I Lie in Wait: A gripping new psychological crime thriller perfect for fans of Ruth Ware!

by Amanda Brittany

  ‘This was all in ruins when I was here last,’ Caroline said.

  Finn nodded. ‘Michael Collis had it renovated. He occasionally rents the front section out for wedding and parties.’ Finn shone his torch towards the windows. ‘But not today,’ he continued, moving the beam across the building, rays of light bouncing off the glass. ‘Some say they have seen a face at one of the windows, when nobody is in there,’ Finn continued, his accent giving his storytelling an eerie feel. He brought the torch down and rested it under his chin, and Amelia jumped and clasped her hand to her mouth to prevent an escaping laugh.

  ‘Over one hundred years ago, a young boy was locked in his bedroom by his mother. His mother fell down the stairs and broke her neck, leaving the boy alone. By the time they were both found, the boy had starved to death.’

  ‘Oh God, that’s awful,’ Amelia said, her laugh evaporating.

  ‘The mother has been seen roaming the grounds, looking for her son.’

  ‘Christ, this is way too freaky,’ Lark said. ‘Mum, can I go back now? I’m never going to sleep tonight.’ It was an odd thing for her to say. Nothing normally scared Lark.

  ‘Chicken!’ Jackson said. He grabbed Lark from behind and began tickling her waist.

  ‘Stop,’ she cried, a painful laugh escaping. ‘Stop, Jackson, please.’

  Amelia stared as Lark fell to the ground, and he toppled down on top of her. Her mum rarely got angry, but now her eyes narrowed and her fists were clenched. There was an awkward tension as Jackson clambered to his feet. ‘Stop teasing Lark,’ her mum whispered close to his ear. ‘Please.’

  Amelia offered her hand to help Lark up, but she didn’t take it, her face flushed as she jumped to her feet and straightened her clothes. The moment was odd and uncomfortable – something wasn’t right.

  Lark hurried towards Finn, who had moved away, her dad beside him, asking in a loud voice about the bird life in the area as though nothing had happened. Amelia looked over at her mum once more, wanting to take her in her arms and squeeze, but she didn’t – too afraid of making too much of the last few minutes. This was meant to be so perfect, but was far from it. What the hell did her mum see in Jackson?

  They all followed Finn, and as they rounded the other side of the building, the ruins came back in view.

  ‘Who lives down there?’ Amelia said, pointing down a steep slope at a large farmhouse some distance away. A porch light was on, but otherwise the place was in darkness.

  ‘Michael Collis, the estate’s owner,’ Finn said. ‘But I’m pretty sure he’s away right now. He turned towards the woods. ‘Right, let’s go,’ he said, his torch beam picking out the twisting trees with branches like witches’ fingers. The heavy moon hung low in the sky, and the wind whistled through the forest. Amelia shuddered. This really wasn’t her idea of fun.

  It was as they all set off in front of her, disappearing into the wood, that Amelia looked down the hill one last time. Her heart jumped into her throat. Someone was sitting on a bench at the foot of the hill, the moon picking out her fair hair. Was it a young woman? A child? It was impossible to tell. But whoever was down there, she was now staring up at Amelia.

  Amelia raced to catch up with everyone else. She wanted to return to her cottage, but over her shoulder the thick darkness was eerie, like swirling black smoke, and trees sighed and swayed in the wind. There was no turning back alone.

  Shadows ignited by the beam from Finn’s torch gave the illusion of movement of something in the trees. It was as if ghosts were watching them, conjured by their human presence – angry their peace was being disturbed.

  Finn continued down a well-used path, pushing through brambles, everyone keeping up – except Lark.

  Amelia hung back for a moment, waiting for her, wanting to attempt to bond with her estranged sister. Why had they drifted so far apart? They had been close when they were younger, the gap of thirteen years never a problem. Amelia had adored her little sister when she was a child. Been like a second mum.

  ‘So what have you been watching lately?’ Amelia began, feeling her cheeks flush as she realised how far removed she was from the teenage scene. At thirty, words she’d used in her teens, clothes she’d worn, even some of the music she’d listened to, were obsolete now.

  ‘Watching?’

  Amelia could barely see her sister in the darkness, struggled to work out her expression. Was it amusement? Apathy? Anger?

