by Jack Jordan
‘Go to hell.’
A tear dropped from his face and onto hers.
‘I love you, Paige. You’ll always be my girl.’
The plaster cast cracked against the side of his head and sent white dust and splinters into the air. He dropped the gun as his hands rushed to protect his head.
Paige grabbed the gun and pulled the trigger.
Her brother’s face vanished before her eyes, and then everything went dark.
EPILOGUE
Paige and Chloe strolled down the path from the holiday home on the Dorset coast, their arms linked, while John and Mary ran ahead, their eyes fixed on the sparkling blue sea.
‘Be careful!’ Chloe called after them, watching them run down the sloping path that led to the sandy beach. They ignored her, too excited to slow down, the backs of their necks white from the sun cream slathered onto them. Jacob let go of Paige’s hand and chased after them, calling for them to wait.
‘Will I ever stop worrying about them?’ Chloe asked her mother.
‘Never. I didn’t stop worrying about you, even when I thought you were dead.’
Their therapists had recommended the summer getaway. The children needed time to play, to be free, before embarking on their next big journey: school.
Greta and Richard had planned to come on the trip to the south coast, but had both fallen ill with the flu. Ryan’s parents had become like her own in the last year; she couldn’t have done this without them.
Maxim had left Jacob outside the hospital when he knew he could do nothing else to save him. After Chloe and Jacob were reunited in the hospital, the media went crazy. Helicopters circled above like vultures and barriers kept the reporters fifty feet from the hospital doors. Following their release from hospital, the family were taken into hiding to recover without the world’s eyes watching through camera lenses.
Paige had been seeing Robin Higgins, the therapist she had fled from. Given her history, she knew why shrinks scared her now. They had examined her for two long years. Robin helped her deal with her addictions, and she had been clean for almost a year. He helped her to work through the memories of the sexual and mental abuse she suffered during her childhood, and to understand how her brain had protected her for so many years by hiding the memories away. Psychogenic Amnesia and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder had forced the memories deep within her psyche, so when she had been released from the institution at the age of eighteen, she’d had no recollection of what had put her there.
If she had remembered what had happened to her, she would have never have let Maxim anywhere near Chloe. Paige still wondered why she hadn’t sensed that her daughter was hidden beneath his floorboards: shouldn’t mother’s intuition have told her something?
Maxim had ruined her life. The childhood abuse had rewired her brain and had distorted her view of the world. Even after she was free of him, she still hadn’t made any friends; she had isolated herself because it was all she knew.
Now he was gone, and the truth was out, she could finally begin to heal. She may not have done the right thing when she had the chance, but she did in the end: Maxim was dead. He couldn’t hurt them anymore.
‘I envy them,’ Chloe said, her red hair dancing in the wind. ‘They have come so far in the last year, and I’m still so stuck.’
‘Children are different, Chloe. They’re more adaptable than adults. And they didn’t face all of the abuse you did. You’ve accomplished much more than you think. You surprise me every day.’
Paige and Chloe had only just stopped sharing a bed at night. Their therapists had decided it was time. Neither of them wanted it, but they both knew deep down that it couldn’t go on forever. They left their bedroom doors open at night, and had their beds facing the doorways, so they could look up and check that the other was still there, that they hadn’t been separated again.
The ASBO tag around Paige’s right ankle had been removed a week before their trip to Dorset. The judge had ordered her to wear it for over six months, and she continued to have monthly blood tests to prove that she wasn’t drinking.
‘How does it feel?’ Paige asked as she looked at her daughter, the sun on her milky skin and the sea breeze playing with her hair. Her hair had been cut to her shoulders, just like she’d wanted all those years ago before she was taken.
My girl is so beautiful.
‘It’s as though I have died and gone to heaven.’
To their left they could see the sprawling cliffs and a ribbon of yellow beach. In front of them was the horizon, where the dark sea stretched out to meet the bright blue sky.
‘Let’s run,’ Paige said.
‘What?’
‘Run in the open, in the breeze, in the sun. You’re free, Chloe. You need to feel it.’
Chloe looked cautious.
‘Come on. I bet I can beat you to the bottom.’
Paige ran down the path, feeling a smile spread across her face. She turned to see Chloe running too with a smile on her face. They ran down the slanted path that zigzagged down the hill until they reached the hot, yellow sand and fell onto their backs, panting and laughing.
‘I told you I’d win.’
‘You got a head start,’ Chloe replied, her chest rising and falling fast.
They looked up at the clear blue sky, and heard the children running towards them. They sat up and greeted them.
‘Sit down and take your shoes off,’ Paige said, patting the sand beside her. ‘You need to feel the sand between your toes.’
Paige and Chloe took off their shoes, and the children copied them, Jacob needing help with his. As they felt the sand between their toes, the children beamed with such surprise that it brought tears to Paige’s eyes.
‘Shall we race to the water?’ Chloe said.
