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Back The Daughter Save as PDF
Contents ( 71)
  1. THE
  2. DAUGHTER
  3. MICHELLE FRANCES
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. ONE
  6. TWO
  7. THREE
  8. FOUR
  9. FIVE
  10. SIX
  11. SEVEN
  12. EIGHT
  13. NINE
  14. TEN
  15. ELEVEN
  16. TWELVE
  17. THIRTEEN
  18. FOURTEEN
  19. FIFTEEN
  20. SIXTEEN
  21. SEVENTEEN
  22. EIGHTEEN
  23. NINETEEN
  24. TWENTY
  25. TWENTY-ONE
  26. TWENTY-TWO
  27. TWENTY-THREE
  28. TWENTY-FOUR
  29. TWENTY-FIVE
  30. TWENTY-SIX
  31. TWENTY-SEVEN
  32. TWENTY-EIGHT
  33. TWENTY-NINE
  34. THIRTY
  35. THIRTY-ONE
  36. THIRTY-TWO
  37. THIRTY-THREE
  38. THIRTY-FOUR
  39. THIRTY-FIVE
  40. THIRTY-SIX
  41. THIRTY-SEVEN
  42. THIRTY-EIGHT
  43. THIRTY-NINE
  44. FORTY
  45. FORTY-ONE
  46. FORTY-TWO
  47. FORTY-THREE
  48. FORTY-FOUR
  49. FORTY-FIVE
  50. FORTY-SIX
  51. FORTY-SEVEN
  52. FORTY-EIGHT
  53. FORTY-NINE
  54. FIFTY
  55. FIFTY-ONE
  56. FIFTY-TWO
  57. FIFTY-THREE
  58. FIFTY-FOUR
  59. FIFTY-FIVE
  60. FIFTY-SIX
  61. FIFTY-SEVEN
  62. FIFTY-EIGHT
  63. FIFTY-NINE
  64. SIXTY
  65. SIXTY-ONE
  66. SIXTY-TWO
  67. SIXTY-THREE
  68. SIXTY-FOUR
  69. EPILOGUE
  70. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  71. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

THIRTY-FOUR

Sunday, 12 February 2017 – twelve days before the accident

Becky had woken in the night more than once, partly due to the excessive thirst from the alcohol. But after a glass of water, what had stopped her from dropping off again was the guilty, uncomfortable feeling. Adam had sent her a text – four, in fact, since she’d left his flat. She’d enjoyed his company and just a few hours ago had wanted to see him again but now she wasn’t sure. And the fact he was so keen made her feel even less sure. The first message had arrived when she was in the cab: ‘Had a really great night. Text me when you get home safe. X’

It was a lovely sentiment so why did it make her heart fall a little? She felt a flicker of panic, of wanting to create distance. She’d waited to reply until she’d got in the door: ‘Me too. Home now. Pretty knackered so bed for me.’

Almost immediately he’d sent the next text: ‘I’m going to hit the sack too. Wishing you some sweet dreams image’

To which she’d responded: ‘Night. X’. The addition of the kiss had been something of a dilemma. Without had seemed too abrupt, but its inclusion was undeniably borne out of a sense of guilt.

He’d then added: ‘Night to you too. Don’t let the bed bugs bite! XX’

At which, she had to admit, she’d cringed. He must have done the same, as another came pinging in: ‘Sorry! Bit naff.’

Her heart sank again, and she thought that she could safely let him assume she’d fallen asleep, hence justifying her lack of response. His texts betrayed just how much he liked her. She liked him too, just wasn’t sure her feelings for him were as strong, and whether her desire to see him was based on her journalistic hunger to find out what he knew. He was a nice guy and she didn’t want to lead him on.

Now it was the morning after, and Becky lay in bed, her head throbbing, pinned to the mattress by a nausea that intensified if she moved too fast or too upright. She could tell it was morning by the laser beam of sunlight doing its best to slice her head in two as it pierced its way through the crack in the curtains. Need more sleep, her body intoned, and she slowly turned over, pulling the duvet up higher to block out the light and wishing she hadn’t drunk Trixie’s champagne.

She fumbled for her phone on the bedside table, tentatively curious to see if the cold light of day had adjusted Adam’s enthusiasm. There was an unopened text from him. She eyed it warily and was about to read it when her bedroom door opened a crack. Becky quickly pulled the phone under the covers and shut her eyes. It was barely ten, far too early to get up on a Sunday.