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Behind the Lie: A nail-biting psychological suspense for 2018
Amanda James
‘Without a doubt one of the best books I have read this year.’ – Amazon ReaderWho can you trust, when you can’t trust yourself?Holly West has turned her life around. She’s found a successful and loving husband in Simon and is expecting twins. She is definitely a woman who has taken back control of her future.Until she gives birth, only for one twin to survive. Holly can’t let it go.Holly’s world is in a tailspin and suddenly she can’t trust herself or anyone else. No one believes her, not her husband or her best friend. Because she thinks she knows the truth…her son is still alive and she won’t stop until she finds him.What readers are saying about BEHIND THE LIE:‘One of the best books of it's genre so far this year.’ – Julia (Netgalley)‘Will keep you turning the pages and racing towards the dramatic finale.’ – OneWorld‘Great edge of your seat read’ – Taurus Girl‘A story that will reel you in and keep you hooked until the end. I loved it!’ – KellyF‘Gripped from beginning to end’ – Amazon Reader‘Fast-paced and deeply emotional’ – Celia (Amazon)‘Fast paced and tense!’ – Shaz (Goodreads)‘A deep and cleverly written thriller. – Amazon Customer‘a very exciting psychological thriller.’ – Andrew (Netgalley)
Who can you trust, if you can’t trust yourself?
Holly West has turned her life around. She’s found a successful and loving husband in Simon and is expecting twins. She is definitely a woman who has taken back control of her future.
Until she gives birth, but for only one twin to survive. Holly can’t let it go.
Holly’s world is in a tailspin and suddenly she can’t trust herself or anyone else. No one believes her, not her husband or her best friend. Because she thinks she knows the truth… her son is still alive and she won’t stop until she finds him.
Behind the Lie
Amanda James
Copyright (#ulink_e1d694e5-24ff-5b72-bdba-d59529c0d749)
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2017
Copyright © Amanda James
Amanda James 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 © April 2017 ISBN: 9780008258818
Version: 2018-03-13
AMANDA JAMES
grew up in Sheffield but her dream was to eventually live in Cornwall. Having now realised that dream, the dramatic coastline around her home inspires her writing and she has sketched out many stories in her head while walking the cliff paths.
Known to many as Mandy, she spends far more time than is good for her on social media and has turned procrastination into a fine art. Amanda has written many short stories for anthologies and has five published novels. Two, A Stitch in Time and Cross Stitch, are about a time-travelling history teacher; three are a mixture of suspense and mystery – Somewhere Beyond the Sea, Dancing in the Rain and Summer in Tintagel.
Amanda left school with no real qualifications of note apart from an A* in how to be a nuisance in class. Nevertheless, she returned to education when her daughter was five and eventually became a history teacher, though she never travelled through time, apart from in her head.
When Amanda is not writing she can be found playing on the beach with her family or walking next to the ocean plotting her next book.
Follow her on Twitter @akjames61 and on Facebook at mandy.james.33
To Brian – my biggest champion
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank all my friends, family and readers who have encouraged me on my continued writing journey. A writer’s path is never a smooth one, unless you are very lucky! Special thanks goes to Imogen Howson, who first saw a very sketchy synopsis for Behind the Lie and told me to go for it, and to my wonderful and very hard-working editor, Victoria Oundjian. She has incredible insight and has helped me iron out some of the many creases in the plot! Thanks, of course, to my publisher HQ too.
Contents
Cover (#ua06716b0-01ee-508e-b4d8-a5398b26e17f)
Blurb (#u98f3c2ee-c78d-5507-8c58-f550b2669861)
Title Page (#u157d43aa-62b7-5400-bbbf-3d80e0c8c3d4)
Author Bio (#u5ed4d65c-9905-56ce-987f-d5b33252733d)
Dedication (#u4459dc36-4195-5c22-b70e-87f837043bb0)
Acknowledgements
Prologue (#ulink_d88e03d9-0043-5f46-bfc9-d1d22c84e0b0)
Chapter One (#ulink_7cc55dfa-193f-505a-9653-c6296dd14c85)
Chapter Two (#ulink_c96953af-c35c-51d8-a038-552906419d50)
Chapter Three (#ulink_7ac69577-5523-5cbc-bb3d-2276a29fd1ff)
Chapter Four (#ulink_9faffe35-664c-583d-9fa8-8f6f20cd4e56)
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Epilogue
Copyright (#ulink_a83223e3-ad3e-5715-ad54-123d17af6ffe)
Prologue (#ulink_8729e983-61a2-5a3e-9087-8f63c6754d1f)
I close my eyes. I want to shut out the bright lights, to block from my ears the incessant beep of monitors, the clink of instruments on metal trays, the rustle of a plastic apron as a nurse follows hushed instructions from the surgeon. My husband, Simon, has tried to prepare me for this moment, but how can I be? Nobody could.
