BooksBarbecue
Back The Hollows
Chapters (77)
  1. Front Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright Page
  4. Dedication
  5. PART I
  6. 1.
  7. 2.
  8. 3.
  9. 4.
  10. 5.
  11. 6.
  12. 7.
  13. 8.
  14. PART II
  15. 9.
  16. 10.
  17. 11.
  18. 12.
  19. 13.
  20. 14.
  21. 15.
  22. 16.
  23. 17.
  24. 18.
  25. 19.
  26. 20.
  27. 21.
  28. 22.
  29. 23.
  30. 24.
  31. 25.
  32. 26.
  33. 27.
  34. 28.
  35. 29.
  36. 30.
  37. 31.
  38. 32.
  39. 33.
  40. 34.
  41. 35.
  42. 36.
  43. PART III
  44. 37.
  45. 38.
  46. 39.
  47. 40.
  48. 41.
  49. 42.
  50. 43.
  51. 44.
  52. 45.
  53. 46.
  54. 47.
  55. 48.
  56. 49.
  57. 50.
  58. 51.
  59. 52.
  60. 53.
  61. 54.
  62. 55.
  63. 56.
  64. 57.
  65. 58.
  66. 59.
  67. 60.
  68. 61.
  69. 62.
  70. 63.
  71. 64.
  72. 65.
  73. PART IV
  74. 66.
  75. 67.
  76. 68.
  77. Acknowledgements

The lights flickered again – for longer this time, and with longer periods of blackness in between. There were more screams, and a sound of breaking glass.

“Ellie!” There was a rattle of steel; Milly was outside the surgery, pulling the steel shutters down over the front of the building. She pulled down another over the front door as the lights stabilised again, then padlocked them both. “Come on. Round the back.”

And then the lights went out.

29.

29.

The lights went out at Barrowman Farm, and Jess gave a little cry. In the dark Keira snorted at her in disgust and Mum made a sound somewhere between a tut and a scoff. She shrank back into her corner of the kitchen.

“Frank, Paul – generator!” Mum shouted. “Now!” Torches flashed about the kitchen. “Now! Get a fucking move on!”

A torch-beam shone on the cellar door. Frank blundered over and wrenched it open. Paul shone his torch down the steps as Frank stomped down them, out of sight. Paul went to the cellar doorway, his thin beanpole shape silhouetted against the backwash of light from Frank’s torch. Jess could run and shove him in the back, send him headfirst down the steps, break the bastard’s neck –

But Jess couldn’t be sure that’d work. Even if it did, what then? If she messed things up so the generator didn’t come on? They’d come in and that’d be the end for the Harpers. She didn’t care about that – Frank, Paul, Keira, Mum, they could all fuck off and quite literally die. But Dom, like her, was treated like shit and had no choice in how things went. He didn’t deserve that, did he? And then there was Baby Joel – Joel, yes, Joel, not fucking Steven, she’d call her child what she fucking liked and fuck anyone who didn’t. They’d have Baby Joel’s skin off in seconds and the rest of him buried in salt. No; Baby Joel deserved better. So Jess stayed still, for now.

Stupid bloody Jess, they called her, Useless Jess, no good to anyone, but she wasn’t bloody stupid – not as thick as they thought, anyway. She’d already begun to plan, and she’d surprise them all with it, all her shitten family – but not yet. Not just yet.

Paul clomped down the cellar steps. Joel grizzled in Jess’ arms. She shushed and rocked him. He caught one of her fingers between the two digits of his cleft hand and held on tight. Down in the cellar, the generator coughed and growled; the lights flickered. It finally roared back into life, and the lights came back on.