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Back The Favor
Chapters (78)
  1. Title Page
  2. Dedication
  3. Prologue
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty-One
  25. Twenty-Two
  26. Twenty-Three
  27. Twenty-Four
  28. Twenty-Five
  29. Twenty-Six
  30. Twenty-Seven
  31. Twenty-Eight
  32. Twenty-Nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty-One
  35. Thirty-Two
  36. Thirty-Three
  37. Thirty-Four
  38. Thirty-Five
  39. Thirty-Six
  40. Thirty-Seven
  41. Thirty-Eight
  42. Thirty-Nine
  43. Forty
  44. Forty-One
  45. Forty-Two
  46. Forty-Three
  47. Forty-Four
  48. Forty-Five
  49. Forty-Six
  50. Forty-Seven
  51. Forty-Eight
  52. Forty-Nine
  53. Fifty
  54. Fifty-One
  55. Fifty-Two
  56. Fifty-Three
  57. Fifty-Four
  58. Fifty-Five
  59. Fifty-Six
  60. Fifty-Seven
  61. Fifty-Eight
  62. Fifty-Nine
  63. Sixty
  64. Sixty-One
  65. Sixty-Two
  66. Sixty-Three
  67. Sixty-Four
  68. Sixty-Five
  69. Sixty-Six
  70. Sixty-Seven
  71. Sixty-Eight
  72. Sixty-Nine
  73. Seventy
  74. Acknowledgments
  75. About the Author
  76. Remarkable Praise for Nicci French
  77. Also by Nicci French
  78. About the Publisher

“Yelling at Danny, yelling at Dermot. That’s not me. Or maybe it is. I’ve a temper on me; ask Andy.”

Jude just shook her head.

“It was awful,” Tara continued. “I felt like I was going mad. Maybe I am going mad. I wake up in the morning and I remember. Every single morning I have to remember all over again. Andy made me go to the doctor’s and he prescribed me some antidepressants.”

“Are they helping?”

“I haven’t taken them. It sounds crazy, but I don’t really want to feel better. My son has been killed. Why should I get over that?”

“I don’t think it’s about getting over it,” said Jude. “It’s more about finding a way of living with it.”

“I don’t want to find a way to live with it. Because it’s unbearable. It should be unbearable. He’s dead. I’m a mother of a dead son. A murdered son.”

Jude watched as a tear made its way down Tara’s ravaged face, then another. She put a hand on the other woman’s arm.

“I’ve lost my son and I’ve lost my grandson.”

“You still have Dermot,” Jude said uselessly.

“Poor Dermot.” Tara lifted her head and looked drearily at Jude. “I know he’s suffering. But what’s his suffering compared to mine? I can’t help him. I can’t help anyone.”

“Do you think that perhaps he feels—?”

“What’s that you’re wearing?”

“Sorry?”

“Round your neck?”

“Oh.” Jude looked down. The wooden wishbone necklace on its leather thong was just visible in the V of her shirt. She pulled it out.

“It was Liam’s,” she said.

“I know that. Did he give it to you?”

“No.” Jude felt herself flushing. “It doesn’t really belong to me. I—well, I took it. It fell out of his bag at the cottage, the weekend he was killed. I just put it on. I’m not sure why.” She remembered spraying herself with his perfume as well. “I shouldn’t have it,” she said.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Tara lifelessly. “Maybe you’re the person who should have it, when all’s said and done. The girl he was soft on when he was a boy. Better than Danny taking it anyway. I couldn’t bear that. When Andy and I had been married twenty-five years, Liam made one for the four of us. To bring the family luck, he said. Luck. And now look at us.”

When they parted, Tara took Jude’s hand in her own fierce grip.

“Come and see me before you leave,” she said. “Please.”

Fifty-Four