  ‘On TV? Netflix? At the cinema?’

  ‘Anything by Stephen King.’

  ‘You’re braver than I am. The trailer for It Chapter Two freaked me out.’ Amelia wasn’t a lover of clowns – or masks – or anything creepy come to that. ‘There’s no way I could watch the film.’

  ‘You’ve always been a baby,’ Lark said, her voice dull, as though bored of their conversation.

  ‘You’re not wrong there.’ On cue a small animal darted across their path – and Amelia leapt inches from the ground, and grabbed her chest. ‘What the hell was that?’

  Lark laughed. ‘A cat, I think. Or maybe a fox.’

  Well at least she’d made her sister laugh; even if it was at her own expense.

  They continued through the darkness.

  ‘I’m guessing you know already, I’m not going to university next year,’ Lark said.

  ‘Yeah, Dad told me. Will it be a gap year? Do you hope to go one day?’

  ‘Maybe.’ She shrugged. ‘Truth is, I’m feeling pretty naff right now.’

  Amelia touched her arm. ‘We’ll get through this, Lark.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I guess so. Anyway, I’m doing some café work for now. I just feel in limbo somehow. I know it sounds awful, but I feel as if I want Mum to die so I can get the whole grieving thing over with and get on with my life.’

  Amelia’s eyes widened, shocked at her sister’s harsh words.

  Lark came to a stop, looking ahead. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Amelia, I don’t want Mum to die. I’d give anything to reverse the bloody cancer, for them to find a miracle cure. But it isn’t going to happen, is it? And waiting around to lose her is fucking killing me. God I sound crazy, wrong, weird … sorry.’

  ‘I understand.’ Amelia sort of did. They were in a bubble, limbo, knowing the worst was going to happen, knowing they couldn’t stop it. ‘But it will be far worse when she’s gone, Lark. We need to make the most of the time we have left.’

  ‘Are you two coming?’ Finn called to Amelia and Lark, shining his torch towards them standing in the middle of the path. ‘You need to keep up. It’s easy to get lost around here.’

  Amelia grabbed Lark’s hand and they hurried towards him.

  ‘There was an abbey on this land long before Drummondale House was built,’ Finn said as they reached the group. ‘A grey lady roams the wood, and some have seen the apparition of a monk.’

  ‘This is so boring,’ Lark whispered from behind her hand. ‘I sometimes feel I don’t know Mum at all.’

  ‘It’s not my thing either, really.’ Amelia felt a brief connection with her sister. Though she wasn’t bored, more apprehensive and on full alert.

  They walked in a huddle, before reaching the far end of the wood where they gathered on the cliff edge. The moon gave the sea that stretched out in front of them a metallic, mesmerising glow. Amelia leaned forward, and glanced down at the rough waves crashing against jagged rocks below.

  ‘Careful!’ Finn cried, lunging forward to grab her hand as she took another step into a mist rising from the sea. Her foot slipped on the loose stones, and there was a collective gasp.

  ‘You were nearly history,’ Finn said, pulling her to safety.

  ‘Are you OK, love?’ her dad said, stepping forward, and putting a comforting arm around her shoulders, and she nodded.

  ‘Tomorrow, if it’s a clear day,’ Finn carried on, as though she hadn’t almost plummeted to her death, ‘keep a lookout for bottlenose dolphins in the Moray Firth. They’re a magical sight as they play together in the ocean.’ He
shone the torch out to sea. ‘There are limestone caves below us. And there’s a great project along the coast at Covesea where they’re examining the archaeology of this area.’

  Amelia smiled. There was a lot more to Finn than she’d first realised.

  Chapter 13

  A Year Ago

  Ruth

  Ruth pushed her trolley full of towels down the winding path towards Bluebell Cottage, the shriek of its squeaky wheels echoing in the darkness. She’d seen her guests head off on the ghost walk. They wouldn’t be back for a while.

  This cottage was the biggest dwelling on the estate, and Ruth always thought the prettiest, charming in a chocolate-box kind of way. Flowers always bloomed so much better near the ruins.

  She opened the door with one of her keys. She liked that she had so many jangling on her belt; it made her feel important. She picked up four of the fluffy white towels she’d so lovingly washed earlier.

