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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

‘The photo,’ Ade said.

A grainy black and white image accompanied the piece. Gary Wakefield and his wife, Arabella, on their wedding day. Using her thumb and index finger, Rachel enlarged the image. And suddenly she understood the connection her mind had been trying to make.

‘It’s her,’ Ade said. ‘Arabella Wakefield and Bella Gilbert. They’re the same person. Nick’s brother is married to the wife of the pilot flying the plane that caused the accident.’

Eight

After Adam left, Clodagh sat in the garden until the sun went down. As night started to creep in, darkening the edges of the sky, she went upstairs and ran a bath. Submerging in the deep, hot water, the tension in her body slowly eased. She closed her eyes, her mind focusing on the gentle movement of water and her breathing. Letting go of her anxious thoughts, one by one.

Twenty minutes later, her mind was calmer, and she was able to see that one bad day didn’t mean she was inevitably sliding back to the darkness that had consumed her in the months following the crash. She was going to be okay.

For most of her life, Clodagh had taken her brain for granted. She had sailed through school and university, always one of the brightest students who consistently got good grades. It was no surprise to anyone, including Clodagh, when she qualified as a solicitor and was offered a training contract in one of the best firms in London. Then the crash happened and Clodagh’s mind suddenly became something she didn’t understand and couldn’t trust.

It was easy, sometimes, not to acknowledge how far she’d come since then. Five years later and her short-term memory was almost back to normal. She still struggled from time to time, but things could have turned out a hell of a lot worse. She was lucky and would do well to remember that. It had been difficult to accept she would never go back to her old job. But she had money and a beautiful home, and she was in a relationship with a man she’d been in love with for years. Unlike Vivienne and all the others who’d died that day, Clodagh had a life.

The water had gone from steaming hot to lukewarm. She got out of the bath and was leaning down to pull out the plug when she heard something. Footsteps crunching on gravel outside, as if someone was walking along the side of the house right beneath her. Wrapping a towel around herself, she pushed open the window and looked outside.

‘Hello?’ she called. ‘Who’s out there?’

No response. She strained her ears, listening for any further sounds, but there was nothing. She went into the bedroom and looked out of the window there as well. Again, she couldn’t see anyone.