Also By Betsy Reavley

Beneath The Watery Moon

The Quiet Ones

The Optician’s Wife

Frailty

Pressure

Praise for Betsy Reavley

"Holy freaking hell Betsy is back with a new psychological thriller and she is on fire!" Shell Baker - Chelle's Book Reviews

"The plotting is excellent and the pacing spot-on. A deep sense of foreboding and growing peril permeates the entire novel." Mark Wilson - Author

"PRESSURE by Betsy Reavley is a unique and utterly compelling thriller that will suck you in from the very beginning and drag you down into its murky depths along with its characters." Linda Green - Books Of All Kinds

"A captivating, chilling, at times gruesome thriller by our own lady of suspense: Betsy Reavley!" Caroline Vincent - Bits About Books  

"A super-fast paced thriller that I felt I had to read just as fast, as if my own reading-oxygen was in short supply." Michelle Ryles - The Book Magnet

"This book is such a creepy thrill ride, I was just blown away from the very beginning." Ashley Gillan - (e)Book Nerd Reviews

"Intense, toe curling, action packed, spine tingling, and absolutely brilliant." Kaisha Holloway - The Writing Garnet

"The pacing of the story is really good especially if you prefer a character driven story with twists strategically placed to really catch you out." Rachel Broughton - Rae Reads."

"Bursting with suspense and intrigue, Pressure is an atmospheric thriller that’ll keep you glued to the pages and guessing right to the end." Aileen Mckenzie - Feminisia Libros Reviews

"Pressure is the ultimate locked room mystery and I advise you put a few hours aside and read this in one seating just don’t forget to breathe!!" Ellen Devenport - Bibliophile Book Club

"Pressure is a fast paced thriller which is genuinely terrifying." Joanne Robertson - My Chestnut Reading Tree

"Betsy Reavley has gone and smashed it with her newest book Pressure, pure unadulterated tension which will intensify the fire within your imagination." Diane Hogg - Sweet Little Book Blog

"This is a great, fast paced and claustrophobic story that will keep you on the edge of your seat." Jessica Bronder - JBronder Book Reviews

“An addictive, compelling read that pushed me well out of my comfort zone - if you like disturbingly twisty plot lines and dark characters then this is definitely the read for you.” Lisa Hall, Author of the best selling psychological thriller Between You and Me

"The Optician's Wife is a stylish, brilliantly crafted thriller which really delivers. A very real sense of creeping dread, combined with intelligent, finely drawn characters, had me turning the pages late into the night. This one will linger with you, long after the book is finished. Reavley has delivered a masterclass and deserves to be up there with the best in the business." L J Ross - Bestselling author of The DCI Ryan books.

"I love discovering new authors especially one who can shock and surprise me like this as it doesn't happen very often!" Joanne Robertson - My Chestnut Reading Tree

"Don’t you just love it when you pick up a book and it blows you away, well Betsy Reavley has managed to do just that with a book that’s absolutely filled with suspense and intrigue." Lorraine Rugman - The Book Review Cafe

"This was a fantastic book and one I knew from the first chapter it was going to keep me enthralled reading it." Leona - Goodreads Reviewer

"Wow! What a stunning book. Draws you in, spins you a line and boom! you've got it completely wrong. Loved it. So clever." MetLineReader - Goodreads Reviewer

"This is a book that once you start reading it you won't be able to stop. It is a story that grabs you right from the very beginning."  Joseph Calleja, Relax and Read book Reviews

"This is true stand-out in the domestic noir genre." Caroline Matson, Confessions of a Reading Addict 

"Betsy Reavley has reached new heights with this breathtaking book. Child abduction is always a difficult subject and she has totally embraced it in this outstanding book. It will leave you feeling emotionally drained and in awe of this author. Her best book yet, a literary masterpiece" Anita Waller, best-selling author of 34 Days, Angel and Beautiful

"Absolutely incredible book, cannot praise it enough. I think it's my best read of 2016." Emma De Oliveira, an ARC reviewer

"It went from heart pounding moments to adrenaline rushes where I simply couldn’t speak.  This is one of my top three books of the year, awesome!" Susan Hampson - Books From Dusk Till Dawn

"Reavley has written a stunning thriller which is fast-paced and full of twists and turns. I was completely invested in this narrative, submerged by the tension and gravity of the situation." Clair Boor - Have Books Will Read

Epigraph

“Nothing is impossible to a determined woman.”

Louisa May Alcott

“There are two motives for reading a book:

one, that you enjoy it; the other, that you can

boast about it.”