‘You four race, I’ll judge. I’m knackered after winning the last one.’
‘You’re just scared I’ll beat you this time.’ Chloe laughed and got to her feet. ‘Right, you three, ready?’
Paige counted down from three and watched them run down the beach towards the sparkling water.
Maybe I am dead, she thought to herself. Maybe this is heaven.
After a lifetime of misery, she was finally happy. She watched her daughter and three grandchildren run into the cold sea and gasp at the chill; they kicked and splashed water at each other, smiling the entire time.
Paige rested her hand beside her, and looked to the empty space. Ryan should have been with her, witnessing the beauty that she was so lucky to see. That was how she knew that she wasn’t dead; if this was heaven, if it really did exist, he would have been there with them – wasn’t that how heaven worked?
Every night, before she fell asleep, she always had the same thought: If only Ryan hadn’t killed himself, he would have been able to see his daughter again.
She never discovered who it was that Ryan had wanted dead. She liked to think that he had suspected Maxim, that he had got it right, but that he couldn’t go through with killing him. Instead, he had ended his own life, unable to face the cruel world anymore. Sometimes, she worried that perhaps Ryan had killed the wrong man, and then killed himself for the error. She often dreamt that Maxim was responsible for Ryan’s death somehow. But she couldn’t think of that anymore. Maxim was dead – she had stopped him. She was finally free of him: they all were. She had to leave her past behind and focus on the present, her family, their future.
She looked out at Chloe and the children as they splashed about in the water, and realised how lucky she was. Chloe looked to her mother on the beach and beckoned for her to join them, and the children shouted out for her.
Paige wiped her cheeks from tears, got to her feet, and raced towards the water.
Did you enjoy
My Girl ?
Leave a review!
Thank you so much for choosing to read My Girl.
If you enjoyed My Girl, it would be great if you could post a review on Amazon (and if you’re addicted to Goodreads like I am,
a review would be fantastic there too!). We may not judge a book by its cover, but we do judge a book by its reviews. Spreading the word by leaving a review inspires others to choose My Girl as their next read! I would love to hear what you thought of the book. Thank you so much for all of your support!
All the best,
Jack
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
First of all, I would like to thank you for reading this book. By holding this story in your hands, you are helping to make this author’s dream a reality.
Thank you to Averill Buchanan for your editorial help and advice, and for working to a tight deadline – you’re great. Thank you to Sarah Nisbet for your sharp eye for detail when proofreading this book, and for all of your great feedback – you’re a star. Thank you to Emma J Hardy for creating the book cover of my dreams!
I would like to thank all of the amazing book bloggers who helped spread the word about this book, especially Liz Barnsley, who held my hand throughout the process.
I couldn’t have delivered my second book without the undying support and love of my biggest fans: Sandra Yuill, Pamela Jordan, and Luke Holdaway. Thank you for everything. I’d also like to thank everyone else who has inspired me to follow my dreams and never give up.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jack Jordan lives in East Anglia, England. He is an introvert disguised as an extrovert, an intelligent man who can say very unintelligent things, and a self-confessed bibliomaniac with more books than sense.
To find out more about Jack, check for updates on future projects, read some of his social media ramblings or get in touch, visit:
Twitter: www.twitter.com/_JackJordan_
Facebook: www.facebook.com/JackJordanOfficial
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/jackjordan
Instagram: www.instagram.com/JackJordan_author
Website: www.jackjordanofficial.co.uk
If you enjoyed My Girl, read the first chapter of Jack Jordan’s debut thriller…
ANYTHING
FOR HER
ONE
Louise had never wanted her husband to die. Not until he ripped their family apart.
Testicular cancer? Rabies? A fatal fall from a windy clifftop? Lightning strike to his adulterous crotch? She hadn’t decided. All she knew was, once a husband told his wife that he had been having an affair with her younger sister, it was more than acceptable, if not entirely necessary, for his wife to imagine his gruesome death over and over for her own pleasure.
They had argued all night: ever since Michael had confessed to the ten-month affair. Just as she was drifting off to sleep, he divulged.
‘I’ve been sleeping with Denise.’
She instantly forgot to how to breathe.
‘I love you, Louise. I don’t want our marriage to end because of this.’
Her throat constricted. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest.
‘I… I don’t understand.’
‘I’ve been meaning to tell you—’
‘No,’ she turned to face him. ‘Say it again. Look into my eyes and say it again.’
She stared at her husband’s bewitching face, and waited for him to explain that it was a sick prank. He would laugh hysterically as her mouth relaxed into a relieved smirk and she would slap his arm playfully. You really got me for a moment there, Mike!
‘I’ve been having an affair with your sister.’
Michael’s complexion paled as he watched his words sink in.
He was lying – he had to be. Michael wouldn’t do that. Maybe she had fallen asleep; maybe she was having a nightmare. Was it possible for her to feel her heart break while she slept?
