Excerpt from Black Rabbit Hall by Eve Chase, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"Well  ..."  Lorna takes  a  breath, ready  to  launch   into  the  backstory. 

"We're checking it out as a wedding venue," Jon says before she has a chance.  "Well,  we were."
"Weddings(" The  man's  eyes  bug. "'ll be damned." He  glances from  Lorna to Jon and  back again. "Look,  you seem like a nice enough couple.  Not  from  round here, are your"

"London," they mutter in unison. 

The  man  nods as if this explains everything. He  puts one hand  on the  rolled -down window,  his fingers  creating a fat glove of condensa­ tion  on  the  glass. "If you ask me,  Black Rabbit's not  the  place for a wedding."

 "Oh. Why not?" asks Lorna, spirits sinking again, wishing him away. The  man frowns, looks  unsure how much  to tell them. "It's  not in any fit state,  for one thing.  The weather gnaws away at houses around here  unless  you  throw money  at  them. No  one's  thrown nothing at that  house for years." He wets his cracked  lips with  his tongue.  "Word is there  are hydrangeas growing through the  ballroom floor,  all sorts of funny things going on."

"Oh  ... I love that." 

Jon rolls his eyes, trying not to laugh. "Please  don't encourage her." 

'I'd better get back on the road." The tractor driver looks bemused. "You two,  take care, ehr"
They watch  him  stamp away, listen  to the  thuds as he climbs  the serrated metal steps to the cab of the tractor. Lorna doesn't know what to think.

Jon  does.  "Hold tight! Look  out  for  Bambi.  I'm  going  to  reverse down  to  the  crossroads. We're going  back to civilization and  a nice cold beer. And  not a moment too soon."

Lorna presses her  hand  on  his arm,  enough pressure  to show him she means it. "It'd be ridiculous to turn back now. You know it would."

"You heard  what the guy said." 

"We need to see it for ourselves,  if only to discount it, Jon." He shakes  his head. "'m not feeling it."

"You  and  your  feelings," she says, imitating his earlier  comment, trying to make him laugh. "Come on. It's the one venue  I'm desperate to see."

He  beatboxes the  wheel  with  his thumbs, considers his position. "You'll  owe me."

She bends over the hand brake, crushes her mouth against the warm bristle  of his jaw. He smells of sex and digestive  biscuits.  "And  what's not to like about  that?"

A few moments later,  the  little  red  Fiat  turns off  the  road,  then rolls like a drop of blood down the wet green drive, the canopy of trees locking tight  behind them.
 
 
AMBER
Fitzroy Square, London, April1968
 
 
   Momma was lucky not  to have been  more seriously  hurt  in the crash.  That's what  everyone   says.  If her  taxi  had  skidded another inch to the right,  they'd have smashed  the Bond Street ballard front-on, rather than just clipping it. Momma got banged  about  any­ way, flying across the black cab with  her shopping bags, only saving her face from  the glass with  her bent-backward hand. Her new fancy hats were not damaged. The taxi driver let her off the fare. Still,  not lucky, exactly.

Ten  days later, she's still  got a custard-yellow bruise  on her  knee­ cap, a sprained wrist  in a splint.  She has to sit, sit, sit on  a Saturday morning, rather than play tennis in  Regent's Park  or chase  my little sister around the garden.

Excerpted from Black Rabbit Hall by Eve Chase. Copyright © 2016 by Eve Chase. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.