Bertrand Russell

If you’re going to play with fire, you’re going to get burnt – Proverb

Dedication

For all my ladies. You know who you are.

Prologue

7.30am 22 June

It didn’t take the Border Collie long to discover the source of the scent it had followed for the last five minutes. In amongst the red campion flowers lay a woman’s discarded shoe. The dog sniffed eagerly, its tail announcing its excitement at the find.

From the path its owner whistled impatiently, waiting for the normally obedient dog to return, but Flo the collie didn’t much feel like obeying orders today. The scent she had lucked upon was far more exciting and, nostrils flaring, she followed her large black nose deeper into the undergrowth. Her owner worried the dog was about to roll in a cowpat, left by the cattle that roamed the common every summer.

‘Flo! Flo!’ The woman, jogging on the spot, keen to get on with her run, called the dog repeatedly. When it became apparent that the dog was not listening to her, she stopped jogging and stomped towards the undergrowth, cursing to herself.

Standing in the low morning light, it was difficult to see much in the woodland on Stourbridge Common. A low mist hung over everything and the place was strangely still.

‘Flo?’ The woman spun on her heels when she heard the crack of a twig to her right, but the dog was nowhere to be seen.

Gingerly, the woman stepped deeper into the trees, being careful not to snag her Lycra running leggings on anything, but more aware of the damage that could be done to her ludicrously expensive trainers.

Her heart was beating hard and sweat sprinkled her brow as she pushed her way further into the thicket. She stopped for a moment to listen and could hear barking in the distance. Following the sound, she went deeper into the woodland, suddenly feeling very alone.

Through the mist she could make out Flo’s tail wagging furiously, making the mist particles dance around like fairy dust.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ The woman ranted, relieved to have found her dog but frustrated by her behaviour. The collie still wouldn’t come to her, so she found herself clambering over wild shrubs to reach her.

Flo sat patiently, and waited for her owner to come and join in the discovery.

There, in the clearing, was a woman’s body. Her hair was a mess and she was lying on her front, quite still, among the small red flowers. She was naked and bruised, and her head was caved in like an eggshell.

The woman stumbled backwards in horror and tripped over a large log, landing on the ground with a thud and cutting open the palm of her hand on a rock, as she let out a bloodcurdling scream.

1

5.25pm 21 June

As Toni stepped out of her immaculate home onto the pristine lawn, she tucked her phone into her fake Gucci bag and smiled to herself. She stroked the side of the faux leather designer handbag with her nails – long, manicured and painted beige – and trotted away from the red brick bungalow, across the lawn.

Her curled, highlighted hair bounced with enthusiasm as she pulled her large sunglasses down over her deep brown eyes. She smelt good, she looked good and she knew it.

Above her, the clouds began to gather, shutting out the summer sunlight and casting a grey shadow over her world. But, as she wandered along the pavement, Toni seemed oblivious to the dip in the weather. Nothing was going to spoil her mood.

It was Thursday, and her favourite night of the week. Every Thursday evening, at 6pm, she met with the ladies from her book club. They chatted about the book they had all been reading, whined about their dull husbands, ate cake, and put the world to rights over a few glasses of Chardonnay. The evening felt no different to any other as Toni made her way towards Marion’s house, looking forward to the next couple of hours.

Toni and her husband’s bungalow was on a residential street to the east of Cambridge, just off Newmarket Road. Number 9, Ditton Way, was a small red brick, 1950s dwelling that was well kept. Toni’s husband, Gerald, was a keen gardener. Toni joked that it was the only thing he was good at.

The couple had met online five years previously, after Toni’s first marriage to Mike had collapsed.

Gerald was everything Mike wasn’t: reliable, trustworthy, hardworking, and dull. Toni secretly wished that her marriage to Mike had worked out, but his alcohol problem became too much for her to cope with and she left him; the only blessing was that they’d never had children.

In Gerald she’d found a companion, one who could be compared to a lapdog. He doted on Toni, which she encouraged. Not only was he ten years her senior, he had never been married and therefore had no baggage, which appealed to Toni who liked to be in control of every aspect of her life.

As she crossed the road she felt the phone in her bag vibrate. When she reached the other side of the quiet street she checked the message.

See you soon sweets xx

The message was from Shirley, her friend and fellow book club attendee, who she would be seeing very soon at Marion’s house, on the other side of town in Cherry Hinton.

Toni responded with two kisses before dropping her phone back into her bag and smiling to herself, trying to ignore her new heels that were rubbing against her ankles.

As she walked towards the bus stop, Toni had the feeling she was being followed. It was still broad daylight, so she dismissed the strange notion and waited patiently beneath the bus shelter for the number 5 to show up.

