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Out of the Ashes

Vicky Newham
Chapters (95)
  1. Cover
  2. PRAISE
  3. About the Author
  4. Dedication
  5. FRIDAY
  6. Rosa, 2 p.m.
  7. Maya, 2.30 p.m.
  8. Maya, 3.30 p.m.
  9. Maya, 3.45 p.m.
  10. Dan, 3.45 p.m.
  11. Maya, 4 p.m.
  12. Maya, 4.30 p.m.
  13. Maya, 5.30 p.m.
  14. Maya, 6 p.m.
  15. Maya, 6.15 p.m.
  16. 6.30 p.m.
  17. Maya, 7.30 p.m.
  18. Maya, 7.45 p.m.
  19. Brick Lane, 1984 – Maya
  20. SATURDAY
  21. Maya, 7 a.m.
  22. Maya, 8.30 a.m.
  23. Maya, 8.45 a.m.
  24. Maya, 9.15 a.m.
  25. Maya, 10 a.m.
  26. 10.30 a.m.
  27. Dan, 11 a.m.
  28. Maya, midday
  29. Maya, 12.30 p.m.
  30. Maya, 1 p.m.
  31. Maya, 1.30 p.m.
  32. Dan, 2.30 p.m.
  33. Dan, 3 p.m.
  34. Maya, 3.30 p.m.
  35. Maya, 4.30 p.m.
  36. Maya, 5.30 p.m.
  37. Dan, 6 p.m.
  38. Maya, 6.45 p.m.
  39. Maya, 7.30 p.m.
  40. Maya, 8.30 p.m.
  41. Dan, 9.30 p.m.
  42. Maya, 10 p.m.
  43. Maya, 10.45 p.m.
  44. 11.30 p.m.
  45. Maya, 11.30 p.m.
  46. Maya, midnight
  47. SUNDAY
  48. Rosa, 7 a.m.
  49. Brick Lane, 1984 – Maya
  50. Maya, 8.30 a.m.
  51. 9 a.m.
  52. Maya, 9.30 a.m.
  53. Maya, 11 a.m.
  54. Dan, 12.30 p.m.
  55. Maya, 12.30 p.m.
  56. Dan, 2.30 p.m.
  57. Maya, 5 p.m.
  58. Maya, 9 p.m.
  59. Feldman’s Newsagent’s, Brick Lane, 1989 – Maya
  60. MONDAY
  61. 8 a.m.
  62. Maya, 8.30 a.m.
  63. Maya, 9 a.m.
  64. Dan, 10.30 a.m.
  65. Maya, 10.30 a.m.
  66. Dan, 11.15 a.m.
  67. Maya, 11.15 a.m.
  68. Maya, midday
  69. Maya, 1 p.m.
  70. Dan, 1.55 p.m.
  71. 2 p.m.
  72. Maya, 3 p.m.
  73. Maya, 4 p.m.
  74. Maya, 6 p.m.
  75. Maya, 7 p.m.
  76. Maya, 8 p.m.
  77. Maya, 8.45 p.m.
  78. Maya, 10 p.m.
  79. Maya, 10.30 p.m.
  80. TUESDAY
  81. Dan, 1 a.m.
  82. Maya, 7.30 a.m.
  83. Maya, 9 a.m.
  84. Maya, 10.30 a.m.
  85. Maya, 11.30 a.m.
  86. Maya, 12.30 p.m.
  87. Maya, 2.30 p.m.
  88. Maya, 4 p.m.
  89. Maya, 5 p.m.
  90. WEDNESDAY
  91. Maya, 8 a.m.
  92. Maya, 9 a.m.
  93. Maya, 10 a.m.
  94. Acknowledgements
  95. About the Publisher

Cover

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PRAISE

PRAISE FOR VICKY NEWHAM

‘An impressive debut … the multicultural community of Brick Lane is sensitively evoked and the heroine is ultra-hip’

Daily Mail

‘The first in a promising series … a female detective who has to negotiate cultural conflicts on a daily basis’

The Sunday Times

‘Slick, fresh and current’

Mel Sherratt

‘A remarkable portrayal of crime in modern, multicultural Britain’

Paul Finch

‘DI Maya Rahman is the heroine I’ve waited a lifetime for’

Alex Caan

‘A sensational debut; a current, timely police procedural featuring a DI like none you’ve ever seen’

Karen Dionne

‘A terrific start to an important new series’

Vaseem Khan

‘[DI Maya Rahman] is wonderfully complex and human, and the tension ratchets up nicely’

James Oswald

‘Clever, passionate and hugely thought provoking’

Lizlovesbook.com

About the Author

VICKY NEWHAM grew up in West Sussex and taught Psychology in East London for many years, before moving to Whitstable in Kent. She studied for an MA in Creative Writing at Kingston University, where she graduated with distinction. She is currently working on the next instalment in the DI Rahman series.

Dedication

For my father, who I miss every day.

FRIDAY

FRIDAY

Rosa, 2 p.m.

Rosa, 2 p.m.

Rosa Feldman stood at the door of her Brick Lane newsagent’s, staring out at the street she’d known since she was four. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. It was the shop opposite, run by the young Lithuanian couple. Since first thing this morning, the lights had been off and the shutters down. Initially, she was relieved that for once, the ugly neon sign, with its air of Margate or Blackpool, wasn’t flashing outside her bedroom window, but as the morning progressed, she felt increasingly uneasy.

It wasn’t like them at all.

She couldn’t recall ever seeing the shop closed in the daytime.

A tap on the glass snapped Rosa back into the afternoon. It was Mr Walker from the off-licence a few doors down. He shouted a cheery greeting and waved as he passed the window. Regular as clockwork, off to get chips for tea. Rosa raised her hand to return the gesture, but the pain in her wrists and knuckles bit again. Damned arthritis.

Mr Walker’s knock was usually her reminder to think about their meal. Today was Friday after all. But without Józef, the Sabbath meal wasn’t the same and she didn’t bother with the rituals any more. In the last year, she’d lost weight and clothes hung off her spare frame. What was the point of lighting candles when there was only one of you? She’d steam a plate of yesterday’s chicken and potatoes. That would do her. Fortunately, she didn’t have to go far to get home, just upstairs to the flat, even if it was still freezing at this time of year.