A Double Life. Charlotte Philby
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of summer.
Maura Dooley
Contents
Copyright
Praise for A Double Life
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter 1: Gabriela
Chapter 2: Gabriela
Chapter 3: Isobel
Chapter 4: Gabriela
Chapter 5: Gabriela
Chapter 6: Isobel
Chapter 7: Gabriela
Chapter 8: Gabriela
Chapter 9: Gabriela
Chapter 10: Isobel
Chapter 11: Gabriela
Chapter 12: Isobel
Chapter 13: Gabriela
Chapter 14: Gabriela
Chapter 15: Gabriela
Chapter 16: Isobel
Chapter 17: Gabriela
Chapter 18: Isobel
Chapter 19: Gabriela
Chapter 20: Gabriela
Chapter 21: Isobel
Chapter 22: Gabriela
Chapter 23: Isobel
Chapter 24: Gabriela
Chapter 25: Isobel
Chapter 26: Gabriela
Chapter 27: Gabriela
Chapter 28: Gabriela
Chapter 29: Isobel
Chapter 30: Gabriela
Chapter 31: Gabriela
Chapter 32: Gabriela
Chapter 33: Isobel
Chapter 34: Gabriela
Chapter 35: Isobel
Chapter 36: Gabriela
Chapter 37: Gabriela
Chapter 38: Isobel
Chapter 39: Gabriela
Chapter 40: Isobel
Chapter 41: Gabriela
Chapter 42: Isobel
Chapter 43: Gabriela
Chapter 44: Isobel
Chapter 45: Gabriela
Chapter 46: Isobel
Chapter 47: Gabriela
Chapter 48: Gabriela
Chapter 49: Isobel
Chapter 50: Gabriela
Chapter 51: Gabriela
Chapter 52: Isobel
Chapter 53: Gabriela
Chapter 54: Gabriela
Chapter 55: Isobel
Chapter 56: Gabriela
Chapter 57: Gabriela
Chapter 58: Isobel
Chapter 59: Gabriela
Chapter 60: Gabriela
Chapter 61: Isobel
Chapter 62: Gabriela
Chapter 63: Gabriela
Chapter 64: Isobel
Chapter 65: Gabriela
Chapter 66: Isobel
Chapter 67: Gabriela
Chapter 68: Gabriela
Chapter 69: Isobel
Chapter 70: Gabriela
Chapter 71: Isobel
Chapter 72: Isobel
Chapter 73: Gabriela
Chapter 74: Gabriela
Chapter 75: Gabriela
Chapter 76: Gabriela
Chapter 77: Isobel
Chapter 78: Gabriela
Chapter 79: Gabriela
Chapter 80: Isobel
Chapter 81: Gabriela
Chapter 82: Gabriela
Chapter 83: Isobel
Chapter 84: Gabriela
Chapter 85: Isobel
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Also by Charlotte Philby
About the Publisher
The woman’s lips were blue, the same shade as the evening sky that shone in through the window, calm and unbroken.
The knot around her neck had been pulled tight. The note, propped against the hallway table, was short.
‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t do it. I love you both, please forgive me.’
It is hardly warm enough to warrant an evening in the garden, but something about the house is pushing her out. After all these years, and all the memories she made here in her teens and early twenties before Tom had so much as set foot inside its four walls, their home is already taking his side. So when he goes out for a smoke, savouring the single roll-up he still allows