Prologue Lucy
Prologue
Lucy
I must have walked this path at least a hundred times, but today it feels different. Lonelier. More exposed. The gorse seems sharper, the sea a more seething sound, the wind harsher against my face.
Or maybe it’s just that I’ve become aware of something behind me. A dark blur that appears in my periphery when I look seaward.
I quicken my step.
My fingers touch the spot at the opening of my coat, where I should be able to find it – his parting gift.
It was a strange choice for someone who never showed any belief in fate.
The closest I heard him get to that was to quote Sod’s Law: If something can go wrong, it will.
Usually at the worst possible moment. But I suppose when someone is close to death, it’s understandable to want to abandon that sentiment in favour of something more hopeful.
In any case, I’m glad he gave it to me. To begin with, it gave me a chill each morning, a trace of a shiver, the metal cold against my skin. Close to my heart. Nowadays, it’s a comfort. Or it would be, if I could find the thing.
It’s for protection: that’s what he said when he pressed it into my hand.
So what fate is this? The one time I really, and I mean really, need protection, I don’t have it.
I glance over my shoulder, and my stomach pulls tight.
He was right all along.
If something can go wrong, it will. Usually at the worst possible moment.