Hidden Hours
Page 30
‘We’ll do it because they need us to,’ Gillian replies. ‘They need us to try to be positive, and to carry on with everyday things, so that when they are ready, when the grief of all this lessens even a little bit, they will have hope that there’s still a decent life for them out there in the world.’
‘I don’t know if Naeve will ever be ready,’ Eleanor whispers. ‘She’s been manipulated so much, she’s pushed her feelings so deep down. How can we begin to help her recover?’
Gillian sighs. ‘I don’t have all the answers, Eleanor. You realise that, don’t you? Otherwise I would have waved my magic wand and taken your pain away. But I never could, and I still can’t. I can only be here, and tell you I love you, and talk it all through as much as you need, or just be silent and hold your hand while you try to make sense of it all. Naeve will need to lean heavily on those around her, of course she will, but ultimately she’ll also need to believe in herself to get through.’
‘Do you think that’s where I went wrong?’
Gillian glances sharply at her before turning back to the road. ‘Everyone goes wrong, Eleanor. It’s what happens next that matters. You’ve always been strong enough to pull yourself back from the edge. And now you have a cousin who looks to you for guidance. You gave her the courage to confess her part in all this. Without you she might still be creeping around that house, eavesdropping and terrified.’
Eleanor is silent for such a long time that eventually her mother asks, ‘What are you thinking about?’
‘I just don’t think I’ll ever feel proud of myself after what happened with Aiden—’ She stops talking as the familiar pressure starts to build in her chest. ‘Mum . . .’ she begins, trying not to think about how important this moment is, ‘Aiden started the fire that burned down our house. He confessed to Dad. I didn’t tell you because Dad made us promise, and then, after he died . . . I don’t know . . . I felt it was wrong to tarnish his memory. I was trying to protect you.’
There is a long silence. ‘Oh, Eleanor.’ Her mother’s voice breaks. ‘What did Martin do to us? To you? Of course I knew! There were so many rumours – even though your father would never speak of it. I didn’t tell you about it for exactly the same reason. I would never have wanted you to carry that burden alone.’ She lets out a moan of frustration, and then takes a long, deep breath before she speaks again. ‘Well, now it’s time you stopped blaming yourself for the decisions other people made when you were only a child. I understand, because I blame myself too, all the time, and the only way I can get past it is by vowing to be better for you. That’s why we walked away from your father – because all that was keeping me alive back then was the need to keep you safe and well, and your dad was still lost in his own insane ideas. You do know it wasn’t the drink that took his life eventually, don’t you? It was the guilt.’
Eleanor doesn’t want to think of the last few times she saw him, the dishevelled man who shuffled around his half-built two-bedroom house, wasting away from addiction. ‘I wish I could remember him more in the early years,’ Eleanor says. ‘I have vague wisps of memory, of times he made me laugh, but so much of it has gone.’
‘Yes, well, memory’s a bit short of kindness at times, isn’t it? If you’re not careful it can discard the good stuff and make wall hangings of the bits you don’t want.’
‘That’s true,’ Eleanor murmurs. But she’s still thinking of her father, and of something Ian said to her. Haven’t you ever hated someone you loved? She had hated her father so much for so long that until just now she had forgotten how much she loved him. She’d always thought it was the hatred that was making her suffer, a dark root in her that she couldn’t excise. But could love have been part of the problem, all this time? Because how could she ever reconcile her deep, abiding love for him with everything else that had happened?
She turns once more to look at Naeve, who is still fast asleep, then settles back in her seat. Maybe I’ll never understand it all, she thinks, beginning to feel sleepy, thankful for her mother’s presence beside her. But perhaps she doesn’t have to. Perhaps she only has to take enough from the past to try to build a stronger day tomorrow.
afterword
Everything would change if you were gone.
This novel touches on themes of abject loneliness and despair. Out in the world there are a million remedies for this, but we know from all we see around us that these feelings continue to thrive. ‘Talk to someone’ is the oft-quoted advice, but what if you can’t? Once upon a time, I couldn’t. Back then, I was saved by books.
My favourite writers could read my mind before I could find my voice. They could answer my questions without me having to utter them. They pulled me through then, and they still do now. I believe there is at least one book out there that will do this for everyone. Probably many. If you ever need them, I urge you to search them out and bring yourself back to the world. Seek out your books, not the ones you are told to read. Find your truth. Do your soul work. And while you do, keep the faith in a brighter day tomorrow.
acknowledgements
Writing might be a solitary occupation, but none of my books have been published without a whole lot of support. I’m grateful to have what I consider to be the publishing dream team! Tara, Larissa, Roberta, Michelle, Vanessa, Claire, Anna and all you amazing folks at Simon & Schuster Australia, thank you for the vital roles you each play in helping my books reach readers. Christa Moffitt, thank you for the fabulous cover design.
To all my family and friends, thank you for your support and encouragement, and for understanding why I’m so scatterbrained and unsociable at times, and work such long, strange hours.
To my writing buddies Dawn, Amanda, Annabel, Yvette, Emma and Natasha, thanks for always being there, and for looking at very early drafts and not laughing. Natasha, thank you for all your excellent advice; I have loved supporting one another on our parallel journeys.
Fiona Thorp, thank you for all the advice about bodies in the Thames! Louise, Paul, Laura and Amy Clarke, thank you for your practical support. And James Foster – you’re always so generous with your time. I won’t forget the video and soundtrack that saved me from losing the plot in more ways than one!
Mum and Ray, thanks for understanding the considerable challenges I’ve faced in getting this book done, and for helping me through them.
Matt: you know I couldn’t do it without you. These books are in many ways yours as much as mine. When I get stuck you always have the best ideas.
Finally, to my girls, Hannah and Isabelle: thank you for your patience as I work, and for your wholehearted excitement when you see my books in print. If I make you even a tiny bit as proud of me as I am of you two, then I’m doing all right.
Sara Foster
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A taut, psychological drama that will keep you enthralled until the very last page.
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A suspenseful, heart-stopping modern gothic about letting go of the
past.
Two years ago Desi made a horrific mistake and destroyed her family. Now she’s coming home to make amends: to her daughter Maya, to her brother Jackson, and to her close friend Pete. But as Desi returns to her beloved house by the ocean, a stranger is waiting for her. Someone who will reveal a chain of secrets hidden for over twenty years.
A compelling story about love and what it really means to be free.
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A timeless thriller with a modern twist.
About the Author
Sara Foster was born and raised in England, and moved to Australia in 2004. She has published four other novels: Come Back to Me, Beneath the Shadows, Shallow Breath and All That is Lost Between Us. She lives near Perth with her husband and two young daughters, and is currently a doctoral candidate with Curtin University.
Find out more at www.sarafoster.com.au
www.facebook.com/sarafosterauthor
www.twitter.com/SaraJFoster
www.instagram.com/sarafoz
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THE HIDDEN HOURS
First published in Australia in 2017 by
Simon & Schuster (Australia) Pty Limited
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© Sara Foster 2017
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National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry
Creator:
Foster, Sara, 1976– author.
Title:
The hidden hours / Sara Foster.
ISBN:
9781925184815 (paperback)
9781925184822 (ebook)
Subjects:
Secrets – Fiction.
Family secrets – Fiction.
Detective and mystery stories.
Cover design:
Christabella Designs
Cover image:
Roy Bishop/Arcangel Images
Author photograph:
Christine and Mary Walsh
Typeset by Midland Typesetters, Australia