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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 hurried along the path, walking into the wind, the air storm-fresh. She scanned the shore for any sign of Luna. There was none.

She came here, to this part of the estuary, sometimes in her dreams, but rarely in real life, and it wasn’t as she remembered. Perhaps the tide had shifted the mudbanks and altered its geography, or perhaps her memory wasn’t reliable. The weather was changing again. Bullying clouds were amassing in the west, shreds of grey tearing off and racing through the sky. She came to a small beach around the place where a stream fed into the estuary, the water fanning out into the shape of an opening flower, carving small, pebbled channels. It only existed at low tide, this beach. When the sea came in, it was completely subsumed.

Marnie walked a little way beside the stream. She looked up and saw the anomaly in the rock above her: the cave that had been hollowed out by the fossil hunters; the cave that she’d regarded, as a child, as her secret territory.

Marnie tied Mister’s lead to a jutting root, and scrambled up the shingle at the foot of the cliff – there must have been a collapse since she last did this, as the cave was higher up, more out of reach than it used to be. It took three attempts before she was high enough to grab hold of a rock and haul herself into the brambles. She screwed up her face to protect her eyes and struggled to gain the footholds so she could squeeze through the overgrowth and into the cave itself.

The interior was the size of Marnie’s under-stairs cupboard, but its roof was lower and she was bigger than she’d been the last time she was there. She could only get inside by crawling.

She used her phone as a torch. There, at the very back, standing in a line on a small ledge of rock was a plastic family of trolls that Marnie had put there as a child. She’d forgotten about them.

There were a few other treasures: a rusting key – she couldn’t remember where that came from – a cup that had once belonged to Denise and her stash of old cigarette lighters. And there, behind everything else, was the tin. Alice’s tin, exactly where it had been left all those years before. Marnie gave a small sigh of relief, reached out and pulled it towards her.

55

A text came from Saoirse.

I’m out of the flat/your life. Posted key back through letterbox. Good luck. Goodbye.