Not for this.
My heart is racing and a weight of despair crushes my chest. I can’t give up yet though. Mustn’t. Simon has told me that I can’t think the worst, must be positive. I cannot voice my fears or they could become real. I hold tight to my husband’s hand and he whispers encouraging words.
The wail of an infant snaps my eyes open once more and I let out a moan. It’s a mixture of both hope and despair, because there should be two, you see.
Two babies.
Moments later, the surgeon tells us we have a little girl. I want to ask about my son, but I can’t say the words. There are too many people in the room, nurses, assistants, an anaesthetist, and God knows who else, and it sounds as if they are all talking at once. I can hear someone saying something about weight and then a nurse is rushing around; I can’t tell what she’s doing; there’s a green operating sheet hanging in front of me. Suddenly my daughter is in my arms and an overwhelming rush of love takes my breath. Before I can speak again, I realise that the surgeon has left the room and a nurse too, I think. It’s so hard to see everything that’s happening and I begin to panic again. Simon calms me, explains they are just doing my stitches.
My husband takes my daughter’s tiny hand and says she looks just like me. He is flushed with pride and tells us both how much he loves us. I ask where our boy is and he tells me not to worry, that a nurse has just taken him to have some checks, that it will all be fine. I think he sounds less than convincing. Then a male nurse comes in, whispers in Simon’s ear. He passes my daughter back to me, asks if I will be okay for a few minutes without him. I ask why, but he doesn’t answer.
He is gone for some time and when he returns his grey eyes are moist and he whispers in my ear that he’s so sorry but there was nothing that could be done and that our worst fears have come true; that he’s so, so sorry, but at least we have our healthy baby girl. He kisses my cheek tenderly and I want to scream, because my baby boy is gone.
Gone for ever.
Chapter One (#ulink_2c925804-ae43-51f5-85fa-28ab0ac0bf9c)
Five weeks earlier…
The kiss of an ocean breeze wakes me from sleep. I watch the white gauze curtain’s gentle rise and fall at the open bedroom window, listen to the shush of the waves hurrying in their ceaseless journey back and forth along the sand, and take a deep breath of morning air – ozone and lilies. Wonderful.
Waking to nature’s alarm clock in my beloved Cornwall on a sunny spring morning is infinitely preferable to the shriek of a digital one in our twelfth-floor London apartment. I reach out and caress the stems of white lilies by my bed and remind myself that I am very lucky to have both homes. In fact, I think that my life is just about perfect right now. Okay, so there are one or two shadows, I suppose that’s what you’d call them, darkening my positive thoughts some days, but nothing I can’t handle.
A lazy smile on my lips, I stretch my limbs and run my fingers over the distended mound of my belly. My hands pause. Was that a response?
Yes.
One kick and… another.
It hardly seems possible that just two years ago my belly was as flat as an African veldt and my whole career depended on my face and body. My five-feet-nine fashion-model body. I’d have been horrified to find myself pregnant back then, but now I am overjoyed. Overjoyed times two, because I am carrying twins. My laughter escapes as I stroke my tummy again.
In the kitchen now and halfway through a bowl of cornflakes, my mobile rings from somewhere in the hall. I pull my dressing gown across my bump and hurry over – probably left it in my coat pocket again. Yes, I did…
‘Hi, Holly! Didn’t wake you, did I?’
The sound of my oldest and best friend’s voice on the line warms my heart. ‘Demi! No, of course you didn’t wake me. It is,’ I glance at the kitchen clock, ‘nearly nine o’clock. Been up for hours!’
‘Really?’
‘Of course not. More like ten minutes.’ We laugh. I never was good at getting up early. Demi used to call for me on the way to school and always had to wait while I rushed around like a maniac.
‘Typical. Look, I know we said we’d meet up tomorrow, but can I pop over this morning instead? I’ve doubled booked myself.’
‘Yeah, of course. The sooner the better. I have bacon, but bring eggs and I’ll make us breakfast.’
‘Bacon and eggs? I remember a time that you’d rather die than eat that. How you survived on just coffee and… um… fags I will never know.’ Her chuckle sounds like it’s embarrassed, not amused.
The little pause before she said fags wasn’t lost on either of us and a bit of sunshine went out of the day. We both know that her runaway tongue had been going to say drugs. All that is over now. A hundred years ago. At least that’s how it feels – my life has changed irrevocably.
‘Ah, yes. Dark days, Demelza. Dark days indeed. But now everything is different, thank goodness. Oh, and can you bring some fresh white bread?’
‘Are you sure you are Holly, the “to die for” former fashion model, or am I speaking to a charlatan?’
