Before You Were Gone
Page 29
Dee knelt down on the stones so her face was level with his.
‘Of course you don’t want to go,’ she said, ‘because it’s something new. And sometimes new things are scary. But it’s going to be brilliant, Jake. Canada is beautiful.’
‘Daddy’s going to teach me to ski.’ The frown disappeared, replaced by a smile so wide and perfect what was left of Dee’s heart shattered into tiny pieces.
‘And you can teach me when I come to visit.’
She opened her arms and he jumped into them, just as he’d done countless times over the last few years. She buried her face in the top of his head, breathing in his unique Jake smell, wondering how she was ever going to find the strength to let him go again. But somehow she managed it. As she stood up and watched him run towards the waiting car, part of her hated herself for not fighting harder to make them stay. She knew it wouldn’t have made a blind bit of difference, but right now, she couldn’t help blaming herself, her mind finding all the reasons why – if she’d only tried harder – they might never have left.
‘Are you okay?’ Ella asked, as Jake climbed into the car and slammed the door shut without looking back.
‘I’m fine.’ Dee shook her head. ‘Well, I will be fine. I’m going to miss you like hell, but I’ll get used to it.’
‘We’ll FaceTime every week,’ Ella said. ‘I haven’t worked out the time difference yet, but we can still do our Friday get-togethers, even if we do them at a different time. And I meant what I said about you coming for Christmas. It would be the best present ever for Jake. And for me.’
‘Of course I’ll come,’ Dee said. As soon as the car pulled away, she was planning to go inside and check out plane fares. She was pretty sure flying anywhere at Christmastime cost the earth, but so what? She would sell the house if it meant spending Christmas with Jake.
‘Dee, I don’t think I’ve ever told you this,’ Ella said, ‘but I would never have got through the last few years without you. I don’t know how I can ever thank you for everything you’ve done for me.’
‘You don’t need to thank me,’ Dee said. ‘Having you all in my life, it’s been a joy.’
‘I love you, Dee.’
‘I love you too. Now go on. Get the hell out of here before I make a fool of myself and start crying in front of you all.’
Ella looked as if she was going to say something else, but Dee waved her away. She had never been one for long, drawn out goodbyes. The longer Ella and Jake were here, the harder it was getting to hold it together.
‘Bye, then.’
Ella turned and walked across the shingle to the car, where Jake and Tom were waiting. The rumble of the engine, a puff of dust as the car started down the narrow track away from the mobile home, a flash of waving arms, a final glimpse of Jake’s face mouthing goodbye through the car window. And just like that, they were gone.
* * *
Dee sat on the deck, watching the sun slowly sink beneath the horizon. She had a glass of chilled white wine in front of her, and Johnny Cash in the background, singing about missing a girl in Tipperary town. Along the beach, the mobile home stood empty. No lights on, no voices drifting through the still air, reminding her that she wasn’t alone out here on this quiet stretch of beach.
Work had got her through the rest of the day. At four o’clock this afternoon, she’d finished the book and emailed it to her agent. Later, she’d driven to the wine shop in Meads and treated herself to a single bottle of Tokaji Furmint – Hungarian, dry and very expensive.
Today had been hard, but she’d expected that. Gradually, she would adjust to their absence, as she’d adjusted to so many other things. Adjusting to change was part of life. And while she adjusted, she would focus on the positives. Like the fact that she’d just written her first book, and knew she’d done a good job with it. Better than she’d ever have thought possible. Her agent would, doubtless, suggest some improvements, but nothing Dee couldn’t manage.
Then there was Dee’s growing relationship with her newly found cousins. Dee had spoken to both women yesterday. They were in Ireland at the moment, tying up the final loose ends in a story that had started twenty-three years earlier. Robert O’Brien was being held in custody in England and looking at a long jail sentence. The only question left unanswered was whether he served that in the UK or Ireland. Via video link two days ago, he’d told the Irish Guards where he’d buried Lucy Ryan. Her body had been recovered yesterday morning. So Maeve finally knew what had happened to her sister, and the people responsible were going to get the justice they deserved.
Ursula O’Brien had also been charged with a number of offences and was on remand awaiting trial for her role in the rape of Bríd Keenan. Shay Flaherty’s story would be front page news in tomorrow’s Irish Times. Twenty-three years after Lucy Ryan disappeared, Shay had finally got to write about what had happened to her.
The wound on Dee’s face, where Robert had cut her, was healing well too. Soon, there would be no trace of the wound at all. But no matter how many times Dee listed her reasons to be happy, she couldn’t feel it. Instead, there was nothing but this dreadful emptiness.
The sun was disappearing beneath the horizon, the kaleidoscope of pinks and oranges and reds fading to grey, when she heard a car coming towards her house. When the car stopped and the driver got out, the sound of the door closing echoed through the quiet night air.
Dee listened to his footsteps, crunching over the shingle, as he walked around the side of the house towards the deck. She thought about standing up and going inside. Closing the doors and blinds, and not answering if he knocked at the back door. But she already knew she wasn’t going to do that. Because despite everything she’d tried to tell herself over the last six months, she still missed him. And when he finally appeared around the corner, a bottle of wine in his hand and a stupid grin on his face, she pulled out the chair beside her and motioned for him to join her.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to my lovely agent, Laura Longrigg; the amazing team at Canelo – Louise Cullen, Francesca Riccardi, Nicola Piggott, Siân Heap and Miranda Ward; my fellow crime writers Lorraine Mace, Marion Todd and Chris Curran for keeping me sane in times of crisis! A big shout-out to book blogging community who do so much to support and promote authors. Thank you Chris Simmons for just being fabulous in so many different ways and continuing to be my friend even when I disappear off the radar for months at a time. Thanks also to Maureen Webb for being such a meticulous reader! Finally, a very special mention for the brilliant group of people who run the UK Crime Book Club – you guys have created something very special. Your book group is a wonderful online community for all lovers of crime fiction. I am privileged to be part of it.
An Eastbourne Murder Mystery
I Could Be You
When the Dead Speak
Before You Were Gone
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About the Author
Sheila Bugler grew up in a small town in the west of Ireland. After studying Psychology at University College Galway (now called NUI Galway) she left Ireland and worked as an EFL teacher, travelling to Italy, Spain, Germany, Holland and Argentina.
She is the author of a series of crime novels featuring DI Ellen Kelly. The novels are set in South East London, an area she knows and loves.
She now lives in Eastbourne, on the beautiful East Sussex coast. Eastbourne is the location for her series of crime novels featuring investigative journalist Dee Doran.
When she’s not writing, Sheila does corporate writing and storytelling, she runs creative writing courses, is a tutor for the Writers Bureau and is a mentor on the WoMentoring programme. S
he reviews crime fiction for crimesquad.com and she is a regular guest on BBC Radio Sussex.
She is married with two children.
Also by Sheila Bugler
An Eastbourne Murder Mystery
I Could Be You
When the Dead Speak
Before You Were Gone
First published in the United Kingdom in 2021 by Canelo
Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
31 Helen Road
Oxford OX2 0DF
United Kingdom
Copyright © Sheila Bugler, 2021
The moral right of Sheila Bugler to be identified as the creator of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Ebook ISBN 9781800321649
Print ISBN 9781800321656
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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