For your eyes only... 👀

An extract from the epilogue in the 10th Anniversary edition of THE PATTERSON GIRLS.

As promised, starting next month, I’ll be popping into your inbox just twice a month. But before we settle into that new rhythm, I wanted to share something special with you - an exclusive sneak peek at the brand-new epilogue I wrote for the recently released 10th Anniversary Edition of The Patterson Girls.

It was such a joy to revisit these beloved sisters a whole decade after I first created them, and I absolutely loved the chance to dive back into their world with this bonus content.

If you’ve already picked up the anniversary edition, you’ll have read the full epilogue, but if you’re still deciding whether to grab a copy, I thought a little teaser might help you make up your mind.

So, without further ado, here’s the beginning of the brand-new epilogue, where we catch up with the Patterson sisters ten years on.

Enjoy! x

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The Patterson Girls - Ten Years Later

It was five o’clock in Port Augusta, South Australia, when Margaret Maud Patterson, sipping her daily pre-dinner gin in the retirement home she’d lived the past ten years, sent an email that would land in inboxes all over the world.

Only half an hour away in Meadow Brooke, Charlie and Mitch were arguing about whose turn it was to help Nettie with her maths homework, although it could have been any number of things. They seemed to do nothing butbicker these days.

In Perth, the siren had just rung at the school where Lucinda was principal, and she was shooting off a quick message to Emil and Carlos asking one of them to grab the washing off the line when they got home from school as rain looked imminent. She didn’t have any faith that either of them would do so – she’d be lucky if they even read the message.

In London, Abigail was lounging in bed doing the Wordle on her phone waiting for Nigel to bring her morning coffee before he left for the office. She only had one more guess to go and had no idea what the answer was.

And in San Francisco, where Madeleine worked because Dylan had accepted a teaching position at Stanford University five years ago, it was the middle of the night, but she was wide awake and performing an emergency c-section while he and their daughter slept soundly at home. Or at least she hoped that were the case, but Olivia had been suffering terrible night terrors of late.

Abigail read the email first as the notification popped up on her screen the moment it landed. She smiled when she saw it was from her dear Aunty Mags – who despite being almost ninety was still as with it as ever – but the smile fell when she read the subject: You’re Invited to my Living Funeral

What the actual? Abigail sat up in bed as she read the rest.

To my beloved family and friends

Before you panic, I’m not dying – well, not of some horrid disease or anything like that, although let’s face it, I am in the Sniper’s Alley of Life – but I’ve decided to throw a living funeral, and I want you all to be there. Why wait until I’m dead to come visit me? Come now and let’s party as we celebrate my life together. There’ll be good food, the best tunes from every decade of my life, wine and, of course, dancing.

Please bring your favourite memories of me and wear your most outrageous outfit.

No need to RSVP as no excuses for not attending will be accepted.

Love always,

Mags.

This so-called celebration was to be held two months from today in the courtyard of the Meadow Brook Motel at midday.

‘What’s wrong?’ Nigel asked as he entered the bedroom carrying Abigail’s’ favourite mug – the one with her company logo on it.

‘Um… I… It’s…’ She couldn’t get the words out so thrust the phone at him so he could read it himself.

Mere seconds later, he started to laugh.

‘It’s not funny,’ she said. ‘Who has a living funeral?

He wiped the smile of his face. ‘Apparently quite a few people are having them now. And this is typical Mags – of course she wants to be at her own funeral. She’d hate to think about everyone gathered around, talking about her behind her back.’

‘It’s not behind your back when you’re dead,’ Abigail argued, still trying to wrap her head around this. ‘And as if anyone would ever say anything bad about Aunt Mag’s anyway.’

Her phone rang.

‘It’s a group Facetime from Lucinda,’ Nigel said.

After sending the text message to her nephews, Lucinda had also checked her email, hoping to clear her inbox of parent complaints before heading home and had almost fallen off her swivel chair as she read Aunt Mags’ email.

‘Give it here,’ Abigail said and, as she took the phone back, Nigel leaned over the bed and kissed her on the cheek.

‘See you tonight. My turn to organise dinner.’

But right at that moment, Abigail couldn’t spare a thought for food. She accepted the call as he left the bedroom, uncaring that she had bed hair and hadn’t even washed her face yet – her sisters had seen her much worse.

Lucinda tapped her fingernails impatiently on the corner of her desk as she waited for some or all of her sisters to answer, not caring about the time of day where Abigail and Madeleine were. If they were sleeping, they’d have their phones on silent, but at least Charlie should be awake, and as this weird celebration of Aunt Mags was to be held at the motel maybe she could shed some light.

‘Luci!’ Abigail answered, but Lucinda didn’t have the chance to ask her if she’d read the email yet before Charlie came on the call.

‘This isn’t really a good time,’ she said. She appeared to be sitting at the kitchen table, her toddler Ella squirming in her lap. ‘We’re doing maths homework.’

‘Isn’t she bit too young for that?’ asked Abigail, momentarily sidetracked from the matter at hand.

‘It’s mine,’ said Nettie, giggling as she leaned her head in front of Charlie and her younger sister so she could see her aunties on the screen. ‘Hi Aunty Abigail. Hi Aunty Luci.’

Normally, Abigail and Lucinda would ask their niece how she was, ask after eight-year-old, Rikkie, who was currently out the back jumping on the trampoline (likely not expelling even a fraction of his energy. If only his parents could bottle some and drink it themselves), and marvel at how fast Ella was growing but today, they said at the same time, ‘Did you know about Aunt Mag’s funeral?’

Math’s homework forgotten, Charlie almost let go of Ella in shock. ‘Funeral?!’

