Tag Archives: murder

The Girl in the Water – Chapter 13

Lesley was still sniffing and tears overflowed now and then from her reddened eyes, she dashed them away with a wadded tissue. They were back at the kitchen table; the phone lay on top, the screen, mercifully darkened. They were trying to draw together the courage to look at the new message. It loomed between them as the next horror in this procession of dreadful happenings. Jean had given her sister a quick verbal account of the strange messages and assured her over and over that she had no idea what they meant. She picked up the phone and glanced across the small space. “Ready.” Neither of them was ready for what was to come but they knew there was no choice.

It was a video file. They clasped hands and Jean, her jaw set, face pale, tried to steel herself. They struggled with thoughts of ghastly films of beheadings and murders and yet they had to look. It was unbearable, but they had to bear it.

“Jean, wait.” Lesley reached out, “We should just call the police.”

“They said we shouldn’t.”

“But we don’t even know who they are. We don’t know what they want or anything. This isn’t something that we can handle. I don’t think I can do this. I’m too scared”

“I’ll do it. I’ll do it on my own. Do you want me to go through to the living room? You stay here?”

“Yes. No, no. Oh look, just do it. Just play it.”

After the video had played, the sisters sat in silence. Eventually Jean spoke. “I don’t know what to do. There’s nothing I can say.”

Lesley pressed the button to replay the short film. Occasionally a small branch would obscure a corner of the screen but apart from that, the picture was clear. In it Jean crouched on the muddy bank of the canal. Her head was lowered but the camera they had used was of high quality, it zoomed onto her face. The girl was partly laid in Jean’s lap, the water spread and soaked into her dirty trousers as she stroked at the sodden hair. This was the scene depicted just as she remembered it. It was obvious from the film that Jean was speaking, she bent now and again near to the girls face, her lips moved and she stroked the pale cheek.

Text scrolled across the screen. All I want to know is what she told you. Tell me what she said and the boy will be released unharmed. No Police.

“What do you mean you can’t. Of course you can. Shit Jean you have no choice, this is Carl. Just tell them what she said and this can all be over. You didn’t know her, you don’t know them, it doesn’t matter what it is, what it means. That’s not our concern. Just tell them and let me have my boy back. I can’t believe I am even having to say this to you.

“No, no. That’s not it. I can’t tell them what she said because she didn’t say anything.”

“How do you mean?”

“She was dead. She was dead when I dragged her out.”

“But you were talking to her. You weren’t trying to do mouth to mouth, you weren’t struggling to save her or anything, you were just talking to her.”

Jean shook her head. “I wasn’t. Well yes, I suppose I was, but she couldn’t hear me. I didn’t do any mouth to mouth or anything because I knew she was dead. Her eyes were empty, I knew, I just knew.”

“So, why were you talking to her?”

“Because I felt so very sorry. She had died alone in the water, at least I thought she had up to then. I was so very sorry and I wanted to try and make it better. I wanted to offer some comfort.”

“To a dead girl?”

“Yes, to a dead girl.”

“You said there was a picture of you pushing her in?”

“Yes, but I didn’t. You can’t think for a minute that I did that. It was fake.”

“And this, is this fake?”

“No, I don’t think it is. It’s not fake exactly but it’s not true either.”

“So, make me understand?”

“How can I do that when I don’t understand it myself?”

“Try – just try.”

“Lesley, I haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t know who the girl is or was, I had nothing to do with what happened to her. You must know that. And she didn’t say anything. The picture of me pushing her in was to scare me I suppose. It did as well, I was really worried that it might be posted on the internet, just imagine what people would say, what they would think. Now that doesn’t matter, not with what has happened since. But whoever is doing this can’t have known about Carl, they can’t have known that I would call him. Maybe they just thought they would scare me, threaten me, try to find out what she said using that picture and the break in and all of that. But then Carl came along and… “she stopped.

Tears filled her eyes there was so much that she didn’t know and so much that she was afraid of. Lesley was already on the edge of panic. She wondered if she realised that they might be, being watched, that maybe they were all in danger. And if they were, then there was nothing she could do because she had nothing to bargain with. She didn’t know how to put these thoughts into words and so she gave up and sat in silence staring at her sister, her heart torn with guilt, fear and confusion.


Filed under Serials, Serials, Shorts and Stuff

The Girl in the Water – Chapter 2

“Do you want me to arrange for a car to take you home?” The police sergeant laid his hand gently on Jean’s shoulder.

“No, thanks Bob. I think I’d rather walk. I’ll just go back the way I came. It’ll give me a moment to collect myself.”