Her eyes began to sting with tears. She couldn’t escape the thought of her husband writhing naked on top of her sister, both of them glistening with sweat and panting like excited dogs; she imagined Denise clutching her husband’s buttocks as he slammed into her, while Michael caressed her breast with his hand as the gold wedding ring on his finger cooled her nipple.
Louise got out of bed, rushed to the en-suite, and vomited.
***
After an exhausting night of tears, yelling, apologies, and expletives, they occupied the room in stifling silence, with every word they had spoken echoing in their ears. Louise sat on the end of the bed – the side of their marital bed that she had occupied for twenty years.
She looked out of the window, as the sun rose and began to warm the December frost that sparkled on the London rooftops, and wondered if she would ever be able to look at her husband again without wishing him dead.
Michael stood at the foot of the bed with the facial expression of a scolded child. His bottom lip quivered as he tried to keep the tears at bay.
‘Why, Michael?’ she asked weakly. ‘Why my sister, of all people?’
‘I… I couldn’t handle the secrets any more. I couldn’t handle the distance you put between us. Denise came on to me and I let her.’
‘It seems we all have secrets,’ she replied, her eyes fixed on the window. ‘But don’t worry, my secrets don’t involve fucking your brother.’
They succumbed to the silence again. Louise looked down at the hastily packed suitcase by her feet. She had to escape her new, agonising reality before it killed her.
‘So not only have you destroyed your business, lost all of our money, and destroyed our family, but you’ve decimated our marriage and severed my bond with my sister forever.’
She looked at him with tears in her eyes, a woman too weak to take another knock.
‘I will never forgive myself.’
‘I will never forgive you either.’
Tears ran down her cheeks and reflected the rising sun in their streams.
She stood and reached down for the suitcase handle; fresh tears dropped to the carpet.
‘Please stay. Please stay until we work this out.’
‘I can’t bear to be near you right now,’ she walked to the door. ‘I can’t even look at you.’
She opened the bedroom door while Michael sobbed behind her. In front of her stood their two children.
Ten-year-old Dominic looked startled to see his mother’s worn complexion and bloodshot eyes. His small hands were shaking.
Eighteen-year-old Brooke, a youthful double of her mother, stood next to him; her checks were streaked with dried tears.
Both children looked utterly drained, as though neither of them had slept a wink. They must have listened to every word.
‘I need to go away for a while,’ she said, wiping tears from her face.
‘Can we come with you?’ Dominic asked.
‘No, darling. Mummy needs some time to herself for a few days.’ She knelt down in front of her son; his eyes shimmered with hurt. ‘That doesn’t mean I don’t need you or love you with every part of me. It just means that I need to go away and have a good, long think. Okay?’
‘What have you got to think about?’
‘Not very nice things. But whenever I need cheering up, I’ll think of you.’
‘You promise you’ll come back?’
Tears began to fill his eyes.
‘I promise you, my angel. I’ll be back.’
Louise spread her arms and her son fell into her chest and unfurled his sobs. She held him to her, her heart breaking all over again, and looked up at Brooke.
Our secret did this.
She didn’t need to say it out loud. Brooke knew.
Louise gave her son one last squeeze and a kiss before she got to her feet to stand before her eldest child. She entered into a tight embrace with her and kissed her quickly on the cheek.
‘Be strong,’ she whispered into her daughter’s ear. ‘Be strong for your brother.’
From the top of the South Kensington townhouse, Louise carried the heavy suitcase down each flight of stairs, trying to ignore the approaching steps of her husband, and the children following behind him like his shadow.
‘Don’t go. Please don’t leave me.’
Louise couldn’t trust
herself to reply without crying; she hurried for the last flight of stairs. The suitcase strained her arm and back, but she didn’t care: the sooner she escaped, the better.
When she reached the front door, she stopped in her tracks. Michael stood on the bottom step of the staircase; the children remained at the top. Louise couldn’t take her eyes away from the framed photo hanging proudly by the door for all to see: the photo of her and Michael on their wedding day. Standing next to her was Denise in her maid of honour dress; Michael’s brother, the best man, stood to the right. The four of them were laughing. Their wide grins radiated glee and wedding-day beauty. She had never noticed that Michael and Denise’s eyes were locked, frozen by the click of the camera.
Rage swelled in her chest. Her entire body shook with hate, and her skin flushed hot. She dropped the suitcase with a bang, snatched the photo frame from the wall, and launched it at her husband with a scream. He ducked as it crashed against the wall and exploded into shards of glass and splinters of wood.
Dominic screamed from the top of the stairs and ran out of sight.
Louise looked at the scene, at the mess that her life had become, torn between hurting her husband further and running to his aid. She took her keys from the sideboard, picked up her suitcase, and rushed out of the house, slamming the door behind her. The sound reverberated through the house and sent shudders through those she left behind.
Dive straight into your next thriller: get your copy of Anything for Her on Amazon
Title
Copyright
Dedication
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Nine
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Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
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Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
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Twenty-One