When an elderly woman pulling a purple floral trolley-bag came and joined her, Toni felt much better, despite the fact she couldn’t shift the uncomfortable feeling of being watched.

The old woman, who had more facial hair around her chin than most men in their forties, sat down heavily on the bench and grunted as she searched for something in the compartment of her trolley-bag.

Toni, not much liking the smell of the elderly woman, took a step away from her and turned her head, craning to see if the bus was about to appear from around the corner. She made a mental note to let the old woman get on the bus first, so she could be sure she would not end up sitting anywhere near her. Toni had no time for people who didn’t take care of themselves, and she prided herself on her own neat appearance. In some ways, it mattered greatly what other people thought of her, but she was known locally as someone who spoke her mind and she often ended up ruffling a few feathers. She was a woman who was sure of herself and thought herself to be above other people; she never questioned how she spoke to others, or conducted herself, much to the dismay of anyone who happened to be in her path.

As the bus appeared, Toni took a step back and signalled for the elderly woman to get on first. She was unable to do this without a look of disgust on her face, which made her look ugly, and the woman shook her head as she waddled towards the steps and onto the bus.

While she searched for her pensioners bus pass, the woman felt saddened by the look she had received from this stranger; she felt she had been judged without good cause. Yes, she was old and she had let herself go, but her husband of sixty-four years had died only six months ago, and she saw no reason why she should pretend to be happy.

When the elderly lady had finally taken a seat near the front of the bus, Toni threw some change at the driver without looking at him, retrieved her ticket and made her way upstairs, putting as much space between her and the woman downstairs as possible.

Adjusting her sunglasses, despite the gloom outside, Toni stared out of the window at the streets and people below.

As the bus took her towards the south-eastern side of the city, Toni felt herself tense. She hated it when it was Marion’s turn to host, because Marion had a more prestigious address than she did: she lived in Cherry Hinton on Gladstone Way.

Marion, whose husband Alfred was an accountant at one of the largest firms in Cambridge, was a sweet natured woman who simply loved reading. She didn’t care about her postcode or worry about buying expensive clothes. What Marion loved most was her husband, two children, her West Highland terrier called Josh, and, of course, reading. She was the opposite of Toni, who used the book club as a way of making friends and a name for herself.

When her marriage to Mike fell apart Toni was lonely, and turned to her computer for company. She went on numerous dating websites and soon became embroiled in an online book group. But Toni was frustrated by the group being online only, and took it upon herself to arrange a local book club that met regularly. She liked the idea of meeting new people and looked forward to finding some purpose in her lonely life. The book club had been going for two years and had grown from the original three members, of which Toni was one, to over fifteen – all women. Initially, men were invited to join – Toni had hoped she might meet her next husband through the group – but it became apparent that it would be best for it to remain a women only club, and so it was.

That Thursday, ten of the women were expected to be there. It was fairly normal that not everyone could make it every week, but Toni, without fail, was there each week.

The women took turns at hosting the club in their homes, and much to Toni’s irritation it was Marion’s turn once again. The only thing that made her feel a bit better, was the fact that Marion was twenty years her senior, grey-haired, and broad around the stomach.

When Toni knew her stop was coming up, she removed a small compact from her bag and checked her make-up. Her large, pale pink lips glistened with gloss as she kissed them together.

Getting off the bus in heels would have been problematic for most, but Toni had been doing it for years and had mastered the art with finesse. Gliding away down the street, she straightened her red top, making sure her bosom looked as pert as possible, and checked that her skin-tight white trousers were still spotless.

As she reached Gladstone Way, she plastered a smile across her face, ready for battle, and made her way up to the white front door of Number 33.

The detached house belonging to Marion and Alfred Bolton had a lovely front garden that was bursting with roses. Toni found herself inhaling the scent as the door opened and Marion welcomed her with a smile.

‘Toni, good to see you, pet,’ she beamed, stepping back and allowing Toni inside. ‘How’ve you been?’

Marion was a Yorkshire lass born and bred, but had moved down from Harrogate to Hertfordshire before settling in Cambridge when her husband Alfred was offered a job with a highly regarded accounting firm. The couple had two grown-up sons, one of whom was in the army; the other had married a Norfolk girl and moved to Norwich with his new bride to be closer to her family.

‘Oh, you know, busy, busy.’ Toni wandered through the hallway, past the kitchen and into the lounge, as if she was right at home.

On a large teak coffee table sat a tray of biscuits, a sponge cake and a pot of tea. The cake looked home-made and Toni made a mental note to brush up on her baking skills, ready for the next time she hosted the club. She was not going to be outdone by an old trout like Marion.

