Back Everyone In My Family Has Killed Someone
Chapters (66)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Book
  3. Dedication
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. MY BROTHER
  6. CHAPTER 1
  7. MY STEPSISTER
  8. CHAPTER 2
  9. CHAPTER 3
  10. CHAPTER 4
  11. CHAPTER 5
  12. CHAPTER 6
  13. CHAPTER 7
  14. CHAPTER 8
  15. MY WIFE
  16. CHAPTER 9
  17. MY FATHER
  18. CHAPTER 10
  19. CHAPTER 11
  20. CHAPTER 12
  21. CHAPTER 13
  22. CHAPTER 14
  23. CHAPTER 14.5
  24. CHAPTER 15
  25. MY MOTHER
  26. CHAPTER 16
  27. CHAPTER 17
  28. CHAPTER 18
  29. CHAPTER 19
  30. CHAPTER 20
  31. CHAPTER 21
  32. MY STEPFATHER
  33. CHAPTER 22
  34. CHAPTER 23
  35. CHAPTER 24
  36. CHAPTER 25
  37. CHAPTER 26
  38. CHAPTER 27
  39. MY AUNT
  40. CHAPTER 27.5
  41. CHAPTER 28
  42. CHAPTER 29
  43. MY WIFE
  44. CHAPTER 30
  45. CHAPTER 31
  46. CHAPTER 32
  47. MY SISTER-IN-LAW(former)
  48. CHAPTER 33
  49. CHAPTER 34
  50. CHAPTER 35
  51. CHAPTER 36
  52. CHAPTER 37
  53. MY STEPFATHER(again)
  54. CHAPTER 38
  55. MY BROTHER
  56. CHAPTER 39
  57. MY UNCLE
  58. CHAPTER 40
  59. ME
  60. CHAPTER 41
  61. EPILOGUE
  62. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  63. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  64. Australia’s best crime writers are talking about . . .EVERYONE IN MY FAMILY HAS KILLED SOMEONE
  65. OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR
  66. Sign up to Read More and discover new favourites

This was enough of a distraction for Jeremy to move. We spun back to see that he’d knocked the grate of the fireplace over with a clatter and armed himself with the poker. Juliette moved towards him, but he swung it in an arc and she pulled back. He still had nowhere to go, but he was swishing the cast-iron weapon through the air with abandon.

‘I could have just left you here,’ he hissed. ‘Up until now, I might have. After Lucy, I thought I’d done enough to disappear. But now that I know that I was left to fight on my own. That I was abandoned, discarded. By you.’ He was talking to all of us, but glaring at Audrey. ‘At least we’ll burn together.’

He lunged with the poker, and everyone flinched, but he was plunging it into the fire. Using the rod as a lever, he flicked a giant, flaming log onto the carpet. It landed on the floor with a thud, sending fireflies of sparks into the air. We all held our breath. Juliette had told me her father built the guesthouse in the late forties, which meant it was held up by timber, shortcuts and asbestos: the walls may as well have been matches. Some of the carpet fizzed, browned, but it was too damp to catch; the log just sat there smoking. We all went quiet, Jeremy looking forlorn, the rest of us marvelling at how uninspired his getaway plan was.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, one of the books on the wall exploded. A single spark had carried, lighting the crisp leaf-dry pages.

It figured. These books were perhaps the only things in the resort, me included, that weren’t damp to their bones. I wish I could tell you the book that exploded was Jane Eyre (it would be fitting, considering what’s about to happen) but it just wouldn’t be true.

Once the first book went up, the rest went too, one by one, like popcorn in a microwave, jolting into flames as sparks leapt. Some, I suspected, seeing as it was almost spontaneous, merely caved to the peer pressure of the books around them. And then the walls were blazing. The floor steamed, drying out, and then glowing spots formed in the dry patches.