At thirty-one, Florence Grimes is washed-up. After the humiliating implosion of her girlband career, she’s slumming it in Shepherd’s Bush, hawking balloon arrangements to the Rich Mums of Holland Park and picking petty fights at the gates of her son’s stodgy private school (paid for by her ex-husband, who dumped her for her bandmate).
Then one day her son’s nemesis, the ten-year-old heir to a frozen-dinner fortune, mysteriously vanishes on a school trip, and Florence is forced to interrupt her decade-long pity-party to try to find him. Not because she particularly cares what happened to Alfie Risby (she doesn’t) but because her own son —a sensitive, misunderstood loner —is rapidly becoming the prime suspect.
With the help of a high-strung lawyer named Jenny, Florence begins to unravel the mystery behind Alfie’s disappearance, forging an unlikely friendship in the process. But when she finds the missing boy’s backpack hidden under her own son’s bed, she’s forced to decide just how far she’ll go to protect her own child.
I’ve always loved stories of women behaving badly: Fleabag. Young Adult. Bad Teacher. But those characters are rarely mothers. Mother are too often depicted as weak, soft, weepy.
“Emotionally, this novel took me deeper than I’ve ever gone before”
Long-suffering and self-abnegating. I was really drawn to the idea of a woman whose incredible love for her child makes her fiercer, sharper, spikier. More willing to break rules. In Florence I found a protagonist who is by equal turns furious and infuriating.
The setting was shaped by my own experience as an American trying to wrap my head around the frankly bonkers world of West London private schools (three-hour entrance exams for six-year olds?!) There’s a lot of comedy to be found in the constant, low-level parental anxiety circulating in those waters. It’s like they say: once you’re rich, all your problems are existential.
As a first-time author, I had no idea if was possible to write a funny story about a missing child. Or a mystery featuring a ‘detective’ whose main interests are reality TV and nail art. Or a novel about mother-love that’s not a gag-inducing, cliché-filled cheese fest. But I really wanted to try.
About the book
Hardback: 978008697990 | £16.99 | Available Now
Florence Grimes is a 31-year-old party girl who always takes the easy way out. After a dismal end to her girlband career, she’s living in West London, single, broke and unfulfilled with only her son Dylan to keep her afloat.
But then Alfie Risby, the ten-year-old heir to a frozen food empire and Dylan’s school rival, mysteriously vanishes on a class trip, and Dylan becomes a prime suspect.
Florence needs to find Alfie and clear her son’s name or risk losing him forever. The only problem? She doesn’t have any detective skills, all the other school mums hate her, and she’s just found Alfie’s backpack hidden under her son’s bed…
The must-have, unputdownable debut novel of 2025!
