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

25 The Avenue

Evan missed his mother.

Yes, she shouted at him, but her cuddles were the best. When Lucas Naylor had directed all the boys to gather around, pinching and punching him as he’d walked through the school gates on the first day of June, she had taken one look at his face at pickup time and headed straight for the ice cream van.

She hadn’t probed, not at first, but later, arm around him on the sofa, she’d extracted the full story. She hadn’t taken her eyes off the film they were watching, but she’d pulled him to her and said, “Those who feel small inside might feel a little bigger by knocking down others, but it never lasts. We should feel sorry for them.”

He hadn’t understood what she had meant. But later, when he’d had a chance to think about it, he wondered if she was saying that Lucas acted the way he did because he felt bad about something else.

A few days later, Lucas had stolen Evan’s lunch box and eaten his sandwiches. Evan’s mother had made her son some toast when he’d gotten home. “Lucas doesn’t have a mum,” she’d told him. “And his dad isn’t well.” Evan knew then that he’d been right. For all her impatience, his mother hid a kindness beneath her quick temper.

A thought occurred to him, and despite the warmth, he shivered, sitting up in bed in his thin pajama top.

What if she had left because he was rude and naughty? Was it his fault? But then he remembered the way she laughed when he tickled her feet, and the expression on her face when Aster was singing, and he didn’t think she would choose to leave her family.

And that made his stomach turn over, like falling off a wall.

He kicked off his covers. The house was quiet. Evan shut his eyes and tried to reclaim sleep. He tossed about, trying to get comfortable, but his room was airless, the heat a heavy blanket across his chest. He gave up and climbed out of bed, drawn to the window.

High and bright, the moon was lighting up the garden with silver and shadow. The tree house was a dark secret at the end of the lawn.

Staring at it for too long made his eyes play tricks on him. His tired brain saw smudges peeping through its windows and shapes in the darkness. He rubbed at his eyes, but he could not stop thinking about the tape.

He never, ever wanted to listen to it again, and had hidden it in one of the unpacked boxes of toys so he didn’t have to see it. But the sound of that cry was imprinted in his mind. His heart hurt. It made him afraid. He knew why.

The handwriting, almost the same as his own.

A cry—high and familiar.