Contents ( 71)
- THE
- DAUGHTER
- MICHELLE FRANCES
- PROLOGUE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- EPILOGUE
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
And that meant only one thing. He hadn’t just left because his feelings were hurt. There was another reason, too. He was scared.
As Becky walked up the front path to the dark, empty house, she felt a pang of regret. She hadn’t lied when she’d told Adam she liked him. She’d enjoyed his company more than she thought she would. As she got out her keys, she noticed the slumped, half-formed, grey boulder that was the remains of the snowman. Sighing, she let herself in and closed the door.
THIRTY-FIVE
2018
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ asked Greg.
Kate nodded. She followed him around the back of the Fresh Foods depot to where half a dozen identical lorries were parked up. Her first thought was one of panicked terror – what if the truck was here – but a quick glance at the registration plates reassured her.
‘You OK?’ Greg asked gently. ‘Because we can stop any time you want to.’
‘No, it’s fine.’
He led her to the first truck, the one nearest to them, and they approached it on the driver’s side. He took out the keys and clicked the button. A beep and a flash of lights. He opened the door for her and indicated the steps so that she could climb in.
She swung herself up and into the cab. It was high and, at first, she only looked directly ahead. Then she made herself look to the left. It was extraordinary – practically the entire passenger door had been converted into a window. She could see the wheels on the truck parked next to her. And if she could see its wheels . . . she thought about the height of a cyclist.
‘Do you want to see what it’s actually like for a driver to see a cyclist?’ asked Greg.
She nodded.
He beckoned to a worker across the yard who pushed a bike over then got on it, edging backwards between the two trucks. It was amazing – he was completely visible. She looked at where the top of his head came – and with a shiver saw it didn’t reach anywhere near the bottom of the original window, he was simply too low down. Becky wouldn’t have been seen at all. So maybe it had simply been an accident. Maybe Becky hadn’t been as vigilant as she usually was, and it had been a brutal accident that – as Greg was now demonstrating – could have been avoided.
‘These are the first vehicles to be completed,’ said Greg. ‘The second phase will be done next week.’
‘It’s good,’ said Kate. The worker looked up at her through the window and respectfully nodded. ‘Really, really good.’ Her voice cracked. She suddenly wanted to get down. Greg held out a hand, which she gratefully took as she climbed out the cab. It’s done, she thought, what I set out to do, to protect other cyclists. But being here was painful and made the memories of that day too close and she wanted to leave now.