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Back Day of the Accident
Chapters (71)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Dedication
  4. What readers are saying about
  5. Epigraph
  6. Prologue
  7. Part One
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. Part Two
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. 39
  48. 40
  49. 41
  50. 42
  51. 43
  52. 44
  53. 45
  54. 46
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. Part Three
  61. 52
  62. 53
  63. 54
  64. 55
  65. 56
  66. 57
  67. 58
  68. Epilogue
  69. Acknowledgements
  70. THE NEXT THRILLER BY NUALA ELLWOOD
  71. THE BEGINNING

The computer starts to load and Elspeth’s face is soon obscured with tiny blue folders. Wiping away a tear, I read the names of the folders and remember the life I once had, the person I once was.

– Household

– Elspeth School

– Photos

– Afternoons with Virginia Notes

– Rodmell History

– Lewes Loves Libraries Blog

– Short stories

– Ideas

– Motivational Quotes

– Reading List: Drowned Words

– Novel: Draft 1

– Novel: Draft 2

– Novel: Draft 3

Then Word starts to load up. All the documents I had left open that day appear on the screen, one after the other. The first is the chapter breakdown of my novel. I always kept that open as I worked so I could refer to it. The next is the latest draft of the manuscript. I scroll through to see where I ended up that day. The word count sits at 67,529. The very last sentence I had written was: ‘She mulled the idea over and over in her head. The temptation to jump was a momentary one, a flutter of wings across her consciousness but …’

And there I had stopped, left the sentence hanging, the cursor flashing on and off like a siren. I think back to the flashback I’d had in the job centre, my phone buzzing on the desk. Was that why I’d left the sentence unfinished?

I minimize the manuscript and see that another document has opened up. It’s a consent form sent by the school secretary. Elspeth was due to go on a class trip to the Jurassic coast in Dorset. As usual, I was to go along as a helper. Elspeth insisted I did. She wouldn’t settle otherwise. I imagine how much fun her classmates had on that trip, the midnight feasts, the fossil hunting. And my Elspeth … I quickly close the document, unable to read any further.

I scroll down to the bar at the bottom of the page and click to open my emails. I have to try my very best to keep a cool, calm head. The fact that I left my sentence unfinished like that means that either there was an emergency with Elspeth or I got an urgent text – possibly from Sean? With no phone to check, my inbox may provide an answer.

The page opens up and I gasp as I see I have 3,064 unopened emails. I feel dizzy as I scroll. Most of them are junk. I skim through them, working my way from the first email, advertising 2 for 1 on skin care at Boots, sent yesterday, all the way back through August, July, June and May. There are tons of condolence messages from the parents of Elspeth’s school friends. I can’t read those. Not now.