I still can’t believe I didn’t see what was going on next door – Hannah was my pupil and my neighbour, and I wish I could have put a stop to Parkfield’s abuse earlier. But if I feel guilty, Lorna feels utterly wretched. We’ve told her it’s not her fault. He never bullied any of the girls in front of her, so she never suspected a thing. And how could you even begin to accept that the man you once loved was capable of such evil?
Both she and Hannah are getting regular counselling, but I don’t think what they’ve been through is something you can ever get over. Perhaps, one day, you reach a stage where you can learn to live with it, to enjoy those rare moments where you forget it ever happened. Perhaps.
Stephen Parkfield is serving nine years in prison. He will also get life on the sex offender’s register and an indefinite restraining order after he gets out. And of course, he can kiss goodbye to his precious career. Parkfield denied the allegations right up to the point where he was presented with the results of the paternity test for Leo. Then he had no choice but to admit his vile behaviour. Personally, I feel that ninety years would have been too short a sentence.
‘Hey, Lorna, what’s the new family next door like?’ Mel asks, sipping her tea.
‘I haven’t met them yet either,’ I add, also curious about the family who’ve moved into number two. ‘They’ve got a baby, haven’t they?’
‘They seem nice,’ Lorna replies, shrugging her shoulders. ‘Younger than us. Their little boy is a similar age to Leo. Haven’t really spoken to them much. Then again, we never really spoke to the Cliffords either.’
‘I wonder what happened to Jimmy and Rosa,’ Mel muses. The Cliffords moved out of their house the week Parkfield was arrested, and left no forwarding address. None of us has seen or heard from them since. ‘I still can’t believe they were selling drugs in our road,’ Mel adds, dunking a chocolate-chip cookie into her tea.
I give a vague murmur in response, not mentioning the fact that Dom was getting steroids from them. Although Dom has pissed me off, he’s still my husband, still Daisy’s father. I don’t want people gossiping about him. I discovered that Jimmy also supplied the drug used to spike my drink. I’m glad they’ve gone.
‘I doubt we’ll see the Cliffords again,’ Lorna says. ‘I mean, one day they were there, the next they weren’t. I wonder if the police will ever track them down.’
‘I always assumed they owned number two.’ I run a finger around the rim of my mug. ‘Never realised they were renting it. I thought they were loaded.’
‘It’s funny, isn’t it,’ Mel says. ‘You live next door to these people but you never know what’s really going on behind closed doors…’ Her voice trails off as she realises the same could be said for the Parkfields. ‘Sorry, Lorna. Didn’t mean to—’
‘It’s fine, don’t worry about it.’ Lorna waves away Mel’s apology, but her face tightens, closing down.
‘Do we really have to go to this thing this afternoon?’ Mel asks, changing the subject quickly.
‘Yes,’ I reply. ‘We really do. Anyway, play your cards right and you might end up in the paper.’
‘What?’ Lorna and Mel cry in unison.
‘Didn’t you know?’ I say with a smirk. ‘Apparently, the local paper is coming to cover the story.’
True to his word, Martin has invited the neighbours to the great unveiling ceremony of his Lego model of Magnolia Close. We’ve all been issued with strict instructions not to touch anything. Which seems a shame, as Lego is such a lovely tactile toy. But I didn’t really expect anything less.
‘How did Martin manage to get the paper to cover it?’ Mel asks.
‘I have no idea,’ I reply. ‘The ways of Martin Lynham are mysterious and strange.’
‘Well I won’t be going,’ Lorna says. ‘Not if the media are there. I’ve had quite enough of that lot over the past few months.’ As Parkfield was a prominent figure in the local area, there was a fair amount of media attention over his arrest and conviction. Luckily, Lorna was able to keep Hannah’s and Leo’s names out of the papers, thanks to a court order. But it didn’t stop people speculating.
‘You’re not getting out of it, Lorna,’ Mel says. ‘I’ll text you once the journos have gone. If I have to go to the Lego model of joy, you have to go.’
‘Fine,’ Lorna says, rolling her eyes. But I don’t imagine she’ll be there.
