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

What indeed? You’ll see. You’ll all see. “Well,” she said, “I’ve got a report to write, so I’m going back to mine to write it. Anyone needs me, just knock on.”

A few people clapped her on the back as she passed them, and she did her best to smile. Heroine of the hour. She tried, unsuccessfully, not to think about what Liz had said, or what might be coming next.

18.

18.

“You daft cow.” Liz swabbed Keira’s face with cotton wool soaked in hot water and Dettol. “The fuck did you think you were trying to do?”

Keira hissed and tried not to whimper at the pain. “Bitch walked in and held a gun on you. Your own house. Couldn’t just – ow.”

“Forget her,” said Liz, but nonetheless felt a wave of affection for the girl. More of a daughter than Jess, who’d just cringed and whimpered when the pig and her mates had heifered into the front room. Keira gave a fuck about the family. Stood up for it. And as for having faith in Liz – well, she’d have been looking at a murder charge if she hadn’t missed.

“Bitch slipped; would you fucking believe it?” Keira said. “I’d have had her otherwise.”

“She’ll wish you had,” said Liz. “Come tonight, she’ll bloody wish it. When They come out...”

“Just wish I could see it.”

“Listen out,” said Liz. “You might hear the screams.”

In her room, Jess Harper huddled at the end of her bed while Baby Joel squalled in his cot.

It was the smallest bedroom. There seemed even less space now; she’d dragged the chest of drawers across and propped it against the doorway. Her back muscles throbbed from the effort.

Outside the door, Paul was singing: “Hush little baby, don’t say a word,

Uncle Paul wants to shag a bird...”

She’d left the pistol downstairs, after the police had gone. It hadn’t been a big gun and she wasn’t a good shot, but neither would have been necessary, if she’d been close enough. But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. She couldn’t have pulled the trigger, could she, useless as she was? Not least because if she shot Paul, she’d face far worse consequences than any he would for whatever he did to her.

Jess’d seen the fury in his face after the police had gone, and she knew why. She’d seen how he’d looked at Charlotte Famuyiwa, knew what he’d wanted to do.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew what Paul liked doing, even if he hadn’t done it to her. He’d like to, she knew that, but so far she’d been lucky. The one time she’d been stupid enough to trust him was over Andy, and that was where Baby Joel had come from.