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
Erika was pushing a mop round the room and Doc was picking up chairs. Irina sat on the floor.
“Here,” said Vin, and put a glass of whisky into Jude’s hand.
Jude took a sip and then another. Its heat ran through her as if a fuse had been lit. Someone turned the music back on and Irina stood up and began to dance, a slow and writhing movement that Jude found disquieting.
“He was very drunk,” said Danny in her soft voice.
“He was,” said Jude. “And upset.”
“Poor thing. Poor Dermot.”
“Yes.”
“Liam cast a long shadow.”
“I can see that.”
Forty-Seven
“You all right?”
Jude hadn’t been asleep. She was sitting in an armchair in the living room, feeling the last of the party subside around her. She heard people outside in the hall saying their goodbyes. She had felt tired earlier but now she was beyond that. She was fiercely awake, her mind racing. Sleep was now impossible. She was thinking about Nat, going over her feelings of suspicion and betrayal. At the very least, he had lied to her while refusing to forgive her for lying to him.
In her hyper-alert state, memories from their shared life were coming to her like slides being slotted one by one into a projector. Over-complicated explanations for nights he had been away from home; phone calls ended abruptly; sudden gestures of tenderness that now looked to her like hidden apologies. But perhaps this was just paranoia, she told herself. It didn’t feel like paranoia, but like a sudden turn of the dial so that fuzzy images became clear.
She might have married him. A man who was cheating on her—or who she now believed might have been cheating on her, she corrected herself—at the same time as they were planning the wedding. Had her life been an illusion, a fake? And if it had, how could she not have seen it? What did it say about her? So it was a lucky escape, really. She should be feeling grateful: why wasn’t she feeling grateful?
She looked up to see who had spoken. It was Vin. He had been there with her and then he had gone away and now he had come back.
“I think I should go,” she said.
“Can I show you something first?” he said.
“Another cellar?”
“No.”
“What then?”
“That would spoil the surprise.”
He gestured for Jude to follow him. She hesitated visibly but he looked back and smiled and she thought: Why not? They walked up three flights of stairs. On the top floor, Vin reached up and from the ceiling pulled down a foldable ladder that led up to an opening. He clambered up and Jude, with some trepidation, followed him into the darkness. Vin switched a light on and Jude looked around.
“All right,” she said. “It’s not a cellar this time, it’s an attic.”
“We’re not there yet,” said Vin.