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
Her phone was ringing. She opened one eye and saw it was Dee. She didn’t move and the phone rang out. After a few seconds, it rang once again. Dee wasn’t giving up. Jude stretched out a hand and turned her mobile off.
She curled herself up and closed her eyes again. Perhaps she slept. The sky outside looked darker. Then she heard a sound. The doorbell was ringing. On and on. She didn’t open her eyes. She was too tired and too defeated and she didn’t want to get up, or put one foot in front of the other, or speak words. She couldn’t face the detective with her shrewd eyes, nor could she face her friends and pretend she was all right. Her mouth was dry but it felt too much effort to get up and find a glass and fill it with water.
The doorbell sounded again. Jude curled into herself more tightly and pulled a pillow across her face. Eventually it stopped.
She lay in the silence. Outside was the ceaseless rumble of traffic. Sometimes she heard footsteps from the flat above. The cat meowed outside the door. She heard the cat flap rattle.
When she woke it was dark. There was the sound of rain falling. Had it ever rained as much? She was cold and parched and needed to pee.
She made her way into the bathroom without turning on any lights, sat on the lavatory and put her face in her hands. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know the way out of this place she had come to.
She sat like that for a long time, breathing through the cup of her hands, but eventually she stumbled back to the bed again, took off her jeans and sweater and climbed under the covers.
She lay awake in the dark and then she slept again, and when she opened her eyes it was light outside. She ought to close the curtains but she couldn’t make the effort to climb out of bed again so she simply huddled further into the cave of the duvet.
Things stirred in her mind like the vague, fragile shapes of a dream. People melted into each other: Liam when he was still a boy, when he was a man, when he was dead and the shrine of dead flowers marked the spot where somebody had sunk a knife into him. She imagined his astonishment; he must have thought he was immortal. Danny, with her tattoo of tears on her calm face. Vin. She didn’t want to think about Vin. Or she didn’t want to think about herself, drunk and stoned and self-hating, letting him claim her. Doc’s hand on her breast. Dermot gazing at the havoc he had caused, with a hangdog look on his face. Irina dancing by the bonfire.