by Dawn Goodwin
‘It was you.’
The animal howl that came from him then was guttural and raw. I watched, detached, as he shoved her hard once more. She fell backwards out of the open door and onto the balcony, her feet catching on the door frame. She was flung off balance and stumbled, her arms pinwheeling and her feet pulling her back until she collided with the glass barrier. In one balletic move, she reached out an arm and grabbed onto Sam, her face frozen in shock, and they both disappeared over the barrier onto the beach below.
28
I woke up this morning with a sense before I’d even opened my eyes that everything was different. I lay for a moment enjoying the quiet before slowly opening my eyes and feeling the warmth of a smile on my lips.
Weak sunlight peaked from behind the curtains, but it was still early. I swung myself out of bed and pushed my feet into my slippers. I ran my fingers through my short, pixie-cut hair and began to straighten the duvet and plump the pillows. Only one side needed making. I didn’t seem to move much through the night any more; sleep came easier these days.
I tiptoed past the two closed doors on the landing and down into the kitchen to put the kettle on and fling open the curtains onto the garden. Bo still lay snoring in his bed in the corner. I loved my first cup of tea in the morning when the house was still quiet, before Jack and Lily made their presence felt and the usual chaos began, when it was still just me, the birds in my tiny jungle of a garden and the promise of a new day.
A vase of flowers overpowered the middle of the small dining table in the middle of the room, the scent of the white lilies and roses heady and intoxicating. I read the card again.
Congratulations on the hardback publication day for ‘Cold’. We are behind you 100% and wish you every success. Love the team at Grayson Greene.
The day was finally here. All that work, pain, emotion – it had all come down to this. A copy of my first hardback book sat on the table next to the flowers and I felt tears prick my eyes as I held it reverently, stroking the cover and caressing the pages.
I turned to the dedication on the first page and felt the tears spill over.
For Sam, because he believed in me.
He would’ve loved this. As I flicked through the pages, moments of the story jumped out like the contents of a child’s cartoon flipbook, a brief but painful history that had brought me here to publication day. The irony that it was the story of Sam, Viola and myself that had morphed into the manuscript that secured me a multi-book publishing deal made the moment so much sweeter.
The last page of the story was dedicated to a newspaper article that had run in The Guardian eighteen months ago.
AUTHOR SAM MORTON AND HIS WIFE NAMED IN MURDER SUICIDE
Bestselling author Samuel Morton and his wife, literary agent Viola Matthews, have been named by police as the victims in yesterday’s apparent murder suicide in the Dorset town of Poole. A third victim, named as Katherine Hayes, is still critically ill in hospital.
An altercation took place at Morton’s beach property yesterday, but details of what happened have not been released by the police as yet. However, a source claims that Matthews stabbed Hayes in a fit of rage upon discovering that she was having an affair with Morton. Matthews and Morton then fell to their death from the balcony above the beach.
Hayes was found by the couple’s driver with a stab wound to the abdomen and was rushed to a local hospital.
Forty-year-old Katherine Hayes is an aspiring novelist from Hampton Hill in south-west London and a former student of Morton. It is thought he had been mentoring her as she wrote her debut novel.
Morton was famed for his crime novels, including his arguably most successful novel Muses and Starlings.
As I read the words again, I was back there, in the house, watching their faces as they plunged from the balcony, ice inching up my body and blood seeping into the expensive couch beneath me.
The anger I had felt towards Viola that day had now been replaced with pity. I had had a glimpse of what that indescribable rage had felt like when I had thought about Viola taking Lily. She thought she had lost her daughter because of me and was facing the prospect of me taking her husband too, the only person she had left and who she couldn’t imagine living without. Part of me understood that now.
Footsteps on the stairs pulled me back to the present and I swiped at the tears. Today was not a day for sadness.
Jack and Lily burst into the room, their faces creased with sleep and their hair tangled in knots.
‘Hey, guys, sleep nicely?’
They both wrapped their arms around me. ‘Happy publication day, Mum. We’re really proud of you.’
The tears came again then.
We were still wrapped in our embrace when a soft knock on the front door forced us apart.
‘That’ll be your dad.’
