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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

‘It’s more than that,’ he said, his breath tickling the top of her head. ‘You’ve been distant for a while now, Clodagh. Do we need to have a chat?’

‘I’m not sure.’ She pulled back slightly so she could look up at his face. ‘Can you give me a few days to get my head straight? This thing with Nick has left me feeling like I barely know who I am.’

‘A few days is fine.’ Adam reached up and stroked her cheek, so softly her heart twisted and it was all she could do not to cry. ‘You make me so happy. I hope you know that. I’ll do whatever I can to make this work. If that means giving you a bit more space while you work out what you want, then I can do that. Okay?’

She had a sudden urge to tell him she was pregnant. Even though she hadn’t done a test yet, and she needed to work out what she wanted first. Instead, she swallowed down the words and told him to jump in the shower while she went downstairs to make breakfast.

Nineteen

Tara sat on the balcony of her sixth floor, riverfront apartment, drinking wine and watching the tourists milling along the riverbank. Men and women and children, carrying on with their lives, unaware how precious every single moment was. None of them knowing that it could all end at any moment.

She loved this apartment. Situated on London’s South Bank, it had views of the river or Tate Modern from every room. Nick had helped her move in. They’d spoken about him maybe living here too one day so they could be together properly. Tara’s chest tightened. The grief was all-consuming, filling up every part of her until she felt as if she was going to explode with it. Worst of all, was knowing there was nothing she could do, not a single thing, that would make this go away.

On Sunday evening, coming back here alone, she’d worried she wouldn’t be able to get through this. The temptation to hurt herself, or worse, had been stronger than any time since her suicide attempt three years ago. She thought she had moved past all that. Foolishly, she’d let herself believe the worst was behind her. These last few days had taught her it would never be behind her. She could have times in her life when things would be close to normal. Or as close to normal as possible, because there was no comparing her ‘new normal’ with the life she’d had before the crash.