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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

Grace was completely lost. What was going on? How had Clio met Leah? From the child’s greeting they clearly knew each other pretty well. Grace looked at Clio and then back to Leah. Leah’s smile slipped and Grace watched as a myriad emotions crossed her face one after another. Clio had gone very pale.

‘Leah. Hi. This is my brother Hector.’ Clio gestured to Hector, who gave her a tight smile and a nod. ‘And my mother, Lady Hartsford, Grace.’

Grace kept her eyes low, but she could feel Leah’s stare as keenly as if it were a hot brand.

‘Mrs Newman?’ Leah said, a tentative smile creeping across her face. ‘That is you, isn’t it?’

Grace nodded. ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Hello, Leah.’ She gave a hesitant smile in return, but Leah was positively beaming back at her.

‘Do you two know each other?’ asked Clio, frowning.

‘This is Mrs Newman,’ said Leah, her eyebrows raised questioningly. ‘You know. The nice lady from the church that I told you about. The one that helped me when Mum died.’

Clio shook her head slowly as if she could make no sense of the picture that was emerging. Her eyes flicked from Leah to Grace and back again.

Then Hector spoke, his voice loud and authoritative. ‘What the hell is going on?’ he demanded.

54

54

LEAH – NOW

My eyes flicked from Clio to her mum and then back again. I’d heard what Clio had just told me, but I couldn’t take it in; the words didn’t string together into an order that my brain could grab hold of. But the evidence was right there in front of me. There was no denying it. Clio was the spit of her mum: the same small, neat features, strong cheekbones, full lips. But this was Mrs Newman, the lovely woman from the church who I’d visited every other week for years after Mum died. How could she be Lady Hartsford of Hartsford Hall? Or perhaps more importantly, why had she lied?

‘Do you like my pattern, Clio?’ Noah asked, cutting straight through my thoughts. ‘Come see!’

He grabbed Clio’s hand and dragged her towards the water’s edge where he’d carved a series of hieroglyphics into the wet sand. Reluctantly, Clio allowed herself to be pulled along. Sensing that she too would be better elsewhere, Poppy tagged along behind them.

Lady Hartsford, Grace, Mrs Newman, whoever, took a couple of steps towards me and reached out, gathering my hand up in hers. Her skin was cool and very soft. She squeezed my fingers gently and with her other hand she lifted my chin so that she could see me clearly. Looking into her kind eyes again sent me straight back to those dark days in the church and the rush of sorrow that hit me was so powerful that for a moment I couldn’t get my breath.

‘But . . .’ I spluttered. ‘How . . . ?’