I stepped out of their arms and pulled my gown tighter. The cottage was relatively small, but self-contained and all that Jack, Lily and I needed. It took only a handful of steps to cover the open plan room and reach the front door. Bo got there before I did.
I opened it to find Paul on the front step, a bottle of champagne in one hand.
‘Hey,’ I said with a smile.
He waved the bottle at me. ‘Congratulations!’
I stepped aside for him. ‘Hey, guys, not dressed yet?’ he said to Jack and Lily. ‘We have to get going. Pam has breakfast on the go and I thought we could head out on the bikes afterwards, give your mum some peace today so that she can finish her next bestseller.’
‘It’s not a bestseller yet and I haven’t even checked the reviews for Cold.’
‘Well, I checked Amazon this morning and it’s climbed nicely overnight, so I don’t think you have anything to worry about.’ He turned back to the kids. ‘So go on, get ready.’
They charged back up the stairs while I sipped on my tea, feeling my heart ache with love as I watched them go.
‘I am really proud of you, you know,’ Paul said then, putting the champagne on the table. ‘I know these past eighteen months have been hard and –’ I held up a hand to stop him, but he shook his head and continued – ‘but I am proud and I wish I had supported you back then. I regret it and I’m so pleased we’re in the place we are now. And I’m glad you finally got to tell your side of the story to all of them out there.’
‘Me too. And I’m pleased things are going well with Pam. She’s nice and the kids really like her.’
Awkwardness threatened, but we were saved by my phone buzzing insistently. I looked at the screen and saw the notifications add up as people wished me luck and congratulations over social media.
‘Right, well, I better get these two off. I’ll have them back by 7 p.m. and don’t drink all of that champagne in one go.’ But he was smiling as he said it, his eyes sparkling. ‘Got any plans?’
‘Lunch with Hels, a quiet celebration.’
‘Well, enjoy. You deserve it.’
Quietness descended again as Paul, Jack and Lily left. I closed the door on them, then leant against it, taking in the cosy room in front of me, full of bright colours, fragrant flowers and rows upon rows of bookshelves.
My space. My home. Finally, my life, the way I wanted to live it.
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Acknowledgments
First of all, I’d like to thank my readers, whether new or returning. Those of you who read my debut, The Accident, and enjoyed it enough to see what else I had lurking in my imagination – and those who thought The Pupil looked intriguing enough to give my stori
es a go. I hope this surpasses your expectations and thank you for your support, kind words and enthusiasm. I hope ours is a long friendship, readers.
Secondly, to my brilliant team at Aria, particularly Caroline, Mel, Nikky and Jade, for constantly championing my work and pushing me to explore the darkest depths of my thoughts in order to make the words on the page the best they can be. Also, huge appreciation goes to my agent, the utterly fabulous and always supportive Jo Bell and her team at Bell Lomax Moreton. Jo has spurred me on more than she realises with her ‘you’ve got this’ emails.
Thirdly, my friends have been my anchors of sanity possibly more on this second book than the first, since the wheels have threatened to come off more frequently this time around. You know who you are, ladies – thank you.
To my girls, who are my loudest cheerleaders and happy to tell anyone who will listen that their mum is a writer. Their unquestioning belief in me makes me want to be the best I can be and I couldn’t be prouder of them. I love you, Paige and Erin.
To Geoffrey, my furry confidante and the best dog companion ever, who is a patient listener and never tells me my ideas are daft, even if he’s thinking it. Dog walks with him at my heels have helped to unravel many a plot knot and long may our rambles continue.
And finally, my love and thanks go to Ted, my willing first reader, for all the small, medium and large things he does every day so that I can lock myself away and write stories. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
About Dawn Goodwin
DAWN GOODWIN's career has spanned PR, advertising and publishing. Now, she loves to write about the personalities hiding behind the masks, whether beautiful or ugly.Married, she lives in London with her two daughters and a British bulldog called Geoffrey.
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Addictive Fiction
First published in the United Kingdom in 2018 by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus Ltd
Copyright © Dawn Goodwin, 2018
The moral right of Dawn Goodwin to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN (E) 9781786699640
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