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KATHLEEN MCGURL lives near the sea in Bournemouth, UK, with her husband and elderly tabby cat. She has two sons who are now grown up and have left home. She began her writing career creating short stories, and sold dozens to women’s magazines in the UK and Australia. Then she got side-tracked onto family history research – which led eventually to writing novels with genealogy themes. She has always been fascinated by the past, and the ways in which the past can influence the present, and enjoys exploring these links in her novels.
When not writing or working at her full-time job in IT, she likes to go out running. She also adores mountains and is never happier than when striding across the Lake District fells, following a route from a Wainwright guidebook.
You can find out more at her website: http://kathleenmcgurl.com/, or follow her on Twitter: @KathMcGurl.
‘I simply didn’t want to leave this book down’
‘A delicious delightful story’
‘One of the best books I’ve ever read’
‘A lovely story’
‘Brilliant from start to finish’
‘A real page turner, and a thoroughly enjoyable read’
The Emerald Comb
The Daughters of Red Hill Hall
The Girl from Ballymor
The Drowned Village
The Forgotten Secret
The Stationmaster’s Daughter
The Pearl Locket
KATHLEEN McGURL
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in September 2015
Copyright © Kathleen McGurl
Kathleen McGurl asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © May 2020 ISBN: 9781474027984
Version: 2020-03-09
Table of Contents
About the Author
Readers Love The Pearl Locket
Also by Kathleen McGurl
Chapter 1: July–August 2014
Chapter 2: January 1944
Chapter 3: August 2014
Chapter 4: January 1944
Chapter 5: September 2014
Chapter 6: January 1944
Chapter 7: October 2014
Chapter 8: January 1944
Chapter 9: October 2014
Chapter 10: February 1944
Chapter 11: October 2014
Chapter 12: February 1944
Chapter 13: October 2014
Chapter 14: April 1944
Chapter 15: October 2014
Chapter 16: April 1944
Chapter 17: October 2014
Chapter 18: June 1944
Chapter 19: November 2014
Chapter 20: June 1944
Chapter 21: July 1944–May 1945
Chapter 22: November 2014
Chapter 23: November 2014
Chapter 24: December 2014
About the Publisher
‘So, this is it,’ Ali said, gazing up at the house. ‘It’s smaller than I remember. But I was just a child when I was last here.’ She had only vague memories of being here before—muddled images of an imposing, double-fronted art-deco-style house, with bay windows, a large garden and, best of all, the beach just a couple of minutes’ walk away. It had been her spinster great-aunt’s house, and the childless Betty had left it to Ali in her will.
‘Smaller?’ said her husband, Pete. ‘It’s huge! Well, compared with everywhere else we’ve ever lived.’
Ali nodded. She couldn’t argue with that. But the size didn’t matter, as she was going to put the house on the market immediately. They had no intention of living in it. ‘I suppose we should have a look round inside, now that we’re here.’
‘Well, that was the point of the visit,’ Pete said, smiling. He took Ali’s hand and led her to the front door. She was grateful for the gesture of support. It was strange being here. Although the house now belonged to her, it didn’t feel like it did.