Kerry Barrett - The Hidden Women

KERRY BARRETTwas a bookworm from a very early age and did a degree in English Literature, then trained as a journalist, writing about everything from pub grub to EastEnders . Her first novel, Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered , took six years to finish and was mostly written in longhand on her commute to work, giving her a very good reason to buy beautiful notebooks. Kerry lives in London with her husband and two sons, and Noel Streatfield’s Ballet Shoes is still her favourite novel.

‘All Kerry Barrett’s books are brilliant.’

‘I’d highly recommend this: detective fiction, historical fiction, powerful, moving, thrilling, sometimes comic, always very human.’

‘A beautiful story which kept me hooked.’

‘I would definitely recommend this read, but be warned, you won’t want to put it down.’

‘Loved the whole story, couldn’t put it down.’

‘Will definitely read more from this author.’

Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

I Put a Spell on You

Baby It’s Cold Outside

I’ll Be There For You

A Spoonful of Sugar

A Step in Time

The Forgotten Girl

The Girl in the Picture

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2019

Copyright © Kerry Barrett 2019

Kerry Barrett asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © January 2019 ISBN: 9780008318529

Version: 2018-11-29

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Readers Love Kerry Barrett

Also by Kerry Barrett

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

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

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Extract

Dear Reader

Keep Reading …

About the Publisher

For Petrova Fossil, the original Attagirl

‘I thought you’d be pleased,’ I said, watching Greg’s stony face for any sign of happiness.

‘Well I’m not.’ His expression softened, just a bit, and he sat down next to me on the sofa and took my hand.

‘It’s just too soon,’ he said.

‘We’ve been together for five years, Greg,’ I snapped. ‘It’s not like we just met.’

He had the grace to look at least slightly ashamed.

‘I meant for me, not us,’ he said. ‘It’s too soon for me. And you. We’re still young. We should be out having fun, not at home with a squawking baby.’

‘We’re in our thirties; we’re not kids,’ I said, resting my head against the sofa cushions. I felt sick and I didn’t think it was just because of my unexpected pregnancy.

I’d done the test that morning, and showed Greg the unmistakeable dark line as he brushed his teeth.

‘It’s positive,’ I’d said, feeling a tiny shiver of excitement mixed with fear. ‘I’m pregnant.’

Greg had glanced at the plastic stick and then kissed me, his breath minty fresh.

‘I need to run,’ he’d simply said. ‘We’ll chat tonight.’

And now we were chatting and it wasn’t going the way I’d thought it would.

‘I thought we were set,’ I said. ‘I thought we were a team.’

‘We are a team,’ Greg said. ‘You and me.’

‘You and me and our baby,’ I said.

Greg winced. He tried to cover it up by pretending to cough, but I’d seen it.

‘I don’t want to have a baby, Helena,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, but that’s just how I feel.’

I couldn’t speak.

‘There’s a clinic,’ Greg said. ‘Max at work told me about it. His girlfriend went there a while back. He gave me the card, hang on …’

He dug about in his pocket while I let my fingers drift down to rest on my stomach.

‘I need some air,’ I said, ignoring his outstretched hand clutching a business card. ‘I’m going for a walk.’

I grabbed my jacket from the arm of the sofa, and stumbled my way out of the front door.

‘H,’ Greg said. ‘Don’t be like this. It’s hormones; you’re not thinking straight.’

I didn’t answer. I walked a little way down the road and then I sat at a bus stop and took my phone out.

‘Miranda?’ I said, when my sister answered. ‘I need your help. I’m having a baby and I think I’ve just left Greg.’

‘Here?’ I said, staring at my boss Fliss in astonishment. ‘Jack Jones is coming here?’

‘Yes, here,’ she said, resting her hand on her computer keyboard as though to warn me I was about to lose her attention. ‘Apparently he’s very interested in social history and he wants to know how you work. It’s no biggie.’

‘But I’ve got a system,’ I said, knowing it was no good protesting when Fliss had decided something. ‘I don’t want him to mess it up.’

‘He’s not taking over, Helena, he just wants to know how you’re getting on.’ Fliss sounded impatient. ‘He’ll be here after lunch.’

I forced a smile. ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘I’ll get some stuff together.’

I wandered back to my desk feeling wrong-footed.

‘What’s with the face?’ asked my colleague Elly as I sat down. ‘Did Fliss tell you off?’

I wiggled my mouse to wake up my screen. ‘No,’ I said gloomily. ‘She told me Jack bloody Jones is coming in this afternoon to see how I’m getting on with my research.’

‘Shut. Up,’ said Elly, spinning round in her chair to face me. ‘Shut. Up.’

I blinked at her. Did she really mean me to be quiet?

‘Jack Jones is coming here? THE Jack Jones? We never get to meet the celebs,’ Elly was beginning to babble. ‘I’ve worked on this show for five years and I’ve never met one single person whose family history I’ve researched. Have you met anyone?’