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Chapters (60)
  1. CRITICAL ACCLAIM FOR LEIGH RUSSELL
  2. Glossary of acronyms
  3. Prologue
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. Acknowledgements

‘She,’ Ariadne replied, giving Geraldine a curious look. ‘I mean, if Daisy is with her father, then how is he managing to keep her hidden? Surely someone would have seen them?’ She shook her head. ‘It’s a terrible thing to say but, frankly, I don’t see how the baby can still be alive.’

Geraldine nodded grimly.

‘We have no idea what’s happened,’ Ariadne went on.

‘Is it really coincidence that Jessica’s husband has vanished, and her father’s been murdered, both at the same time as her baby disappeared? She has to be the link. But how?’ Geraldine replied.

‘She’s certainly unlucky,’ Ariadne replied. ‘She’s like a character in a Greek tragedy.’

‘I wonder,’ Geraldine said, frowning. ‘You know the saying: you make your own luck.’

‘You mean you think she’s responsible for killing her baby and her husband, and her father?’ Ariadne asked, raising her eyebrows. ‘Is there one word for a woman who murders all her male relations? Patricide combined with infanticide and mariticide?’

Geraldine shook her head. ‘I don’t really know what to make of it all. It’s a mess, isn’t it? But Jessica’s at the centre of it. She has to be.’

25

25

Ella lay in bed, trembling. She wasn’t sure what had woken her up, but on the instant all her senses were alert, straining to see and hear in the silent darkness. She had an uncanny sensation, a kind of sixth sense, telling her she wasn’t alone. Someone was lurking in her room, creeping closer to the bed, trying to avoid being heard. There was no doubt in her mind who it must be, because she always knew he wasn’t far away. With shaking fingers, she reached for the torch she kept beneath her pillow. As she touched the cold smooth metal, she heard a noise, a regular tapping, nothing like the noise a baby might make. Her hand closed around the torch and she gripped it tightly. Cautiously she raised herself without making a sound, until she was sitting up. Hunched over on the bed she listened again, clutching the torch but not yet daring to switch it on. The tapping resumed, and she heard his footsteps shuffling along the corridor outside her room, coming closer and closer. She held her breath, listening.

At last she could bear it no longer. With a muted cry, she leapt out of bed, tripped on the threadbare mat, and knocked over a beer bottle as she fell, landing on her knees with a painful thud. She swore out loud. The bottle had been nearly empty but all the same the mat felt soggy beneath her bare knees. Too alarmed to worry about whether she had hurt herself, she clambered to her feet as quickly as she could, and stood with her back pressed against the wall, listening. A car roared past outside, but inside the building all was silent.