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
She stood up. Everyone in this house was too tall: beside them, she felt puny and unimpressive.
“I’ll be going then.”
“No worries.” The smile still hadn’t left Vin’s face. “You turn up everywhere. In the house, in the workshop, at the spot where Liam was killed, in his will.”
Jan was still standing in the doorway. Alfie was pulling at Jude and making a grizzling sound, like a motor that had been left idling.
“I’m only here because you weren’t,” said Jude crossly.
“Come on, little fellow.”
Vin lifted Alfie high in the air and settled him on his shoulders. Alfie grabbed him by his hair and chortled.
“Bye then,” said Jude.
“See you on Tuesday, at the funeral,” said Irina.
“Oh, and Jude,” said Vin as she passed him, and she turned.
“Yes?”
“You’ve got a smudge on your cheek. Here.” He touched his own cheek to demonstrate.
Jude rubbed furiously at her face.
“Better?”
“Yeah. See you.”
Jan followed her to the front door and stood beside her as she put on her jacket. He shifted from foot to foot and cleared his throat awkwardly several times. Jude thought he was about to say something, but then Vin called from the depths of the house and the moment passed.
Thirty-Seven
“What kind of things do people eat at wakes?” Jude asked her mother on the phone that evening.
“Crisps,” she said firmly. “Crisps and sandwiches and things like sausage rolls.”
It sounded more like a children’s birthday party than a wake to Jude.
“It’s got to be vegetarian,” she said. “And no sandwiches.”
“Smoked salmon and cream cheese bagels.”
“Smoked salmon isn’t vegetarian.”
“How about lots of pita bread and dips. Hummus, guacamole, things like that.”
“Maybe.”
“I do a really nice one with peas and coconut.” Dee was becoming enthusiastic. “And one with beetroot and horseradish. Though beetroot stains. And you can bake some wheels of Camembert.”
“You should be doing this, not me.”
“I can come and help you. It’d be fun, like the old days when we lived together. I’m pretty free tomorrow. How about I come in the afternoon? We could even make some chocolate fridge cake—people love that. Half past two?”
“Dee,” said Jude. “That would be really, really lovely.”
Jude boiled chickpeas, peeled garlic and squeezed lemons. Dee vigorously smashed up digestive biscuits and melted dark chocolate. The kitchen, which Jude had thought of as grim, filled with warmth and good smells.
“I’ve missed this,” she said.
“Me too. So: tell me about this Liam Birch who’s turned your life upside down.” There was chocolate round Dee’s mouth.
“Tell you what? You know what happened.”
Dee shrugged. “Describe him. What was he like when you were a teenager?”