Angel Colleen McCullough
Copyright
HarperCollinsPublishers
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Copyright © Colleen McCullough 2004
Colleen McCullough 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 author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780007199754
Ebook Edition © JULY 2010 ISBN: 9780007405664
Version: 2017-08-14
For Max Lambert
Much loved friend
Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Copyright
Friday, January 1st, 1960 (New Year’s Day)
Saturday, January 2nd, 1960
Monday, January 4th, 1960
Wednesday, January 6th, 1960
Thursday, January 7th, 1960
Friday, January 8th, 1960
Saturday, January 9th, 1960
Sunday, January 10th, 1960
Friday, January 15th, 1960
Saturday, January 16th, 1960
Wednesday, January 20th, 1960
Saturday, January 23rd, 1960
Sunday, January 24th, 1960
Wednesday, February 3rd, 1960
Saturday, February 6th, 1960
Monday, February 8th, 1960
Tuesday, February 16th, 1960
Wednesday, February 17th, 1960
Saturday, February 20th, 1960
Sunday, February 28th, 1960
Wednesday, March 2nd, 1960
Friday, March 11th, 1960
Monday, March 28th, 1960
Friday, April 1st, 1960 (April Fool’s Day)
Monday, April 4th, 1960
Thursday, April 7th, 1960
Monday, April 11th, 1960
Tuesday, April 12th, 1960
Monday, April 25th, 1960 (Anzac Day)
Tuesday, April 26th, 1960
Friday, April 29th, 1960
Sunday, May 1st, 1960
Wednesday, May 11th, 1960
Thursday, May 12th, 1960
Saturday, May 14th, 1960
Saturday, May 28th, 1960
Sunday, May 29th, 1960
Monday, May 30th, 1960
Monday, June 6th, 1960
Thursday, June 23rd, 1960
Tuesday, July 5th, 1960
Friday, July 22nd, 1960
Wednesday, August 24th, 1960
Sunday, September 11th, 1960
Monday, September 12th, 1960
Tuesday, September 13th, 1960
Wednesday, September 14th, 1960
Saturday, September 17th, 1960
Saturday, September 24th, 1960
Sunday, September 25th, 1960
Monday, September 26th, 1960
Wednesday, October 19th, 1960
Monday, November 7th, 1960
Friday, November 11th, 1960 (My Birthday)
Wednesday, November 23rd, 1960
Thursday, December 1st, 1960
Saturday, December 10th, 1960
Sunday, December 25th, 1960 (Christmas Day)
Wednesday, December 28th, 1960
Friday, December 30th, 1960
Sunday, January 1st, 1961 (New Year’s Day)
Monday, January 2nd, 1961
Tuesday, January 3rd, 1961
Thursday, January 5th, 1961
Saturday, January 7th, 1961
Monday, January 9th, 1961
Wednesday, January 11th, 1961
Friday, January 13th, 1961
Saturday, January 14th, 1961
Thursday, February 2nd, 1961
Monday, February 20th, 1961
Tuesday, February 21st, 1961
Wednesday, March 15th, 1961
Friday, March 24th, 1961
Tuesday, April 4th, 1961
Wednesday, April 5th, 1961
Monday, April 10th, 1961
Friday, April 21st, 1961
Wednesday, May 17th, 1961
Thursday, May 25th, 1961
Saturday, June 3rd, 1961
Keep Reading
About the Author
Also by Colleen McCullough
About the Publisher
Friday,
January 1st, 1960 (New Year’s Day)
How on earth can I get rid of David? Don’t think that I haven’t contemplated murder, but I wouldn’t get away with murder any more than I got away with the bikini I bought myself with the five quid Granny gave me for Christmas.
“Take it back, my girl, and bring home something one-piece with a modesty panel across the business area,” Mum said.
Truth to tell, I was a bit horrified when the mirror showed me how much of me that bikini put on display, including sideburns of black pubic hair I’d never noticed when they lurked behind a modesty panel. The very thought of plucking out a million pubic hairs sent me back to exchange the bikini for an Esther Williams model in the latest colour, American Beauty. Sort of a rich, reddish pink. The shop assistant said I looked ravishing in it, but who is going to ravish me, with David Bloody Murchison hovering over my carcass like a dog guarding a bone? Certainly not David Bloody Murchison!
It was up over the hundred today, so I went down to the beach to christen the new costume. The surf was running high, pretty unusual for Bronte, but the waves looked like green satin sausages—dumpers, no good for body surfing. I spread my towel on the sand, slathered zinc cream all over my nose, pulled on my matching American Beauty swim cap, and ran towards the water.
“It’s too rough to go in, you’ll get dumped,” said a voice.
David. David Bloody Murchison. If he suggests the safety of the kids’ bogey hole, I thought, girding my modesty-panelled loins, there is going to be a fight.
“Let’s go round to the bogey hole, it’s safe,” he said.
“And get flattened by kids bombing us? No!” I snarled, and launched into the fight. Though “fight” is not the correct word. I yell and carry on, David just looks superior and refuses to bite. But today’s fight produced a new rocket—I finally got up the gumption to inform him that I was tired of being a virgin.
“Let’s have an affair,” I said.
“Don’t be silly,” he said, unruffled.
“I am not being silly! Everybody I know has had an affair—except me! Dammit, David, I’m twenty-one, and here I am engaged to a bloke who won’t even kiss me with his mouth open!”
He patted me gently on one shoulder and sat down on his towel. “Harriet,” he announced in that toffee-nosed, super-genteel Catholic boys’ college voice of his, “it’s time we set a wedding date. I have my doctorate, the C.S.I.R.O. has offered me my own lab and a research grant, we’ve been going out together for four years, and engaged for one. Affairs are a sin. Marriage isn’t.”
