Chapters (46)
- Cover
- Praise for Lisa Hall
- About the Author
- Also by Lisa Hall
- Note to Readers
- Dedication
- 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
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Extract
- Chapter One
- Acknowledgements
- About the Publisher
I get up and start to pace the floor, trying my hardest to find a solution that doesn’t lead to the worst possible scenario. It’s been confirmed that both Amanda and Sadie saw her wearing them as she was arguing with Rupert, only Rupert says that once Caro stormed out of the house, she never returned. The only possible way the earring – which I now think must have been under the dressing table the entire time, until I found it when I dropped the contents of the jewellery box – could have got back into the house is if Caro returned after everyone had left the party. Which means Rupert has lied about the fact that she never returned. And why would he lie about that, and all the other things he’s hidden from me unless he has something to hide?
I scrub my hands over my face, before throwing open the doors to the orangery, trying to imagine the scene as Rupert and Caro hissed at each other, and the guests tried to look as though nothing was happening. I feel sick, shaky with the knowledge that if Rupert has lied about the fact that Caro returned to the house after everyone had left, then he potentially could have had something to do with Caro’s disappearance. Why else would he say that she never came back?
I step towards the window, to the light that streams into the room, and try to imagine the room that night, lit by fairy lights, music playing softly in the background – something jazz-like, I think Caro would have chosen. I look onto the garden, to the borders and shrubs, before my gaze snags on the lush patches of grass to the left of the orangery. Pushing open the doors I step into the fresh spring sunshine, and press my toe into the thick grass, wondering if I am imagining the slight dip there in the earth.
I look back to the extension, newly finished when Caro disappeared. Ridiculous, I think, you’re being ridiculous. But something in my gut tells me that I’m not. The site you’ve marked out is where the first soakaway is. The second soakaway is next to it, which means you don’t really have the space to fit a pool in there. The words of the builder ring in my ears, as I realize that this is another thing that doesn’t add up. The house isn’t on a flood plain that I know of, so why would it need a second soakaway? Surely one is enough? Why go to the expense of adding an extra one?