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Back The Scarlet Dress Save as PDF
Chapters (84)
  1. Dedication
  2. Prologue
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. Friday
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. Saturday
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. Sunday
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. 63
  69. 64
  70. 65
  71. 66
  72. 67
  73. 68
  74. 69
  75. 70
  76. One Week Later
  77. 71
  78. Afterwards
  79. 72
  80. Acknowledgments
  81. Reading Group Questions
  82. More from Louise Douglas
  83. About the Author
  84. About Boldwood Books

Marnie gripped the wheel tightly with both hands and stared straight ahead. There were deep rhynes and ditches on either side of the roads and the fields were flooded so sky and countryside reflected one another, the same colour, the same texture of water. The clouds loomed low and grey, the rain fell and Marnie relished her freedom. She was glad to be away from Severn Sands for a while, going somewhere where there’d be no talk of bones or lost girls or murder.

When she eventually reached the remote part of the Levels that was her destination, she could see the showground, six arenas set up in a large field on the other side of a wide rhyne lined by stunted blackthorn and dipping willows woven with ivy. Already cars and vans were lined up on the outskirts of the field. People huddled in macs and cagoules were exercising dogs, mainly collies. Others were queuing up outside the food kiosks. Marnie was directed to park next to a van containing a number of excitable dogs, yapping at ear-splitting volume.

Tessy growled disparagingly at her neighbours, then, with an expression that was the canine version of eye-rolling, turned round and settled amongst the blankets and cushions that Marnie had arranged in the boot of the car with a deep, unforgiving sigh.

Marnie turned to stroke her. She thought of the hours that were to come, hours when she would think of nothing but herself and the dog and the competition, and she was happy.

37

Will made it down for breakfast on Saturday morning, not because he relished the prospect of Mr Bradshaw’s company, but because he hadn’t had much to eat at all the previous day, had drunk several inches of vodka during the early hours, and was desperate for the comfort of food in his belly and sugar in his bloodstream.

Mr Bradshaw stood beside Will’s table in tartan slippers, a buttoned-up cardigan and tie, with a small notepad and pencil clutched at chest height ready to take Will’s order. Will asked for a full English, coffee and toast. He hadn’t had a proper, non-vegan cooked breakfast since Saoirse moved in and he’d found himself, mostly, going over to her way of thinking. But that morning, he needed to clear his head, he needed to draw up a plan for the new book; he needed to think of the best way to make sure Guy deVillars was brought to justice. He wouldn’t be able to do that unless he was adequately nourished and right now his body was craving protein.