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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

She knocked back the end of the wine and reached for the bottle to pour herself a more generous glassful. She was sipping slowly, enjoying the buzz building in her head. No breakfast to slow it down, the alcohol was getting straight to work.

Portia had left the door open. In the distance she could hear a murmur of voices and sighed. Stuart was home. She put the glass down. Getting drunk and loose-lipped wasn’t a risk she wanted to take.

When the door opened, she hurriedly settled her expression into a suitably mournful one.

‘Allison, my dear girl.’ Stuart strode across the floor and leaned down to plant a kiss on both cheeks, pulling back only slightly to stare into her eyes. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

He might not know but it didn’t stop him trying. He sat slightly too close to her on the sofa and took her hand in his large, warm one. As he spoke on and on about how both he and Portia would be there for Allison for however long she needed them, her eyes stayed fixed on his long fingers and the thumb that swept over the back of her hand.

There was something mesmeric about the action, the rhythmic to and fro, the pressure – soft and gentle one way, hard and firm on the way back.

Maybe it was the wine, because suddenly she desperately wanted to leave.

30

Perhaps Allison would have left, made some vague excuse and run from the house to pick up a taxi somewhere on the street, but as she looked towards the door, wondering how fast she could move, it opened, and Portia entered, her face wreathed in a smile. ‘Lunch is served.’

Stuart took his hand away and got to his feet. He reached the same hand out towards Allison. It was impossible to refuse his assistance and her hand was enveloped in his. She hid the quiver of distaste as, once more, his thumb did that sweep to and fro.

Did he somehow think it was comforting?

He drew her ahead of him, then thankfully released her. It took all her reserve of strength not to rub the back of her hand frantically against the material of her trousers. As they passed a cloakroom, she reached out and tapped the door. ‘I’ll just pop in here for a moment.’

Inside, she turned on the hot tap, squeezed a generous amount of liquid soap into the palm of her hand and rubbed it over the back of her hand, running the hot water over it, adding more soap. Only after the second wash did she feel she’d succeeded in ridding herself of that odd, creepy sensation.

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