Wish Upon a Star

THIRTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

THIRTY-EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

THIRTY-NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

FORTY (#litres_trial_promo)

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FORTY-EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

FORTY-NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

FIFTY (#litres_trial_promo)

FIFTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

FIFTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

FIFTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

FIFTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

FIFTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

FIFTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

FIFTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

FIFTY-EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

FIFTY-NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

SIXTY (#litres_trial_promo)

SIXTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

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SIXTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

SIXTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

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SIXTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

SIXTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

SIXTY-EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

SIXTY-NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

SEVENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

SEVENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

SEVENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)

By the same author (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

ONE (#ulink_1810d969-3f50-5642-bb57-9cfdbe108ddd)

Once upon a time in a magical city called New York a girl under a spell lived on an island.

It was Staten Island. And to get to work in Manhattan, Claire Amelia Bilsop had to commute almost two hours each way. She took a train from Tottenville, then a short walk to the ferry slip, then the ferry to Manhattan. She did it with her friend Tina and today was no different from most other days.

‘Oh, c’mon,’ Tina said. ‘Come with us. You never go anywhere and you’ve never done anything.’

Claire looked down at her knitting and frowned. When the ferry bumped against the pilings she had dropped a stitch. ‘That’s not true,’ she said, though in fact it pretty much was. She thought of her trips to the library, the video store, the wool department of Kelsey’s, all on Broad Street in Tottenville. ‘I have traveled broadly,’ Claire retorted, ‘and I come into Manhattan every day. Last summer I went to Long Beach Island.’

‘Long Beach, for god’s sake! In Jersey! And you went with your mother and that douchebag boyfriend of hers.’

Claire winced. Tina’s heart was in the right place but her mouth was in the gutter. ‘I prefer to think of him as a windbag,’ Claire said.

‘Douche, wind, whatever.’ Tina stuffed her magazine into her purse, fished out her sunglasses and stood up. Claire stood beside her. ‘Put that wool away, Granny,’ Tina told her and looked at her watch. Claire sighed. The ferry had docked and, as always, they had twenty minutes to walk up Water Street, get coffee and bagels from their regular street vendor, then be upstairs on the thirty-eighth floor of the Crayden Smithers Alliance Building. They had plenty of time but Tina always behaved like a child at a birthday party, afraid she wouldn’t get the last seat in musical chairs. As if anyone else would want their seats at Crayden Smithers. Claire picked up the dropped stitch, wrapped up her knitting, slipped into her coat and joined Tina and the crowd jostling to get off the boat.

As Tina pushed to the head of the line she pulled Claire in her wake. ‘Jersey, for Christ’s sake!’

‘I went to the Poconos,’ Claire murmured. People were looking at them angrily. Even in Manhattan, a city fabled for pushers, Tina stood out.