But Mariana had her own recovery to worry about.
She couldn’t stomach the thought of speaking to Zoe again. It made her feel sick. She simply couldn’t bear it.
It wasn’t a question of forgiveness. That wasn’t something Mariana could decide on, anyway. Ruth always said that forgiveness could not be coerced—it was experienced spontaneously, as an act of grace, appearing only when a person was ready.
And Mariana was not ready. She wasn’t sure she ever would be.
She felt such anger, such hurt. If she ever saw Zoe again, she didn’t know what she might say or do; she certainly wouldn’t be responsible for her actions. Better keep away, and leave Zoe to her fate.
Mariana visited Fred a few times, though, while he was in the hospital. She felt a responsibility to Fred, and a gratitude. He had saved her life, after all; she’d never forget that. He was weak at first, unable to talk—but had a smile on his face the whole time Mariana was there. They sat together in friendly silence, and Mariana thought how odd it was, how comfortable and familiar she felt with him—this man she barely knew. It was too soon to say if anything might ever happen between them. But she no longer dismissed it quite so out of hand.
She was feeling very differently about everything, these days.
It were as if every single thing Mariana had ever known, or believed in, or trusted, had fallen away—leaving just an empty, vacant space. She existed in this limbo of emptiness, which lasted for weeks, then months …
Until, one day, she received a letter from Theo.
* * *
In his letter, Theo asked Mariana once again to reconsider her refusal to visit Zoe. He wrote insightfully about Zoe, with great empathy, before turning his attention to Mariana.
I can’t help but feel it might benefit you as much as her—and provide you with some kind of closure. I know it won’t be pleasant, but I think it might help. I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been through. Zoe is beginning to open up more—and I’m deeply disturbed by the secret world she shared with your late husband. I’m hearing things that are truly frightening. And I must say, Mariana, I think you’re extremely lucky to be alive.
Theo finished by saying this:
I know it’s not easy. But all I ask is that you consider, on some level, that she is a victim too.
That phrase made Mariana very angry. She tore up the letter, and threw it in the bin.
But that night, as she lay in bed and shut her eyes—a face appeared in her mind. Not the face of Sebastian, or her father’s face—but the face of a little girl.
A small, frightened girl of six.
Zoe’s face.
What happened to her? What had been done to that child? What did she endure—right under Mariana’s nose—in the shadows, in the wings, just behind the scenes?
Mariana had failed Zoe. She had failed to protect her—she had failed even to see—and she must take responsibility for that.
How had she been so blind? She needed to know. She had to understand. She had to confront it. She had to face it—
Or she would go mad.
Which is why, one snowy February morning, Mariana ended up making her way to North London, to Edgware hospital—and to the Grove. Theo was waiting for her in the reception. He greeted her warmly.
“I never thought I’d see you here,” he said. “Funny, the way things turn out.”
“Yes, I suppose it is.”
Theo led her through security and along the dilapidated corridors of the unit. As they walked, he warned Mariana that Zoe would be distinctly different from when she last saw her.
“Zoe’s extremely unwell, Mariana. You’ll find her quite changed. I think you should prepare yourself.”
“I see.”
“I’m so glad you came. It will really help. She speaks of you often, you know. She frequently requests to see you.”
Mariana didn’t reply. Theo gave her a sidelong look.
“Look, I know this can’t be easy,” he said. “I don’t expect you to feel in any way benign toward her.”
I don’t, Mariana thought.
Theo seemed to read her mind. He nodded. “I understand. I know she tried to hurt you.”
“She tried to kill me, Theo.”
“I don’t think it’s quite that simple, Mariana.” Theo hesitated. “He tried to kill you. She was merely his proxy. His puppet. She was entirely controlled by him. But that was only part of her, you know—in another part of her mind, she still loves you—and needs you.”
Mariana was feeling increasingly apprehensive. Coming here had been a mistake. She wasn’t ready to see Zoe; wasn’t ready for how it would make her feel—and what she might say, or do.
