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Back The Lies We Told Save as PDF
Chapters (44)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright
  3. Table of Contents
  4. Dedication
  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. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. Acknowledgements
  41. Keep Reading…
  42. About the Author
  43. Also by Camilla Way
  44. About the Publisher

As she stood standing in the hall’s blackness grappling with her keys, she thought she heard a sound from the floor above. She stood stock-still. What was that? ‘Hello?’ she called. Nothing. And then, the name unfamiliar on her lips, ‘Alison, is that you?’ Again, silence. ‘This isn’t funny,’ she shouted. ‘If that’s you, say something.’ Still nothing, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling there was someone there. Suddenly, it was as if the air was ripped in two by a deafening roar of music. Her heart lurched at the shock and involuntarily she screamed, before hurtling down the stairs, the music stopping as abruptly as it had begun the moment she reached the main door. She bolted out of the building, gasping for air in the cool, orange-lit darkness of the street. Across the square voices drifted over to her from the string of bars and restaurants. She turned, and, her heart still pounding, set off at a run towards the station.

17

Cambridgeshire, 1994

Those few brief years of peace ended not long after Hannah turned thirteen. She seemed, physically, to change overnight – or perhaps I hadn’t been looking, maybe I had grown used to letting my gaze flicker over my daughter, it being too painful to linger on her for too long. Whatever the case, I remember vividly the morning I looked up from my breakfast and noticed something I’d failed to see before.

‘What?’ she said, as she sullenly emptied some cereal into a bowl.

‘Nothing.’ But though I lowered my gaze I couldn’t help but watch her from the corner of my eye as she began to eat. Toby, seven by then, was halfway through his Cheerios, engrossed in a comic. Doug had already left for work, and Hannah was eating her breakfast as she stood by the window, having long ago refused to join us at the table.

Perhaps it was the too-small T-shirt she was wearing, or the angle in which she was standing, but for the first time I noticed the small breasts that had begun to bud on her chest, the waist that had become more defined, the thickening of her hips. My eyes travelled to her face. It was, as usual, half hidden behind a wild tangle of hair, but I saw now that it had begun to lose some of its childish plumpness, her features becoming more certain – the beauty she’d always had becoming more distinct.