KillerReads
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Copyright © Jackie Kabler 2019
Cover design Micaela Alcaino © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd2019
Cover images © Shutterstock.com
Jackie Kabler asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Ebook Edition © April 2019
ISBN: 9780008328405
Version: 2018-12-12
They were staring again. I shivered, curling my fingers tightly around the handle of the pram, and walked quickly past them, my eyes not meeting theirs. It was two women this time, around my age, late thirties, standing outside WHSmith. I’d only stopped for a moment, to adjust my scarf, but I knew instantly that it had been a mistake. Never stop, keep moving. Keep your head down. Don’t give them a chance to recognize you. I was usually so careful, on the rare occasions I ventured out. Tried to avert my gaze from store assistants, cashiers, other shoppers, looking down into my purse or at the pram, so they didn’t get a good look at me. It was easier that way, safer. But today, with the scarf slipping, I’d risked it, just for a moment, stopping to wind the stupid thing back into place. Idiot. It was January, the sky a bleak grey, a biting wind whistling down Cheltenham High Street and whipping loose strands of hair across my cheeks, a crisp packet scudding across the road in front of me as I hurried past the shopfront, eyes fixed firmly ahead, not looking at their faces. I heard them, though, their voices sharp and full of disgust. Full of loathing.
‘It is her, isn’t it? Look at her. What a freak,’ said one.
‘Evil bitch, more like,’ said the other.
A sob caught in my throat and I walked faster, suddenly desperate to get home. I shouldn’t have come out today, I shouldn’t. I’d been feeling all right earlier, almost sprightly, after a good night’s sleep for the first time in weeks. Seven hours. Seven. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept for that long and it had done wonders, made me feel that today I could cope, that it would be fine to go out, get some fresh air, pick up a few bits and pieces in town before I started work. I did most of my shopping online now, but it had seemed silly to pay delivery charges when you only needed some cotton wool, wrapping paper, a pack of pens. And sometimes, it was fine. Sometimes I got away with it, and nobody recognized me, nobody stared or commented or shouted abuse across the street. Not often though, and not today, clearly.
It had started to rain now, fat drops spattering the clear plastic cover I’d put over the pram before going out. Beneath it, a white cashmere blanket was pulled up high, but I could picture Zander’s sleeping face, his ludicrously long lashes resting softly against his delicious pink and cream cheeks, see in my mind’s eye the gentle rise and fall of his little chest as he dreamed his baby dreams, oblivious. At the thought of him, my darling boy, I sobbed again, aching to hold him in my arms, look into his bright blue eyes, hear his adorable chuckle as he reached up to grab my hair, the chuckle that made everything bad in the world simply melt away.
I bent my head against the wind, wiping my tears away fiercely with one hand as I steered the pram round the corner onto the Prom, heading for home. Everything would be fine, I told myself. I’d get back, have a nice cup of tea, something soothing – camomile? – and then get to work. I didn’t really like camomile tea, but Isla said it always calmed her down, and Isla knew about these things. She was my best friend, one of the few who had stuck by me.