“Melody opened up a carrier bag and put inside it two wrapped gifts: a set of lingerie from Ted Baker and a crystal-encrusted silver cross from H. Samuel. Then she opened a card on the kitchen table and let her pen hover above it for a moment while she tried to find the right words. She didn’t know where to start. That person, the one called Melody Browne, who’d stood at the side of Stacey’s hospital bed all those years ago, fifteen years old, nine months pregnant, scared and elated, holding thi...s new life in her arms, this tiny little scrap of stuff that was destined to become a woman called Cleo – that person didn’t exist any more. She’d been erased, taken out with a click of Julius Sardo’s fingers and the swoosh of a photocopying machine in Broadstairs Library. There was no such person as Melody Browne, so who was this, writing a birthday card to the firstborn child of her oldest and dearest friend? She tried to imagine what she’d have written two weeks ago, before her life had been whipped up into a sensational maelstrom, but couldn’t put herself there.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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