As they reached his office, Theo nodded at another door at the end of the corridor.
“Zoe’s in the recreation room, through there. She doesn’t tend to socialize with the others, but we always make her join them during free periods.” He glanced at his watch and frowned. “I’m so sorry—would you mind waiting a couple of minutes? There’s another patient I must see in my office for a moment. Then I’ll facilitate a meeting between you and Zoe.”
Before Mariana could reply, Theo gestured at the long wooden bench against the wall outside his office. “Won’t you sit down?”
Mariana nodded. “Thanks.”
Theo opened his office door. And through the open doorway, Mariana glimpsed a beautiful, red-haired woman sitting, waiting, staring out the barred window, at the gray sky outside. The woman turned and looked warily at Theo as he entered the room and shut the door behind him.
Mariana glanced at the bench. But she didn’t sit down. Instead, she kept going. She walked up to the door at the end of the corridor.
She stopped outside it. She hesitated.
Then she reached out, turned the handle—
And went inside.
Acknowledgments
I wrote most of this book during the COVID-19 pandemic. I was so grateful to have something to focus on during those long months, living on my own in lockdown in London. And I was grateful to be able to escape from my flat to this world in my head—partly real, partly imagined, an exercise in nostalgia—an attempt to revisit my youth and a place that I love.
It was also nostalgia for a certain kind of novel, for the books that entranced me as a teenager: the detective story, the mystery, whodunnit, or what you will. So my first acknowledgment is the immense debt of gratitude I owe to these classic crime writers, all women, who have given me such inspiration and joy over the years. This novel is my fond homage to them: to Agatha Christie, Dorothy L. Sayers, Ngaio Marsh, Margaret Millar, Margery Allingham, Josephine Tey, P. D. James, and Ruth Rendell.
It’s no secret that writing a second novel is a very different beast compared to a debut. The Silent Patient was written in a state of complete isolation, with no audience in mind and nothing to lose. That book changed my life and expanded it exponentially. With The Maidens, on the other hand, I felt a good deal more pressure; however, I was not alone this time—there was a small village of incredibly talented and brilliant people around me, giving me support and advice. There are too many people to thank, so I hope I don’t leave anyone out.
I must begin by thanking my agent, and dear friend, Sam Copeland, for being such a rock, and a source of wisdom and humor and kindness. Likewise, I’m so grateful for the brilliant and dedicated team at Rogers, Coleridge & White—Peter Straus, Stephen Edwards, Tristan Kendrick, Sam Coates, Katharina Volckmer, and Honor Spreckley, to name but a few.
Creatively, working on the edit of this book was the most enjoyable professional experience I’ve ever had. I learned so much. And my heartfelt thanks goes to my fantastic U.S. editor, Ryan Doherty, at Celadon; and in London, the equally talented Emad Akhtar and Katie Espiner at Orion. I had so much fun working with you all, and I’m thankful for your brilliant help. I hope we can work together forever.
Thank-you to Hal Jensen, for the incredibly detailed and helpful notes, as well
as for your friendship, putting up with me endlessly obsessing about this bloody book. Thank-you to Nedie Antoniades, for all the support and for talking me off the ledge numerous times; I rely on you so much, and I’m truly grateful. Likewise, Ivan Fernandez Soto—thank you for St. Lucy and all the other ideas, and for letting me bounce these crazy plot twists off you for the past three years. And a big thanks to Uma Thurman, for all the great notes and suggestions and the home-cooked meals in New York. I’ll always be grateful. And Diane Medak, thanks for your friendship and support and for letting me stay forever. I can’t wait to come back.
To Professor Adrian Poole, the best teacher I ever had—thanks for such useful comments, and for your help with the Ancient Greek; and for inspiring my love of the tragedies in the first place. Also thank-you to Trinity College, Cambridge, for welcoming me back so warmly and providing the inspiration for St. Christopher’s College.
