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
Twenty-Two
The train ride to her childhood home in Marsham was complicated. She had to change at Birmingham New Street to a smaller line and then change once more and even then it was a fifteen-minute taxi ride. All the way, her phone buzzed and jangled as if it had come alive. Messages were pouring in. Friends were calling her. She switched it to silent.
She knew it was going to be a difficult conversation. Her father worked for the council, in the planning department, and his hours were rigid, but her mother, who was a community health visitor, had Fridays off. That made it easier. She would find a way to tell her mother and then her mother would find a way to tell her father. But the conversation was delayed. Her mother made tea and they sat down at the kitchen table facing each other. People who knew them both told Jude that she looked like her mother. She was small and slight, with a tipped-up nose and dark, thick eyebrows. She wore her soft, graying hair cut short. Jude’s father, on the other hand, was bulky and tall, with large hands and feet. He towered over his wife and daughter. Jude sometimes thought that was why he stooped: to be nearer their level.
Sitting there in the kitchen that reminded her of her childhood and her teenage years, Jude felt hesitant. She wanted to tell her mother everything, to be held and comforted, but she also wanted to protect her. She knew it was also protecting herself. Her parents had got to know Nat and they liked him. They would be baffled, anxious, upset and probably embarrassed as well about what their friends would think. Jude knew that every day she kept the truth from them only made it worse.
She took a deep breath and steadied herself, but her mother got in first.
“When Tara Birch rang me yesterday, I didn’t even know who she was.”
“There’s no reason why you should.”
“It was terrible. She was crying. She told me that Liam was the boy in the car in that accident you were in, the one who was driving, and then in the same breath she told me that he was dead, that he had been murdered.”
She had said all of this to Jude already on the phone, but she seemed to need to talk about it.
“I know. It’s terrible.” Jude spoke mechanically.
“I didn’t know what to say. It’s difficult to react to something that’s so awful when you don’t know the people involved.”
“It must have been strange for you.”