‘He still gives me the creeps,’ Mel says.
‘He’s all right,’ I reply. ‘Just a bit lonely. He’s trying to get the new couple at number six to join the Neighbourhood Watch, but they’re not having any of it.’
‘Their place is incredible.’ Mel’s eyes take on a faraway dreamy expression. ‘I wonder if I could get the builders to do that to my house.’
‘Don’t even think about it,’ I say. ‘One year of building mayhem is quite enough, thank you.’
The work at number six was finally finished the week before Christmas. The new owners are an older couple and they invited all the neighbours over for drinks, so we were able to have a good old nosy around their house which, like Mel just said, is incredible. They’ve transformed their fifties family home into a contemporary glass and cedar-clad box filled with light.
Martin gave the couple an ear-bashing about the disruption they caused while the builders were there, and they were completely apologetic and lovely, which eventually seemed to mollify him. But, apart from their moving-in party, they keep pretty much to themselves.
And me? What about me? I guess I’m happier now, in my own way. I sleep more soundly and I don’t have to check the locks more than a couple of times each night. My emotions were all over the place after everything that happened. Grief and shock at what Hannah went through. Fury at Parkfield. Frustration and anger at my husband.
All those weeks spent worrying for my baby, fearing there were monsters out to get her. But it was never my own child in danger; it was Hannah. She was the one who needed saving, protecting. I may have got it wrong to begin with, but at least I followed my instincts. I knew something wasn’t right, and so I hunted down the monster until he finally showed himself.
And right now, I’m doing okay. I have my child, my work, my friends. That’s got be worth celebrating, hasn’t it?
My mobile phone buzzes on the table. I pick it up. Dom’s face shows on the screen. A photo of him holding Daisy just after she was born. Mel’s eyes flick from my phone screen to my face. I can’t quite discern her expression. My belly flutters. I think about rejecting the call, but then I change my mind at the last minute, sliding my finger across the screen and bringing the phone to my ear. I walk back into the kitchen where it’s quieter.
‘Dom. How’s it going?’
‘Yeah, you know. Still missing you.’
I don’t reply.
He clears his throat. ‘I was just wondering if you and Daisy wanted to come to the beach for a picnic next week.’
I sigh. There was a time when I’d have been thrilled that he wanted to spend quality time with me and Daisy.
‘I love you, Kirst,’ he says. ‘I want us to be a family again. Come to the beach.’
‘Let me think about it,’ I reply.
But as I end the call, I realise I already know what my answer will be.
Epilogue
It’s a risk, inviting everyone down here this afternoon. Especially the papers. But what better way to throw everyone off the scent once and for all?
After I realised my neighbour was snooping, I had to do something. It was silly of me to have left those Toy Shack bags at the top of the stairs where she could see them, but I think I managed to divert Kirstie’s attention with my hastily put together Lego street. In actual fact, I thoroughly enjoyed creating it. I might even make another one.
But the truth is, I paid the builder an extra twenty thousand cash-in-hand to dig out that additional soundproof room at the end of the basement – couldn’t risk it showing up on the plans. And, of course, I couldn’t let him live after he’d fi
nished. He’s buried under the floorboards. Been down there eight years now, along with a few of my other friends who tried to get away from me.
I suppose some people might be horrified by what I’ve done. By what I do. But, you see, since my wife died, I get lonely. It’s just me and Priddy rattling around in our empty house. We just need someone to talk to... Is that so wrong?
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If you were gripped by The Child Next Door, you’ll love The Secret Mother - an absolutely addictive psychological thriller, with a twist that will make you wonder if you can ever trust anyone again. Get it here!
The Secret Mother
‘Absolutely addictive and brilliant with an end I didn't see coming. This is one book you have to read and it gets 5 huge stars from me!!!!’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars
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'Are you my mummy?’
* * *
Tessa Markham returns home to find a child in her kitchen. He thinks she’s his mother. But Tessa doesn’t have any children.
* * *
Not anymore.
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She doesn’t know who the little boy is or how he got there.
