What if everything you knew was a lie…
This house has a past that won’t stay hidden, and it is time for the dead to speak.
Returning to Number 17, Coronation Square, Edie is shocked to find the place she remembers from childhood reeks of mould and decay. After her aunt Dolly’s death Edie must clear out the home on a street known for five vicious murders many years ago, but under the dirt and grime of years of neglect lurk dangerous truths.
For in this dark house there is misery, sin and dark secrets that can no longer stay hidden. The truth must come out.
Finding herself dragged back into the horrific murders of the past, Edie must find out what really happened all those years ago. But as Edie uncovers the history of the family she had all but forgotten, she begins to wonder if sometimes it isn’t best to leave them buried.
An unforgettable and addictive story, perfect for fans of Lesley Thomson, Diane Chamberlain and Tracy Buchanan.
Praise for ANN TROUP
‘Atmospheric, haunting and quite dark’ – Book Boodle
‘An unusual, beautifully written mystery.’ – The Disorganised Author
‘A fabulous book that gripped me and left me wanting more!’ –- Compelling Reads
‘You won't spot the twists and turns coming and they will keep you on the edge of your seat!! You just won't want to put this book down until you find out what happens at the end!’ – Becky Lock
‘Very fascinating, mysterious novel with secrets and twists hiding behind every page’ – Reviewed the Book
‘Captivating debut novel’ – Crime Fiction Lover
‘I thoroughly recommend this book to anyone who loves a mystery and a bit of intrigue, I would say it is on a par with the brilliant Lynda La Plante’ – Sincerely Book Angels
Also by Ann Troup
The Lost Child
The Silent Girls
Ann Troup
Copyright
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2016
Copyright © Ann Troup 2016
Ann Troup 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 © June 2016 ISBN: 9781474046794
Version date: 2018-09-20
ANN TROUP
tells tales and can always make something out of nothing (which means she writes books and can create unique things from stuff other people might not glance twice at). She was once awarded 11 out of 10 for a piece of poetry at school – and now holds that teacher entirely responsible for her inclination to write.
Her writing process is governed first by the fine art of procrastination, a field in which she is outstanding. Once that phase is complete, she knuckles down and writes, completely abandoning the careful plans made during the procrastination phase. At some point a story emerges and after a bit of tweaking and a re-acquaintance with the concepts of grammar, punctuation and the myriad glories of the English language, she is surprised to find that she has written a book!
Her writing space is known as ‘the empty nest’, having formerly been her daughter’s bedroom. She shares this space with ten tons of junk and an elderly West Highland Terrier who is her constant companion whether she likes it or not. He likes to contribute to the creative process by falling asleep on top of her paperwork and running away with crucial Post-it notes, which have inadvertently become stuck to his fur. She is thinking of renaming him Gremlin.
She lives by the sea in Devon with her husband and said dog. Two children have been known to remember the house which they call home, but mainly when they are in need of a decent roast dinner, it’s Christmas or when only Mum will do.
In a former incarnation she was psychiatric nurse, an experience that frequently informs her writing and which supplies a never-ending source of inspiration.
You can contact Ann on Facebook, at anntroup.wordpress.comor follow her on Twitter @TroupAnn
My thanks to the ever lovely, supportive and brilliant team at HQ Digital – may your days be filled with more chocolate and less emails. Gratitude to book blogger extraordinaire Sophie Hedley for her generosity to good causes and for allowing me the privilege of borrowing her name (I’m afraid my Sophie is just a mite less ladylike and lovely…)
My immense appreciation to every single blogger, reviewer, fellow author and reader who has supported me, shared their enthusiasm for my writing and indulged me in this most lovely of occupations, I will never stop being bowled over by you.
Finally a pre-emptive apology, I took a few liberties with jurisprudence in this one, but hey, it’s a novel not a text book and I hope I’ll be forgiven for that (and the bad language - sorry mum).
For Tom and Ellie.
Contents
Cover
Blurb
Praise
Book List
Title Page
Copyright
Author Bio
Acknowledgement
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Excerpt
Endpages
About the Publisher
Prologue
Tuesday 8 thSeptember 1964
On Tuesday 8 thSeptember 1964, the State hanged John Bastin for the brutal murder of five women.
While his wife and child stood outside the prison gates waiting for the execution bell to toll, a distraught young woman took a coal shovel and beat a man to death. She brought it down again and again, slicing through cloth and flesh and hitting bone as her victim squirmed and cowered under the torrent of blows. Finally his movements ceased and all that remained was the battered pulp of his body and a glistening ooze of blood. The woman felt no sense of regret, even though she paused to feel for it. All she could locate was the heightened pulse of her adrenaline-fuelled heart and the sound of quiet sobbing from the woman beside her.
‘Oh Jesus! What have you done?’ the other woman cried. Her words were loaded with fear and whistled out through her misery like the thin strain of a battered bugle.
The woman looked at the blood-gored shovel and noticed that her heart rate had started to slow into a dull, regular thump. She glanced at the body and prodded it with the toe of her shoe, bristling at the realisation that some of his filthy blood had stained the leather. ‘The right thing, that’s what.’ She could feel nothing but relief now that the nightmare was over.
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