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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
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  108. 103
  109. 104
  110. 105
  111. 106
  112. 107
  113. 108
  114. 109
  115. 110
  116. Teaser chapter
  117. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

From under his pillow, he pulled out the plastic rectangle he had found in the tree house. “Do you know what this is?”

Aster laughed. “Bloody hell, where did you get that from? The Dark Ages?”

Evan frowned and tried to snatch it back from his sister.

“Calm down,” she said, holding it above her head. “Let me have a closer look.”

“Give it back.”

“Wait a sec.”

“Give it back.” Tears welled in Evan’s eyes.

“I was just looking,” she said. “And I wasn’t laughing at you, I promise.” She nudged him, trying to make him smile. “It’s a cassette, dummy.”

“What’s a cassette?”

“You know, a tape. Matthew’s parents have got a few. Old people used to store music on them.”

“Can I listen to it?”

“Not unless you’ve got a tape player.”

Evan’s face fell. “I haven’t.”

Aster shrugged. “Where’d you find it?”

“In the tree house. Look—” Evan showed his sister the writing on the cassette label. “What do you think it means?”

She pored over it. “Probably someone messing around.”

“I want to listen,” he said again. “Can you help me find a player, Aster? Please.” His fingers clutched her arm. “Please.”

Aster took in the damp tracks running down his cheeks, the hope in his reddened eyes. He rarely asked her for anything. “I’ll do my best,” she said, already regretting her promise.

* * *

Back in her bedroom, Aster gazed down on the street below. Mum had called her for dinner ages ago, but she’d pretended not to hear, and her mother hadn’t bothered to fetch her.

It was darker now and the streetlamps were glowing pink lozenges in the summer evening. She leaned out of her window, breathing in floral air underscored by the stink of muck-spreading from the fields beyond. A width of crime scene tape cordoned off the entrance to the woods, rippling in the kiss of the breeze.

In the house opposite, a shape moved behind the curtains. Aster stilled. The shape stilled, too. The teenager couldn’t tell how she knew this, but some instinct whispered that the shape—broad-shouldered, tall, a man—was studying her across the valley of the street.

A sort of trembling excitement filled her.

Aster found herself at a crossroads in her young life. She could turn her back on the shape, switch off her bedside lamp and go downstairs, apologize for ignoring her mother and seek comfort in the familiar patterns, the argument of family life.

Or she could do what she was about to do.

Aster’s fingertips closed around the hem of her T-shirt and slowly, deliberately, she pulled it over her head, taking her own sweet time.