“Are you sure, Jean?”

“Yes, I am thanks. How’s Eileen?”

“Oh fine, she’s fine. Made a chocolate cake for the WI meeting. Wouldn’t let me have any.”

“Ha, quite right too.” As she spoke, Jean poked at Bob Rather’s bulging jacket.”

He glanced down and grinned. “Aye well. Look are you sure you’re alright. You’ve had a nasty shock.”

“Yes, it was. The poor, poor girl. But honestly. I think I’ll just walk back. Will you need to come and see me later, or will it be someone else?”

“Oh, I’ll come. It’s just a formality you know that. Just so we have it all down. What happened and so on. Well you know the drill, with all that research you do. Be a couple of hours I should think.”

“Well, I’ll be there Bob. I’m sorry I pulled her out, I realise it wasn’t the sensible thing to do but I couldn’t just leave her there, not in that cold, dirty water.”

“Don’t you worry about it, anyone would have done the same. It’s just a shame that it was too late. No, don’t you worry about it, not for a minute. Come on, get yourself off home, have some sweet tea, for the shock you know.” He gave her a final wan smile and then turned to go back and join the growing crowd on the canal bank. A plastic tent was being erected. There were blue lights flashing against the darkening grey sky and a small crowd of onlookers gathering on the bridge, peering over, though there was little for them to see now.


Surprisingly, the rain had blown through and Jean pushed back the hood of her jacket and strode away from the hubbub.  There were many more people around, most of them heading towards the bridge and the fuss. It irritated her a little, they could do nothing, no-one could do anything, it was all too late. But then people were drawn to drama and she shouldn’t judge. In fact, she knew that if that wasn’t the case then her books wouldn’t have even the modest sales that they did have. She knew that writing crime fiction was pandering to the ghoul in the average person. She felt a pang of guilt, her characters grew and lived and died in the strange passages of her brain and her imagination and no-one was hurt and no-one had the hideous job of telling the relatives what had happened.

She wondered if that task would fall to Bob. Well, if it did she knew him to be a kind and sympathetic soul. It was hard though, wasn’t it? surely having to perform that sort of duty would impact his days for a while to come. And so, her active writer’s mind was off on its way, down the tangents and by-ways that she travelled mentally and that she then stored up for the next story, or the next.

A jogger was moving along the bank at quite a pace towards her and barely had she registered his presence but he was just a few yards away. She heard him breathing, heard the pound of his feet, dull thuds on the damp soil.

She held up a hand, shook her head. At first it seemed that he would simply swerve around her and carry on but, frowning now, a little irritated, he began to slow.

“I’m sorry, you won’t be able to get past.”

“How do you mean?” He had ceased the forward movement but was still shifting, not exactly running on the spot but moving his legs and jigging back and forth in front of her. “The police are there. They have the tow path blocked off. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, what’s happened then?”

She shook her head. She wasn’t one to court drama and shock in real life, she saved that for the hours in front of her computer. “An incident I suppose they’d call it. Anyway, I’m afraid you won’t be able to get past.”

He nodded at her, “Okay, thanks then. Thanks.”

He moved aside to let her carry on. As she walked away she was aware of him watching her. When she reached the bend, she turned and glanced back and he was in the same place as before, his hands on his hips but otherwise still. Their eyes met and held for a moment and then he looked away towards the bridge and the crowd. When she reached the gate in the fence she turned again and he was walking slowly along the bank behind her, in the direction that he had originally come. His jog was ruined she supposed.


She pushed the door closed behind her and dragged off her jacket, brushing at the mud on the hem at the back. She’d hang it in the conservatory to dry. “I’m back Slumpy.” The fat ginger cat appeared from behind the kitchen door, licking his lips. She bent and picked him up and cuddled him close. The warmth of him, the low reverberation of his purr and just the pure living sense of him was a real comfort. Now that she was home she allowed herself to give way to just a few tears. Sadness for the young life lost, sadness for her own part in the dreadful business and a little for the withdrawal of adrenalin that had held her together until she was back in her own space.

She put the cat down and went upstairs to strip off her wet, dirty trousers. She wrapped herself in her dressing gown and then at last was able to pour herself a glass of sherry, a little early, but surely there was no harm in it, under the circumstances.


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The Girl in the Water

‘Ere her limbs frigidly stiffen too rigidly,
Decently, kindly, smooth and compose them,
and her eyes close them.’

The Bridge of Sighs by Thomas Hood.


