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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

‘We would be very careful,’ promised Casey. ‘We would bring her home to you, Emily. You wouldn’t lose your baby. But these are refugee girls. Girls, not women. Being forced to carry babies for foreigners. They are girls just like Romida. You must see that it’s unbearable. That it can’t go on.’

‘But this is my baby,’ Emily’s voice broke. ‘I know it’s awful, and I know I should be thinking something different, and I am so sorry about that. But I just can’t. I want my baby.’

‘Emily . . .’

‘Will she go the authorities?’ Emily asked. ‘Your colleague.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Casey. ‘She might.’

‘She will,’ Emily murmured. ‘I saw it. She was so angry.’

Emily slumped, turning towards her house. Casey watched her go.

As Emily reached the gates, wearily punching in the code, she paused.

‘I’ll always think of her now, won’t I?’ Emily said, without turning around. ‘That girl, Romida.’

‘I don’t know,’ Casey said honestly. ‘But only you can stop Romida being hurt.’

Emily turned towards Casey.

‘Do you know the name? Of the girl who is . . .’ Emily shrank away from the words. ‘The girl who is having our baby.’

‘No.’ Casey met her eye. ‘She’s just an anonymous girl, somewhere in Bangladesh. You never need to know a thing about her, if you don’t want. You can just pick up your baby, like a bunch of flowers.’

Emily looked down at the tulips. She had crushed the stalks, Casey saw.

‘We used to be different, you know, Dominic and I.’

In her mind, Casey flicked through the documents that Hessa had pulled together. The bright young artist. The good-looking husband, in advertising, highly successful. All backed up by a solid wall of family money behind them. Anything possible.

‘We used to have so much fun. But I wanted a family. Everyone wants a family, don’t they?’ Emily waved at the twee grandeur. ‘It’s ridiculous all this, I know. But I wanted it so much that I gave up everything else . . . And then we were stuck . . . Halfway to a dream.’

Casey felt a sudden wave of fury at the beautiful woman, standing outside her desirable home.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Emily almost smiled. ‘Romida, stuck somewhere out in Bangladesh. Terrified, homeless, and in real danger. And then pathetic me, here. Complaining.’

‘A little.’ Casey let the anger flicker.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Emily. ‘But I can’t do it.’

‘Sleep on it.’

‘I won’t sleep.’

22

22

Emily called a day later, as Casey had known she would.

‘Meet me by the Round Pond? In Kensington Gardens?’

Emily was waiting as Casey walked up. It was cold today, with a shiver in the air. Emily wore an elegant black coat, long and flowing, that caught the wind and billowed. The swans drifted in slow circles, under the solemn watch of Kensington Palace.

‘Hello,’ said Emily.

‘Hello.’