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Back Time for the Dead Save as PDF
Chapters (94)
  1. Cover
  2. Time for the Dead
  3. Dedication page
  4. Map
  5. Epigraph page
  6. Prologue
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. 81
  88. 82
  89. 83
  90. 84
  91. Epilogue
  92. Acknowledgements
  93. About the Author
  94. By Lin Anderson

She’d watched as McNab cut off whatever he’d been about to say in response, although Rhona had been able to read every line on his face. He was worried about her, although trying desperately not to say it out loud. Something that wasn’t easy for him.

The journey west had gone well, mainly because he’d loved riding his motorbike on such open roads. Now they were actually here, he’d had to face up to the fact that he felt like he was abandoning her ‘in a foreign land’.

‘It’s not foreign,’ Rhona had laughed at that. ‘This is where my adopted parents came from. This is where I spent a large chunk of my childhood,’ she’d reminded him.

The box of groceries she’d pre-ordered had been left in the back shed as she’d requested. ‘See,’ Rhona had said as she’d lifted it out. ‘Tonight’s tea.’

She’d lit the fire then, while McNab selected something to eat and set about warming it up in the microwave. Fed and weary after the long bike ride, they’d settled companionably in front of the fire, Rhona with a whisky, McNab choosing a beer.

McNab had looked slightly askance when she’d poured herself a malt from the cabinet rather than open the bottle of white wine delivered with the groceries.

‘I’m not ready for white wine . . . yet,’ she’d said, remembering too well its significance.

‘Same for me with whisky.’

Rhona had left McNab in front of the glowing fire nursing his beer and gone to make up the beds. Hers in the double bedroom that had once been her parents’ room and McNab’s in the single room that had once been hers. They’d parted company around ten, but she suspected McNab had got as little sleep as she had.

In truth, Rhona had been glad to see McNab leave the next morning. He was so much a part of what she’d been through that his presence there merely served as a reminder of what she was here to forget.

Nevertheless, she’d surprised both McNab and herself by giving him a hug goodbye, recalling the scent of his skin and the feel of his bristled cheek against her own.

‘Give Ellie my love,’ she’d told him as he’d hugged her back.

‘I will,’ he’d said, his look of affection bringing a swell of emotion Rhona could hardly contain.

As the motorbike reached the main road, he’d turned and waved his last goodbye, and at his departure, Rhona had felt so lost and alone that she’d gone quickly inside and locked the door.

3

Rhona stared at the front door, key in hand.

If, or when, she felt able to leave the door unlocked, she would, she realized, have reached a definite signpost on her road to recovery.