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Chapters (50)
  1. Cover
  2. VIOLET
  3. VIOLET
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Contents
  7. Prologue
  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. Epilogue
  48. Acknowledgements
  49. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  50. Copyright

We’re on our way to Irkutsk, which is in Siberia. Isn’t it funny, places like Outer Mongolia and Siberia always seemed totally made up and a bit legendary, and not the kind of places that anyone could ever actually GO to, and here I am!

Shit, sorry – that was a bit insensitive! You should be here. I do wish you were here. I miss your face and your dull chat. Haha.

How’s your leg? Are you out of the stookie yet?

What news??

Cxx

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Choo-Choo(n)!

Fucksake, I was starting to get worried, you daft cow. That video is brilliant! Was that actually you at the mad festival? Did you meet an actual shaman? Or lots of shamen? What are they like? Did you get your fortune read or something – is that what they do?

I am getting the plaster off next week, and then some bandage and sexy-boot combo, which will at least be lighter to drag around and give my skinny wasted leg a chance to grow some muscle again. You know, I keep thinking about that night, and I still can’t really work out how I fell. I know I was wearing those stupid heels, but you were there, and I remember holding on to your arm. I wish I could remember! I might hobble back round to the steps and see if there are any loose cobbles. Maybe I can sue the council – haha!

Oh, don’t know if you know, but I think Greg is seeing someone.

Lxx

18

‘We’ll have two Brandy Alexanders,’ I say to the stern-faced woman behind the bar. I’m expecting a further look of disgust, as she chooses not to understand me or know what I’m asking for, but instead she takes two martini glasses from under the counter, picks up a cocktail shaker, and starts to add the ingredients.

‘Ooh,’ Carrie says. ‘Fancy. I thought we were off the drink for five minutes?’ She laughs, and nudges my arm. Then she heads over to an unoccupied table and slides into the window seat.

I watch her while the woman prepares our drinks. She didn’t find the playing cards, but she’s brought her laptop and the guidebook, and some paper and pens instead, and she’s got some idea for a game. I’d rather just stare out of the window, when I’m not staring at her. We can chat. She can tell me more about everything, and I can tell her more about Sam – although maybe that’s not the best idea. She thinks I’m forgetting him. Getting over him. I suppose I am, but it still hurts.