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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
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
‘THEY wouldn’t have suffered.’
‘Of course they wouldn’t have.’ Catherine could hear the bitterness in her own voice, see the flicker of confusion in the young nurse’s expression, but she was too raw, too exhausted, and frankly too damn angry to soften the blow, to spare anyone’s feelings.
‘My sister and her husband refused to suffer anything. Why worry when you can have a drink? Why dwell on your problems when there’s always family to bail you out?’ She shook her head fiercely, pressing her fingers against her eyeballs and trying to quell the scream that seemed to be building up inside her.
She knew the poor nurse didn’t have a clue what she was going on about, that she was just trying to be kind and say the right thing, and that the car accident had happened in an instant, that it had been over for Marco and Janey before the skidding vehicle had even halted—but her words simply weren’t helping. Instead they were touching nerves so raw that every last word made Catherine flinch as she tried and failed not to envisage the final moments of her sister’s short life.
Maybe later, Catherine told herself, taking deep breaths and trying to calm herself. Maybe later, when she could think straight—maybe in a few weeks—those words might bring some comfort. But sitting alone in the hospital interview room, exhausted and shellshocked, trying to fathom all that had happened, they brought no comfort at all.
‘I really am sorry.’ The nurse handed her a small manila envelope and Catherine held on to it tightly, feeling the hard shape of the metal inside it.
‘So am I.’ The bitterness had gone from her voice now, and Catherine gave the nurse a small nod of thanks. ‘You’ve all been wonderful.’
‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’
Catherine shook her head, couldn’t even manage an answer, and again she was left alone. Tearing the brown paper, she slid out the contents, staring curiously dry-eyed at the three pieces of jewellery in her palm, tracing the outline of each precious piece as every one told its story. An awful sense of déjà-vu descended as she eyed the solitaire diamond ring Janey wore, that had belonged to their mother—the same ring that had slid out of an envelope and into her hand eight years ago. But familiarity brought no comfort. The crash that had killed her parents and the lessons it had taught offered no barrier to the pain she felt now.
It was actually eight years and two months ago, to be precise.
Eight years and two months since she had been handed her parents’ belongings along with more responsibility than any nineteen-year-old deserved. But the endless meetings with solicitors and accountants as they attempted to unscramble the chaos her parents had left in their wake had been the easy part.
Dealing with a wayward sixteen-year-old—her sister Janey—had proved the greater feat.
Catherine stared at the ring for a long moment and suddenly she was back there, standing at her mother’s dressing table, wishing her thick, dark, curly hair could be as smooth and as straight as her mother’s and Janey’s, wishing her solemn brown eyes could sparkle blue like theirs.
Instead she had inherited her father’s looks—his personality too.
