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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

Her father was her most pressing concern. What if there were so many complaints about ‘Layla’ last night that he was kicked out of the sheltered housing complex? He and TT would have to move into the cottage with Marnie and Lucy – there was no other option. All her efforts to keep bad thoughts and negativity away would be pointless if John Morahan moved in with his temper and his black moods, the wariness he’d always had around his daughter, behaving as if he was suspicious of her. How would Marnie manage if he was here permanently, in her own lovely, restful haven? Her father with his smoking and his insistence on having the television on all the time, his untidiness, his swearing, his drinking, his bloody Eric Clapton, his constant noise.

Oh God, she wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Then there was Will Jones, he of the lies and broken promises. Over the years, Marnie had followed Will’s career, borrowing his books from the library and reading the dedications at the front, hoping against hope to see her own name there, some message; a ‘thank you’. But she never found anything. Every one of Will’s books was dedicated to Alice Lang.

The books were about unsolved crimes, not so much the crimes themselves, but their impact on the families, colleagues and friends of the victims. It was obvious to Marnie that each was a fruitless attempt by Will to purge the psychological trauma he’d endured after Alice’s disappearance. It had also occurred to her that, in writing about the wrongdoings of others, he was disassociating himself from them. Despite Will’s sensitivity to the devastating impact of a serious crime on the surrounding community, there were no subliminal messages to Marnie that she could see; no explanations, no apologies, no sense that he realised she’d been hurt too.

But the book about Alice would be different. The child Marnie would have to be in that one, wouldn’t she, if Will was to tell the whole story? And if Marnie was a character in the narrative, would Will tell the truth about her, about the role she’d played, about the things he’d asked her to do and the ways he’d let her down?

She didn’t think so. Because if Will told the truth about Marnie, then he’d have to tell the truth about himself.