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Back The Downstairs Neighbor Save as PDF
Chapters (86)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. PROLOGUE
  4. PART ONE
  5. 1.
  6. 2.
  7. 3.
  8. 4.
  9. 5.
  10. 6.
  11. 7.
  12. 8.
  13. 9.
  14. 10.
  15. 11.
  16. 12.
  17. 13.
  18. 14.
  19. 15.
  20. 16.
  21. 17.
  22. 18.
  23. 19.
  24. PART TWO
  25. 20.
  26. 21.
  27. 22.
  28. 23.
  29. 24.
  30. 25.
  31. 26.
  32. 27.
  33. 28.
  34. 29.
  35. 30.
  36. 31.
  37. 32.
  38. 33.
  39. 34.
  40. 35.
  41. 36.
  42. 37.
  43. 38.
  44. PART THREE
  45. 39.
  46. 40.
  47. 41.
  48. 42.
  49. 43.
  50. 44.
  51. 45.
  52. 46.
  53. 47.
  54. 48.
  55. 49.
  56. 50.
  57. 51.
  58. 52.
  59. 53.
  60. 54.
  61. 55.
  62. 56.
  63. 57.
  64. 58.
  65. 59.
  66. 60.
  67. 61.
  68. 62.
  69. 63.
  70. 64.
  71. 65.
  72. 66.
  73. 67.
  74. 68.
  75. 69.
  76. 70.
  77. 71.
  78. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  79. THEDOWNSTAIRSNEIGHBOR
  80. Discussion Guide
  81. A Conversation with Helen Cooper
  82. Excerpt from THE OTHER GUEST
  83. 1.
  84. 2.
  85. About the Author
  86. What’s next onyour reading list?

Something had stopped her backtracking, though. They’d stayed locked in the moment, the frost on her windshield crackling softly as it thawed. Then Chris had got into his car—and had he slammed the door, or had the noise just been amplified by the freezing silence of the street?

She tried her best to smile at him now. To push aside the disagreement. “Sorry to bother you, Chris. You saw Freya today, didn’t you?”

“At lunchtime. Was there . . . a problem with the lesson?”

She flushed. “No, no. I just wondered if she’d said anything about her plans for this evening. She”—her throat narrowed—“she hasn’t got home yet.”

“Oh.” He passed a hand over his cropped hair. “No, she didn’t say anything.”

“And she seemed okay? She went back to school afterward?”

“She seemed fine. Yeah, I dropped her off there.”

Steph paused. She felt she should ask more questions but her thoughts were a tangle. “Thanks,” she said. “Sorry, I’m letting all the heat out of your flat . . .”

As she retreated up the steps, he called after her: “I could have a drive around if you like? Look for her?”

Steph stalled, almost at street level now. She glanced at his car parked nose to tail with hers—chris watson driving school—and imagined it creeping through Kingston, headlights sweeping the darkness in search of her daughter. It was a scene from a TV drama. It dropped a shudder through her core.

“No,” she said, looking down at him. “Thank you, that’s kind. But it’ll . . . She’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure.” Chris nodded, his brow creased as he watched her go.

Steph hurried to her own front door, a sudden longing for Paul piercing through her. He’d probably be showering at the gym now, trying to ease himself into relaxation mode, oblivious to her soaring anxiety. She fumbled with her keys, eager to get back to her phone. A cobwebby sensation brushed across her spine and she whipped around.

Nothing there. Just the street they’d lived on since Freya had started “big school,” the half-hexagons of bay windows making a geometric wave along the terrace, the black iron railings, which didn’t normally look so jagged.

3.

PAUL