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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

‘You know about me. About what I’ve done.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘Yes.’

‘How?’

She watched Allison as she tried to figure out how Jo could have known something that happened twenty years before. Something so few people knew. Strangely, now that it was time for her revelation, she was reluctant to release it. What would she do without this obsession? Replace it with money?

Perhaps, after all, she’d better drink this tea, hope it was poisoned, and die with her story untold. Wouldn’t it be better? She’d escape a world that had never been good to her; Allison would get the life she appeared to want.

Jo saw something on Allison’s face as she lifted the mug… a certain anticipation. Maybe even longing. The tea. Jo held the mug to her mouth and tilted it, swallowing almost convulsively as the liquid hit her throat, swallowed and swallowed until there was nothing left.

Nothing left. What a waste her life had been. It was better this way. She felt her eyelids grow heavy, a lassitude career along her veins. No pain. She was glad of that.

And so very, very relieved it was all over.

79

It had been a hell of a day. Allison wanted to go to her bedroom, shut the door behind her, and climb under the duvet to sleep for days. Instead, she sat staring at the woman opposite, whose dreadfully stretched face seemed incapable of portraying emotion but whose eyes were suddenly so terribly sad.

Allison didn’t really want an answer to the question she’d asked, didn’t want to know how this odd woman knew so much about her. She simply wanted her to finish the tea and be gone.

Her own tea was sitting untouched. With a sigh, she picked it up and sat back, hoping that seeing her drink it would spur Jo on to do the same. It seemed to work. Oddly, though, instead of drinking it slowly as she was doing, Jo emptied the mug in a series of violent swallows that had Allison widen her eyes in surprise. She met Jo’s sad ones and for almost a minute neither stirred.

Allison wasn’t sure either blinked, then, magically, she saw Jo’s eyelids flutter, close for a nanosecond, snap open, then close again and stay shut.

Peace at last. Allison put her barely touched tea on the table, shuffled down in her seat and rested her head back. Within minutes, she was asleep.

* * *

Fear kept Allison’s eyes shut when she woke. It had been that way for as long as she could remember. There were monsters in the world. She was one of them. Hiding in plain sight. Like so many other monsters. Like Stuart and Portia.