First published in Great Britain in 2015 by Electric Monkey,
an imprint of Egmont UK Limited
The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN
Text copyright © 2015 Lisa Heathfield
The moral rights of the author have been asserted
First e-book edition 2015
ISBN 978 1 4052 7538 5
eISBN 978 1 7803 1674 1
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library
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For my beautiful, brave Mama,
watching from the moon.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Here, crouched beside the toilet, I’m terrified I’m dying. My stomach must be bleeding, or my liver, or my kidneys. Something inside me has somehow got cut. Spots of blood smear my underwear. I wipe myself with toilet paper and there’s more blood. Am I being punished for something I have said or done?
‘Elizabeth!’ I shout, running from the coffin-small room. ‘Elizabeth!’
I run from room to room. Kindred Smith is mending a bed in one. Rachel sweeps in another. The children play in the day room.
‘Elizabeth! ’
I wonder if the bleeding is worse. I look behind, but there are no drops of red following me along the wooden floorboards. I rattle the doors of the rooms that are locked. Elizabeth is not in the dining room, but in the kitchen she is coming through the back door, her rain-drenched dress clinging to her pregnant belly.
‘What is it, Pearl?’ she asks, putting down a bag of muddied potatoes. ‘Is someone hurt?’
I don’t want to tell her. I don’t want to tell her that I’m dying. Will the shock damage the tiny baby in her tummy?
‘Pearl?’ She stands, looking at me, and I see the worry in her eyes.
‘My stomach is bleeding,’ I whisper.
‘Where? How?’ Elizabeth steps back, looks at my top. ‘Did you cut yourself in the field?’
‘Inside. It’s bleeding inside me.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asks. I’ve never seen someone turn so pale in the time it takes for me to take a breath.
‘I’m sorry, Elizabeth,’ I say. And I can’t stop the tears. Because I don’t want to die. I want to meet her baby. I want more