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

‘Here you go.’ Portia swept in, a glass in each hand. She handed one to Allison and took the seat beside her. ‘Here’s to happier days.’

The power of positive thinking, probably taken straight from one of her psychology books; it was as good a toast as any. ‘Happier days.’ She clinked her glass gently.

‘A few glasses of Prosecco and you’ll feel more the thing,’ Portia insisted. ‘I probably should have brought the bottle through but never mind; it’s good exercise for me, getting up and down.’

Allison took a sip. It might have been a good idea to have asked the taxi driver to come back in a couple of hours to take her home. She should have done, would have done normally. It was definitely a good idea to book one now, before she drank any more. Looking around for her handbag, she frowned and shook her head. Portia must have taken it with her coat.

‘Are you okay? You look concerned.’

Portia was being so kind, so generous and sympathetic, Allison was being stupid. ‘No… well, not as such, I was simply thinking I should order a taxi for later.’

‘I can do that when I go for a refill. You sit back, relax, and stop worrying.’

Allison smiled at the motherly tone. The Prosecco was delicious; it was gone in a few sips and Portia got to her feet. ‘Give me that, I’ll get you another, then we’ll have lunch.’

It would have been simpler, Allison wanted to say, to bring the bottle through but she wasn’t going to argue with her hostess.

‘Here you go, round two.’ Portia handed the glass over.

‘Thank you.’ Allison took a sip. ‘You’re not having any?’

‘I will, I’m keeping an eye on lunch. Stuart is there but, bless him, he’s a little lackadaisical when it comes to timing things.’ She sank onto the sofa beside Allison. ‘You drink up, though. It’ll help you relax.’

‘I’m feeling better already. I think I needed to get out of the house for a while. Thank you, you’re a life saver.’ Allison was feeling more relaxed, the earlier worries floating away. The disappointment over Peter’s estate… ha! Estate – she had to stop calling it that. Jo’s infamy, the silly twist she’d put on Portia’s harmless words, all these things felt less worrisome. She was a survivor; it was simply a matter of starting again. The future she wanted – it was there for the taking. The power of positive thinking. Perhaps Portia was right. Next time…

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