BooksBarbecue
Back The Family Next Door Save as PDF
Chapters (117)
  1. Also by
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright Page
  4. Epigraph
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  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. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. 63
  69. 64
  70. 65
  71. 66
  72. 67
  73. 68
  74. 69
  75. 70
  76. 71
  77. 72
  78. 73
  79. 74
  80. 75
  81. 76
  82. 77
  83. 78
  84. 79
  85. 80
  86. 81
  87. 82
  88. 83
  89. 84
  90. 85
  91. 86
  92. 87
  93. 88
  94. 89
  95. 90
  96. 91
  97. 92
  98. 93
  99. 94
  100. 95
  101. 96
  102. 97
  103. 98
  104. 99
  105. 100
  106. 101
  107. 102
  108. 103
  109. 104
  110. 105
  111. 106
  112. 107
  113. 108
  114. 109
  115. 110
  116. Teaser chapter
  117. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

It wasn’t planned. Not at first. He’d had every intention of calling the doctor, of registering her death and arranging her funeral. But he was lost in the woods, couldn’t find his way out.

They’d never been ones for central heating. And those bitter January snows had helped preserve her body for the first couple of days. He’d found himself talking to her of his loneliness and grief, confiding his feelings as he’d always done.

They’d had few friends and fewer relatives. They’d always been the type of couple who had done everything together. And he was a shy man, reclusive. It was easy to withdraw into himself, to bat away concerned enquiries with a shake of his head. “Annie’s too weak for visitors.”

And then, when the neighbors became too interested, “She’s gone to stay with her goddaughter.”

As the weeks had passed, as the state of her body had continued to deteriorate, he’d used his skill with the paintbrush to preserve her face, to keep her looking as Annie-like as possible.

But he’d known it couldn’t continue. That he was on borrowed time and the clock was ticking. That he would be discovered. That the continued cycle of freezing and thawing was accelerating the destruction of the tissues of her already decomposing body.

But when the police came they would never believe him. He’d looked it up. They’d charge him, he was sure. Concealing a body. Preventing a burial.

The detective on the floor moved his head, groaned.

Trefor Lovell checked his watch. It was almost half past two. The officer was coming to. No need for an ambulance.

If he was going to run, he would have to do it now.

His wife’s eyes were closed, her lips the same deep pink as they’d been when he’d met her. If he shut his own eyes, he could hear the sounds of the wartime dance halls, the fizz of the trombone, the swish of Annie’s skirt.

“I love you,” said the man called Trefor Lovell, and he blew her a kiss. He patted his pockets, making sure he had his wallet, the keys to his car.

As he left the room, he turned to look at his wife for a final time. For a moment, he stayed perfectly still and then, with a flicker of incredulity, he started back toward her, running those few steps across the room because Annie’s face seemed to be moving. He let out a bark of despair.

The maggots had found her.

65

65

Now

Smoke. Mirrors. Secrets. Lies.

We believe what we want to, don’t we? Our version of the truth. But there are many layers, many truths.

We sift and curate and cherry-pick the parts that best suit the face we present to the world. Nobody is a true version of themselves. Everyone pretends.

Take the telephone calls.