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Back What I Never Told you Save as PDF
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

She sat at a table in a patch of weak sunshine. She exhaled as she cradled the cup. Her eyes flitted around her. For a small town, there was plenty of activity. The laughter of children playing in the nursery playground to her left and the clatter of a van roller door as the driver unloaded kegs of beer for the pub across the square. An old man on a bench, staring ahead of him, shopping bags at his feet. A mother chasing a small girl on a scooter, her hair in high pigtails flying out behind her as she bumped and raced down the cobbled street. Helen focused on the details around her in the hope that her mind would still, along with her trembling hands. She scoffed down the carrot cake without tasting it. It was meant to make her feel better, but lodged in her throat like cotton wool.

She became aware of ice cold pin pricks on the back of her neck. She spun around in her chair, the metal legs scraping. There was no one behind her, but the feeling persisted. Then she noticed the eyes watching her from inside the post office over the road. She squinted to see if she could make out who it was, but their face was obscured by an advert in the window for salsa classes.

Helen knew who it was though. She got to her feet, considered waving, then changed her mind. For a second she wondered if they were behind the Polaroid, then she dismissed the idea.

She drained the mug of tea and balled up her napkin, discarding it on the plate. She took one last, long stare at the eyes in the window, then went to open the shop.

*

Helen kept a small first aid box stashed under the sink in the tiny kitchen at the back of the shop in case of serious paper cuts. She used it to clean the graze on her cheek, which stung as she swiped at it with a disinfectant wipe, her eyes watering. Something was caught in her hair and she pulled loose a twig from the hedge. She sighed, packed away the first aid box and put the kettle on. There was a packet of fancy chocolate biscuits in the cupboard and she opened the box, even though she wasn’t hungry after the cake.

She sat at the shop counter with a cup of tea she didn’t want, eating biscuits she had no appetite for, staring out at the people walking past the window. For the first time she could remember, she wanted to close up the shop and head back home, shut the door on the world and hide in her bed, the covers over her throbbing head.

Who would notice if she did?