Phoebe Morgan - The Doll House

You never know who’s watching…

Corinne’s life might look perfect on the outside, but after three failed IVF attempts it’s her last chance to have a baby. And when she finds a tiny part of a doll house outside her flat, it feels as if it’s a sign.

But as more pieces begin to turn up, Corinne realises that they are far too familiar. Someone knows about the miniature rocking horse and the little doll with its red velvet dress. Someone has been inside her house…

How does the stranger know so much about her life? How long have they been watching? And what are they waiting for…?

A gripping debut psychological thriller with a twist you won’t see coming. Perfect for fans of I See You and The Widow.

The Doll House

Phoebe Morgan

ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES

Contents

Cover

Blurb You never know who’s watching… Corinne’s life might look perfect on the outside, but after three failed IVF attempts it’s her last chance to have a baby. And when she finds a tiny part of a doll house outside her flat, it feels as if it’s a sign. But as more pieces begin to turn up, Corinne realises that they are far too familiar. Someone knows about the miniature rocking horse and the little doll with its red velvet dress. Someone has been inside her house… How does the stranger know so much about her life? How long have they been watching? And what are they waiting for…? A gripping debut psychological thriller with a twist you won’t see coming. Perfect for fans of I See You and The Widow.

Title Page The Doll House Phoebe Morgan ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES

Author Bio PHOEBE MORGAN is an author and editor. She studied English at Leeds University after growing up in the Suffolk countryside. She has previously worked as a journalist and now edits crime and women’s fiction for a publishing house during the day, and writes her own books in the evenings. She lives in London and you can follow her on Twitter @Phoebe_A_Morgan . The Doll House is her debut novel.

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Then

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Epilogue

Extract from The Wild Girls

Copyright

PHOEBE MORGANis an author and editor. She studied English at Leeds University after growing up in the Suffolk countryside. She has previously worked as a journalist and now edits crime and women’s fiction for a publishing house during the day, and writes her own books in the evenings. She lives in London and you can follow her on Twitter @Phoebe_A_Morgan. The Doll House is her debut novel.

This book would not exist without the support, encouragement and ideas of my agent Camilla Wray at Darley Anderson, who never stopped believing in me and whose editorial help was invaluable. Similar thanks go to Celine Kelly, whose incredible insight is very much appreciated. Thanks too to Naomi Perry, who did a stellar job of looking after me last year during Camilla’s maternity leave – I finally found someone who shares my love of red pandas! The whole team at Darley Anderson are superstars and I’m lucky to be on their books.

A huge thank you to my wonderful editor Charlotte Mursell, who has made this process so smooth and enjoyable for me, and who is a great champion of all her HarperCollins books. Thank you to Victoria Oundjian and Lucy Gilmour at HQ for taking a chance on my book; I am so grateful. Thank you to Anna Sikorska for designing such a wonderfully creepy cover and for being the one to put my name onto a book jacket, which has always been my dream. Thank you to Alex Silcox for a great copy-edit and for catching all the things I missed, and thanks to all at HQ; you are all wonderful and I’m very proud to be published by you.

I feel lucky to know such talented, creative publishing professionals, but even luckier to call these people friends: special thanks go to the brilliant Helena Sheffield for your work with the bloggers and your friendship – you always go above and beyond. Thank you to the beautiful Sabah Khan who organised publicity for the book, I owe you a LOT of rainbow coloured flowers. Thank you to Eloise Wood for reading a draft of this book and being a constant supporter and an excellent advice-giver too.

Thank you to the Doomsday Writers – you know who you are and I couldn’t have done it without you, and I hope I never have to. Thank you to the kind authors who have read and quoted for my book, and to Kate Ellis, Kate Stephenson and Natasha Harding for your support too.

Thank you to Donald Winchester, who was one of the first agents to show interest in my writing, and to all of Team Avon and Helen Huthwaite at HarperCollins, the best bunch of colleagues anyone could ask for who publish amazing books with incredible passion and make my day job such a pleasure.

Thank you to my girlfriends for your encouragement and enthusiasm throughout this process; I promise never to put you in a crime book unless you come out on top.

Thank you to Alex for being my voice of reason, and for keeping me calm when I think I can’t write at all. You are an amazing supporter and I love you.

And finally, the biggest thank you to my family – to my brothers Owen and Fergus for reading countless drafts and answering all my incessant WhatsApps – you are my favourite people on the planet. Thank you to my dad for building me a doll house, then reliably informing me which parts of the book made no sense (especially geographically – not my strong point) and for putting me in touch with helpful people too who know more about architecture than I do. Thank you to my lovely grandma for digging out my old short stories, encouraging me and making me smile. And finally thank you to my mum; there are no words for how much you have championed me and this book and I love you so much and am so grateful. Thank you.

To my family, for not being like this one.

Then

‘Can we go now?’

I am tugging on Mummy’s coat, my fingers clutching the thin black fabric of it as though it is a life raft. Mummy’s eyes don’t move; her gaze doesn’t falter. It is as if I have not spoken at all.

Minutes pass. I begin to cry, small, quiet sobs that choke in my throat, sting my cheeks in the wind. Mummy takes no notice. I push my palms into my eyes, blotting out the last remnants of light in the shadowy garden around us. The darkness continues to fall, but still Mummy stares, glassy-eyed. She doesn’t comfort me. She just stares. I bite down hard into the flesh of my cheek, harder and harder until I can taste a little bit of blood on my tongue.