It had been one of those days. The rain was thin and feeble but enough to soak everything through and cause the gutters to drip, and the windows to be splashed and smeared. Jean had finished her housework and made a few little cakes ready for the WI meeting and now she felt muggy and confined. She peered out of the French doors into the neat little back garden.

The daffodils were ruined, their bright heads splashed with soil, the delicate stems bent or broken. She turned away and walked through to the living room, plumped up a cushion She was bored. She knew what she should be doing but hadn’t the heart for it, not just now. “Oh sod it.” She spoke aloud into the silent house. She had begun talking to herself when James died and the house had been so very quiet, now, it was just a part of who she was and she did it shamelessly and without any sort of worry. There was no-one to hear her, what did it matter?

Back in the hallway she pulled her green waxed jacket from the cupboard and fished out the walking shoes that were stuffed onto the shelf after the last ramblers meeting. As she opened the front door she called upstairs. “I’m going for a walk Slumpy.” The cat didn’t answer, but then he didn’t usually.

It wasn’t cold, though the rain was heavier now, setting in for the night probably. Jean pulled up her hood and turned right into the lane. She would go down by the canal. Already the cool, damp air was making her feel better. She took in a couple of deep lungful’s, glanced at her watch. Half past four. Just time for a brisk pass between two of the bridges, back through the park and then a glass of sherry before dinner. She smiled.

The tow path was puddly but there hadn’t been enough rain yet to turn the walkway into mud. She strode out, setting a good pace, felt her blood begin to course more energetically through her veins, her heart begin to beat just that little bit faster.

There was no-one around, not surprising really, everyone would either be still out at work, or hunched in front of computer screens in their spare bedrooms or garage extensions. She should be doing that herself, she had a deadline after all. She pushed the guilt aside, the exercise and fresh air would clear her mind, perhaps the niggly little plot glitch would resolve itself by the time she went back. She squared her shoulders and breathed yet more deeply.

She was approaching the bend, the first bridge was just beyond and then about a mile to go and she would climb the little flight of steps and turn back on the route. Her limbs were warming, joints loosening.

He shoulders felt stiff, she shrugged and flexed and swung her arms, turned her head back and forth.   The rain was heavier now and the light was grey and miserable, really it would make sense to cut the walk short. She turned and looked across the rain dimpled water. The bank on the other side was sheer and covered in shrubs and weeds. There was a Moorhen hiding in the dripping reeds. She thought there was a car parked beyond the hedge but it was only the glint of light on something shiny, paintwork perhaps, a window or a trick of the watery light on wet foliage. The world was deserted and the thought of her warm home, the glass of sherry and a bit of Mozart before she started dinner was more appealing than this trudge in the wet.

She would cut the walk short, just as far as the first bridge and then the quicker route through the park.

As she turned the corner her life changed, inescapably and in many ways forever.

She gasped.

The body was partly submerged. It was a woman, not much more than a girl. She was dressed in trousers of some sort and a short top which had become bunched up above her breasts revealing a skimpy flowered bra. Her arms were spread wide in the water and it was obvious immediately that she was dead.

Jean wasn’t aware that she was muttering as she ran forward and knelt on the soggy ground. “Oh no, no. Oh please no, be alright. Please be alright. I’m coming, you’re alright.” In truth she understood already, deep down that there was no hope, that the poor soul was beyond help, and that really the correct thing would be to leave her where she was, floating against the bank. But still, she leaned out over the dirty, grey water and pulled at the green fabric until she could get a grip under the cold stiff shoulders and, panting and puffing, hauled the woman out onto the grass.

There was no longer any point pretending, hoping. This girl was absolutely beyond help. Jean flopped back onto her behind. She drew in a deep breath, regained control.

She pulled her mobile phone from her pocket and dialled the emergency number.

While she waited she stroked back the long dark hair. It was too late to worry about disturbing the crime scene, she knew that. As a fiction writer she was well aware of what she should have done, what she shouldn’t have touched, but as a human being she just wanted to show this poor young soul some love, some pointless comfort and a little respect.

She wiped the grey, stiff face with her handkerchief, straightened the skinny legs and folded slender hands over the girl’s flat stomach. Lines from the famous poem ran through her mind, and she tried to decently, kindly smooth and compose the frigid stiffened limbs and did indeed close the blind, staring eyes.

The sound of sirens in the distance stilled her now and she wiped at her own face with the cuff of her sweater. “You poor, poor love. I am so sorry for your pain.” Later when she played and replayed the scene in her head she wondered how she had known, what instinct had told her that there had been pain and not just misfortune.

