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Back The Widow Save as PDF
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

‘The police told me later that there’d been a protest outside, and the station had been shut while it was dealt with, so I suppose that was it, everyone caught up in their own annoyance about being delayed. I tried to make my way to Peter’s side.’ She stopped speaking and looked across to meet Jo’s gaze. ‘At first, I thought he had seen me and was playing a joke on me by dropping out of sight. He was like that, you know, always playing silly games. It wasn’t till someone screamed that I realised what had happened. I knew he was gone. It was odd, you know; I didn’t see what happened, but it was as if suddenly a light had gone out. I didn’t need to get closer to see. Didn’t want to, anyway. Didn’t want to see him like that, all crushed and broken.’

When silence stretched, Jo spoke, ‘So, you went home?’

The memory of that horrendous day rendered Allison incapable of speaking. She nodded instead, the one jerky movement all she could manage.

She had scurried from the station. Only then, as she ran, did she realise that despite his flaws and archaic ideas, she’d loved Peter. Only then. Not the months before. She’d thought of him as her ticket to a better life. A wealthy husband with a good job and a fancy house in a good part of London. It was ironic that none of what she’d wanted existed, and the one thing she didn’t expect to want was the biggest loss.

Jo sniffed. ‘You really expect me to believe me his death was an accident?’

‘I don’t really care what you think,’ Allison said wearily. ‘And I don’t know why you’d find it so hard to believe me anyway. You think because you’ve followed me on Facebook and Instagram that you know me. You know nothing.’ What did it take to convince Jo that Allison was telling the truth? Why did she care? ‘The police are looking at all the CCTV footage to see if they can see anything untoward, but they won’t. It was simply an accident.’

‘Right.’ Jo shrugged and took a sip of her drink.

‘I didn’t know I loved him until then. I’d told him I did, of course, the way you do. Meaningless words.’ Would she have loved him if she’d known the truth about him? She didn’t know; she’d like to have been given the opportunity to find out. ‘I never really believed I was capable of love—’

‘Because of what you did as a child?’

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