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
Jude wondered about Alfie’s mother. Did Liam live with her? Was he married? Did he see his little son every day, tuck him up in bed at night? He had said nothing about that, nothing really about anything, although he knew about her partner, her job. He had told her that he had messed up his exams, which she knew and which was a long-ago setback, but that his life was good now. On the whole, he had added, with one or two things to sort out—was she helping him sort out one of those things?
It wasn’t too late to turn around and for a moment she let herself imagine that: turning off at the next junction, driving home, hugging Nat, going for a run to shake off the strangeness of the day. It would fall from her like a dream. But she drove on, of course. Anyway, where would she leave Liam’s car? Not only did she have no idea where he lived, she realized that she didn’t even have a number for him, an email address, any means of contacting him.
What had she been thinking?
The car inched forward and the rain fell.
Gradually the road became clear. Ahead the landscape was widening out and the gray sky grew larger. Jude, wrestling with the gear stick of the cranky car, focused on practicalities, remembering her to-do list on her bedside table that she added to each day, putting a neat line through the tasks accomplished. Their wedding was in late January, which some of her friends thought an inhospitable month to get married in, but Jude and Nat liked the idea. Nat had found someone who arranged wedding parties in a restored barn down in Shropshire with a view over the Clee Hills, near her parents’ house. It looked beautiful, ornate, complicated. So much to arrange. All the people. There would be presents and speeches. Jude still couldn’t quite believe it was going to happen.
She couldn’t imagine Liam sending out invitations and getting a formal suit made. Unless he made it himself or had it done by someone he’d met somewhere. He had let things happen to him and let them go. Let her go. Jude knew that she and Liam would never have lasted; she had always known it. They were too different and their lives on such opposite trajectories. The crash had just accelerated what was inevitable. But if the crash hadn’t happened and if they had simply drifted apart, Liam would be a nice, bittersweet memory now—a youthful summer fling without this power to drag her back to her past and stir up old desires.