BooksBarbecue
Back The Dare
Chapters (68)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for
  3. PART ONE
  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. NETWORK RAIL SAFETY UPGRADES TOO LATE FOR “OUR ALICE”
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. PART TWO
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. PART THREE
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. THREE MONTHS LATER
  64. Dedication
  65. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  66. BY LESLEY KARA
  67. About the Author
  68. What’s next onyour reading list?

Her voice starts to break on the last line and it’s this that finally makes me cry. The sound of Miss Nandy struggling to hold it together, to finish her sentence. The tears flow freely now, but with them come sobs, embarrassing, noisy sobs that make everyone turn to look at me, including Catherine Dawson. But I don’t care. I don’t care anymore. Alice is dead and it’s all my fault.

It’s all my fault.

41

NOW

Today is Ross’s birthday and I want to put his cards and presents on the table, so that they’re ready and waiting when he comes down for breakfast. I’m really looking forward to his reaction when he sees what I’ve bought him.

As I make my way downstairs, the house is still and quiet, only the sound of Ross’s deep, regular breathing interspersed with the odd snore can be heard. Catherine’s door is shut, but there’s no sound coming from behind it. She didn’t get back till late last night and, though I’ve enjoyed her company and am grateful for the reassurance she’s given me about the baby, I was glad that Ross and I had the house to ourselves.

Ross seemed a lot happier, too. He hasn’t been himself since she arrived. Still, she’ll be moving into her new flat on Sunday.

I retrieve his cards and presents from the cupboard where I’ve stashed them away and arrange them on the dining table. Being an only child with one parent dead and another in a nursing home, he doesn’t get many cards, but a few have arrived in the post over the last few days, including one from my parents, who right now should be en route to Heathrow for their long-awaited week in New York.

By the time Ross appears, fully dressed and ready for the day ahead—he doesn’t come down in his lounge pants anymore, I’ve noticed, not since Catherine has moved in—I’ve made myself a mug of decaf and am sitting with it by the window, watching the antics of the pigeons in the garden.

“Happy birthday, you,” I say, getting up to give him a hug. “What would you like? Scrambled eggs on toast? Bacon sandwich?”

“Hey, I haven’t seen you up at this time for weeks.”

“Yeah, well,” I say, patting my tummy. “I’m going to have to get used to early mornings once this one’s arrived.”

“Early mornings and sleepless nights.” He smiles, but there’s something wistful about it, as if he can’t quite believe it’s going to happen. “Can’t wait.”