  As she entered the cottage, adrenalin fizzed through her veins. It was naughty. She should have put the towels in the cottages prior to everyone’s arrival. But then if she had, she wouldn’t have a reason to enter now, would she? She wouldn’t be able to get to know her visitors. And she must get to know them.

  The front door led straight into the square lounge, and Ruth reached for the light switch with her free hand, flicked the switch, and illuminated the room. She wasn’t interested in downstairs. Her guests rarely left any part of their personalities in the lower rooms.

  Upstairs, she padded into the double bedroom, put on the light, and placed two towels neatly at the foot of the floral duvet. The smell of Jackson’s expensive aftershave made her feel a little giddy. He was quite the catch – Caroline was a lucky woman.

  She stepped towards the wardrobe. His jeans hung on the door, and she slowly moved her hand over the fabric, before turning to observe the room.

  The couple’s cases were open on the floor, Caroline’s clothes folded neatly inside one; Jackson’s spilling from the other onto the carpet. She knelt down. Caroline’s peacock-blue cashmere jumper felt soft under her fingertips; her headscarf smelt freshly washed.

  Headscarf in her hand, she stood up, noticing Caroline’s chestnut-brown wig on the dresser, lying there like roadkill. She dropped the scarf back into the case and headed over.

  Sitting in front of the mirror she observed her reflection. Her face wasn’t particularly lined. It was more her jowls that gave her age away – much like her hands. She picked up the wig and pulled it on, tucking her greying ponytail up inside.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing, Ruth?’ she asked her reflection, hearing her mother’s voice in hers. ‘You look ridiculous.’

  She snatched off the wig, her own hair falling free. ‘Stupid girl,’ she muttered, looking away from the mirror, and rising.

  As she was about to leave the bedroom she spotted a thick pale-blue journal on the bedside table. She padded over and read on the cover the words: Caroline’s Journey.

  She picked it up, lowered herself onto the bed, and opened it. Caroline’s writing swirled and curled on the pages. Notes about visits to hospital with Jackson by her side, how awful she’d felt after chemotherapy, how worried she was about Lark, how she missed Amelia so far away in London. There was no doubting from her words how much she loved Jackson, but Ruth could feel in the words Caroline’s sadness that Robert was no longer in her life. There were lots of mentions too of her best friend Rosamund – a dream come true that she’s back in my life.

  The final entry in the book was labelled ‘My Last Holiday’ but there were no words there – not yet. Ruth closed the book, rose, and left the room.

  She made her way into Lark’s bedroom, where she placed two towels at the foot of the girl’s bed, and ran her hand gently over the cotton fabric of the pyjamas folded neatly on the pillow.

  ‘Sleep well, my dear girl. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.’

  Three Stephen King novels were stacked on the bedside cabinet next to a half-empty can of cola.

  A make-up bag on the dressing table caught her eye. She padded across the room, glancing at the door every few seconds, before unzipping it. Inside she found eyeliner, a tube of pale foundation, red lipstick.

  She picked up the lipstick and smeared it over her thin lips. ‘Tart,’ she said, and dashed it away with a tissue.

  Lacy underwear spilled out of an open drawer. Ruth went to slam it shut, but noticed a small cardboard box. She pulled it out. ‘Diazepam?’ she whispered reading the label. ‘Why the need for antidepressants, dear girl?’

  *

  Back outside in the cool evening air, the door locked behind her, Ruth noticed lights on inside Honeysuckle Cottage. Finn clearly hadn’t tempted everyone on his ghost walk.

  She walked over, towels in her arms, and knocked on the door. Within seconds it flew open. It was the American woman.

  ‘Hey, Ruth.’

  ‘Maddie,’ Ruth said. ‘I’ve brought you some towels.’ She liked to remember her guests’ names. Tried to memorise them. Connecting their names with something memorable. Maddie – Mad – Crazy American woman. Jackson – Jack the Lad. Lark – a beautiful bird trapped in a cage, desperate to be free …

  ‘Thanks so much,’ Maddie said, taking the towels from her, and burying her face in them. ‘They smell amazing. You’re so kind.’ With that she closed the door.

  ‘You don’t know me,’ Ruth muttered into the quiet night, as she turned back to her trolley. ‘How do you know I’m kind? You don’t know me at all.’

