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Back Harbour Street Save as PDF
Chapters (47)
  1. Contents
  2. Chapter One
  3. Chapter Two
  4. Chapter Three
  5. Chapter Four
  6. Chapter Five
  7. Chapter Six
  8. Chapter Seven
  9. Chapter Eight
  10. Chapter Nine
  11. Chapter Ten
  12. Chapter Eleven
  13. Chapter Twelve
  14. Chapter Thirteen
  15. Chapter Fourteen
  16. Chapter Fifteen
  17. Chapter Sixteen
  18. Chapter Seventeen
  19. Chapter Eighteen
  20. Chapter Nineteen
  21. Chapter Twenty
  22. Chapter Twenty-One
  23. Chapter Twenty-Two
  24. Chapter Twenty-Three
  25. Chapter Twenty-Four
  26. Chapter Twenty-Five
  27. Chapter Twenty-Six
  28. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  29. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  30. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  31. Chapter Thirty
  32. Chapter Thirty-One
  33. Chapter Thirty-Two
  34. Chapter Thirty-Three
  35. Chapter Thirty-Four
  36. Chapter Thirty-Five
  37. Chapter Thirty-Six
  38. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  39. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  40. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  41. Chapter Forty
  42. Chapter Forty-One
  43. Chapter Forty-Two
  44. Chapter Forty-Three
  45. Chapter Forty-Four
  46. Chapter Forty-Five
  47. About the Author

‘Usually, but the one in our train wasn’t working.’ She gave them a wide smile. ‘We’re chasing up the reason. So we’re dependent on old-fashioned policing. And before anyone asks, there was CCTV outside the station, but the snow was so heavy that it was impossible to see anything.’

She waved them back to their desks. ‘If anyone wants me, I’ll be with Prof. Keating at the post-mortem.

Chapter Ten

Kate Dewar had hardly slept. Stuart had gone home soon after Vera Stanhope had left for her room. ‘I’ve got all the end-of-term reports to finish,’ he’d said. ‘And the kids will want you to themselves.’ She’d almost asked him to stay, but didn’t want to force the issue. He could see that she was upset, and he wasn’t sure how to help her. Her sadness would discomfort him. He was never very good at talking about feelings. He’d been on his own for so long that it was as if he’d had to learn a new language. And he was a kind man. She saw that the nature of Margaret’s death had touched him, even though he hadn’t known her for long.

It wasn’t fear that had kept her awake in the night. She wasn’t expecting Margaret’s killer to break into the house and murder them in their beds. She might have been haunted by fancies like that – she had a vivid imagination – but somehow the presence of Vera Stanhope, solid and implacable, had made the idea seem quite ridiculous. Instead, more subtle anxieties kept her awake: the business, the family, how she would arrange a suitable funeral for Margaret. She lay on her side, rigid with tension, checking her bedside clock every hour. It seemed as if she’d only just fallen asleep when the alarm went off.

Usually she served breakfast from seven, but when she’d checked in Vera had asked if she might take it early: ‘Cereal and toast will be fine. I don’t want to put you to any trouble.’ There had been a wistful edge to her voice, though, and Kate hadn’t had Vera down as a healthy eater, so she’d had bacon and sausage under the grill just in case, eager to please. She’d always been eager to please – part of her problem. If she’d gone into her marriage deciding what she’d wanted from the relationship, instead of trying to guess what would make Robbie happy, perhaps things would have worked out better.