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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

‘Oh don’t mind me!’ she would say if she noticed Marnie watching. ‘My mind’s wandering! I’m miles away.’

But when she didn’t notice Marnie’s eyes upon her, Denise’s face truly seemed distant as if she was literally far away and not just in her mind.

* * *

The cottage was Marnie’s sanctuary. It was small and bright with no dark corners and nothing to remind her of the situations and people she feared. She didn’t let anyone inside unless she knew and trusted them, so there was never any sense of bad feeling or unease.

Angharad had explained to Marnie the importance of keeping bad vibes away from the places where she wanted to rest and feel safe, like the living room and bedrooms. ‘Even a thought,’ Angharad had said, ‘a single dark thought can leave a tiny stain, like a smear, and once it’s there it will cause trouble. You can’t paint over it. You can’t bleach it away. It’s there for ever.’

‘What about a fight?’ Marnie had asked, this conversation taking place back in the days soon after her mother’s death when, although a painfully shy child, she could at least bring herself to talk a little.

‘A fight? Like an argument, you mean?’ Angharad had tutted and shaken her head. ‘Oh, no, bless your heart, you don’t want to try to relax in a room where people have been arguing. Even if people make friends again, they can’t take their ugly words back. They last for ever.’

Marnie had been nine years old when Denise died. Denise had been a gentle and attentive mother, quiet and kind. The trouble was, all the good memories had been tainted by knowing what came after. Marnie couldn’t look back at a time when Denise and she were together, without knowing that soon after, Denise had died.

So Marnie managed her history by keeping it at arm’s length. Her mother was in the graveyard, and Alice, she had believed, was in the sea. The two women she had loved best were gone but they were close enough for her to call on if she needed them: distant enough not to disturb her equilibrium. But the past was like water. Once the tide turned, you couldn’t hold it back.