his lanky frame folded up under my brolly. Now he frowned down at me.
    â€˜Sucker,’ he said.
    I shoved him.
    â€˜She’s nice,’ I said. ‘Interesting.’
    â€˜Pretty?’
    I felt a flush of jealousy and unfairly I shrugged.
    â€˜Guess so,’ I said.
    â€˜Not as pretty as you, though,’ said George and my stomach flipped over.
    He was very close to me as we sheltered from the rain, which was getting heavier by the minute. I felt the warmth of his body through my mac and I wondered what he would do if I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him. I was fairly sure – positive, in fact – that he’d kiss me back. But I wasn’t quite ready to open that can of worms yet.
    â€˜Nancy,’ Suze squeezed in between me and George. I’d been so engrossed in my thoughts that I’d not even noticed her approaching. ‘I’ve had the most wonderful idea.’
    â€˜This is Suze,’ I said to George, tilting my head to peek round her. Suze’s hair was wet but it was so short, it didn’t look bad. She was still coat-less, even though the rain was now torrential.
    â€˜Hi Suze,’ George said. ‘I’m George.’
    Suze shot him a quick dismissive smile over her shoulder then gripped my arms.
    â€˜I’ve had an idea,’ she said again.
    George reached round Suze and squeezed my fingers.
    â€˜I’m going to take my chances with the rain,’ he said. ‘See you later.’
    He ducked out