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Chapters (56)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Dawn Goodwin
  3. WHAT I NEVER TOLD YOU
  4. Copyright
  5. Contents
  6. Dedication
  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. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. Acknowledgements
  55. About the Author
  56. An Invitation from the Publisher

The air was impenetrable with toxic smoke and Helen struggled to breathe or see. She could hear barking coming from the family room. Tears streamed down her cheeks. The fire had now caught in the kitchen and the curtains were alight, tea towels, table cloth, anything flammable was now on fire. Everywhere she turned, there were flames flicking at her, teasing, taunting, grabbing onto her. She covered her mouth with her sleeve and pushed through the kitchen door into the hallway. The fire was spreading rapidly here too.

She had no intention of going up to the attic. But she did want to find Mills. She kicked the family room door open and found Clive quivering on the couch.

“There you are, big boy, come here.” She reached down and hauled him into her arms, all 30kg of him, but to her he felt as light as a feather.

She battled back the way she had come and burst outside. Matt ran over and took Clive from her, grunting with the exertion.

Helen could see Hugh on the second floor, still searching for Mills. She ran back inside. The staircase was now almost completely engulfed, the ageing curtains and old carpet helping to fuel the raging flames. The house screamed in agony around her. Helen tried to fight her way up the stairs, screaming Mills’ name as loud as she could, but she heard nothing in return other than the angry roar of the fire.

She couldn’t breathe. It was like the walls were closing in on her, the house slowly engulfing her, consuming her, taking her with it. Even now, it wouldn’t let her go, wouldn’t loosen its grip on her. This was her penance, the price she was going to pay for all the lies, all the hurt.

She wanted to lie down, let it take her.

Finally, after all these years, the house had won.

She was so tired.

46

AFTER

Helen unlocked the door to the shop, but kept the lights off. She breathed in deeply, taking joy in the familiar smells, the thickness of the air, the reverent muffled silence that a room full of books brings. She had missed this place so much.

She made her way to the desk and sat on the stool.

The plastic hospital bracelet on her wrist rubbed against her skin.

She waited.

She knew she would come.

The door jangled as it opened, letting the night in for a moment.

Helen flicked on the lamp on the desk and weak light cut through the shadows.

Tracey pushed her hair from her face. She was thin, her skin no longer luminous and smooth, now sallow and lined. Her front tooth was missing, words a breathy lisp. Her arms were pinned to her waist, the sweatshirt she was wearing stained down the front. Ketchup maybe.

“Why am I here?”

“It’s time for you to go.”

“I don’t understand.”