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Back Sinner Save as PDF
Chapters (56)
  1. SINNER
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  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. Acknowledgements
  53. Keep Reading …
  54. About the Author
  55. Also by Jacqui Rose
  56. About the Publisher

Sniffing and wiping his face, Alfie looked down. ‘Maybe you’re right. My head’s a mess and I can’t seem to snap out of it, so what I think I’m going to do is take your advice: go away for a bit; perhaps I’ll end up investing in Spain again. Things seemed simpler out there, we were happy. And the Costa is hardly the other side of the world, is it? Oh, I dunno, but I’ll talk to you all about that later … Look, I’ve got to go.’

‘Where to?’

‘No more questions, Fran, I can’t deal with it.’

Franny nodded as she squeezed Alfie’s hand. ‘Okay, baby.’

Then finally managing to look at her, Alfie smiled, though his eyes were full of pain. ‘I love you, Franny. You hear me? You’re the best thing that ever happened to me … I’ll see you at home. I’ve just got to go and see someone.’

And with that Alfie turned and ran down the street.

11

Charlie stared in the mirror, something he tried not to do often. Not that he was anywhere near worried about his balding head, nor did he care that his body folded over in huge waves of fat, and neither was he bothered that his nose and face were a ruddy red map of veins. No, the one thing that he couldn’t stand was the fact he looked like his father. Almost a carbon copy of him. It was like his father was staring back, taunting. Mocking. Reminding him of his childhood filled with abuse, which he thought would never end.

When he looked in the mirror he could remember what happened as if it was yesterday, but above all he remembered the smell of his father. Alcohol mixed with charcoal. Always charcoal. His father would have a constant fire burning on the rusting barbeque. Getting rid of any incriminating evidence. Bloodstained sheets. Bloodstained underwear. Photographs of him and his sisters that his father and his sick friends would take of them. Anything and everything went on the fire. To this day he couldn’t bear the smell of charcoal.

Turning away, he looked down at his phone. He hadn’t heard one peep out of Shannon. Not one text. Not one phone call to tell him that she was sorry. He’d even got a couple of his men to go around all the crack dens in Soho, thinking that she’d be there. But she was nowhere to be seen. Well he would make her fucking sorry when she came crawling back to him.