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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

When I get to 12th May I slow down. Surely the answer will be here, there will be an email to explain it all. But there is nothing. Three emails. One sent in the morning from the school with the consent form attached, one from Amazon suggesting books I might like and one notification that I have a new follower on the Twitter page I set up years ago but have rarely used. I click on the name of the follower. It’s a man called Tony Martinez, a fantasy writer from Idaho who has 1.3m followers. A spam bot.

I shake my head, take a sip of wine and then click on ‘sent messages’. The only message I sent that day was a reply to the school secretary saying that I would sign the consent form and get it back to her ASAP and also confirming that I would be coming along as a parent helper. Nothing in my emails points towards some urgent situation where I had to leave my desk, bundle Elspeth into the car and go speeding off into the night.

I click back on to my inbox and scroll through again. And then I see a name, clustered amongst the emails from sympathetic parents, that makes me go cold. On 26th June I received an email from B. Cosgrove.

Ben.

I sit for a moment, my shaking hands hovering over the mouse pad. Then I close my eyes and click it open. But the name at the bottom of the email is not Ben’s; it’s his mother, Barbara. I enlarge the message and start to read.

Maggie,

Well Larkfields now has a new occupant and I hope that it heralds the end of you and your family’s link to this area for good. Now Harry has died I no longer have to keep up the pretence. You don’t fool me Maggie, unlike the rest of them, Harry included, who were sucked in by your lies. I know exactly what you were planning on doing that night by the river and though I am glad that your plan was thwarted I am sickened that your little girl had to lose her life because of her mother’s idiocy. I have spoken to the hospital and they don’t seem too hopeful that you will come through this. Maybe that is a blessing. Maybe then we can all get on with our lives, your husband will be able to grieve his child and I will be able to protect my son.

It’s taken me almost thirty years to say how I really feel, Maggie. Perhaps now I can sleep soundly at night.

Barbara