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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

21

Elspeth’s voice burns in my ears as I walk out of the gate and make my way down the narrow lane that runs by the side of the house. The memory had been brief but brutal. She was begging me to stop. She was scared. Her hair was wet and she was wearing her dressing gown. As I walk I try to imagine what kind of circumstances, what major emergency could have made me bundle my half-dressed daughter into the car and head for a pub at that time of night. I try to piece together the information I have: my phone buzzing on the desk; Sean and Elspeth sitting at the kitchen table making a dream catcher and Elspeth telling me not to strap her into the car, begging me not to make her go out. Are these memories linked? Do they all stem from the day of the accident? I don’t know and it’s killing me that I can’t remember.

A chill flutters down my spine as I reach the end of the lane and see the field up ahead. This stretch of land links Ketton House Farm to Larkfields. It was where I used to meet Ben after school and later we would walk across the field to reach the river. I shudder as I remember: two alder trees bending towards each other, the river trickling away.

Most people would think I was crazy to return to the place that held so many bad memories but Larkfields had always exerted a strange hold over me. When I lived in London the house would return to me in my dreams, like an unfinished puzzle I had to solve. When I saw that it was for sale it felt like fate. We could go back and make everything right again. And for a few years it seemed like we had. Elspeth’s presence at Larkfields turned the bad memories into good. She loved the land around it and claimed it as her own. It was where she felt safest.

The wind rushes into my face as I reach the field and I take great gulps of it, the tightness in my chest easing slightly. I brush my hair out of my eyes and then I see them again: Elspeth’s stones.

I crouch down next to the biggest one, running my hand along its rough surface.

‘Hello, Edwin,’ I whisper as I settle myself on the grass. ‘What have you been up to today?’

And then I hear her voice fluttering across the breeze.

‘Here lies the body of Sir Edwin Chatto, Gallant Knight of Sussex.’

My heart freezes as I recognize the line. It was what she would always declare as she reached the meadow and saw the stones. It was as normal to her as saluting the magpie. She’s quiet now, waiting for my response.