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Informationen zum Autor Hannah Richell was born in Kent and spent her childhood years in Buckinghamshire and Canada. After graduating from the University of Nottingham, she worked in the book publishing and film industries in both London and Sydney. She is a dual citizen of Great Britain and Australia, and currently lives in the South West of England with her family. Richell is the author of international bestsellers Secrets of the Tides (2012), The Shadow Year (2014), The Peacock Summer (2019) and The River Home (2020). Her work has been translated into twenty-one languages. Klappentext Five old friends.One glamping weekend.A storm that will change everything.Gripping, cleverly structured and brimming with secrets and lies, this is a masterclass in narrative tension and a chilling exploration of the ways in which aspiration and anxiety collide. It will keep you guessing until the last page. Leseprobe Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. PROLOGUE The girl stands in the grey morning light, her feet perched at the crumbling cliff edge. Below her, waves smash against jagged rocks, granite shards rising like decaying teeth from the foaming sea. At her back are fear and despair, and his words, urging her on. She tries to distract herself with the details around her. The roar of the ocean. The gusting wind ripping at the bracken. The small, white flowers growing at her feet. The loud, too- fast thump of her heart. Only it’s impossible to focus; she can’t seem to fix anything in her mind. Nothing can compete with his voice – all his ugly words bearing down on her. Do it , he says. What are you waiting for? The ledge shifts beneath her toes. A fragment of earth crumbles and falls, vanishing into the swirling water far below. Carried on the wind, a bird cry rises high and mournful. She lifts her gaze and sees a gull turn in the sky above. Free. Do it now. His voice is louder, closer. Goosebumps rise as if his words curl through the air and graze the back of her neck. What are you waiting for? There is no escape. Nowhere else to go. She closes her eyes and unfurls her arms, stretching them wide as if she too has wings to rise and join the bird hovering above. With a final breath, she launches out into the void. Fall or fly – she no longer cares. DOMINIC Sunday afternoon He has no idea how long he’s been sitting there. There’s no clock in the room, just a table, three chairs and a single, narrow window set high into the wall – too high to offer anything but a glimpse of the blank grey sky outside. It could have been twenty minutes since the police ushered him in and asked him to ‘wait here, please’; it could have been far longer. Dominic knows in moments of heightened stress that seconds can feel like minutes and minutes like hours, though the vending machine cup of tea someone brought him cooled ages ago. He also knows that every time he thinks about what might be happening outside this room, he feels a painful constriction in his chest, a tight band pressing vice- like against his lungs, making breathing hard. He would be more help out there. Not shut away in a hospital consulting room, sitting in his damp clothing, waiting to answer questions – questions he’s certain he won’t have the answers to. But the two detectives had been insistent – he was to assist with their enquiries. Almost, he thinks, as if they suspect him of something. The door opens and Dominic springs from his chair. ‘Any news?’ he asks, his eyes darting from the lead police detective in her grey suit to her burly, blond colleague just behind. ‘Nothing yet I’m afraid, Mr Davies,’ she says. ‘Take a seat please.’ Dominic hesitates. The last thing he wants to do is sit. ‘I think I’d be more use—’ The detective raises her hand. ‘We’ve got a team scouring the site now. As soon as we know anythi...
