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
Tim massaged her leg. ‘Don’t blame you.’
Kate rubbed at her temples, trying to ease away the pain that wasn’t shifting. ‘I’ve got a stinking headache.’
‘That’s not like you.’
‘I know. Any chance of a foot massage?’
‘I was going to ask you the same thing.’
‘I’ll do yours if you do mine.’
‘Deal.’
‘But only if you’ve moisturized.’
‘At my pedicure today.’
Kate sat up, amazed. ‘You’ve been for a pedicure?’
‘Have I heck,’ said Tim. ‘I’ve been on the 196.’ He started to stroke the soles of her feet.
‘Ah, bliss . . .’ She relaxed fully for the first time that day. ‘Do you know, there was one weird thing. About today.’
‘Go on.’
‘At each house I went to, there was someone ill in the family – or who had been ill. And I’m not talking just a cold. Arnie, the six-year-old twin, has leukaemia. Abby, the taxi driver’s daughter, has had another type of cancer – soft-tissue sarcoma – but is in remission now. His wife has ME. Ian, the retired guy, he’s got prostate cancer.’
‘I thought living in the country was supposed to be healthy.’
‘Yes . . . it made me wonder . . . about the other two on the list. I thought I might go tomorrow . . . see if I can talk to them. Especially as they might also feel that Becky has let them down. I’d like them to know.’
Her phone rang, and she reached for it.
‘Hello? Gregory!’ Kate sat up. ‘No, it’s not too late. Yes, I think so. Let me just check.’ She covered the mouthpiece. ‘It’s Gregory,’ she said to Tim. ‘From Fresh Foods, you know. He’s wondering if we’d like to go for dinner with him tomorrow night. He’d like to update me on the results of the risk assessment.’
‘What’s he want me there for?’
‘I don’t know. Because you’re my boyfriend? And he’s nice and making an effort?’
Tim shrugged. ‘OK.’
‘Thanks, Gregory,’ said Kate. ‘We’d love to. OK, Greg.’ She laughed. ‘See you then.’ She hung up.
Tim raised an eyebrow. ‘Greg?’ he repeated.
‘He insists, apparently.’
Tim moved his hand sensuously up the back of her leg.
Kate groaned. ‘I can’t tonight . . . sorry.’
‘What’s up? Head still hurting?’
She rubbed her temples. ‘I think I need an early night.’
He got up. Held out his hand. ‘Come on, I’ll tuck you in.’
She gratefully let him lead her up the stairs and got into bed. She tried to read but it hurt too much so she turned off the light. Her head really was pounding, and she didn’t often get headaches. Must be all the emotions running high – being on Becky’s patch, hearing about her. By uncovering part of Becky’s life that she’d known nothing about, it felt as if it was new. As if it had just happened. As if she was still alive.
SIXTEEN
2001
Kate’s hands were locked onto the steering wheel, her palms sweating, as they had been ever since she’d got this tiny box of a car onto the motorway. She’d only passed her test two weeks before, a miracle seeing as she’d just had a crash course of lessons, the minimum she could get away with, as she wanted to keep as much hard-saved cash as possible for her first-ever holiday with Becky.