  She tucked a tendril of flyaway hair behind her ear, and headed back to her cottage, the squeak of the wheels grating on her nerves. Finn would need to oil them. Thank goodness she had Finn.

  Chapter 14

  A Year Ago

  Amelia

  They made their way back through the forest. ‘So this is where our final ghost roams,’ Finn began. ‘She—’

  ‘So, have you seen any of these ghosts?’ Lark cut in from a few steps behind. ‘I mean what are you basing all this crap on?’

  He looked over his shoulder, slowing his pace. ‘If I’m honest, I’ve never seen a ghost,’ he said. ‘But many people have.’

  ‘Who exactly?’

  ‘Visitors mainly, and my mum reckons she’s seen a spirit.’

  ‘Gin or vodka?’ She laughs.

  ‘Mum doesn’t drink, Lark.’ His tone was harsh. He took a deep breath. ‘You really are a piece of work, aren’t you?’

  She shrugged. ‘I aim to please.’

  ‘My mother’s seen the ghost, I was about to tell you about before you rudely interrupted.’ He glared back at Lark, and she shrugged again, kicked the dusty mud beneath her feet as she walked.

  ‘A teenage girl who lost her life on Vine Hill is said to wander here.’

  ‘That’s awful, so tragic,’ Amelia said. ‘Do you know who she was?’

  ‘My sister.’ His tone was even, his eyes looking ahead. ‘Ever since I was small, my mum’s said she sees her.’

  ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. I barely remember her. I was only three when she died.’ He turned to look at Amelia, his eyes wide. ‘It happened a very long time ago, and if I’m honest I don’t like the thought of her roaming here, never have.’

  He looked about him, as though searching for her, before picking up speed, and Amelia dropped behind with her mum, Lark and Jackson some steps behind them.

  ‘Did you enjoy the walk, Mum?’ Amelia said, noticing how weak her mum looked.

  ‘Yes, although I’m a bit tired now.’ She sounded breathless. ‘I’ll sleep well tonight, I expect.’

  An owl hooted in the distance, and Amelia grabbed her chest. ‘I’m not sure I will,’ she said with a laugh.

  ‘I thought we might have a picnic tomorrow, if the weather holds. Ruth will prepare one for us. We can head for the nearest beach with Rosamund and her family – they’ll be arriving first thing.’

  ‘Really? You never said.’


  ‘I wasn’t sure if she would come, so didn’t want to mention it before I was sure. But I had a text from her earlier. They’ll be here in the morning.’ She paused. ‘I hope that’s OK.’

  ‘Of course it is, if that’s what you want.’

  ‘It is, yes. I can’t wait to see her.’

  As they pushed through some brambles, Amelia caught her hand on a thorn and winced. Her mum grabbed a clean tissue from her pocket, took hold of Amelia’s hand, and pressed the tissue gently against the small tear in her daughter’s skin. ‘There you go,’ she said with a smile, and for a moment Amelia was transported back to her childhood.

  ‘Almost there,’ Finn called from up ahead, where he was walking with Robert.

  Amelia glanced back over her shoulder. Lark had fallen behind, and Jackson was running towards her. He stopped when he reached her, and took hold of her hand as though trying to speed her up. She snatched it away. What is it with those two?

  ‘You’ll like Rosamund,’ her mum said. ‘I used to work with her a long time ago.’

  ‘Yes, I remember.’

  ‘Just round the next bend,’ Finn called. He was a fair way ahead of them now.

  Five minutes later they finally reached the ruin.

  ‘And that’s a wrap, folks,’ Finn said, flashing the torch towards Amelia and her mum emerging from the forest. ‘Where’s Jackson and Lark?’

  They waited and waited, Amelia’s eyes flicking over the wooded area.

  ‘Oh for goodness’ sake,’ her mum said. ‘I’ll call Jackson.’ She rummaged in her pocket for her phone, and looked at the screen. ‘I haven’t got a signal,’ she said. ‘Oh God, where can they be?’

  ‘They can’t be far,’ Amelia said, as her dad hurried over.

  ‘You look tired, Caroline,’ he said.

  Amelia nodded. ‘Let me walk you back to your cottage, Mum. Then the rest of us can look for them. They’ve probably taken a wrong turn or something, that’s all. I’m sure they’re fine.’