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
‘Are you sure?’
Kate nodded. The five-star lifestyle was over. ‘Back to reality for me now.’
As Kate approached her house, she felt herself growing wary. She took a moment before getting out her keys, checked the door for signs of entry. Then she let herself in and closed the door behind her. The air smelt stale, the light was fading, and the emptiness filled every room, every corner. She went from room to room looking for signs of intrusion, not getting any sense of comfort when she found none. For the first time since she’d moved in, it didn’t feel like home.
She began to unpack. As she filed away her passport in the drawer, she came across a letter she’d stashed there. She took it out, opened it up. It had been sent to her soon after Becky had died, from her boss, Terence, at the newspaper. Her eyes fell on some of the words:
We were about to offer her a full reporter’s position. I’m telling you this not to lament what could have been but to add to your raft of her achievements to be proud of.
A life unlived. Kate slowly replaced the letter. You would have done it, Becky. You would have solved all this by now. Got justice for Arnie and the rest. She’d had so much going for her, her daughter. More than she, Kate, ever had. ‘I’ve let you down again,’ she said out loud to the empty room.
A dark cloud started to settle over her and, afraid of where it would take her, Kate set about tidying the house. Threw out the mouldy food in the fridge, recycled the piles of shouty junk mail. Put on a wash. Tasks completed, she sat at the table. There was nothing to do.
It was over.
FIFTY-EIGHT
2016
‘We’re on “E”!’ whispered Iris excitedly as she leaned into Kate, squeezing her arm. They were in a packed Royal Festival Hall, every one of the two thousand nine hundred seats taken by family and friends of University College London graduates. The graduates themselves were filling the large wooden stage, backdropped by the humungous organ, in a highly orchestrated manoeuvre that saw each of them get up to receive their certificate in turn. After ‘East’ and ‘El-Kati’, it was time.
‘Miss Becky Ellis, journalism, first-class honours,’ said the official and Kate watched as her clever, beautiful daughter walked across the stage in her academic robe with its black-and-red hood, and collected her certificate.
Then Becky turned, and her eyes flickered up to the huge audience. Kate knew she had a sense of where she and Iris were sitting but it would be almost impossible for her to pick them out in such a large sea of faces.
But then – yes! – she’d seen them and managed a quick wave before being directed along to allow for the next graduate.
Kate began to well up, overwhelmed with pride and love. Her little girl was all grown up. She turned to Iris and, seeing tears streaming down her face, the two of them laughed at each other and Iris pulled a packet of tissues out of her handbag. Noses blown, they each sighed and fixed their gazes back on Becky, drinking her in.