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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

Close up he saw that the figure in white was a tall, bone-thin woman with masses of long, silver hair, wearing a nightgown and slippers. Marnie had taken off her coat and wrapped it round the woman’s shoulders and now was reaching up, attempting to put her own knitted hat on the woman’s head. Will switched on the torch on his phone to give them some light and he saw that Marnie’s head was shaved, that her ears were rimmed with studs, that there was a tattoo of a Celtic knot, like Alice’s, at the base of her hairline at the back of her neck. The other woman was no longer crying but talking to Marnie in a quivering voice, flapping her hands, her fingers long and white, like feathers.

As Will approached, she turned to face him and he recognised her: Camille deVillars. Last time he’d seen her she’d been a beautiful woman in early middle age. Now she was a wraith in a nightdress.

‘Who are you?’ she asked.

He turned the torch towards himself, so she could see. ‘It’s me, Mrs deVillars,’ he said, ‘Will Jones.’

‘Angharad’s boy?’ Her voice was shaky. ‘Why have you got John Morahan’s dog? Did it run off again? Did it kill one of the guinea pigs? I told him he should keep it tied up. It’s not the dog’s fault. You can’t expect a dog to tell the difference between a rat and a…’

Will stepped forward. He took the hat from Marnie, gave her the lead, and pulled the hat gently onto the old woman’s head. He removed his own scarf and wrapped it around her neck. He could feel how cold she was. Her slippers were caked in mud.

‘May I help you?’ Will asked. ‘Would you mind if I carried you back to the Big House?’

‘What about the girl? Alice?’

Will glanced to Marnie. She wouldn’t look at him.

‘She’s out here on her own,’ said Mrs deVillars. ‘She’s been out here for such a long time and it’s so very cold.’

‘It won’t help her if you fall ill,’ Will said gently. ‘May I?’

He bent to lift the old woman into his arms. She didn’t fight him, rather relaxed and put her arms round his neck to help him. She was nothing but skin and bones, cold as ice; her weight barely registered with Will.

Marnie took Will’s phone and she set off with the dog, pointing the light towards the ground so Will could see where he was treading. They walked together through the building site, heading back towards Blackwater House, keeping to the shadows.

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