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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
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  22. 17
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  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
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  42. 37
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  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
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  48. 43
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  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
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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

“This is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re overwrought and emotional. Unsurprisingly so. I need clear thinkers on my investigation. I don’t care for petty politics between my officers. I want results.” His voice softened but there was steel in it. “Do yourself a favor, Wildeve, and get yourself home.”

She slammed the door behind her on the way out.

49

49

Tuesday 31st July 2018, 11:29 A.M.

25 The Avenue

Evan was sitting on the tree house roof.

He liked it up there. Hidden away from his sister and the rest of the world, his face obscured by branches and leaves, the sun on his skin.

He was bored. B-o-r-e-d.

His mother was somewhere, but he didn’t know where.

His father was still in London, but had promised to get home as soon as he could.

His dumb idiot of a sister was supposed to be looking after him, but she was pretending to walk up to the shop to buy a magazine so she could hang about and meet boys.

He flicked a nervous glance at the house. The smoke had finally dispersed after Aster, dragged from bed by the noise, had panicked and called their father mid-interview. He’d told her to turn off the grill and open all the windows and doors. He’d also shouted the F-word down the phone, Aster said. Now he was getting the train home early from his Very Important interview. Evan had a bad feeling about this.

His stomach rumbled. He pulled a plum from the tree, but as he lifted it to his mouth, a wasp crawled from a hole in its flesh and Evan dropped it. The sound of it hitting the grass was thick and wet.

In a flash of inspiration, he remembered a half-eaten packet of Jammie Dodgers in the tree house. As he prepared to climb down, a movement from next door caught his eye.

An old lady was hurrying down the garden.

“Cooper,” she called. “Cooper.”

An old man appeared in the greenhouse door, secateurs in one hand, plant cuttings in another.

“What is it, my love?”

“I’ve been checking over those drawings again.” Her voice was loud. Animated. “Not only are those people next door planning to dig up the foundations for a basement kitchen, they want to build a two-story extension and a garden room—”

“Hush, hush, my love.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she said. “He’s gone out. I saw the taxi this morning.”

“Well, now,” he said mildly, scratching his head and pulling out his pipe. “There’s not much we can do about it.”

Evan inched forward, half on the metal roof and half on the branch of the tree, trying to catch her reply, but it was muffled and indistinct.

“Don’t upset yourself, my love.” That was the old man. “These things take time.”

Her voice rose again. “He’s an out-of-work architect. He has time.”