* * *
After contacting the police, Tessa is suspected of taking the mystery child. Her whole life is turned upside down. And then her husband reveals a secret of his own…
* * *
Tessa isn’t sure what to believe or who to trust. Because someone is lying. To find out who, she must confront her painful past. But is the truth more dangerous than Tessa realises?
* * *
An absolutely unputdownable psychological thriller with a twist that will make you wonder if you can ever trust anyone again. If you loved Gone Girl, The Girl on the Train and The Sister this book will have you hooked.
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Get it here!
Also by Shalini Boland
The Secret Mother
The Millionaire’s Wife
The Best Friend
The Girl from the Sea
A letter from Shalini
Thank you for reading my fifth psychological thriller The Child Next Door. I loved writing it and I do so hope you enjoyed reading Kirstie’s story.
If you would like to keep up-to-date with my latest releases, just sign up here and I’ll let you know when I have a new book coming out.
I’m always thrilled to get feedback about my books. Hearing your thoughts helps me to become a better writer, so it’s very important to me. If you have the time, I’d be really grateful if you’d be kind enough to post a short review online or tell your friends about it. It also helps new readers to discover one of my books for the first time.
When I’m not busy making up conversations with fictional characters, I adore chatting to my real-life readers, so please feel free to get in touch via my Facebook page, through Twitter, Goodreads or my website.
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Thanks so much!
Shalini Boland x
Acknowledgements
Thank you to my incredible publisher Natasha Harding for believing in me and helping to make my stories the best that they can be. It’s been an absolute privilege – and also fun! – working with you on my latest novel.
Thanks also to the wonderful team at Bookouture: especially Ellen Gleeson, Lauren Finger, Peta Nightingale and Noelle Holton who are always SO lovely to work with. Thank you Natalie Butlin for your commercial wizardry, and Alex Crow for your voodoo marketing skills – I’m in awe of you both.
A huge thank you to Publicity guru Kim Nash, a truly fabulous person who seems to know everyone in the book world, although I’m beginning to suspect you might also be a vampire as I don’t think you ever sleep.
Thanks to my fantastic copy editor Fraser Crichton for your eagle eyes and insightful comments. Also thank you to Emma Graves for such an eye-catching and cleverly designed cover.
I'm very grateful to the ultra-talented Katie Villa for narrating the audiobook and making my novel come to life. Thanks also to Arran Dutton at Audio Factory for your superb direction and innate understanding of exactly how the characters should sound.
Thank you to author and police officer Sammy H.K. Smith for advising on all the police-procedural aspects of my book, especially as you’ve had your hands full with your beautiful new baby this year. As always, any mistakes and embellishments in procedure are my own.
Thank you to the moon and back Terry Harden and Deanna Finn for beta reading, and to Julie Carey and Amara Gillo for proofreading. I always value your feedback and opinions.
Massive thanks to all my fellow Loungers in the Bookouture Lounge. You really are the best of the best. Special beer-and-chips thank you to Susie Lynes for being such a fab running mate.
Thanks also to Tracy Fenton, Charlie Fenton, Helen Boyce and the rest of the Basement Babes at TBC on Facebook. Thanks to David Gilchrist, Sarah Mackins and Caroline Maston at the UK Crime Book Club – your support and friendship is always appreciated. Thank you to Wendy Clarke and Mooky at The Fiction Café Book Club – such a warm and entertaining spot for bookish types to hang out! And thanks also to Ann Cater at Book Connectors, a fabulous place for authors and readers to chat.
Thank you to all my readers who take the time to read, review or recommend my books. I’m awe of your tremendous support and it’s been great getting to know some of you. I’m looking forward to chatting about The Child Next Door! I always love to hear your thoughts.
I don’t think I would even be writing books if it wasn’t for my husband Pete Boland. You’re my biggest support and the absolute love of my life. Can’t wait until your own thriller comes out later this year!!
Published by Bookouture
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An imprint of StoryFire Ltd.
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
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www.bookouture.com
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Copyright © Shalini Boland 2017
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Shalini Boland has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-78681-381-7
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