Free Love Letters by Katie Fforde Page A

It had been a long time since she’d taken so much exercise but in spite of being aware of her unfit state she was enjoying the sensation of all her muscles working and felt exhilarated and energised.
    ‘You must admit, the views are absolutely stunning!’ said Monica, who was used to cycling and, unlike Laura, panting only slightly.
    ‘Oh yes, it’s amazing.’
    They were standing on a cliff, gazing out to sea, regathering their energy before going to hunt out Monica’s Lust Object. The sun sparkled like diamonds on the little waves. The sky was pale blue and seemed to glint with potential frost. The grass on the clifftop was close-cropped, green still, although it was winter. Behind them was a row of whitewashed cottages. When Monica had stopped sweating, the plan was that they were going to knock on the door of her potential lover. Laura was planning to stay and enjoy the view but she hadn’t told Monica that yet. She wasn’t sure how’d she’d take it.
    ‘Actually,’ said Laura. ‘I might lie down.’
    She did and it was wonderful. Her long walk uphill had made her warm and the sun on her cold face made her think of summer. Maybe this trip wasn’t a wild-goose chase, and if it was, maybe it was fine just to have fun. Grant was always saying she took life too seriously. Well, maybe she’d stop doing that and just go along for the ride. Although maybe he wouldn’t appreciate arranging cover for her absence from the bookshop just for her to have a little winter sun.
    Monica lay down next to her. ‘Oh, this is rather blissful, isn’t it? If I told the girls in the band that I’d spent half a week lying on a clifftop in Ireland, in January, they’d think I was mad.’
    Laura chuckled, watching a bird cross the sky through half-closed lids. ‘Don’t you think they know that already?’
    ‘Mm, probably.’
    ‘It’s funny, all the people I know think I’m incredibly sensible, except for my parents, of course,’ said Laura sleepily. ‘You should have heard my father when I told him I was coming to Ireland. He thought I should spend any time off I had looking for another job.’
    ‘Well, you are in a way. The festival is another job.’
    ‘Hm. Not exactly well paid.’
    ‘I’m not being paid at all. Although I don’t mind. They’re giving the Sisters of Swing a really good spot at the music festival and this –’ she indicated the crisp winter day around them ‘– is just a jolly.’
    ‘I don’t think my parents would ever understand the concept of “a jolly”.’
    ‘Jaysus, they should be grateful you’ve got a job and aren’t living off “the burroo”.’
    ‘You’ve got very Irish all of sudden. What the hell are you talking about?’
    ‘It’s what they used to call benefits over here. A man on the ferry told me. And I’m practising. I may go home with a leprechaun.’
    Laura chuckled. ‘Personally I prefer my men a little taller.’
    ‘Huh! I didn’t think beggars could be choosers!’
    ‘I’m not a beggar, I’m just looking for Mr Right.’
    ‘Big mistake. Mr Right Now is far better. Take it from one who knows.’
    Laura laughed. There was something about lying on one’s back in the sunshine that made one inclined to laughter, she discovered. When Monica finally decided she no longer looked like a scarlet woman in all the wrong ways, she ordered them both to their feet. Laura had forgotten about leaving Monica to her embarrassing errand, and got up. They brushed bits of grass off each other’s backs, picked up their bikes, and headed on into the village.
    The village was postcard pretty, with its whitewashed cottages around the cove. Not for this village the garish colours of Ballyfitzpatrick – here there must have been rules, but the effect was delightful. Even in January it looked like the perfect holiday destination. The cottages were no longer thatched and the boats in the harbour were all modern but there was a man sitting mending nets in the sunshine.
    ‘They