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 now,’ said Tim with a deep sigh, ‘I can finally come clean.’
‘About what?’
‘Do you remember, the day of the break-in, you came to meet me for my last shift?’
Kate nodded.
‘That’s why I wasn’t there. I was shopping.’ He looked at her. ‘I always got the feeling you were suspicious.’
She had been, a little. Kate blushed. ‘Not really.’
‘So, as you can see, it wasn’t me breaking into the house and sending dodgy emails,’ he said, smiling, although Kate could detect an edge to his voice. She flicked her eyes in warning towards Iris who had been ping-ponging her gaze between them.
Iris pushed a small box across the table. ‘And this is from me,’ she said.
Kate delicately unwrapped it. Inside was a jewellery box. She looked up at Iris before opening it, and Iris waved her on. Kate lifted the lid of the box and gasped. Lying on a bed of black velvet was a pair of 1950s Hollywood-style diamanté drop earrings, each with five strings of glass stones cut to look like diamonds.
‘They were given to me for my twenty-first,’ said Iris.
Kate snapped the box shut and held it back over the table. ‘I can’t take them,’ she said, immediately.
‘Now, don’t talk nonsense. Who else am I going to give them to? You’re the closest I’ve ever had to a daughter. I want you to have them.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. Now put them on.’
Kate lifted them out of the box, the stones brazenly dazzling, their capacity for capturing and catapulting light undiminished in the sixty years of their existence. She put them in her ears.
‘Wow,’ said Tim, eyes agog.
‘Feels a bit daft wearing something so stunning in a fish-and-chip shop,’ said Kate.
‘No reason to,’ said Iris.
‘Thank you,’ said Kate, clasping Iris’s hand. She loved them, but the gift was tinged with sadness for her. Iris passing on heirlooms had something reminiscent of inheritance, something she couldn’t bear thinking about. She didn’t want Iris to be tidying up her life. It was bad enough she was moving to sheltered housing.
‘Did you have any other nice birthday treats? Anything from work?’ asked Iris.
‘A twenty-pound store voucher.’
Iris frowned. ‘Get away. Really?’
‘From my boss. My colleagues did a whip round and bought me some flowers.’
‘Thank goodness. Or all you’d be getting from them is a new screwdriver for your birthday. A sign of being truly middle-aged.’ She patted Kate’s hand. ‘Happens to us all. Mind you, what I’d give to be middle-aged again, I’m now geriatric-aged.’
Kate’s phone beeped.
‘Maybe that’s your boss now, sending you details of a large delivery of chocolates to make up for his paltry present.’
‘It’s the forensic accountant,’ said Kate, surprised. ‘She’s the one who’s been helping me find out who owns the farm,’ she explained to Iris. Kate scanned through the email. ‘Oh,’ she suddenly said, her face contorting in confusion.
‘What?’ asked Tim.
‘She says she’s been sent an email in error. From the Anguillan registry clerk.’