‘Did Great Aunt Mags die?’ Nettie immediately burst into tears.

‘No. No, sweetheart,’ Lucinda assured her. ‘She just sent an email.’

Charlie shook her head as she pulled a red crayon out of Ella’s mouth. ‘What on earth are you two talking about?’

‘When did you last check your email?’ Abigail asked.

‘I don’t know. Yesterday? As you can see, I’m kind of busy here. The motel’s full, it’s almost impossible to get good staff these days, and Mitch and I aren’t getting any sleep because this one---’ She glared lovingly at the toddler who poked out her tongue. ‘Thinks 3am is party time.’

Abigail laughed. ‘Well, you will keep breeding.’

Charlie rolled her eyes – they all knew Ella was unplanned, more of a shock than a surprise like the other two had been, and the moment she’d been born, Charlie had sent Mitch off to get the snip.

‘Speaking of parties…’ Lucinda said, always the one trying to keep her sisters on task. ‘Aunt Mag’s email said she’s throwing one – a living funeral – at the motel in two months’ time and she expects us all to be there.’

‘What’s a living funeral?’ Charlie asked.

Her sisters informed her, and she frowned – not because she thought the idea weird, but because it was the first she’d heard of it. ‘Maybe she spoke to Mitch and asked him to keep it a secret?’

At that moment, the man himself walked into view and stopped when he saw his wife and daughter weren’t doing homework but were on the phone. Squatting behind Charlie, he waved at his sisters-in-law. ‘Who spoke to me?’

‘Aunty Mags,’ Charlie said and then quickly explained the email.

He snorted. ‘Trust that old biddy to invite everyone to a party at our place before actually checking whether we’re already booked?’

‘Are we?’

Mitch shrugged – ‘I’ll go check’ – and thankfully he scooped Ella out of Charlie’s arms and took her with him from their house at the back of the motel into the main building.

‘Can I go jump with Rikkie?’ Nettie whined.

Charlie nodded, shooing her away with the hands. How important was year four maths homework anyway? ‘So, are you both going to come?’

Neither Abigail nor Lucinda had really had time to wrap their head around the idea, but the living funeral was to be held during the Western Australian mid-year school holidays, so Lucinda thought she’d be able to make it. And it wasn’t like she was going to disobey an order form her favourite aunt – even if she thought the concept absurd. She’d always been a good girl. It also coincided with the beginning of summer holidays in England but that meant that Abigail’s Music School – which she’d launched eight years ago when she could no longer cope with the number of students requesting lessons herself and had grown to a very successful business with branches all over the United Kingdom – would be even busier than ever. Their holiday programs were hugely popular amongst working parents.

‘Don’t you have people that run it for you anyway?’ Lucinda said.

Abigail sighed. Yes, she did but that didn’t mean she wanted to exchange even a week of the much longed-for English summer for the cold, dreary South Australian winter. When she and Nigel visited Australia – although they hadn’t for a few years now – they tended to tie it in with Christmas and add on a holiday at one of Australia’s fabulous beaches.

‘Do you think Aunty Mags has a feeling she doesn’t have long left?’ Lucinda asked, concern creasing her brow.

Charlie and Abigail pondered this a moment

‘No,’ Charlie said. ‘I don’t think so. I visit her every week, I’d be able to tell if she wasn’t well, but she’s as fit as a fiddle and mentally sharper than me.’

‘Nigel reckons it’s because she wants to hear us all say wonderful things about her,’ Abigail said. ‘Don’t you think that’s a bit egotistical?’

Lucinda shook her head. ‘No. Aunt Mag’s has just always loved a party, and she probably doesn’t like the idea of other people enjoying themselves because of her when she’s not even there.’

‘A funeral is hardly a party!’ Abigail objected.

Charlie disagreed. ‘These days a funeral can be whatever you want it to be.’

They’d been talking for almost twenty minutes when Madeleine came on the phone. She was wearing scrubs and drinking a terrible coffee from the hospital staff room. ‘I’ve just read Aunt Mag’s email. She can’t be serious.’

It was true that their eccentric aunt had rarely been serious in her life, but there was a first time for everything, and the others had already concluded that she was very serious.

‘She’s finally lost her mind,’ Madeleine declared, rubbing her forehead, which was pulsing with the beginnings of a headache.

‘I don’t think so,’ Charlie said. ‘This is clearly a clever ploy to get you all to come home together.’

Abigail, Lucinda and Madeleine hung their heads in shame – the sisters, their husbands and offspring hadn’t been in Meadow Brook at the same time since their dad had died of a heart attack six years ago. The pandemic hadn’t helped and instead of being desperate to see each other once borders – international and domestic – had been reopened, they’d all grown accustomed to new ways of communicating. They still talked or messaged each other on an almost daily basis and each of them called Aunt Mags at least once a week. Despite her age, she also still travelled extensively. Only a few months ago she’d popped in to see Abigail and Nigel during a senior’s tour of the UK and last year she’d spent Christmas with Madeleine, Dylan and Olivia, meeting them in New York City so she and Olivia could take selfies in front of the massive Christmas Tree at the Rockefeller Center.

Aunt Mags had seen more of her nieces in the past few years than they’d seen of each other.

‘Well, we’d all go home if she did die, but we wouldn’t see her,’ Lucinda said grimly.

‘Maybe this isn’t such a crazy idea after all. Aunt Mags might be healthy, but she is in her eighties – she could go at any time.’

This was a sobering thought for the Patterson girls.

To read what happens next, grab yourself a copy of THE TEN YEAR ANNIVERSARY EDITION OF THE PATTERSON GIRLS - available now.