Resultado de "Maria Frankland" em Todas as categorias

They don’t need to name the dangerous prisoner who’s escaped whilst in transit between prisons. The chill that snakes up my spine tells me exactly who it is. And I know the first place he’ll be heading. With a history of my own escape from him twelve years ago, I can already foresee the relentless manhunt that’s about to unfold. The question is, will he be caught before he can do any more damage? As a fresh wave of killings creeps closer to our new hometown on the east coast, I know one thing for certain. That he’s coming back for me.

From where I stand in the shadows outside the pub I own, I can already tell what mood my husband’s in and it makes me want to stay exactly where I am. However, I can also see my bar manager, Jay. Sexy, young and exciting, he’s the person who’s going to set me free from my middle-aged monotony. I’m dreading turning fifty more than I’ve dreaded any other birthday in my life. Now that my kids are at university, the prospect of spending the rest of my life with my bullying, balding and boring husband is a miserable one.

Seven drownings. Three months. Who is to blame? Lauren is fed up with covering local small-town news in Northern England. The bride-to-be and mother-of-one dreams of recognition and accolades as a national journalist. Yet, the dark and disturbing reporting opportunity that lands on her doorstep is one she would never have invited. When it is thrust on her, she is duty bound, both professionally and personally to investigate. Lauren is the voice for the women whose lives have been cut short in the river Alder.

The moment she sees Caitlyn, wearing her ‘bride-to-be’ sash and brimming with excitement, it hits her. She hates Caitlyn. She knows who she is – what she’s really hiding. And the temptation to do something about it is too strong to resist… It sickens me, the way they all think she’s so perfect. I plaster a fake smile on my face – all I have to do is pretend I’m enjoying the next few days. It shouldn’t be so hard. After all, I’ve been lying for years.

I stand at the front door and meticulously check my reflection in the glass. I must look perfect to meet Lou’s new boyfriend. I haven’t been invited but best friends don't require invitations, right? Scott's arrival coincides with Donna's, leaving me with no choice but to welcome her in, though I've made it clear she's an unnecessary addition to today's gathering. This meal is about introducing Scott to my mother and daughter – a fact Donna conveniently ignores.

All I want is get back to normal. Whatever ‘normal’ is these days. After all, our family will be scarred forever after everything that’s happened. My sister-in-law falling prey to the serial killer that stalked our usual peaceful town is something I’ll never get over. But equally, I’m beyond relieved that my husband has been exonerated of involvement in any of the women’s deaths. Our nightmare is finally over. Or is it?

Sunny afternoons are the worst for a recovering alcoholic. But I’m doing OK and I’m proud of myself. I stretch out on my sun lounger with my book, basking in the peace before I have to collect my son from school. Then the gate rattles. It’s the police and judging by their expressions, they’re not here with good news. As I face the two officers, I try to dismiss what they’re telling me. My husband, Rob, can’t possibly be dead—I only saw him this morning. Besides, he’s the safest cyclist I know and would never put himself at risk.

As I stand outside the registry office with my husband-to-be, Hugh, I can tell something isn’t right. He won’t speak to me, he won’t even look at me and it’s almost making me have second thoughts. Almost. Despite the feeling in my gut, I’m sure I’m doing the right thing. After all I’ve been through in the last year—the death of my parents, and my partner of ten years walking out, I deserve this chance of a new start. I can’t return to my lonely life—I don’t want to be alone again.

As I walk into the pine-scented air of my seaside childhood home, gripping my husband Neil’s hand tight, I have a brief moment of hope. Maybe this Christmas will be different — for once my family might get on fueled by mulled wine and festive cheer. But the sound of happy carols are replaced by my older sister Christy’s over-loud laugh and slurred words. Rebecca, my younger sister, stalks out of the room as soon as I enter, as though I’m the Grinch here to steal Christmas. And their husbands, brash and arrogant, slap Neil’s back in a way that promises torment rather than welcome.