by Claire Askew
She looked down again at the journal in her hands, and let her eyes flick over the words one final time. I’m sorry for all the things I’ve said that were terrible. I want to be better. I really do. She almost laughed. She didn’t need this any more: the path into her future was solid now, she was sure. She took a quick look around her, then ripped out the two scrawled pages from the front of the book. She kept her eyes on Jack as she tore the pages first into two, then into four, and then started shredding them, erasing and erasing her words until they were nothing more than marks on little bits of confetti. As she pushed the now-empty journal back into her bag, she balled the scraps and tatters into one fist, then raised it, to glance at her watch. 8.10 a.m. Time to face the music, she thought. Time to do the first good thing in a new, good life. Yes.
She stood up, opening her hands, and walked out across the sun-striped tarmac towards Jack. Behind her, a flutter of white petals, scattering into the grass, and over the car park, and into the air.
Acknowledgements
I cannot express enough gratitude to Nelle Andrew: Nelle, before you came along this book was less a novel, more a giant knot, and I couldn’t have untied it without your help. I am deeply grateful to the other Lucy Cavendish College Fiction Prize judges and organisers, too, and to former Lucy Cavendish winner Catherine Chanter. Catherine, your wise words are in my head every time I sit down to write.
A huge, huge thank you to my gorgeous agent Cathryn Summerhayes, for everything, but in particular for always being happy to sit down and explain things to me in words of one syllable. Thanks also to Irene and everyone else at Curtis Brown.
I have been incredibly lucky to have the brilliant Ruth Tross as my editor. Ruth, thank you so much for just getting this book, and for being my champion every step of the way. Thanks too to Louise, Cicely and everyone at Hodder: you’ve made me feel so welcome.
I want to hug all of the staff at Moniack Mhor Creative Writing Centre: folks, I was with you during one of the most difficult times of my life, and you took incredibly good care of me. Special mention to Heather Clyne, who rescued me from peril more times than I care to mention.
To everyone at Scottish Book Trust, but especially to Koren, Philippa, Caitrin, Lynsey and Kay. Thank you, ladies, for everything.
Thank you to the people who helped with technical bits and pieces for this book: Emma Hack, for being my unofficial DI Birch; JH Campbell, who advised me on ballistics; @ConstableChaos for schooling me on shift rotations for scene guards; @MsAshleyDavies for giving insider info on tabloid papers, and Michael O’Byrne for writing The Crime Writer’s Guide to Police Practice and Procedure. Any errors in this book are mine, and not theirs.
Thank you to the two greatest beta-readers (and, coincidentally, the two greatest friends) in the world: Leon Crosby and Stella Hervey Birrell. I love you two.
A thousand thank yous to the gang of incredible women writers who have offered unstinting support throughout the writing of this novel: my coven Julie Danskin, Sasha de Buyl and Alice Tarbuck; the brilliant Natalie Fergie and all of the Write Like A Grrrl! and #GrrrlCon gang; Jane Bradley and Kerry Ryan, who give the best pep talks; and Marjorie Lotfi Gill, who bakes the best flapjacks. An extra-special mention to Helen Sedgwick: Helen, I can’t even begin to thank you. Without you, this novel would be gathering dust in a drawer.
So much love and thanks to my mum and dad, and to Nick Askew: brother, housemate and personal Samaritan. Without you three, I wouldn’t be a writer. You never ever stop cheering me on: thank you. The same love and thanks to Stephen Welsh: Steve, your patience and kindness meant so much to me, and always will.
Finally: there is not enough love or thanks in the world for Dominic Stevenson, without whom this book would never have seen the light of day. Dom, with every fibre in my being: thank you. #Stevenskew for the epic win!