‘Would you like a slice?’ Marion picked up the knife when she saw Toni looking at the cake.

‘Oh no. Not good for my figure.’ She perched on the edge of the large M&S sofa and watched as Marion cut herself a huge slice.

‘You’re missing out,’ Marion said, winking as she sank her teeth into the buttery sponge. Toni felt her stomach rumble.

‘No sign of any of the others yet?’ Toni struggled to hide her frustration.

‘Don’t look like it.’ Marion shrugged, putting the slice of cake on a floral china plate while looking up at the clock on the wall. ‘You’re early,’ she commented, brushing some crumbs off her trousers.

‘I prefer the term “prompt”,’ Toni said through a sarcastic grin.

The two of them sat in silence, with only the sound of the ticking clock for company, until five minutes and forty-seven seconds later when Marion’s doorbell chimed.

Quick as a flash, Marion was out of the armchair and dashing towards the front door. Alone in the room, Toni quickly hoovered up some of the cake crumbs that lay on the plate and sucked her fingers clean.

In the next room she could hear Marion welcoming Kim.

Kim had always lived in Hertfordshire before settling in Cambridge. She’d married a builder, Pete, who ran his own business, and they had twin daughters and one young son. Kim and her family lived on the very outskirts of Cambridge in an area called Chesterton, to the north-east of the town.

Kim and Toni had known each other for some time, and met when Toni worked temporarily as the receptionist at DW Fitness First. Kim had joined the gym soon after having her twins, telling herself that she’d get fit and lose her pregnancy belly. In reality, Kim was more at home in a cocktail bar than at the gym, so it wasn’t long before she had stopped her monthly subscription. The two women became friends after Toni had spotted a copy of a bestseller, that she was also reading, sticking out of Kim’s sports bag. The pair fell into a conversation about books and they were both pleased to have found a fellow reader who shared their passion. Soon after that, they arranged to go for coffee and had been friends ever since.

Despite this, though, Toni had never approved of Kim. Kim was outspoken, loud, and loved a good party. Toni didn’t like to drink and couldn’t understand why anyone would. She also found that Kim often dominated the conversation, when Toni felt she should be the centre of everything.

Standing up to greet her friend, Toni made sure she hooked the fake Gucci bag over her arm so it would be seen. Much to her irritation, Kim owned a real designer bag, although Kim never felt the need to flaunt it in the same way Toni did.

‘Darlin’!’ Kim came bounding into the room and spread her arms wide, squeezing Toni in a tight embrace and planting a kiss on her check, which made her feel uncomfortable. Toni had never been good at dealing with people who invaded her personal space. Kim pulled away and pinkie-purple marks from her bright lipstick remained on Toni’s cheek.

Marion had to hide a smirk as she returned to the front door after hearing a loud knock. Knowing there was only one person who refused to use the doorbell, Marion opened the door looking forward to seeing the familiar face of her friend Barbara.

‘How’ve you been, chick?’ Kim flopped down on the sofa, sitting very close to Toni in anticipation of further arrivals. ‘I’m shattered. The girls are drivin’ me mental!’ She cackled, throwing her head back, showing all of her big white teeth.

‘Yes, I’m fine.’ Toni straightened her back.

‘Look,’ Kim said, reaching into her white leather Moschino handbag, ‘I brought supplies!’ Kim brandished the bottle of rosé high in the air triumphantly. ‘Time to get this party started.’ Kim unscrewed the cap and took a long swig as Toni folded her arms across her heaving chest and rolled her eyes.

Marion let Barbara in, giving her a warm hug.

‘Good to see you,’ Marion said, accepting a bunch of roses from Barbara.

‘You too. These are from my garden. I know how much you love roses.’

‘I do,’ Marion said, pushing her nose into the arrangement and inhaling the scent up her rather large nostrils, ‘how thoughtful.’

‘You’re looking well,’ Barbara said, smiling at how well her present had been received.

‘I only saw you last week,’ Marion chuckled, leading Barbara into her living room to join the others.

Barbara’s round face was rather red, and she fanned herself as she took a seat on the sofa opposite Toni and Kim.

‘Nice to see you, ladies,’ she said as a large bead of sweat dribbled down her temple.

‘You too!’ Kim said, sitting forward and putting the bottle of wine on the coffee table next to the cake, tea and biscuits.

‘Subtle as ever,’ Marion said, smiling and winking at Kim. ‘How many glasses?’

‘Not for me,’ Toni said as she slid along the sofa, putting as much space as she could between herself and Kim.

The Story Continues on BooksBarbecue!

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