Her Deadly Secret: A gripping psychological thriller with twists that will take your breath away. Chris Curran

mother’s voice was gruff. ‘But it was clear they knew. And yet he’s prepared to leave it like that. Didn’t even want me to tell you.’

      Her dad’s eyes were unwavering. ‘Your mother got herself into a bit of a state. And I don’t want you to go through that.’ He looked back at Marion and rested his clawed hand on her knee. ‘It’s past history and digging it up will do more harm than good.’

      For some reason Rosie wanted to cry. Why were they still keeping things from her? What did they have to hide? ‘Is that it? Well then, I’m sorry, Mum. If that’s the best there is …’ She willed him to meet her eyes again, but she might have been invisible. ‘It’s just not enough.’ As she turned there was a whimper from her mother.

      Before she closed the door she heard her father’s voice, not a tremble in it. ‘It’s all right, darling. Let her go.’

       Chapter Eight

       Loretta

      This was the first time Loretta had been able to cook a proper meal for the kids, and eat it with them, for days. The kitchen table was covered with Pearl’s books and papers, and Loretta had to stop herself from moaning that there was no space to unpack the shopping.

      It was her fault, not Pearl’s. The kitchen was too small, with hardly any work surfaces. After her divorce, she and the kids had moved from the rambling old place they all loved to this modern box on a bare new development: the best she could get close to their schools. It was soulless and cramped, but at least it was easy to keep clean.

      As if she knew what her mum was thinking, Pearl began to tidy her things, the coloured beads at the end of her black braids clicking together. Her friend, Jade, had done her hair a couple of weeks ago and Loretta felt a pang when she saw it. She had always been in charge of Pearl’s hair. Doing it in plaits or a stiff little ponytail when she was young. Still, she had to admit it looked good and she’d made a point of telling Pearl so.

      She unloaded the mince and bread, but first, oh yes, a big glass of red wine. She took a gulp then got to work on the garlic and onions. Pearl looked round at the sound of the knife. ‘Spag bol all right, Pearl?’