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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

The door pushed open and Craig poked his head round it. Fiona gave him the look Hamlet gives next-door’s cat when it approaches his cat flap, but Craig wandered in, oblivious. I really was flavour of the morning.

Craig took a breath, about to speak, and I wondered if he was going to get some mileage out of the blood-dousing incident. I could do without any Carrie jokes, especially with that having been my sister’s name.

But it wasn’t that. He said, ‘They’ve found something in the woods.’

I froze. ‘What kind of something?’

‘Bits of that poor girl, by the sound of it.’

35

Bex – October 1999

The River Itchen was dark grey, far below her, reflecting the rain-filled sky. Cranes and industrial buildings sprawled over the flat areas to the side of the river, and a dirty brown boat chugged through the murky water, looking impossibly tiny.

Bex took her backpack from her shoulder and removed the Sainsbury’s bag, dumping the backpack on the ground beside her. A gust of wind grabbed her hair and whipped it around her face.

She hadn’t been able to look at the plastic strips in the toilet in the cafe. But she’d done four tests, and shoved them straight into the Sainsbury’s bag without looking. It was gross if she thought about it, but she was way past caring about a bit of pee.

She looked at the bag. It was wrong that this mundane object should contain such life-changing information. Potentially life-ending information. Because she couldn’t have the baby of a rapist. And she couldn’t face having an abortion either. So that was that. She was worth nothing anyway. Her mother had left her and her dad and sister didn’t want her. It made sense that someone should value her so little that he’d destroy her life for a few minutes of … what? Pleasure? Gratification? A few trivial minutes for him, that he’d probably forgotten about months ago. She hoped it had been Lucas, because he’d died. But deep down she knew it wasn’t him. The world didn’t work like that. People never got what they deserved.

She would have coped with the rape, she thought, if only her family had supported her. Helped her find out who did it, made him pay. But no, her family blamed her. Because wasn’t she always to blame?

So she’d find out now. In this place. And she’d deal with it.

The water was laid out far below her and nobody was around. Not in this freezing weather.

A flash of fear. But she could do it. She was strong.

Her heart was thudding in her chest, her breath coming fast. A gust of wind pulled at the plastic bag as she opened it and fished out the first test.

She snatched a breath of cold air.

There were two lines visible on the test.