Chapters (46)
- Cover
- About the Book
- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-one
- Chapter Twenty-two
- Chapter Twenty-three
- Chapter Twenty-four
- Chapter Twenty-five
- Chapter Twenty-six
- Chapter Twenty-seven
- Chapter Twenty-eight
- Chapter Twenty-nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-one
- Chapter Thirty-two
- Chapter Thirty-three
- Chapter Thirty-four
- Chapter Thirty-five
- Chapter Thirty-six
- Chapter Thirty-seven
- Chapter Thirty-eight
- Chapter Thirty-nine
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
- Also by the author
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She hung her dripping head, shoulders shaking as the tears continued to fall, then felt Connor’s hand on her arm. ‘You poor kid! I’m sorry. Here, I’ll just . . .’ He rose and vanished to return a few moments later with a length of paper towelling from the roll on the kitchen bench. ‘Sorry,’ he repeated, ‘couldn’t find any tissues. You’ve had a nasty shock and I really think you should have some tea.’
‘What, and that’ll make everything better?’ she blazed.
‘I only meant—’
‘I know.’ Tilly felt a rush of shame for her rudeness. ‘I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. You’ve been very kind.’ She blotted her face with the sodden paper. ‘I— it was stupid of me to even think . . . It’s worse when you hope, you know. You can learn to accept things but if hope steps in again . . .’ She sniffed, firmed her trembling lip and tried to smile. ‘Do you know, I think you’re right after all, about that tea.’ It was one way to be left alone and that, just then, was what she most desired.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Connor said, turning back to the kitchen.
All too swiftly he was back, saying, ‘I don’t know how you take it but I’ve made it sweet and hot.’
She pulled a face but drank it anyway, staring silently before her. When she finally spoke, she said almost wistfully, ‘If I just knew why. I think I could handle it better if . . . Why would a man do that? I really thought he loved us, but to let me think . . .’ She trailed off, looking at her hands.
‘Maybe to him it seemed the only way,’ Connor suggested tentatively. ‘You said he owed money?’
‘Yes, but you don’t have to pretend to kill yourself for that! You can declare bankruptcy, can’t you? People go broke all the time.’
‘I suppose it might depend on who you owe the money to. Was he a gambler? If he owed one of the big syndicates . . . I’ve heard they’re not very forgiving of debts. And from what you’ve said, he hadn’t much collateral.’
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘The house was mortgaged, the boat only leased and the payments were behind there too. But if he gambled, wouldn’t I have known?’
‘You said yourself that you didn’t know about the debts.’
‘No.’ Her hand stole up to her cheek as she raised her gaze to his. ‘But even if he decided to, to skip out on us and pretend, because of the debt, it still doesn’t explain the police interest. Surely debts are a civil matter? They’re not criminal.’