She shook her head and then pushed to her feet to wave at the police men who had jumped from the car as it screeched to a halt on the narrow bridge.


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The One With No Name

So, you remember that story that we had here that couldn’t decide what it wanted to be called.

Well it decided it wanted to be Twist of Truth and here it is all finished and polished and “out there”

Twist of Truth



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Poor Untitled thing – Nothing Had Changed

Chapter 20

Simon took a step towards the open door, trying to block her view as Gloria leaned to peer past him into the grim interior.  Stephen Hardcastle was slumped against the wall. “What the hell are you doing? How did you get in?”

“Down the back alley, the side gate. It doesn’t matter!”

“I didn’t know there was a back alley.”

She screeched at him, “I said it doesn’t bloody matter – What the hell is this?”

Simon turned his head to glance at the mess behind him, he didn’t know how to begin. In the time he took, Gloria reached out and picked up the butcher’s knife. “No, it’s okay, you don’t need to do that – really you don’t it’s okay.” Fear came from her in waves, fear and anger.

“Okay – how can this be okay?” She had taken several steps into the room by now and was an arm’s length away from where Simon stood, struggling for words.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” He stopped, he sounded ludicrous. He reached a hand towards her. She raised the knife. “Why are you here Gloria, why have you come?”

“You didn’t bring a coat, I watched you walk down the alley and then it began to rain. I brought a coat.” Tears filled her eyes as she spoke to him, she brushed them away with her free hand and glanced around. “You haven’t done anything. You haven’t decorated, where’s all the stuff that you ordered? It’s just the same.”

Any answer that he might make was negated by a bout of coughing from Stephen behind him. Gloria slid past, still holding the knife in front of her. She flicked her glance between the semi-conscious man sagging against the wall and Simon who raised his hands, palms towards her in helplessness and surrender.

She knelt now beside Hardcastle who appeared to be drifting in and out of consciousness. “Bloody hell, what happened to him?” She glanced up.  “He stinks, he’s shit himself. We need to get him to the hospital, we need an ambulance. What happened to his head? He’s got concussion or something.” She reached out to take Stephen’s hand and it was only then that she noticed the cuffs, the chains. “What the hell!” She pulled at them, jangling and shaking the metal links. “My God, what have you done? What the hell have you done?”

“I can explain, I can. I’ll tell you all about it. It’s not what you think.”

“How the hell do you know what I think – Christ even I don’t even know what I think! Who is this, who is this bloke?”

A faint whisper slipped between Stephen’s lips, “Help me, please. Don’t let him kill me, don’t leave me.”

“Shush, shush, it’s okay. Don’t worry I’m not leaving you. I’m going to get you an ambulance.”

“No. No don’t – just take me home. I’ll be okay if you just take me home.” Simon had moved forward to stand beside Gloria, she still gripped the big knife and raised it as she leaned back to peer up at him.

“I can explain Gloria. I was going to take him home. I just needed him to tell me first.”

“Tell you what?”

“Can we talk later? Look I’ll get him home now.”


“What do you mean?”

“How are you going to get him home. Are you going to ring a taxi, are you going to take him on the bus? Look at the state of him.”

“I need a van, I was going to go and…”

“Ah, just going to go and get a van, and some poor sod was going to have his vehicle stolen.”

“Well, I hadn’t expected to be doing this now. Look I know it looks bad, shit it is bad, of course it is but let me try to explain.”

“Tommy, Tommy take me home – please.”

“He’s delirious, he doesn’t know who we are. We really need to get him to the hospital.”

“No, he’s not delirious. It’s me. I’m Tommy. They changed my name, when I came out.”

“Oh, oh okay. Yeah of course they did. So, you’re Tommy – Tommy Fulton or? …”

“Webb, I’m Tommy Webb.” He watched as she sifted through her memory, saw recognition dawn and listened as she whispered his name.

“Tommy Webb – Sandie Webb’s brother.” There was nothing for him to do now but to nod and give her space to let the knowledge sink in.

The silence stretched between them until it was broken by another groan from Hardcastle as he tried to push himself into a more comfortable position.

Gloria turned to him and then spun her head back towards Simon. She jagged the knife at him, go and stand over there. Go and stand in the corner. Does this thing,” She reached and jangled the chain, “have any keys or whatever, how do I get them off him.”

“I’ve got them, here let me.”

“Don’t try anything, I will slash you, just move slowly. Unfasten him.”

“It’s okay, honestly Gloria, it’s okay. I won’t hurt him. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

“Unfasten him then. Unfasten him and then take those stinking clothes off him.

