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Chapters (56)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Dawn Goodwin
  3. WHAT I NEVER TOLD YOU
  4. Copyright
  5. Contents
  6. Dedication
  7. Prologue
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. Acknowledgements
  55. About the Author
  56. An Invitation from the Publisher

Then she pushes Eloise hard in the chest. Eloise is propelled backwards towards the cliff edge, with the rocks below and the crashing sea waiting, its mouth open. Her arms pinwheel and I gasp, then reach out to grab her coat. At first there is nothing, just fresh air between us, then my fingers brush her zip and for a second I think I can grab onto her.

But the wind is carrying her over, the seagulls laughing as they watch.

There is a thud.

I step forwards, scared to look, but needing to.

The image of what is below will be forever seared into my mind.

Tracey is standing still, frozen in place, her face blank.

“What did you do?” I say in a tiny voice. “Tracey, what did you do?”

She turns away and walks to the bench, sits down, begins to tremble.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” I say over and over again. My feet brush over the scuff marks in the dirt almost without me realising I am doing it.

“We have to do something. Before anyone sees. Before anyone comes.” I’m trying to think, trying to scramble together my thoughts.

Her bike, I need to get rid of her bike. Did she tell her parents she was coming here? Would they think anything?

I grab her bike. The bell on the handlebars comes loose and falls to the ground, ringing once mournfully. I drag the bike to the edge and push it over. “Maybe someone will think she has fallen, skidded in the sand and gone over, a nasty accident maybe? Yes, that’s what we’ll say. No, wait, we won’t say anything. We don’t know what happened. We were never here. We never saw her. She didn’t make it to the house. Tracey, are you listening to me?” I can tell she isn’t. She looks vacant, like she has left her body altogether.

I rush up to her, slap her hard. “Tracey, listen to me. We never saw her, she wasn’t here. We stayed inside and you went home. Ok?”

She holds her hand up to her cheek, nods and I hope she is taking in what I’m saying.

“This is all my fault. This is all my fault. I will never tell anyone what happened here. This is all my fault. I promise you, I will never tell a soul,” I say.

She nods again.

“This is our secret.”

43

NOW

Helen walked over to the loungers, felt the chair shift as she lowered herself down next to Lydia. Then she picked up one of the photos. Tracey, her legs splayed, everything out for everyone to see, the smiling faces of the teenage boys with their big waves of hair and skinny bodies, the cruel girls staring down at her as she lay, passed out, her eyes closed, completely unaware of what they were doing.