Chapters (78)
- Title Page
- Dedication
- 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
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Remarkable Praise for Nicci French
- Also by Nicci French
- About the Publisher
“We’ve been talking about you,” he said. “Nobody had met you. Nobody had even heard of you except Danny, and suddenly you’re the one he turns to, right before he dies. Then it turns out that he’s done a will and you’re in charge of it.”
“Not just me,” said Jude. “His brother as well.”
“That’s weird as well.”
“Why?”
“I guess I didn’t know Liam that well. It’s none of my business who he chooses to do his will.” He smiled. “I don’t suppose he left everything to me.”
“Sadly not,” Jude said.
Doc started to turn away, then paused.
“Walk with me to the house?” he said.
Jude pointed in the other direction. “I left my bike there.”
He held out his hand. She took it and he held it slightly too long, as if he was weighing it.
“We’ll see you again at the house.”
“I’m probably getting in the way.”
He didn’t say she wasn’t. He just shrugged and walked down the path toward home.
Thirty-Six
That evening, Jude went out with a group of friends. It was the first time since her life had unraveled so publicly, the first time since she had separated from Nat, and she felt horribly anxious and vulnerable. But she knew that the longer she waited, the harder it would be, and so she showered and washed her hair, put on nice clothes, sprayed perfume and held her head high when she walked smiling into the crowded pub.
They welcomed her in; of course they did. They were her friends, her familiars, the people who she knew best in the world and who would always be on her side whatever she did, however badly she behaved. Everyone hugged her, kissed her, put hands on her arm as they spoke. They bought her drinks, then more drinks, and soon her thoughts blurred and the tight knot of shame and fear loosened. She talked—about Nat, about Liam’s death and being made an executor, about the grim flat and the unfriendly cat, about endings and shame and loneliness. She made it into a joke—a joke against herself. She waved her arms in the air and told them she loved them all. She laughed and, in the middle of laughing, cried. A bit drunk and emotional, she felt she could say anything, anything at all—and yet she didn’t tell them about the crash when she was eighteen. She still had a cordon thrown around that. Only Leila Fox knew.
The following day passed in a blur. She was hungover, dry-mouthed and wrung out and couldn’t bring herself to do anything. She mooched around the flat, drank lots of water, ate a bowl of pasta for supper and went to bed early.