“Right, right. Okay.”

The job was nasty and difficult for them all but in the end Stephen was laid on top of the blankets with towels wrapped around him. The blood had been wiped from his face and though he still shook with tremors he was calm.

Simon kicked the wet and stinking clothes in towards the wall. “No, pick em up.”


“Pick those up and stick em in that plastic bag.”

“There’s no need. I can sort them out later.”

“Either pick them up now or you’re going to have to sit in that mess.”

Simon shook his head, his face creased in puzzlement until Gloria’s plan became clear. “Sit in the…  No, look Gloria there’s no need. Honestly I promise I won’t hurt you, I won’t hurt him.”

She jagged the knife at him, “Move the mess and then sit down. Give me the keys for those things, what are they, shackles? Cuffs? Anyway it doesn’t matter, just give me the keys.” He held them out towards her.

“You don’t need to, really.” But as he spoke he kicked the things together and then, bundled them into a bag.

“Sit down.” He turned and began to speak again but as she stood before him, her legs braced and the knife held at arm’s length he just shook his head and lowered to the floor.

“Right, put those things on your feet.” He clicked on the shackles. She threw the key to him, “Lock them.”

“Gloria, please. Look I promise I’ll stay here, I won’t move unless you tell me to.” She stopped, began to take stock of the whole situation. She realised that leaning towards him and forcing his hands into the cuffs and then locking them afterwards was going to be too dangerous and probably impossible for her to achieve.

He saw confusion now in her eyes and the wrinkle of the skin on her brow. “Gloria, let me help you, let me help you get him home.” She glanced down at Stephen, the bulk of him, his semi-conscious state.

“Okay, okay.” My car is in the road. Where is the key for this place?”

“It’s here in my pocket.” She held out her hand.

Her choices were limited but the main thing was to get help for the sick man. “I’m going to get the car.” She ran from the room now and the two men heard the locks thumping into place. Hardcastle whimpered, now that he was alone with Simon, the fear resurging.

“It’s alright Stephen, you’ve been bloody lucky. She’ll help you now.”

He could take her. He could hide behind the door and when she came back in, he could have her in a heartbeat but Simon sat on the floor and listened as her car rumbled into the yard. He waited until Gloria came back, holding the knife before her, a hammer from the car’s toolbox another weapon in her other hand.

She kicked open the door and let it bounce against the wall and only when she saw that he was still on the floor did she move into the room.

“Right let’s get him to the hospital. Help me take him to the car.”

“No, not the hospital. I don’t want to go to the hospital.” Hardcastle knew the hospital would involve the police and he obviously wanted to avoid it at all costs. “Take me home.”

“You can’t go home.” She turned her head, “Who is it, what’s his name?”

“Stephen, Stephen Hardcastle.”

“Look Stephen you can’t go home. Tell you what, why don’t I take you back to my place.”

“Yes, oh yes please.” He reached out and gripped her hand, he was obviously becoming stronger and at the end of the day it was his choice.

“Okay, come on let’s get you in the car. We’ll go back to my place. Come on Simon, give me a hand, but I’ve still got this, and I’ll use it.” She waved the knife in the air in front of her.

“It’s okay Gloria, I promise. It’s okay. I’ll help you now.”


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Bus Stop – Chapter 59


Thanks as always for the support with this work.  I have taken it down now as it is with the Publisher awaiting a decision.

If you have read the serial and missed the last few episodes do get in touch and I’l arrange to send you the final chapters.


Thanks again and fingers crossed that it makes the cut.




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Bread and Chicken

The pain was indescribable. First had been shock, then horror, then endless moments of disbelief and now all that was left was pain.

When she had found the body, seen the blood and the wreckage her mind was crystal. She had registered the crimson dripping from the back of the sofa onto the pale boards, pooling and slipping slowly to the skirting where it ran in a narrow river, slowly, slowly as the life force left him. She had seen Steve’s pale, pale face and the dreadful, ghastly black burn marks around the bullet hole all sharp and focused. Then there had been the scream, like nothing she had ever heard before, a high keening screech of sound whirling away from her until she realised that it came from her own throat, from the deepest darkest part of her soul. Once it registered that it came from her she had stopped it, turned it off in an instant and fallen towards him, his body.

Now though, how much later? Impossible to tell, she was divorced from it, there was noise and movement all around her. Police, paramedics even the landlord had muscled in on the scene.

