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Her Husband's Mistake

Page 39

by Sheila O'Flanagan


  There was a double door leading out of the house from the living room but I didn’t bother opening it. Nor did I look out of the windows. Stupidly, I was feeling spooked again. Despite the total silence, I felt as though someone was inside the house, watching me. I told myself not to be ridiculous as I straightened the crooked print on the wall; then I went back to the kitchen door and made sure it was securely locked from the inside and that the bolt was in place. I opened one of the windows to allow some air in and switched off the harsh fluorescent light, before turning on the standard lamp instead. The glow was softer and more relaxing, but I still couldn’t quite get over the feeling of being watched. As I made my way upstairs I felt the need to remind myself yet again that I didn’t believe in spirits or ghosts or things that went bump in the night. And it didn’t matter that I was alone in the house in the middle of nowhere, because being alone was perfectly safe. After all, being alone couldn’t hurt you. Other people could.

  There were six rooms upstairs. Four bedrooms. Two bathrooms. And a cupboard for bedlinen, which also contained a motley selection of old, but clean, oversized T-shirts and cotton shorts. The first doors I opened led into unfurnished rooms, but the next contained two unmade single beds and the fourth had a king-sized bed with bedlinen neatly folded and placed on the mattress. When I turned on the light a ceiling fan began to rotate slowly, although it didn’t actually cool the warm air, just moved it around.

  I was suddenly overcome by tiredness. I put my handbag on the small dressing table and opened the window. I left the shutters closed and slipped out of my skinny jeans, which I threw on to the tub chair in the corner. I unfolded the bedlinen. It was crisp and clean, with a faint scent of lavender. I made the bed and fiddled with the ceiling fan so that it stayed working when I turned off the light. Then I lay down and closed my eyes.

  But even though I was exhausted, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned and finally reached for my phone again. This time accessed my voice messages. It was the only one he’d ever left for me.

  I wish I was there with you. His voice was clear and strong. I wish I had my arms around you right now.

  I wished he had too.

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  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Contents

  About the Author

  Praise

  Also By Sheila O’Flanagan

  About the Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Acknowledgements

  Author’s Note

  Read the opening section of THE HIDEAWAY

 

 

 


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