Ann Troup - The Forgotten Room - a gripping, chilling thriller that will have you hooked

Can the past ever be forgotten?

As soon as nurse Maura Lyle sets foot inside the foreboding Essen Grange, she feels shivers ripple down her spine. And the sense of unease only increases when she meets her new patient, Gordon Henderson.

Drawn into the Henderson family’s tangled web of secrets and betrayals, Maura can ignore the danger lurking behind every door no longer. Even the door she has been forbidden from opening…

Essen Grange is a house with dark and cruel intentions. But now that darkness has turned on her, can Maura escape before it’s too late?

The chilling new novel from the bestselling author of The Lost Child and The Silent Girls. Perfect for fans of Erin Kelly, Claire Mackintosh and Tracy Buchanan.

The Forgotten Room

Ann Troup

ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES

Contents

Cover

Blurb Can the past ever be forgotten? As soon as nurse Maura Lyle sets foot inside the foreboding Essen Grange, she feels shivers ripple down her spine. And the sense of unease only increases when she meets her new patient, Gordon Henderson. Drawn into the Henderson family’s tangled web of secrets and betrayals, Maura can ignore the danger lurking behind every door no longer. Even the door she has been forbidden from opening… Essen Grange is a house with dark and cruel intentions. But now that darkness has turned on her, can Maura escape before it’s too late? The chilling new novel from the bestselling author of The Lost Child and The Silent Girls. Perfect for fans of Erin Kelly, Claire Mackintosh and Tracy Buchanan.

Title Page The Forgotten Room Ann Troup ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES

Author Bio ANN TROUP The Forgotten Room is Ann’s third book, following on from The Lost Child and The Silent Girls . She lives in Devon near the sea and spends her time either writing or dabbling with art. To see what she’s getting up to next, follow her on Twitter – @TroupAnn – or Facebook – @anntroupauthor .

Acknowledgements This book has taken its time coming into the world because sometimes life has other, less pleasant, plans. It wouldn’t have got here at all if it wasn’t for the kind support of my fellow HQ’ers, so a special shout-out to them for keeping me going. As always, a huge thank you to the tireless bloggers for spreading the word, and of course the readers – you make it all worthwhile. Finally, a massive thank you to Charlotte Mursell for stepping in and helping me to see it through to publication.

Dedication For Mum and my boy – never forgotten

Prologue Prologue A clutch of people had gathered to see the breaking of the earth, their breath mingling in the cool morning air where it lingered and collected as a cloud of light mist. They watched as giant metal teeth bit into the ground, tearing it asunder in the name of progress. Some clapped, others thrust their hands deep into their pockets and huffed out stale air in small wet puffs as that thing called progress made its mark on dead land. A single watcher stood firm and still, refusing to show reaction and wondering how long it would be before old, long-extinguished life would be revealed. Her bones had been planted long ago. Her flesh had nourished the earth and made gluttons of the worms while maggots had grown fat on the meat and the memory of her. The watcher wondered if any human remembered her now. If they didn’t, they would soon. The metal teeth were chewing the earth a mere fifty feet from where she lay; it was just a matter of time. When she saw the light of day again she would be greeted with an urgency she had never known in life. They would want to know all about her then. The watcher was sure of it. A glance towards the proud developer, who oozed abundance in his expensive coat, who rubbed his hands in anticipation at what he believed would come. Wealth, recognition, kudos. The watcher smiled with a wry twist of the mouth. The man might as well build his houses out of glass and pray that no one would cast the first stone. It was all as fragile as that. They were standing on a teetering precipice between past and present, on earth as crumbling and friable as that which fell in crumbs and clods from the bucket of the JCB. The watcher turned away and began to walk. All things must come to an end and the peace of Essen Grange would come to an end too. The watcher could feel it and hear it in the grind of the machinery. Everything that was familiar and safe was breathing its last in the screech of metal and gears. The watcher was as broken as the ground that was succumbing to change. Everything had to alter eventually and the bones would mark the beginning.

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

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Extract

Endpages

Copyright

ANN TROUP

The Forgotten Room is Ann’s third book, following on from The Lost Child and The Silent Girls . She lives in Devon near the sea and spends her time either writing or dabbling with art. To see what she’s getting up to next, follow her on Twitter – @TroupAnn– or Facebook – @anntroupauthor.

This book has taken its time coming into the world because sometimes life has other, less pleasant, plans. It wouldn’t have got here at all if it wasn’t for the kind support of my fellow HQ’ers, so a special shout-out to them for keeping me going.

As always, a huge thank you to the tireless bloggers for spreading the word, and of course the readers – you make it all worthwhile.

Finally, a massive thank you to Charlotte Mursell for stepping in and helping me to see it through to publication.

For Mum and my boy – never forgotten

Prologue

A clutch of people had gathered to see the breaking of the earth, their breath mingling in the cool morning air where it lingered and collected as a cloud of light mist. They watched as giant metal teeth bit into the ground, tearing it asunder in the name of progress. Some clapped, others thrust their hands deep into their pockets and huffed out stale air in small wet puffs as that thing called progress made its mark on dead land.

A single watcher stood firm and still, refusing to show reaction and wondering how long it would be before old, long-extinguished life would be revealed. Her bones had been planted long ago. Her flesh had nourished the earth and made gluttons of the worms while maggots had grown fat on the meat and the memory of her. The watcher wondered if any human remembered her now. If they didn’t, they would soon. The metal teeth were chewing the earth a mere fifty feet from where she lay; it was just a matter of time. When she saw the light of day again she would be greeted with an urgency she had never known in life. They would want to know all about her then. The watcher was sure of it.

A glance towards the proud developer, who oozed abundance in his expensive coat, who rubbed his hands in anticipation at what he believed would come. Wealth, recognition, kudos. The watcher smiled with a wry twist of the mouth. The man might as well build his houses out of glass and pray that no one would cast the first stone. It was all as fragile as that. They were standing on a teetering precipice between past and present, on earth as crumbling and friable as that which fell in crumbs and clods from the bucket of the JCB.