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Back The Scarlet Dress
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

But Zoe was limp. Marnie heaved her down onto the floor and turned her on her side. Then she went round to the other side of the bed, and pulled Mrs deVillars down too. If they were still breathing, she hoped this would give them a few more minutes. She patted around the bedside tables, trying to find Zoe’s phone, but it wasn’t there. Mr deVillars must have taken it. He would have seen her earlier message, known she and Will were outside. And she understood, now, that he must have been looking out of the window, waiting for her car to drive away before he made his move.

He thought there were no witnesses to his cruelty but he was wrong.

She crawled to the window, and looked out: there was no sign of Will, or the car. She pressed her hand through the bars as best she could but they were close together; there was no way of breaking the glass pane beyond.

Be calm, Marnie told herself. Think.

She could not break her way out. She had no way of calling for help. There was no obvious way to ventilate the room. Her only chance was to find the source of the fumes and block it.

She held her breath and listened, concentrating heard. She could feel a faint vibration through the boards beneath the carpet and heard a gentle chugging sound, almost like a heartbeat. Marnie was the caretaker’s daughter. She knew about plumbing and heating systems. She knew what was making the noise. It was the boiler.

She set off again, crawling across the bedroom, round the corner of the partition wall and into the bathroom. It was windowless, pitch-dark.

She patted her hands along the side of the wall until she felt the plaster change to wood; a cupboard door. The vibrations and the fumes were stronger here. Marnie knew what she would find in that cupboard. Her father had a similar set-up in his bungalow. It would be a combi-boiler installed to provide hot water and heating to the attic rooms and it had been rigged so that the fumes were being pumped into the bedroom instead of out through the ventilation pipe that ran through the bathroom wall.

Marnie could sort this if she could stay conscious for long enough.