Joyce - The Accidental Life Swap

J ENNIFER J OYCE is a writer of romantic comedies. Shes been scribbling down bits of stories for as long as she can remember, graduating from a pen to a typewriter and then an electronic typewriter. And she felt like the bees knees typing on that. She now writes her books on a laptop (which has a proper delete button and everything). Jennifer lives in Oldham, Greater Manchester, with her husband Chris and their two daughters, Rianne and Isobel, plus their Jack Russell, Luna. When she isnt writing, Jennifer likes to make things shell use any excuse to get her craft box out! She spends far too much time on Twitter, Pinterest and Instagram.

You can find out more about Jennifer on her blog at jenniferjoycewrites.co.uk, on Twitter at @writer_jenn and on Facebook at facebook.com/jenniferjoycewrites

The Single Mums Picnic Club

The Wedding that Changed Everything

The Little Bed & Breakfast by the Sea

The Little Teashop of Broken Hearts

The Wedding Date

The Mince Pie Mix-Up

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2019

Copyright Jennifer Joyce 2019

Jennifer Joyce asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books

Source ISBN: 9780008348687

E-book Edition 2019 ISBN: 9780008348656

Version: 2019-07-22

Table of Contents

To the Joyces

Chris, Rianne and Isobel.

Hes used my toothpaste again. The tube is flat in the middle and twisted. Twisted? What has he been doing with my Colgate? Other than using my stuff without permission again. Im not having it. Im not. As soon as Ive brushed my teeth, Im going to march into his bedroom, without knocking, and Im going to tell my flatmate exactly what I think of him.

Lee Williams, Ill bark in the way my boss has perfected, the way that makes me have to cross my legs so I dont do a little wee of fear at my desk. You are an inconsiderate, lazy, selfish pig. I regret the day I ever moved into this disgusting little flat with you. If I could afford to live anywhere else, I would. In a heartbeat. Half a heartbeat. You make me want to vomit with your rarely washed body, your farting in the kitchen and your bogey-flicking. I especially dislike the way you walk around the flat wearing nothing but a pair of crusty underpants and a look of indifference, not even registering my discomfort, never mind giving a damn about it.

Perhaps I will knock on the door before I venture into his bedroom, after all. I fear what I may encounter if I catch him unawares.

I cant stand you, Lee. Sometimes I even despise you. And Im a nice person. I dont usually despise anyone, not even Sonia at work, who has lodged herself so far up Vanessas bum, only the tips of her knockoff Manolo Blahnik mules are visible. But I dislike you. Very much so. You are ignorant and sexist and like the sound of your own voice far too much. I am not your wife or your mother or your maid. It is not my duty to fill the fridge with nutritious food for you to pilfer so you dont have to go to the shops yourself. It is not my responsibility to clean the entire flat myself (and it is a pointless task anyway because no matter how much I scrub and vacuum and dust, the place is permanently grimy due to the years of neglect before I foolishly came along, and your continuous slovenliness). It is not my obligation to provide you with bloody toothpaste.

Im working up quite a lather as I release all the pent-up frustration of living with an untrained animal for the past three years on my teeth. Im going to tell him about his reprehensive behaviour and make it clear that it has to stop. I tried once before, about three months into our flat-share, in the form of a polite note pushed under his bedroom door. I later found the note stuck to the fridge door, with a giant penis and hairy balls scrawled across it in black marker. I dont think my charming flatmate had taken much notice of my requests for him to buy milk every once in a while or to turn his pounding music down after 11 p.m. on worknights before he defaced the note.

Still, Im going to put things straight now. Better three years late than never.

Popping my toothbrush into my washbag (I never leave my toothbrush unattended in communal areas, having learned the hard way when I discovered Lees even grubbier friend working on his molars with a toothbrush of mine back in the early days), I throw my shoulders back and lift my chin high before marching into the dimly-lit hallway and heading towards Lees bedroom. The door is flung open before I have the chance to reach it, revealing an almost naked Lee and a cloud of musty fug.

Right, this is it. Im going to let rip and unleash the tirade Ive been rehearsing in my head. He wont know whats hit him!

Morning. Flashing the briefest of minty-fresh smiles, I scuttle off to my own bedroom with a sense of shame so severe it makes my stomach ache.

Im a wimp. A great big wuss. A sissy pants without a backbone.

Why am I so pathetic? Why cant I stand up to him and demand a tiny shred of respect? Ive put up with his disregard and insolence for three years and I dont think I can take much more of it. Either Lee has to change or I have to move on, and the only way to do that is to finally bag the promotion I deserve at work. Ive already started to squirrel tiny amounts of money away into my savings each month for a deposit on a new flat, but if I could earn a bit more cash, I could move out of this hovel and away from my revolting flatmate much sooner. Plus, it would mean Id finally earned the respect of my boss.

Ive been working as the personal assistant to Vanessa Whitely at her events management company since I graduated from university three years ago, but Im keen to take on a more creative role within the company. I have so many ideas, but Ive yet to voice them in a way that will grab Vanessas attention. I need to make her listen to me. Be firm, more assertive and all the other strong, positive terms Ive been reading about in the pile of self-help books crammed onto my bookshelf. Theres a big event coming up, an autumn festival taking place on farmland in the Yorkshire Dales, and Ive been working on ideas for weeks, perfecting and polishing them until theyre shiny enough to present to Vanessa. This is my chance to show my boss what Im capable of. That I have skills beyond answering the phone, making coffee and juggling her diary.

Im going to do it. Today. Before its too late. Im going to take a huge, positive leap forward in my career. Im going to march into Vanessas office with the file Ive compiled, set it on her desk and exhibit my ideas with passion and expertise. Shell be so bowled over, shell add me to the team with immediate effect and I can start looking into new accommodation as soon as possible. And who knows maybe Ill be moving out of this dingy flat within the next month!