Adele Parks - I Invited Her In - The new domestic psychological thriller from Sunday Times bestselling author Adele Parks

Also by Adele Parks

Playing Away

Game Over

Larger Than Life

The Other Woman’s Shoes

Still Thinking Of You

Husbands

Young Wives’ Tales

Happy Families (Quick Read)

Tell Me Something

Love Lies

Men I’ve Loved Before

About Last Night

Whatever It Takes

The State We’re In

Spare Brides

If You Go Away

The Stranger In My Home

The Image Of You

Short story collections

Love Is A Journey

Copyright

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018

Copyright © Adele Parks 2018

Adele Parks 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.

Ebook Edition © September 2018 ISBN: 9780008284626

PRAISE FOR ADELE PARKS

‘Gripping, twisty and heartbreaking, this standout story is a triumph’ Isabelle Broom, Heat

‘Unpredictable and gripping until the end’

The Lady

‘The plot twists and turns . . . the reader is left frantic to know how it’s going to work out’

Woman

‘Twisty, unputdownable and utterly engrossing’

Jenny Colgan

‘The secrets, lies and suspense kept me engrossed’

Daily Mail

‘Convincing, sensitive and rich with emotional intimacy’

Daily Express

Contents

Cover

Also by Adele Parks

Title Page

Copyright

PRAISE

Prologue

1. Melanie

2. Abigail

3. Melanie

4. Abigail

5. Melanie

6. Abigail

7. Melanie

8. Abigail

9. Melanie

10. Abigail

11. Melanie

12. Abigail

13. Melanie

14. Abigail

15. Melanie

16. Abigail

17. Melanie

18. Ben

19. Melanie

20. Abigail

21. Melanie

22. Ben

23. Melanie

24. Melanie

25. Abigail

26. Ben

27. Melanie

28. Abigail

29. Melanie

30. Melanie

31. Melanie

32. Melanie

33. Ben

34. Melanie

35. Melanie

36. Abigail

37. Melanie

38. Ben

39. Tanya

40. Abigail

41. Ben

42. Melanie

43. Melanie

44. Melanie

45. Melanie

46. Abigail

47. Ben

48. Melanie

49. Melanie

50. Ben

51. Abigail

52. Melanie

53. Liam

54. Melanie

55. Abigail

56. Melanie

57. Abigail

58. Melanie

59. Tanya

60. Ben

61. Melanie

62. Abigail

63. Melanie

64. Tanya

65. Melanie

66. Liam

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

Questions for Discussion

Extract

About the Publisher

Prologue

Becoming a Single Mum, for the first time, is like someone has just thrown you out of a car that’s travelling at high speed on a motorway. Door flung open, a gush of blustery, sharp wind, a mean, forceful shove and there you are, face down on the tarmac in the middle of the fast lane. You scramble to your feet, cling to your offspring. Both of you are in utter peril.

The thing is, you do not have time to be outraged at the fact you’ve just been shoved out of the car – a car you’d assumed would comfortably, carefully take you on your life’s journey to a destination unspecified but simply and certainly lovely. A future that included a nice home and the active participation of the father — however, no time to dwell. You’re too busy dodging the on-coming traffic.

The cars zoom past – swoosh, whizz, honk – you duck, dive, dart, and dodge. A small Fiat speeds by and the driver winds down the window to shout, ‘Children of single parents are more likely to do badly at school.’ You do not have a crystal ball that would show you the day he picks up his stonking GCSE results, so you panic. Next, a big family saloon (which is basically insulting because it is a big family saloon) drives by. The parents lean out of their windows and yell, in unison, ‘Children who grow up without fathers are more likely to end up unemployed, homeless, or imprisoned, you know?’ You kiss your baby’s head and promise him you won’t let that happen. Vehicle after vehicle speeds by. People are crying out about a new government report that insists kids from lone-parent families are more at risk of poverty, poor health, depression. Other drivers add that they’re also more likely to run away from home, drink, and smoke heavily. Then, finally, a juggernaut of a vehicle tries to flatten you. A paunchy, smug fella wearing a vest top and tattoos toots on his horn then screams, ‘Kids from lone-parent families are more likely to suffer sexual and physical abuse, indulge in drug-taking, fall into crime, have early sex and, finally, complete the circle by becoming teenage parents themselves! You silly bitch!’

Presumably this pillar of society (who farts in his cab) read all this in a tabloid, on a pit-stop in a layby (just after he’d had a wank), so he is now an expert. Everyone is. You cover your baby’s ears. You don’t want him to hear this stuff.

Of course, they have to say, ‘lone–parent’ but since ninety per cent of single families are headed up by mums, it’s clear who is being blamed. Not the absentee father, because that would be too logical, but rather the Boudica who is battling on alone.

It makes my blood fucking boil, it really does. Sorry about my language but sometimes, you know, no other word can do the job.

It seems everyone is out to get you. No one says that you’re a warrior, a Trojan, a veritable saint. Can’t they see these babies, these children, are total miracles – little soldiers in their own right?

Still, no time to ponder. You hop and jump, weave and scurry because your life depends on it. You cling to your child, tight, taut, tense. You’re prepared to lie down in front of one of those cars for him, if you have to, but you know that act of martyrdom would be pointless. What you really must do is stay alive and look after him, no matter what comes hurtling your way.

You just have to look after him.

1

Melanie

Monday 19th February

While the girls are cleaning their teeth I start to stack the dishwasher. It’s too full to take the breakfast pots – I should have put it on last night. There’s nothing I can do about this now, so I finish making up their packed lunches and then have a quick glance at my phone. I’m expecting an email from my area manager about the results of some interviews we held last week. I work in a high street fashion retailer that everyone knows. There’s one in every town. Our branch needs another sales assistant and, as assistant manager, I was asked to sit in on the interviews. Dozens of people applied; we interviewed six. I have a favourite and I’m crossing my fingers she’ll be selected. Unfortunately, I don’t get to make the final decision.