Helen Phifer - The Good Sisters - The perfect scary read to curl up with this winter

Praise

Book List

Title Page

Copyright

Author Bio

Dedication

Acknowledgements

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

Excerpt

Endpages

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Kate Parker pushed her sunglasses on top of her head and stood with her hands on her slender hips, admiring the building in front of her. It was huge, old, a complete wreck – and all hers. This was going to be her home for the foreseeable future, hopefully for ever. The acre of land surrounding the building was overgrown and neglected, but there was a lot of potential. The one thing that Kate had always had since she was a child was vision. She knew that this sad, unloved building – once the work had been completed – would make an amazing, boutique bed and breakfast, as well as the perfect home for her daughters.

‘What do you think, Amy? Does it meet with your approval? I hope so because I’m going to be investing everything that you left to me, and every penny I get from the prick when the divorce is finalised, and turning it into our dream.’

Her voice echoed, then fell flat in the clearing and she had to blink back the tears. Amy – her best friend, who had been the sister she’d never had – had also shared this dream with her. Ever since they’d met fifteen years ago this had been their plan. She would have loved it. They had spent the last two years before Amy had been diagnosed with terminal cancer looking for the perfect property to renovate, but had never found one that quite ticked all the boxes or was within their price range.

The pain in her heart always took her by surprise, the grief a sharp sting that would take her breath away. It was so ironic that now Amy was no longer here, and Kate was on her own, she now had enough money to buy this property. She’d heard about it from one of the girls at the estate agents where she used to work before her perfect life had been washed away from under her feet.

Sam had phoned her up the same day that she’d been asked to visit and make a valuation ready to put it on the market. Luckily for her Sam hated Kate’s ex-husband Martin – who owned the estate agents – almost as much as Kate did. She had come and picked Kate up, driving her to view the property. They hadn’t been able to go inside because it was boarded up at every door and window, but Kate had fallen in love with its Gothic structure, large arched windows and overgrown, neglected grounds.

Sam had handed the owners’ details to Kate and told her she would give it a few days before she rang them back to double check they wanted Parker’s Estate Agents to go ahead and market it. Kate had phoned the owners the minute she got back to her cramped, one-bedroomed flat and told them she was prepared to make them a cash offer, saving them the extortionate estate agents’ fees, if they agreed on a private sale.

Not only did the owners agree there and then that she could buy it, they told her they would accept her offer, which was a substantial amount lower than the three hundred thousand they had told Sam they were looking for. Now six weeks later she was the proud owner of the house and not only had she got it for a bargain but she had also managed to swipe it from under her greedy, soon to be ex-husband’s feet. She didn’t know what was more fulfilling: getting the property before he did or the fact that she was about to make her lifelong dream come true.

The sound of tyres crunching along the gravel broke her trance and she turned to see the battered grey van that belonged to the cowboy heading towards her. Amy had nicknamed him the cowboy because of his love of checked shirts, faded jeans and rigger boots. Oliver Nealee worked for Martin at the estate agents doing all his property maintenance, and Kate was hoping she could convince him to take over the project management for the renovations on the house. She didn’t know any other builders, he was always such a polite, funny, hard-working man and she knew she could trust him. It was probably the meanest nickname anyone could call him – the cowboy – but it just suited him.

He parked behind her, narrowly missing her pushbike, which she’d left discarded in the long grass, and she had to grab it and drag it away from the front tyres. He swung his legs out of the van and for the first time ever she caught a glimpse of his tanned, muscled calves. The denim shorts he had on were faded just like his jeans always were.

‘Sorry, Kate, I didn’t see your bike there.’

‘My fault, I just dumped it when I got here.’

He looked at her and she hoped he wasn’t thinking what a mess she was. Her blonde cropped hair was badly in need of a cut. She wasn’t wearing any make-up and since she’d left Martin she hadn’t bothered to keep up with the Botox and fillers – all the money she’d spent the last three years trying to look much younger than her forty-five years and he’d still had an affair with the office junior who was twenty-three.

‘It’s been a while. How are you? You look great.’

She began to laugh and felt her cheeks burn. ‘Always such a gentleman. I’m okay, thanks. I know I’ve looked better, but I have no one to please now so I don’t bother.’

‘Well you look lovely. I think you look better than you have in a while.’

There was a pause. She hoped he wasn’t going to mention her drinking. She didn’t drink as much as she used to when she was with Martin. She knew one day she would be brave enough to try and stop. In fact she was so excited at the thought of getting her life back on track she had decided to try and cut it down once she moved into her new house. It wasn’t something she was proud of and until now she hadn’t had much reason to stop. Martin had taken her job, home, children and life away from her, leaving her with nothing. Who could blame her for drowning her sorrows in a bottle or two of wine every night?

‘So what’s all this about then? Dragging me away from unblocking a toilet for Martin?’

‘I see he still has you doing all his glamorous jobs then? I wanted to know if you would help me – well not help me, I mean work for me. I’ll pay you more than what he pays you. I need someone to sort this out for me and I’d like it to be you.’

He looked around the building and the grounds then whistled. ‘That’s some restoration project you have there, Kate. It’s going to be a big, messy job and it won’t be cheap. I can tell you that without going inside and taking a look. Are you sure you want to do this?’

Kate stared at the house – her house – then turned and glanced at the gardens before looking him straight in the eye.

‘I can live without modern conveniences. I already have been in the crappy flat that I’m living in now. What I can’t live without is this house. I can’t explain how it makes me feel. I actually tingle inside when I look at it. I’ve never really believed in fate, but I truly believe that this house is supposed to belong to me. I knew it the very first moment I set eyes on it. And if not driving a fancy car or having my nails manicured or my hair cut and coloured every month means that I can afford to renovate it, then those are just a few of the sacrifices that I’m willing to make. So yes, I’m sure I want to do this. Do you think it’s really bad? I haven’t even been inside, but I got it for a complete bargain after I fell in love with it. It’s the only time I’ve ever felt love at first sight. Would you be able to take the board off so we can get in the front door and take a look around it?’