Thank-you to all my wonderful friends at Celadon—I can’t imagine my life without you. Jamie Raab and Deb Futter, I’m eternally grateful to you—and thank you for all your help. Rachel Chou and Christine Mykityshyn—you’re both so brilliant, and so much of the success of the last book was down to you. Thank you. Also to Cecily van Buren-Freedman—your comments really improved the book and I’m very grateful. Also at Celadon, thank-you to Anne Twomey, Jennifer Jackson, Jaime Noven, Anna Belle Hindenlang, Clay Smith, Randi Kramer, Heather Orlando-Jerabek, Rebecca Ritchey, and Lauren Dooley. And thanks to Will Staehle for such a fantastic cover, and Jeremy Pink for getting everything done in such record time. Also a big thank-you to the Macmillan sales team—you guys are absolutely the best!
At Orion and Hachette, I would like to thank David Shelley for all the support. I’ve felt so encouraged and championed by you; I am so grateful. Also thank-you to Sarah Benton, Maura Wilding, Lynsey Sutherland, Jen Wilson, Esther Waters, Victoria Laws—thanks for your fantastic work! And thank you, Emma Mitchell and FMCM, for the publicity.
A special thank-you also to María Fasce in Madrid, for your insightful and useful notes—and also your encouragement.
Thanks, Christine Michaelides—for the help with the descriptions. Ninety percent of it didn’t make it into the book, but I learned something at least! Thanks to Emily Holt for your helpful notes and for being so encouraging. Also, Vicky Holt and my father, George Michaelides, for your support.
And a big thank-you to the fabulous Katie Haines. Once again, working with you is such a delight. I can’t wait until we can go to the theater again.
Thank-you to Tiffany Gassouk, for making me so welcome in Paris while I was writing there, and for giving me such great encouragement. Also thank-you to Tony Parsons, for the pep talks and the support. I’m really grateful. Thank-you also to Anita Baumann, Emily Koch, and Hannah Beckerman for the encouragement and helpful advice. And Katie Marsh, kind friend, for your constant encouragement. Also thanks to the National Portrait Gallery, for showing me the picture of young Tennyson. And to Kam Sangha, for your surname. Last but not least, thank-you to David Fraser.
Founded in 2017, Celadon Books, a division of
Macmillan Publishers, publishes a highly curated list
of twenty to twenty-five new titles a year. The list of
both fiction and nonfiction is eclectic and focuses
on publishing commercial and literary books and
discovering and nurturing talent.
ALSO BY ALEX MICHAELIDES
The Silent Patient
About the Author
Alex Michaelides was born and raised in Cyprus. He has an M.A. in English literature from Trinity College, Cambridge University, and an M.A. in screenwriting from the American Film Institute in Los Angeles. His first novel, The Silent Patient, spent more than a year on the New York Times bestseller list and sold in a record-breaking fifty countries. He lives in London. You can sign up for email updates here.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Part Two
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Part Three
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Part Four
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Part Five
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Part Six
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Also by Alex Michaelides
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE MAIDENS. Copyright © 2021 by Astramare Limited. All rights reserved. For information, address Celadon Books, a Division of Macmillan Publishers, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.
www.celadonbooks.com
Cover design by Will Staehle
Cover photographs from Shutterstock: bust by ded pixto; cracks by mbond77; landscape by Lysogor Roman
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Michaelides, Alex, 1977– author.
Title: The maidens / Alex Michaelides.
Description: First Edition. | New York, NY: Celadon Books, 2021.
Identifiers: LCCN 2020057506 | ISBN 9781250304452 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781250792969 (international, sold outside the U.S., subject to rights availability) | ISBN 9781250304476 (ebook)
Classification: LCC PR6113.I2645 M35 2021 | DDC 823/.92—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020057506
eISBN 9781250304476
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at [email protected].
First U.S. Edition: 2021
First International Edition: 2021
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