“No he hadn’t heard anything, not even the gunshot. No, he hadn’t seen anything. No, he didn’t know anything.” Well why the hell was he there then, the thought forced itself into her agonised reality. Bloody landlord never there when the toilet blocked or the rats scuttered around the bins but there now, his eyes popping and his chest swelling with self importance. Had he been there earlier, well probably but it didn’t matter now, he wouldn’t meet her eyes though. May he rot in hell for his part in this.

They had known that there was a risk of this happening, they had been told not to come here to this lawless place but they were young and indestructible and nothing could happen to them could it.

A soft voice at her shoulder brought her back from the void, “We’re taking him now. Is there anywhere you can go, somewhere you can stay. You can’t stay here , we have a lot to do, work you know.”

“What, go no. I don’t know anyone, there’s nowhere. We were only here for a month, I…” The ability to speak left her as the gurney with the sheet covered body was wheeled past the chair and on towards the door. “No, no wait.” The paramedics stopped, looking back over their shoulders at the blonde in the chair. “Please, I have to, I need to see him.” The tears soaked her cheeks as they threw the sheet back from his face. He was sleeping, it was all a mistake, he was pale yes, but surely, surely he was just sleeping. Stretching out a hand she touched his cooling cheek, no not sleeping.

“Do you have any idea who might have done this?” What a ludicrous question, ridiculous. She turned the full force of her anguished gaze on the policemen. How could they all pretend, how can you help people who blind themselves to the truth.

Shaking her head almost imperceptibly she reached out to grab her bag and the camera case. “Wait, we have questions, you need to stay, you need to help us.” The raised voice was white noise as she slammed from the flat and hurtled down the stairs. There was no way anyone was going to help her she knew that. They had been fully aware when they came here that they were on their own, that was what had made the whole thing so attractive, tempting. They were vigilantes weren’t they, crusaders. No, not they, there was no they now, now it was just her only her against the whole rotten corrupt state because she had gone out for bread hadn’t she. Just bread, they wanted hot bread to eat with their chicken and so she had gone.

That was when they had come and shot him, and she was left alone now, left to fight on without him but it had been so close, so very close and so she knew that she had been spared for a reason. Not for bread and chicken but for the fight and so she would fight on alone, for Steve and for the victims and in recognition of the hand of fate.

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My Best Seller is free on Amazon from today

Who Follows :-


A passing glance leads to obsession in this dark story of love, loneliness and secrets.

From the very first glance nothing is as it seems. Lies and obsession lurk beneath the surface and as the relationships develop disaster seems inevitable.


Just a few of the reviews on Amazon

Format:Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase
This is a terrific, gripping, page-turning novella with twists and turns at each chapter. The unusualness of the story keeps it interesting and the lead character is scary and creepy, yet you find yourself rooting for her even as you learn more and more about her. And then, halfway through, everything changes. Horror, emotion and then more horror. You never know what’s going to happen next. At points I was so involved in the story, and so tense, I found myself shouting “No! Don’t do it!” at the book. Great stuff. Highly recommended.
5.0 out of 5 stars Creepy and gripping 26 Feb 2012
Format:Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase
I read the book in less than 24 hours. Every time I thought I knew where the story was going there was another twist, taking the plot in a different direction. I did not like the main character, who also narrates the first part of the story, but I still could not stop reading. Worth reading
4.0 out of 5 stars Who follows. 4 July 2012
Format:Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase
I read this when I should have been working but couldn’t put it down. I love the slow way it opens with just the casual hint of the way her new partner would have to change her ways as they begin to live together. At once the character is sweet and diffident yet with subtle overtones of unspeakable cruelty. Loved it.
Also available in paperback.

Also available in paperback.

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Today’s freebie

A dark and awful story – free for another two days on Amazon.


Free for Kindle and Kindle Apps - go on click on the Angel !

Free for Kindle and Kindle Apps – go on click on the Angel !

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The Grave Promotion at Amazon

Samuel is  reclusive, He visits town rarely and mixes with no-one until the day he buys Sylvie a drink.  The results of the encounter are tragic, life changing  and dreadful.  Samuel knows that he must get away from his present situation and Sylvie is swept along with him.  As the relationship between them deepens Samuel's shadowy past is the biggest threat to any sort of future.

Samuel is reclusive, He visits town rarely and mixes with no-one until the day he buys Sylvie a drink. The results of the encounter are tragic, life changing and dreadful. Samuel knows that he must get away from his present situation and Sylvie is swept along with him. As the relationship between them deepens Samuel’s shadowy past is the biggest threat to any sort of future.


The Grave  and  Amazon.com


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