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Back The Dead Line Save as PDF
Chapters (87)
  1. Cover
  2. By the Same Author
  3. Dedication Page
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. Acknowledgements
  86. Also Available by Holly Watt
  87. The Hunt and the Kill

As she read Casey’s messages about Bantham, Miranda was perching on the uncomfortable sofa in the sitting room. She had lit the wood-burner earlier, but the fire had petered out.

They never sat on the uncomfortable sofa, Tom and Miranda. Never just the two of them, companionable and cosy.

Miranda stared around the room, and for a moment, it glimmered with another life, a different life. A pile of toys in the corner: plastic, those bright primary colours. A toddler, pulling himself up to lean on the coffee table, on little sturdy legs. Herself, cooking, unseen in the kitchen, with the occasional irritable shout. Noise, warmth, colour: a different world superimposed.

She heard Tom’s footsteps hurry up the garden path, the crunch of the key in the lock.

So familiar, unfamiliar.

He saw her as he walked in, nodding, still polite. The pile of toys evaporated, the child faded away.

‘Tom . . .’

He knew at once. She saw him try to keep his face steady, calm, but for once he couldn’t hide the flood of hurt. The vulnerability made her heart twist, and she wanted to reach out, hold him, undo it all.

‘You chose, then.’

You have to choose.

‘I didn’t want to, Tom. It didn’t have to be a choice.’

‘It did, Miranda.’

A pause, a nod. ‘I know.’

For a moment, they reflected the same sadness: two mirrors, an infinity of sorrow.

‘They tell you that all women . . .’

‘Yes.’

The stage was struck. And Miranda saw it all so clearly. All at once, the bright backdrops of their lives were just paper, tattered, faded and torn. The props – the pretty tiles in a hallway, a sky-blue watering can and those lovely unseen blinds – neatly packed away. And the memories, which had been everything, would be wilfully abandoned. A forgotten memory, a forgotten life.

I tried.

Did you?

‘Tom . . .’ Her eyes filled with tears, a sudden burn in her throat. It seemed impossible that it could all be pulled apart by just a few words.

Anyone would.

Anyone wouldn’t.

‘What?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I know.’

63

63

When she had finished speaking to Bantham, Casey called Emily.

‘Poppy’s a bit ill, Emily. I want to take her for a quick check-up before I bring her down to you. I’m really sorry about the delay.’

‘Why? What’s wrong with her?’ The terror was electric.

‘There’s nothing to worry about, Emily,’ Casey said slowly, separating out each word. ‘I just want to make sure that I am keeping little Poppy Naomi safe. I want to keep her safe.’

‘All right.’ The tension in Emily’s voice dissipated slightly. ‘Please do that. But hurry, Casey. I can’t bear it much longer. Without her . . .’

‘You could come up to London,’ Casey suggested. ‘Meet me at the hospital?’

There was a long pause. ‘No,’ said Emily wistfully. ‘I’ll wait for her here. But see you as soon as possible, Casey. Please. Keep her safe.’