‘You’re a sad little cow, aren’t you? I looked you up online, mid-forties, divorced. Is this how you fill the emptiness? Wandering 248around making false accusations about innocent people? I feel sorry for you.’

Jenny felt her face flush and looked down at her hands.

‘Oh, that hit home, didn’t it?’ Bradley said. ‘The truth hurts.’

He grabbed her upper arms and squeezed, stood there looking in her eyes.

‘Get off me,’ she said, pulling away.

‘Not so fucking brave now, are you? How about if I did to you what you did to me? What if I grabbed your cunt right now?’

Jenny stared at him, tried to find some truth in his eyes, but it was just hate and disgust, she’d seen those a million times before.

She was ready with her knee, about to lift it into his crotch when he thrust her out of the door so hard that she smacked her head against the opposite wall. She breathed hard, legs shaking.

‘Don’t come back here if you know what’s good for you,’ Bradley said, and closed the door.

249

48

DOROTHY

The front gates were locked but she expected that. The adjoining house, built into the high cemetery wall, was dark, everyone asleep at this time of night. She drove the van down Milton Road, turned right at the end into Brunstane Mill Road and parked in one of the spots at the bottom. The path beyond led to fields in one direction, Newhailes House stately home in another, Brunstane Burn to the right. That was the way in.

She turned to Jenny twitching in the passenger seat.

‘Ready?’

Jenny shook her head. ‘No.’

‘Come on.’

She got out and went to the back of the van, took out the holdall containing shovels, picks and torches. She heard Jenny’s door open and close then locked the van and walked over the burn into the darkness of the park. She led Jenny along the burnside path, past the private golf holes at the back of millionaires’ houses, then too soon they were at the back of Portobello Cemetery. The burn was narrow and shallow here, a fallen tree making an easy bridging point. They crossed then scrambled through undergrowth to an old chain-link fence full of holes, several posts leaning askew. It was easy to squeeze through.

She took out the torches and handed one to Jenny.

‘Go that way,’ she said, pointing up the hill. ‘I’ll go left. Remember it’s Barbara Worth we’re looking for.’

Jenny looked petrified and Dorothy didn’t blame her. Part of Dorothy couldn’t believe they were here, but she had a sense of fate. From the moment she found out about the payments to Rebecca, she had been heading here.250