Susan Webster was convicted of killing her twelve week old son, Dylan. After serving only three years in a psychiatric hospital she is out on parole having given herself a new name - Emma Cartwright, which is actually used maybe twice during the whole of this book. For company she has Cassie, also a murderer, who befriended her whilst incarcerated. This unlikely pair now live in Ludlow, a small town in Shropshire. Now wouldn't you think that a woman wanting to live anonymously, would chose a large city rather than a small town where people notice someone new? People are naturally nosey, but Susan (now Emma) chooses a town with a relatively small population, in which to hide! Yes, really.
Four weeks after her release, certain events have Susan beginning to believe that Dylan is, in fact, still alive. She enlists the help of Nick, a journalist who turns up at her door out of the blue. This despite the fact that apparently no-one knows her identity, or where she lives....sheesh. She trusts Nick implicitly - aah, it's those electric blue eyes and the muscled torso hidden underneath that crisp white shirt that does it. Sometime later, within minutes of meeting a solicitor she is imagining going on a date with him...."He smells expensive, and in a tailored Armani suit he looks it too. He must be under forty, well built, and his face has been chiselled by a steady hand" Oh - almost forgot - he also has mesmerising eyes. Say no more.
Susan is constantly in tears, or on the verge of tears. Her heart thuds, pounds, tightens, splits, and quickens; her blood freezes, her face gets hot - sounds like the menopause to me.
This is one of the most ridiculous books I have ever read. I began reading it in the hope of a good psychological thriller, but what I got was dreadful dialogue, a plot with more holes than a mature Swiss cheese, and a narrative to match. The author's attempts at humour fall flat, and the superfluous details about Susan's emotions and imaginings not only add nothing to the story but are truly tiresome. I found most of the characters unpleasant; Susan is self-pitying and pathetic, I could not have cared less what happened to her or her friends.
Every so often we are treated to chapters - written entirely in italics which can be hard on the eyes - concerning the antics of a group of teenagers back in 1992. This is all so confusing and confused, and intensely irritating.
The writing is often juvenile, for example: ..."Billy brought Tanya back to their place. A pair of tits with legs. Tanya was tight in all the right places, but more amazingly, she could write and spell". Well of course she can, and that's what's important. Right?
Reading this is like being hit repeatedly with a sledgehammer; it has been torturous from the beginning. It's a complete mish mash and I wanted to throw it out the window, or on the fire. However I eventually decided to approach it as a "spoof" thriller. Even this was a stretch; I alternated between huffing and puffing in exasperation, and laughing out loud, so much so my husband has worried about my sanity. Not surprisingly the ending is predictable and weak. It is no surprise to me to learn that the author was "addicted to romance novels" in her teen years; this novel smacks of teenage writing and would probably appeal to a newcomer to the genre of psychological thriller. As for my copy - well, I won't be keeping it.
My thanks to Amazon Vine for an advanced copy to read and review.