Tracy Buchanan - Her Last Breath - The new gripping summer page-turner from the No 1 bestseller

Louis smiled. ‘You get your meat delivered?’

‘They don’t usually do deliveries, but it’s impossible to lug around all the meat on the back of my pedal bike,’ she said. ‘So I sweet-talked the owner of the local butcher to do a weekly delivery. I think it’s important to support independent businesses whenever possible, and I’m lucky enough to be able to do so. Plus, it’s mega cheap,’ she added with a wink.

Louis turned to the butcher’s son. ‘How does it feel delivering meat to a soon-to-be published chef?’

‘Cool,’ William replied as he took the money. ‘Dad’s going to the book launch too, he’s really looking forward to it. Even got a new suit and everything.’

Estelle smiled, hiding the slight note of worry she felt. Her publicist Kim had been the one to come up with the idea of inviting her local suppliers to the launch. What better way to highlight just how clean and local Estelle was by having her butcher and greengrocer at her launch party to mingle with journalists? But now she was wondering if it would seem a bit contrived. Would people see through it?

Would they see through her ?

After William left, Estelle started placing the meat in her large American-style fridge.

‘So do you do all the cooking in the household?’ Louis asked.

‘Yes, of course.’ She caught Louis raising an eyebrow. ‘This isn’t about being an obedient housewife,’ she quickly added. ‘It’s pure selfishness on my part. I love cooking.’ And she really did. The whole sensory experience of it, the feel of food on her fingertips, a thousand different textures. The smells and the colours, the sound of sizzling meat and whisking flour. The taste too, of course. It was a form of therapy for her: kneading, mixing, slicing everything away, all thoughts, all memories gone until it was just her at her simplest in that kitchen, focused on making the best dishes she could.

She pulled away the white paper from a large slab of beef ready to put it in the fridge. Then she frowned. There was something on top of the meat, square and white.

She looked over at Louis who was busy tapping away at his laptop at the other end of the large island, then she grabbed a fork and lifted the item off the meat. It was an envelope, a name scrawled on the front.

Stel.

She peered at the windowsill, where the poppies she’d received the evening before had been placed in a vase. The note that had come with them had been addressed to Stel too.

She quickly opened the envelope and pulled out a Polaroid photo. It was a close-up photo of a teenage girl. Sad brown eyes. Freckled button nose. Dyed red hair … red hair that made her think of another girl, another time.

Alice.

But it wasn’t Alice. In fact, Estelle had no idea who the girl in the photo was. But as she looked into her eyes, she still felt a flare of recognition.

She looked at the bottom of the photo, where a message had been scrawled, droplets of blood from the beef blossoming around the words.

They say you’re as pure as the driven snow. But I know you’re not.

I’m watching you. I know everything about you.

Estelle dropped the photo with trembling fingers, watching as it floated to the floor, the blood from the beef congealing in her nails.

Who the hell had sent this to her?

You’ve changed. You’re barely recognisable from the girl I first met.

All fake though. An attempt to cover the real you. The dirty you.

Did the people you were with last night see it, the charade?

I wanted to storm in, smash all those glasses, rub all that food in your face.

But I didn’t. I kept my anger in check and watched as everyone’s eyes poured all over you: especially the men.

I know the truth. I know you’re spoilt goods and soon they will know too.

That terrifies you, doesn’t it? People seeing the real you.

I can see the fear in your face as you look at the photo – at my message.

Good.

Time you were taken down a peg or two. Time you learnt this new life you’ve created for yourself is a sham.

A sham that will soon be smashed to smithereens.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.