BooksBarbecue
Back The Widow
Chapters (92)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. PART I
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. PART II
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  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. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. 74
  79. 75
  80. 76
  81. 77
  82. 78
  83. 79
  84. 80
  85. 81
  86. 82
  87. 83
  88. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  89. MORE FROM VALERIE KEOGH
  90. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  91. The Murder List
  92. About Boldwood Books

‘No?’ Jo reached out and put a hand on Allison’s arm. ‘You look so pale; come and sit down.’

She shook the hand off, swayed with the effort and, with one hand sliding along the wall, went back to the living room. The plate of sandwiches was empty. In the few minutes she’d been retching into the sink, Jo had devoured them. Not the biscuits. Not yet. She watched, frustrated, as Jo sat, picked up her mug of tea and ate them, dunking each into the tea before popping it whole into her mouth and munching.

‘I want you to leave.’ How many ways did Allison need to say it? ‘Now, please. I’m tired, I can’t have this.’ Whatever this was… it felt like an invasion, a takeover, as if Jo was in control of her strings, making her dance to a tune Allison had never heard before. ‘Please, just go.’ She resented the need to beseech, and the first twinge of anger made its way to the surface. ‘Get out, Jo. I don’t want you here.’ There, she couldn’t make herself any clearer than that. She moved to the doorway and stood waiting for Jo to get to her feet and leave. She would, wouldn’t she?

Jo picked up the last biscuit and waved it towards the other sofa. ‘You may as well sit down, Allison; I’m not going anywhere.’ She smiled as she continued her dunk and munch, finally slurping the end of the tea and putting the mug back on the tray. ‘Seriously, sit before you fall down. We have a lot to talk about.’

Allison didn’t move, seething at Jo’s obstinacy. They had nothing to talk about, she and this increasingly strange woman. ‘Another day. Now, I’m tired. You seem to forget I’m recently bereaved.’

Jo lounged back, folding her arms across her chest. ‘Recently bereaved. The devastated, grieving widow, eh?’ Her laugh was cruel, her eyes sharp as they swept Allison from head to toe. ‘Sit down. You don’t look too hot; you’re going to look a lot worse when I tell you what I know.’

48

Allison, unwilling to give in, stood a moment longer, holding Jo’s gaze. Her amused gaze. It was this that made Allison growl in frustrated annoyance, take two strides across the room and flop heavily onto the sofa to face her tormentor. ‘Right, listen up, say whatever it is you want to say and get out of my face. I’ve had a pretty shit morning and you’re making it a million times worse.’ Her voice was rising with each word, screechy at the end, like fingernails dragged down a blackboard.