Chapters (55)
- Cover
- ANNA WHARTON
- Dedication page
- 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
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- Praise
- THE IMPOSTER
She’s startled by a voice at the top of the staircase. A navy suit begins its descent down the steps. Chloe is sure she recognizes the same dark hair. She can’t risk bumping into Phil again. She grabs the newspaper from her bag, opens the page at random and buries her head in the stories. She takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the newsprint which instantly calms her. She has missed this.
A few moments later, she peers over the top of the newspaper. It is another man, not Phil. She replaces the paper in her bag, and looks up in time to see Patrick’s blue car rounding through the car park. She gathers up her bag and leaves the KitKat wrapper and can of Coke on the table. She’s aware of the receptionist watching her as she walks across the atrium and out through the revolving doors.
Patrick leans across the empty passenger seat to open the door for her.
‘Good day?’ he asks when she gets in. She puts her bag between her feet and turns around to check the back seat. She’s relieved to see there is no gun.
‘Yes, thanks,’ she says, pulling on her seat belt and plugging it in at her side. ‘Busy.’
She checks the seat again, and then her eyes flicker further back – could it be in the boot?
‘All set?’ Patrick asks. ‘Better not forget those fish and chips on the way, Maureen would murder us.’
They don’t speak as they leave the city; instead the radio fills the space between them in the car. The DJ makes cheesy jokes and Patrick laughs quietly, adjusting his hands on the steering wheel. When Chloe feels him look at her, she smiles back, though in reality she has no idea what the DJ just said. When Patrick watches the road, she watches him, his big hands on the wheel.
Traffic queues to get out of the city at rush hour. She taps her feet, aware of the extra time she’ll have to spend trapped in the car with him. She reassures herself that the A47 becomes a dual carriageway at the next roundabout, but still she sinks a little into her seat. In her lap, she picks the skin around her fingernails, not watching the road, willing this journey over.