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
“I thought of you,” he said finally. “It felt like you were the only person I could ask. I think we’re important to each other. We always will be.” He leaned forward. “But I want to be clear, Jude. I’m asking a favor and you can just say no and I won’t be cross and I won’t reproach you. I’ll just finish my coffee and we’ll say goodbye and you’ll never see me again.”
Jude took a sip of her coffee.
“It’s gone cold again.” She replaced it on the saucer. She gave a funny little laugh. “I feel embarrassed even saying this but . . . you’re not asking me to do something wrong, are you?”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t ask you to do anything wrong. Though you mustn’t tell anyone. Not even this Nat of yours. Nobody at all.”
She looked at him full in the face and felt a lurch of memory so intense that it almost made her swoon: she could feel the heat of that summer, the feel of him, his touch and then its end in that screaming smash of metal.
“You know I can’t say no, don’t you?”
“I don’t know that at all.”
“I go to this place on Saturday and come back on Sunday?”
“Yes.”
“Norfolk?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s all?”
“Yes.”
“All right.”
Three
Jude held her migraine at bay all the way home, pushing her bike for the last mile as if a moment of clumsiness might tip the pain over her like scalding liquid. The morning was misty and windless, wet leaves underfoot in a slimy carpet. The pale sky throbbed and shimmered above the Olympic Park. People loomed toward her and then were gone again. She opened the door to their little flat, steered herself into the kitchen, took off her coat, poured herself a glass of water.
The coffee in the cafetière was still faintly warm. Nat had left fruit and yogurt out for her—or maybe he hadn’t put them away after his own breakfast. Either way, she couldn’t eat anything just now, though her stomach felt hollow. She needed to lie down but it was hard to make the effort, so she rested her head on the table, feeling the cool wood against her cheek. Through the window she saw that someone else’s cat was in the yard, next to the barbecue with the broken leg. She and Nat had talked of getting a cat when they moved to the place they were in the process of buying, which would, fingers crossed, be before Christmas, before their wedding in January.
Jude thought of Liam, his dark eyes watching her, watching the woman she had become: a doctor, about to get married, about to own a property and maybe even a cat.