The Life and Afterlife of Charlie Brackwood (The Brackwood Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

heart, even after my betrayal.  I concentrated on Russ's easy grin and relaxed posture, his messy hair and stubbly chin.
    A hazy image appeared and I heard his usually jovial voice.  Russ was a joker, he had a sarcastic comment for everything, and he had Lucy and me in stitches on a regular basis.  His sense of humour and ability to turn any situation into a joke is his most attractive quality. Women in particular are drawn to him, like old folks are drawn to bingo.
    It was clear that Russ was not his usual fun-loving self today.  His face was pale, he had dark circles under his eyes and was constantly running his hands through his thick, light brown hair, a sure sign he was feeling tense.  He was talking to someone and I detected a slight annoyance in his tone, which was unusual for him. He’s usually so calm and level-headed. That was the main reason I wanted to see him.  'Keep your head, whilst everyone around you is losing theirs' could be Russ's mantra, and it was a quality I’d often admired in him.
    "You don't need to do this now, it's too soon."
    The mystery person he was talking to didn't respond.  He tried again.
    "Honestly, don't feel like you have to do this just yet.  It will all still be here in a few weeks, I promise you... just leave it."
    There was a mixture of pity and defeat in his eyes.  The other person in the room must have turned to face him because his eyes grew soft and heavy with sympathy.
    A familiar dressing table behind Russ caught my eye.  It was a grand-looking piece of furniture made of a deep, luxurious wood, perhaps mahogany, and it had a small drawer at the top that opened with a tiny decorative key, the drawer that Lucy used to keep her diary in.  I’d stubbed my toe on that damn’ dressing table almost every night when I turned the light off before hopping into bed beside the woman I love.  It had never occurred to either of us to invest in a bedside lamp, but then if it had I'd never have got to hear Lucy's giggle when I cried out in pain every night.
    Russ was in my house, in my bedroom, and there was only one reason why he would be there.  She was standing by the wardrobe, holding up some of my clothes.  The sight of Lucy made me take a sharp intake of breath.  She looked radiant, not a scrap of makeup on her porcelain-pale face, her unruly curls scraped back off her forehead.  She had a frustrated expression on her face, but just seeing her again after what had felt like years set my non-existent heart beating fast.  The last time we were together she had looked so happy, so full of life.  Her future was in my hands and I’d predicted that it would be nothing short of spectacular; together we would have the perfect marriage, the kind others are envious of and try in vain to replicate.  Now I could no longer predict Lucy’s future, and the fact that I had no way of ensuring her happiness caused an unsettling feeling deep within me.
    "I'll need to do this anyway. When I do it isn't important," she said, voice firm and steady as she turned around to collect more of my clothes from the wardrobe.
    My keen eyes observed her carefully; she was wearing one of my jumpers.  It seemed to swamp her tiny, fragile-looking body.  Lucy was a master at disguising her pain, she'd had years of practice, but I knew she was hurting and her hard exterior didn't fool me.  I looked at her hands. She was still wearing her engagement ring. I also noticed her nails had been bitten all the way down on every finger.  She bit her nails when she was stressed and I knew the fact that she had bitten them down that far would have annoyed her, made her feel like a failure.  She'd tried so hard to quit the habit.  This was a sign that inside Lucy was falling apart, and when this happened it was like an avalanche.  Small signs would be the start, a little of the perfect exterior disappearing, like those bitten nails.  Then eventually the pain would gather more speed, become more desperate,