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
She stood for a moment, undecided what to do. Should she bike to his office? She would be horribly late for work but that didn’t matter. Not today, not this once. She stared at the ticks beside the message but they didn’t turn blue: he hadn’t read it yet.
Perhaps the story wouldn’t be published. Perhaps it would be published but he wouldn’t see it. Perhaps it would be tomorrow, or next week.
She gnawed at her knuckles, trying to think what to do. What she really wanted to do was to go back in time and say no to Liam’s request. It was stupid, but she kept replaying that short meeting between them. She had thought she had no choice. How could she have been so stupid? And how could she have lied to Nat? That wasn’t her. She didn’t do things like that.
She looked at the phone again. He still hadn’t seen the message. Perhaps she shouldn’t have sent it. It might be better to risk it and wait until this evening when they were together and she could tell the story properly, face-to-face.
She hovered a finger over the delete icon, and as she did so, the arrows turned blue.
She waited for him to call, but he didn’t. She hesitated, then called him and he didn’t pick up.
She cycled to work along the main roads, late and weaving dangerously in and out of traffic; when she finally arrived at the hospital she called again, and again he didn’t pick up.
She held her mobile away from her, as if it was a bomb that was about to go off. Nat was busy, that was all. He had said it was a day crammed with meetings.
When she arrived at the hospital, Jude put her phone in the locker. She was ferociously energetic and concentrated as she went from patient to patient. She didn’t give herself time to think; she held the mess at bay.
During a break, she went to the locker and took out her phone. Still nothing from Nat, but there was a message from a friend called Carmen. What the fuck, Jude?
A jolt of panic went through her. She turned off her phone, went to the ladies’ and sat on the toilet with her head in her hands, trying to breathe slowly and deeply.
What the fuck, Jude?
At the end of her shift, Jude collected her coat and bag and turned on her mobile. The screen filled up with missed phone calls and messages: ping, ping, ping, ping.
“You’re popular!”
She turned to see her consultant and made a meaningless gesture; a weird sound came from her, halfway between a laugh and a yelp.
“Stuff,” she said. “You know.”
She half-ran toward the exit, scrolling down the questions and exclamations until she got to Nat’s name. Tell me this isn’t true.