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Back The Lucky Eight Save as PDF
Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Prologue
  4. Five Years Later
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-one
  26. Twenty-two
  27. Twenty-three
  28. Twenty-four
  29. Twenty-five
  30. Twenty-six
  31. Twenty-seven
  32. Twenty-eight
  33. Twenty-nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-one
  36. Thirty-two
  37. Thirty-three
  38. Thirty-four
  39. Thirty-five
  40. Thirty-six
  41. Thirty-seven
  42. Thirty-eight
  43. Thirty-nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-one
  46. Forty-two
  47. Forty-three
  48. Forty-four
  49. Forty-five
  50. Forty-six
  51. Forty-seven
  52. Forty-eight
  53. Forty-nine
  54. Fifty
  55. Fifty-one
  56. Fifty-two
  57. Fifty-three
  58. Fifty-four
  59. Fifty-five
  60. Epilogue
  61. Acknowledgements
  62. Canelo Crime
  63. About the Author
  64. Also by Sheila Bugler

She’d spent most of the holiday by herself. Vivienne always had an excuse for not joining her – claiming she preferred to eat in the hotel restaurant instead of the beachside taverna, or telling Clodagh she was too tired to come for a walk or go for a swim in the clear blue sea. Heaping lies upon lies, knowing she’d get away with it because she always did.

Since her sister’s death, Clodagh had pushed the difficult aspects of her sister’s personality to the back of her mind. But sitting here in Ivan’s garden with the warm sun on her face and the white seagull staring down at her, Clodagh let herself remember. The truth was Vivienne had been a consummate liar who had never thought twice about hiding the truth to get what she wanted.

Thirty-nine

By the time Clodagh got back home, it was after seven in the evening. As she walked into the house, she was assailed by the smell of sizzling meat and spices. Adam was clearly back from his bike ride.

‘There you are,’ he said, coming out of the kitchen to greet her. ‘I was starting to think I’d be eating dinner by myself.’

‘Sorry,’ she said, kicking off her sandals. ‘I didn’t mean to be home so late.’

‘You could have called,’ he said, crossing the hallway to pick up her sandals and put them on the shoe rack before she had a chance to do it herself. ‘It’s difficult cooking when I don’t know what time you’ll be back.’

‘I didn’t know you’d be back,’ she said, biting down her irritation as she watched him lining up all the shoes.

‘I only went out for a cycle,’ he said. ‘I’ve been home for ages. I was hoping to have a proper chat this afternoon, but you weren’t here.’

She walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water. The heavy scent of cooked meat was stronger in here. She would have preferred a salad, but she could see from the array of dishes on the hob that Adam had clearly gone to a lot of effort. It seemed rude to tell him she didn’t want to eat what he’d cooked.

‘Lamb kebabs and a Greek salad, with homemade pitta bread. I was starting to worry the lamb would be overcooked, but you’ve arrived home just in time. I’ve set the table in the garden if you want to go outside and sit down.’

‘You don’t need a hand in the kitchen?’

‘It’s all under control.’ He smiled, and her frustration started to fade.

They had to find a better way to be together. The stress and anxiety they were both feeling was placing enormous pressure on their relationship.

‘Adam, we need to talk.’