Back Behind Closed Doors
Chapters (37)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. PENGUIN BOOKS
  4. Dedication
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

‘Not to my knowledge, although actually, Nance did think she heard the door, but when we looked, no one was there, so who knows?’ He smiled: patted my knee. ‘Look, I know it’s a shock, and particularly to hear it on the news like that, but once you’ve got your head round it you’ll be so relieved. I wasn’t the biggest fan of Michael, as you know, but to have found the man who ended his life is surely a good thing. It gives a sense of closure.’

Boy. He was a boy. And he hadn’t ended Michael’s life. I had. My heart was beating very fast. My mouth was dry. I held on tightly to the wheel. I mustn’t look at Dad. Mustn’t say anything. Worry him. I licked my sticky teeth.

‘Yes, of course,’ I whispered. ‘Just the shock. That’ll be it. Tell me about the Frobishers’ cruise.’ And he did. About how they’d sat at the Captain’s table most nights, and how Jeannie, because of her dodgy knees, had had a wheelchair when they reached Formentera; a lovely cabin girl had scooted her around. Not that they went far, just into the main square for lunch. And not that he’d need a wheelchair, his legs were so much better, but nice to know it was there. A team of medics on board too, no doubt a defibrillator in every cabin! He told me Dickie had had the dressing on his septic toe changed by a very saucy blonde and I managed a feeble laugh. They’d asked Mum and Dad to go with them next year and they’d said no. But maybe they should change their minds?

‘You should,’ I managed, as we pulled into the drive. ‘You’d enjoy it.’

Dad fairly skipped from the car. As soon as we were inside, he bustled to his study, muttering about being convinced he’d put the brochure Dickie had given him somewhere. Maybe in his desk …?

Luckily his study was the one room he’d forbidden me or anyone else to clean, on the basis that yes, it was messy, but it was his mess and he knew where everything was. Happily, this was untrue, because he spent ages looking for things, so I knew it gave me a few moments. A few moments to hold on to the back of the sofa, bend my head, shut my eyes and think.