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Back The Wife and the Widow
Chapters (44)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  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. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  39. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  40. MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA
  41. Also by Christian White
  42. Praise for The Nowhere Child
  43. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  44. Newsletter Sign-up

‘I’m not sure what you’re basing that on, Ray, because I don’t think you’ve looked at me once since I got here.’

Ray, who had spent their entire conversation staring at his hands, looked up. ‘There. Now it’s official. You look great.’

‘You’re a wonderful liar.’

He smiled. It was a sturdy, genuine smile. She hadn’t seen one like it in some time. ‘I spoke to Bob about all the parole stuff.’

‘Yeah.’

He leaned forward on his elbows and lowered his voice. ‘It looks good, Ab.’

‘How good?’

‘You know Bob’s motto: hope for the best but expect the worst. But let’s just say he was … quietly optimistic. I might be coming home sooner than we thought.’

Regardless of Bob’s motto, Abby couldn’t wipe the smile off her face.

Belport was roughly twenty years behind the rest of the world, which meant a bank of payphones still stood in a neat row outside the post office.

Abby’s shift finished fifteen minutes after John Keddie left the store. Three minutes later, she pulled up outside the payphones and climbed out of a Honda (the Volvo had given up and died back in the early 2000s).

She had her mobile on her, and reception on the island wasn’t bad since they cut down all those trees on Harvill Hill to erect a signal tower, but she didn’t want this call traced.

She stepped out into the cold, fed change into one of the phones, and punched in the number John had given her.

‘Hello?’ John answered.

‘Tonight is no good,’ she said. ‘But we’re free right now.’

‘You and Eddie?’

‘Yes,’ she lied.

‘You have my address.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Not there. Can you meet us?’

‘… Where?’

31

THE WIFE AND THE WIDOW

Any lower back pain Abby had felt when getting off her chair had apparently vanished. She moved lightning-quick for a woman her age. All Kate saw – before the knife cleaved a hot line through her skin – was a flash of grey hair and the glint of a scalpel blade.

Abby had gone for the throat. Her left hand had reached from behind and grabbed hold of Kate’s face, fingers splayed outwards like talons, while her right brought the knife up and under her chin. Instinctively, Kate had managed to bring her right arm up to block the blow, but it had caught the blade. Hot blood fell in ribbons from her forearm. She tried to scream but there was no air left in her body.

‘Motherfucker,’ Abby spat, struggling to keep Kate in her chair.