My new thriller The Best Friend is now available!!
They say to keep
your friends close and your enemies closer . . . Wrong.
Louisa’s new best
friend has it all – the house, the status, the money – but she’s also hiding a dark secret. And, as Louisa is drawn deeper
into her friend’s life, events take a chilling turn . . .
Here's a sneak peek...
It’s
him again. And I’m pretty sure he’s following me. I mean, I can’t be a hundred
percent sure, but I’ve seen him here three times already this week, and he was
there at the corner shop on Monday, and yesterday at the garage.
‘Mummy,’
Joe says, tugging on my arm. ‘Mrs Landry said my picture was the best in the
class.’
‘Wow,’
I say, taking his small, sweaty hand in mine. ‘That’s fantastic.’
‘Well,
maybe not the best in the class,’ he amends. ‘But she said it was really good.’
Joe lets go of my hand again and leaps into the tempting pile of yellow and
brown leaves that has drifted up against the school fence. He stamps his feet,
a grin on his face, enjoying the crackle and crunch of autumn.
The
man is about a hundred yards away, on the other side of the road. He has a
scruffy, sandy beard and he’s wearing one of those awful sea-captain-type hats.
He looks like a tramp, but I don’t think he can be very old. I’m sure he’s not
a parent because I’ve never seen him with a child. Maybe I should report him.
‘Don’t
go running out of sight,’ I call, as Joe spies one of his friends up ahead and
abandons the pile of leaves.
‘I
won’t!’ he yells back, his sturdy legs stomping off down the pavement.
The
man has dropped a little further away from me now, but he’s still there. I know
it. My skin prickles. I feel his eyes on my back, but I curb the urge to turn and double check. I don’t want him to know
I’ve noticed him. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. He probably lives somewhere
around here. He could be just an eccentric millionaire or something.
‘Joe!’
I yell. ‘Wait for me at the bottom of the hill!’ I stride a little faster,
squinting in the late afternoon sunshine. I should’ve worn my sunglasses.
Joe
has stopped. He’s chatting to a tall blond-haired boy on a silver scooter. My
heart lifts knowing he’s managed to make friends quickly. He’s only been at
Cerne Manor Prep school for two weeks, but it feels like he’s been here
forever. He already loves it. Jared was right – this place is perfect for him.
Okay, it costs an arm and a leg, and we’ll be skint
forever – finding the termly school fees is going to be a challenge, but Joe is
the happiest he’s ever been, and that’s what matters.
‘Who’s
this?’ I ask Joe, finally catching him up.
‘Tyler.
He’s in my class.’
‘Hi,
Tyler. Where’s your mum?’ I ask.
He
points behind me, up the hill. ‘Talking to her friends, as usual,’ he says,
rolling his eyes.
I
swivel my head to see a group of glamorous mums clustered around a white
four-wheel drive vehicle. They’re laughing and chatting in a haze of colourful
dresses, scarves, shawls and bangles. That’s the other thing about starting a
new school – it’s almost worse for the parents. I’m the new mum on the block
and I don’t feel quite up to talking to them today. My nail varnish is chipped
and I’m sure I must seem dowdy in my jeans and plain blue shirt. My four-year-old
niece, Megan, comes here, too, but she finishes half-an-hour earlier than Joe,
so I never get to see her or my sister, Beth, at school pick-up, which is a
shame. It would be nice to have someone to chat with. To not feel quite so much
of a newbie.
‘Well,
it was nice to meet you, Tyler,’ I say. ‘Have a lovely evening.’
‘You,
too,’ he says, politely.
Joe
takes my hand again, and we cross the road. I steal a glance behind me, and
sure enough, the man is still there, following slowly at a distance, his head
down. Joe and I turn left down a side-road.
‘Okay,
Joe,’ I say. ‘How about you and I have a little race?’
‘I
thought your knee was bad,’ he says. ‘When I wanted you to come on the
trampoline yesterday, you said―’
‘Well,
my knee is bad,’ I say, feeling the
joint twinge in anticipation. ‘But it’s probably okay enough to run to the end
of the road. Winner gets an ice cream.’ That’s all I have to say to get Joe to
move like there’s a stick of dynamite under him. He’s off. I follow him at a
jog. My knee aches, but I ignore the pain and keep going. If that guy really is
following me, I don’t want him to see where we live. I catch Joe up and we run
along the pavement together until we reach the next road. I let him win by a
head.
‘Yessss!’
He pumps his little fist into the air.
‘Let’s
cross over,’ I say, taking his hand.
My
heart drops as I turn and see the man at the end of the road. He’s speeding up
now. Not quite jogging, but walking pretty fast. I can hear my heart beating,
whether from the run or from anxiousness, I can’t tell. Should I call someone?
The police? Jared? And say what? No. It’ll be okay. Joe and I can lose him.
We’ll have another “race”.
Joe
and I cross the road. There’s no one else around, other than a few cars
whizzing past far too quickly – late for school pick-up, no doubt.
‘Okay,’
I say. ‘Ready, steady . . .’ He’s off
again, his rucksack banging against his back, his feet slapping the pavement. I
limp along behind him, my poor knee clicking and grinding.
‘Does
that mean I get two ice creams?’ he asks
when I finally catch him up again.
‘Only
if you want to be sick.’
‘I
won’t be. I could have two different flavours. One for dinner, one for
pudding.’
I
take his hand and we turn into another side road.
‘This
isn’t the way,’ he says.
‘We’re
going a different way, today,’ I say. We jog across the road and turn right and
then left. I throw another glance behind us, but I can’t see the man anymore.
The sun has dipped behind the houses and a couple of street lamps flicker on. I shiver, even though I’m warm after our
exertions.
Finally,
we leave the side streets behind and come to Penn Hill Avenue. It’s busier
here and so Joe and I head towards the crossing. Joe is still chattering away,
but I’m too preoccupied to pay him any proper attention. I usually love our
walk home. It’s a chance to catch up on everything he’s done that day. A chance
to chat without the distractions of TV or video games. But that creepy guy has
unnerved me.
The
green man flashes at the crossing and we stride across the road, leaving the
leafy glamour of Lower Parkstone and heading through narrower streets to our
characterful four-bedroom house at the top of the hill. My knee is throbbing. I
can’t wait to get in and sit down with a cup of tea.
‘Mummy,
do you want another race?’
‘You
go ahead. I’ll time you. See if you can reach home before I count to ten.’
My phone
pings. I pull it out of my bag and swipe the screen to see a new text message,
number unknown:
Hi Louisa! Darcy here – Tyler’s mom. I got your number from the class list.
Wondered if you guys wanted to come over after school tomorrow.
Tyler can’t
stop talking about Joe. We can have a cuppa while they play xxx
I text her
back:
That
would be lovely. Thank you.
Can you text me your address? Louisa X
I
smile. Maybe the mums here aren’t as snobby as I first imagined.
Even
better, I haven’t spotted that creepy man again. I’m starting to feel a little
silly for worrying about him. Why on earth would I have a stalker? What would
anyone want with me?
The Best Friend is now available on Kindle and in paperback.
