‘I should get going,’ Mike says.
‘Oh. Okay.’
We both stand, a little awkwardly
‘Thanks for the lift,’ I say. ‘And, well, you know.’
‘I know. Remember the stuffed koala.’
‘Will do.’
‘Okay then.’
Flo rolls her eyes. ‘Painful.’
Mike leans forward and embraces me in a quick, clumsy hug. ‘Take care, and look after yourselves.’
He straightens, smiles and then turns and ambles away.
‘Such a loser,’ Flo says, taking the lid off her coffee. ‘He’s perfect for you.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Why?’
‘Just not my type.’
‘Holding out for Hugh Jackman?’
‘I think he’s holding out for me.’
She smiles. ‘I love you, Mum.’
I reach over and squeeze her hand.
‘And I love you.’
She suddenly frowns. ‘You’ve taken your collar off.’
‘Oh, yes. Thought it might be more comfortable. For the flight.’
‘Oh. Okay.’
We sip our coffees. Flo checks her phone. When we rise to leave, I let Flo walk ahead and I take the collar out of my pocket. After a moment’s hesitation, I stuff it into the empty coffee cup, pop the lid back on and leave it on the table.
What kind of woman am I?
Perhaps it’s time to find out.
Epilogue
The patient had come to them a few weeks ago. Found barely alive in a ditch, not far from Hastings. No ID. In a bad way. He’d obviously been there a while.
He had burns to a large area of his right side and cellulitis had spread from an injured ankle, up his leg. He’d been placed in an induced coma. He had battled back from sepsis. But the leg couldn’t be saved. It was amputated below the knee. Rehabilitation had been slow. He couldn’t or wouldn’t talk.
‘But we’re making some progress,’ Nurse Mitchell says as she leads the new doctor (all shiny hair and earnest enthusiasm) down the corridor, rubber-soled shoes squeaking. ‘He’s been engaging in art therapy recently and that seems to have helped.’
‘Good.’
You might not say that when you see it, she thinks.
She pushes open the door to the therapy room. The doctor blinks. The tables at the side of the room display the patients’ work. Amidst the woven baskets, papier mâché models and painted plates, pretty much every surface is covered in small twig dolls.
The doctor walks over and peers at them. ‘Interesting.’
One word for it.
‘They’re all he makes,’ Nurse Mitchell says. ‘Obsessively.’
The doctor picks up one of the dolls, stares at it, and then quickly puts it down again. ‘And has he said what they represent?’
‘He’s only spoken two words since he’s been here.’
She glances back at the twig dolls, trying to contain a shudder.
‘Burning Girls.’
Acknowledgements
I’m not a religious person – my only experience of churches is sitting through a few bum-numbing christenings and harvest festivals – so writing a book where the main character is a vicar was always going to be an interesting proposition.
Therefore, I owe a big thanks to Mark Townsend for his insight into small rural churches and the day-to-day life of a vicar – although obviously I’ve used some, ahem, creative license!
It seemed to take me an eternity to finish this, my fourth book. It really does get tougher each time! So, I’d like to give a shout-out to my always supportive agent, Maddy, my ever-patient editors, Max and Anne, and to everyone at my publishers who has worked so hard, even over lockdown, to polish, promote and finally get the book out there.
It goes without saying – but he might sulk if I don’t – that my husband, Neil, is a constant source of love and tech support. And, of course, I have to thank my little girl, Betty, for filling my days with joy – and Lego.
I’d also like to thank everyone in the village where we now live for being so welcoming and supportive. I’ve made some lovely friends here whose tales about the area’s history helped to inspire this story.
As always, thank you, wonderful readers, for picking this book up. I couldn’t do it without you. So – same time next year?
THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING
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Penguin Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.
First published by Michael Joseph in 2021
Copyright © C. J. Tudor, 2021
The moral right of the author has been asserted
Jacket image © Bela Molnar
ISBN: 978-1-405-93967-6
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
About the Author
Dedication
Burning Girls
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three