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Back Where The Story Starts Save as PDF
Chapters (65)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  3. CONTENTS
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. BOOK CLUB QUESTIONS
  64. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  65. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Well, this must be Ray’s half-brother. No one had told her that he played violin. Fancy her Ray having a brother with such a poncy job. The idea made Melissa smile to herself. She looked again. He looked so much like her Ray. She’d thought it before when that Grace had shown her the photos of her family and now, again, she was taken aback by how alike the two men were. They could probably pass for one another, not that her Ray would ever be seen dead playing a violin. But it was kind of eerie, the resemblance. This Charles had his hair swept back, whereas Ray wore his more over his forehead. And Ray didn’t own a suit like the one Charles wore. Then Melissa noticed something. Seeing it there knocked the air out of her lungs so fast that she toppled back on to the padded bench. Her head was spinning as she peered at the photograph again.

Sticking out of the sleeve of Charles’s jacket was the friendship bracelet that Leah had made all those years before. Even though it was only fashioned from cotton threads, it had lasted because Ray took it off when he went to work, leaving it on the shelf in the bathroom at home. He’d told Leah that it was too precious to wear every day, even though all the love that she’d plaited into it made it super-strong.

And now here it was, around the wrist of her husband’s brother. But how could it possibly have got there? It made no sense.

Unless . . .

Melissa’s chest closed up. The room started to cave in around her and the atmosphere became very thin. She couldn’t get her breath. She had to get outside, out into the fresh air or she’d faint. Swaying as she walked, she made it to the back door and out into the beer garden. Here the air was cold and damp, a fret swirling round from the sea. Melissa leant against the wall for support, resting her forehead against the cool bricks, the newspaper still in her hand. The vile idea that had taken root in her mind was now growing like a cancer, but it couldn’t be right, could it? It was an impossible thought. She must have got hold of the wrong end of the stick. And yet she didn’t know what else to think. This was a picture of her husband. She was certain of it. He was wearing clothes that she didn’t recognise and was in a situation that she knew nothing about, but there was no doubting the friendship bracelet or indeed the evidence in front of her own eyes. The paper might say that he was Charles Montgomery Smith but Melissa knew that it was wrong. The man in the picture, the man that the paper named as Charles Montgomery Smith, was Ray Allen, her husband.

46

46

MELISSA – THEN