BooksBarbecue
Back The Woman in the Wood Save as PDF
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by M.K. Hill
  3. THE WOMAN IN THE WOOD
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Contents
  7. Epigraph
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. 47
  55. 48
  56. 49
  57. 50
  58. 51
  59. 52
  60. Acknowledgements
  61. About the Author
  62. An Invitation from the Publisher

There was a commotion in the room. Everyone was shouting, there was pushing and shoving. Sasha staggered along the wall of boxes, getting her breath back. All her stuff was getting kicked about; the lipstick flew across the floor. Liam managed to grab her again, a snarl on his face, eyes blazing with rage. She lifted her arms, ready for the blow.

But someone pushed in front of her and shoved him away.

‘Back off.’ The woman was tall and muscular, but Sasha only saw the back of her head, which was shaved down one side. ‘Like to threaten women, do ya? Then take a swing at me, and see where that gets you, yeah?’ Liam pulled back his fist, but he hesitated. ‘Come on, then, Liam,’ she goaded him. ‘Give it a go.’

And then he was dragged away by the other people in the room. Liam kicked and screamed, squirming in the grasp of the men who pulled him out of the door, but Sasha sensed that he wasn’t trying very hard to escape their grip.

The woman turned to Sasha. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yeah,’ she said, trembling.

‘Good.’ The woman bent over to pick up Sasha’s bag and shoved it at her. ‘Then you can tell me just what the hell it is you want to talk to me about.’

33

Sasha sat at a table in an attic bedroom, which was almost entirely white. The chair she sat in and the table beside her were painted white; the duvet, the floorboards. The only splash of colour in the room was the bulbous gold frame of a distressed mirror that hung above the bed, a crucifix hanging from one corner, and the dark clothes she glimpsed behind the frosted glass door of the wardrobe.

Sasha held out a hand, which was steady now. She sipped the camomile tea that Lauren Weston had brought her, and listened to the thrum of the traffic in the streets far below; a door slammed somewhere in the house. The peace in the room was in stark contrast to the pandemonium downstairs a few minutes earlier.

Moments later, the door opened and Lauren came back in. She was a powerfully built woman with bleached hair, which was long and spiky on one side of her head and shaved to the scalp on the other. A pair of bars threaded through her left eyebrow, dark eyeshadow surrounded her grey eyes and her bottom lip was pierced. She wore a military-style coat, all epaulettes and brass buttons, with black leggings and Dr. Martens boots.

She dropped thirty quid on the table, the amount Liam had snatched from Sasha’s purse. ‘Don’t worry, it’s all there.’

Lauren took a straight-backed chair, flipped it around in one swift movement, and swung a leg over to sit with her arms resting on the backrest, Cabaret-style.

She considered Sasha for a moment. ‘You’re either very stupid or very brave just walking in like that.’