Chapter One
WHEN RAFFERTY GOT OUTSIDE, it was to discover that not only was it raining as if Noah had pulled the plug on some heavenly Ark, but a fierce wind blew through his hair until it was wearing that ‘just got out of bed’, look, that was so fetching on Abra. It picked up the sides and hem of his raincoat till it danced a veritable Irish jig.
Rafferty wished he was feeling as lively as his raincoat. As he rushed through the rain for the car, trying to restrain the whirling-dervish antics of his mac, he just hoped nobody got themselves murdered today. He didn’t fancy hanging around street corners in a downpour, the idle moments filled with musings on the type of house Abra might fancy in place of the flat. The way things were going, Buckingham Palace wouldn’t be grand enough.
He hop
