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Back Cut to the Bone Save as PDF
Chapters (71)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for Cut to the Bone
  3. About the Author
  4. Also by Roz Watkins
  5. Note to Readers
  6. Dedication
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. Extract
  67. Prologue
  68. Chapter 1
  69. Author’s note
  70. Acknowledgements
  71. About the Publisher

‘Can you check with Izzy? And see if she knows what Violet’s feelings were about driving narrow country lanes. And see if anyone at the abattoir knows which way she normally drove to work.’

A uniform popped his head around the door. ‘A weird call came in,’ he said. ‘An old guy said he thought he saw someone dumping something in the woods in Gritton. He said the bloke looked suspicious.’

My stomach dropped. ‘What kind of something was he dumping?’

‘It sounded like a bin liner full of stuff, dumped out of a small lorry. We’ve tracked it down and the company’s owned by a bloke called Mick Tyler. A bit of a scrote, by all accounts.’

‘Why do we think it’s relevant?’

‘The same lorry’s been seen coming and going from the abattoir.’

24

Bex – August 1999

Bex leaned against the wooden fence, watching the pregnant sows snuffling around in the dust. Kirsty stood beside her, scraping her boot against the sandy ground and giving off bored vibes.

‘Where’s the pig with the spots on her face?’ Bex asked. ‘I’ve been teaching her to fetch.’

Kirsty looked up. The sun was behind her, leaving her face in shadow. ‘Gone to farrow.’

‘Why doesn’t she farrow here?’

‘She has to go to the maternity barn. Do you want to see?’ The shift in Kirsty’s tone of voice roused a small worm that squirmed in Bex’s stomach. It was Kirsty’s sing-song voice. The one Bex had realised she used when she tried to make a mean comment sound like a compliment.

‘I suppose so,’ Bex said.

‘She’ll have had her piglets. It’ll be cute. Dad normally keeps it locked but I saw he forgot just now.’

‘Why does he keep it locked?’

‘To keep the pigs safe.’

‘We should tell him he forgot then.’

‘We will, once you’ve had a look.’

‘Oh, okay,’ Bex said. She’d been paranoid about Kirsty’s sing-song voice. Kirsty was just letting Bex see her favourite pig.

Bex followed Kirsty along a track which led away from the farmhouse. The day was warm and humid and the air smelled faintly of pig manure. ‘Is this the barn Dad was worried about flooding the day I arrived?’ she asked.

‘Yeah. It would be awful for the pigs if water got in. They wouldn’t be able to get away.’

After a few minutes they arrived at the barn – a huge, old-fashioned one – and Kirsty slid the door open carefully.

Inside it was dark, and the air which drifted out felt cool, although it smelled of ammonia. Noisy fans whirred up above.

‘We’d better not go in,’ Kirsty said. ‘But you can look.’