Chapters (33)
- Copyright
- Prologue
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-one
- Chapter Twenty-two
- Chapter Twenty-three
- Chapter Twenty-four
- Chapter Twenty-five
- Chapter Twenty-six
- Chapter Twenty-seven
- Chapter Twenty-eight
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
He didn’t know how long he knelt in that position for. Eventually, he became aware of a pain in his neck – a muscular spasm – and he sat up and rubbed it, tried to ease the ache. Kirsty was still lying on the carpet, her face turned away from him. He stroked her hair, pressed his face against the back of her head, whispered in her ear, ‘It’s alright.’
She didn’t move. He leant over so he could see her face. She was just lying there, staring into space, unblinking. She looked lifeless, like a mannequin. It scared him.
‘Kirsty.’ He touched her cheek. ‘Kirsty, talk to me.’
For a horrible, irrational moment, he thought she was dead – for the second time in twenty-four hours. But then she stirred. She blinked and looked up at him. But she still she didn’t speak.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s get you back into bed. Come on, sweetheart.’
She allowed herself to be helped up. He walked her over to the bed and she crawled beneath the covers, burying her head beneath the quilt. He got in behind her and lay with his arm over her, holding her hand. They lay like that all night, neither of them falling fully into sleep. At one point Jamie heard a bird cry outside, and he felt Kirsty flinch. He shushed her and kissed her. The pain and hatred swelled up in him.
They got up as soon as it was light. Kirsty had a bath and Jamie made breakfast. They sat on the sofa and ate, although neither of them had an appetite. Upstairs, Mary had her radio on, and every so often a muffled snatch of recognisable music would break through. The volume must have been up loud.
‘How long do you think it will be before we can move out?’ Kirsty asked. ‘What did the estate agent say?’
‘He said he was sure he could get a quick sale.’ He felt sick. He hated lying to her, even when it was necessary. Actually, he only lied to her when it was necessary.
‘Good. Because I don’t care about the price. I just want to get out.’
‘They’ll have to come round to do a valuation.’
‘When?’
‘I don’t know He said it could take a week – or two.’
‘Jamie, that’s not good enough. I’ll call them today, tell them they’ve got to make it sooner.’
He felt a flutter of panic in his gut. ‘No – I’ll do it. Don’t you worry.’
‘Don’t forget.’
He put down his coffee before she could see his hand was shaking.
‘Are you going in to work today?’ she asked.
‘Yes. I think I’d better. Just to show my face. What about you?’
‘I’m not staying here on my own in the flat. Not with them downstairs.’
‘Well, I could call in sick again and stay at home with you.’