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?

I almost don’t answer the phone. But in the end, I do. Just in case it’s something important.

Damn. There it is again. That odd muffled sound, only this time it’s getting louder. Alarm flutters in my chest like a trapped bird. My skull vibrates. This time it sounds like…

I drop the phone to the floor. This time it sounds like a train.

9

My hand is clammy with sweat as I pick up the receiver from the floor. The line is dead. With trembling fingers, I stab the numbers on the dial pad: 1471. “The caller withheld their number.”

I yank the plug out of the wall, my pulse still thudding in my ears. There must be a logical explanation for this. There must be. It’s got nothing to do with that toy train on the wall. The two things are not connected. Of course they’re not. Someone was phoning me from a station and a train went by. That’s all it was. Probably the same person who’s called before a couple of times. They’ve realized they keep phoning the wrong number and are too embarrassed to say anything. I’ve done that myself in the past.

Maybe it wasn’t a train. It could have been something else. Another sort of engine. I didn’t even listen to it properly. I dropped the phone. Why do I always jump to the worst possible conclusion?

After a while, I feel brave enough to plug the unit back in. Ross usually calls me on my mobile, but what if my parents have an emergency? I can’t have the phone out of action. Ross has left the instruction booklet out and I flip the pages to the index at the back, find the page number for setting up the answerphone. If it rings again, I won’t answer it unless it’s someone I know.

As soon as this is done, I try to calm myself down by starting on the chili. Ross taught me how to make it when we first got together, along with spaghetti bolognese and shepherd’s pie. Maybe one of these days I’ll move on to recipes that don’t involve mince.

As I chop the onions into tiny chunks and fry them till they’re soft and translucent, my heartbeat returns to normal. By the time I’ve laid the table and lit a candle, I’ve made a decision. I need to tell Ross about Alice. I’ve been stupid, keeping it from him. This is the man I love. We’re going to get married.