Notting Hell — Rachel Johnson

Every city has a Notting Hell . . .

"A spot of extramarital nookie with a close neighbor is one thing. We're all grown-ups here. But selling a rare-to-the-market mid-Victorian house -- not merely a house but our children's ancestral family home -- on a communal garden, the sort of house that a banker would trample over his own grandmother to spend his bonus on -- is another thing entirely. It's wrong."

Meet Mimi. Mimi may "have it all" -- the house, the children, the part-time vanity job, the skinny jeans, the feng shui guru -- but life chez Fleming is not as cushy as she'd like (husband Ralph prefers the trout stream to the fast lane). And when Mimi meets Si, the new billionaire on the block, at a sushi party, she soon faces a choice of keeping up or keeping it real.

Then there's her best friend Clare, neat-freak garden designer, deep in biopanic about her childlessness with eco-architect husband, Gideon. Clare monitors all illicit activity in the private West London compound, from light adultery to heavy construction, and she is watching Mimi. . . .

Notting Hell is a wickedly funny and oh-so-recognizable comedy of manners, filleting life on a communal garden in London. So take your irreplaceable numbered key and enter Lonsdale Gardens, the world of wealthy one-upmanship, where the old-fashioned laws of love still rule among the stainless steel kitchen appliances, cashmere throws, and compassionately produced cups of latte.