BooksBarbecue
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

When the call was over, she considered this. Did she want to get out of it?

Twenty-Seven

Jude thought that Danny might swear and shout, that she might be angry or upset, but when she took out the will and unfolded it and put it on the table in front of her, Danny just stared at it. As if she were in a dream, she picked it up and read it, page by page. Then she put the will down and looked at Jude.

“Who are you?” she said. “No. Really.”

“I don’t know much about things like this but I think it’s straightforward. He’s left little things to friends. But basically it all goes to you and Alfie.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I didn’t understand your question. You know who I am.”

Without a word, Danny got up and left the kitchen. Jude stared round the room. It was large, and some of the floor had been ripped up so that she could see the pipes, and under that, rubble. But the rest was covered in beautiful rust-colored quarry tiles that gleamed in the autumn sun coming in through the windows. The fridge was tall and had a rusty door. The oven looked ancient and something was bubbling away in a pan on its hob. The lid juddered up and down and every so often liquid sloshed out. In a saucepan next to the hob sat two congealed fried eggs. A huge brown paper bag of bread flour on the surface had split and the flour had leaked copiously. Packets of rice and pasta sat everywhere and there was a small metal wheelbarrow by the back door filled with potatoes and parsnips and onions. The wooden table was covered in candles and night-lights; wax of all colors had spread across the wood in a muddy river. But there were also pots of herbs on the windowsill, and dried flowers hanging from a ring of metal that was suspended from the ceiling. Jam jars full of flowers and pieces of greenery were dotted round the room, on a stool, on the table, on top of a lovely wooden dresser.

Jude heard the sounds of footsteps going up the stairs. She heard the creak of movement on the first floor, then a door slammed and the footsteps came back down the stairs. Danny came through the kitchen door. She was holding a large wooden bowl and she put it down on the table, almost dropping it, with a crash.

“Did you have your eye on it?” she said.

“What?”

“It’s one of the things Liam did in his spare time. He’d carve things out of wood: spoons, little dishes and then some more special things like this. They’re almost like sculptures. This is one of the really special pieces, it took him weeks and weeks, he lavished care on it and he left it to you. Did you pick it out yourself?”