The Perfect Girl (31 page)

ZOE
 

I’m standing at the side of the stage waiting to go on.

Outside there’s ice on the pavement and when we arrived Uncle Richard had to catch my arm because I nearly slipped over when we got out of the car.

Lucas is in the crowd, manning the video recorder. He doesn’t perform in public any more, though sometimes he bangs out a tune. That’s how he himself describes his playing nowadays. He’s so into filming and that’s his thing now. He spends hours watching films with Uncle Richard. Richard doesn’t make models any more, he says he never really liked them; he gets into the whole film thing with Lucas instead.

Grace is here, but we don’t think she’ll last long in the audience.

Richard says that he wouldn’t bring her along at all, but he’s sure that she’s got an unusual interest in music for a child her age. She’s captivated by my playing, he says. He’s sitting at the end of the back row with her so he has an easy exit and can take her home when she makes her first squawk. But he wants her to be here at the beginning at least. It’s my first concert since Mum died, and I think we all know in our hearts it’s a kind of tribute to her.

My piano was brought over from the Second Chance House and moved into the dining room at Tess’s house. Richard has converted his shed into a kind of cinema and film room where he and Lucas edit films and watch them on a pull-down screen.

‘It’s tech heaven,’ says Tess when she looks in there.

I tried to phone Sam once, at work, but they said he’d left, gone back to Devon. They said he was poorly. I tried to tell Tessa, but she didn’t want to talk about it. She reminded me of Mum then, pushing a subject away, lips tight and holding back feelings that I couldn’t read.

I’m playing a short programme tonight, but it contains some of Mum’s favourite pieces.

Because of the cold I’m wrapped up warmly, gloves on, and a cardigan, and I’ve been pressed against the heater that’s in the shabby little green room. We’ve been careful with the venue we’ve booked on this occasion, so very careful. It’s not a church; it’s a music club. The piano on the stage is a beautiful Steinway and there’s seating for around eighty people. This time, I shall make my entrance from the side, not down an aisle.

In my head there’s a mantra: This is your Third Chance.

I don’t think I have nine lives, but I hope I have three.

I hear my name called from the stage and, just before I go on, in my head I send a message to my mum. This is for you, Mummy, is what I think, and I have to wipe a small tear carefully from my eye.

I take off my cardigan and my gloves.

I’m looking good, in a dress that Mum chose for me before she died, a black silk dress with a high neck and three-quarter-length sleeves. I’ve brushed my hair until it’s silky, just how she would want me to. As I enter the room and mount the stage, there’s a round of applause.

Before I sit down, I do a small bow to the audience, and then the clapping stops politely. Tess is in the front row and she gives me a thumbs-up. Behind her, almost all the seats are full. My reputation has preceded me. As Chris might have said, if he hadn’t been sentenced to fifteen years in jail: No publicity is bad publicity.

I sit. I adjust the stool, controlling my breathing, and I place my hands over the keys.

The piece is a nocturne by Chopin. It’s achingly beautiful, soul-pulling music, which can make your insides ripple. It’s for my mother, and for Lucas, who doesn’t want to perform any more, but loves to listen. It’s for Grace too, because she’s going to be just like me, I know it. It’s for Richard and Tess, who are looking after us now. It’s for my Third Chance Family.

As I pull the first note from the piano, I’m instantly lost to the music, trapped inside it, living every delicate, haunting phrase of it, and I feel like my mum is living it with me.

And I know it’s going to go well, brilliantly, in fact.

A great deal has happened in the year since I started to work on this book, and I’m indebted to all the people who’ve supported me along the way.

A super-sized thank you must go to Emma Beswetherick, my amazing editor, who did so much to shape my first book and has given me the confidence and opportunity to write this one. Your extraordinary enthusiasm, tireless support, and your razor-sharp editorial guidance and clarity are all things I simply could not have done without.

Thanks must also go to some other fantastic folk at Little, Brown: Kate Doran, for brilliant marketing and also help during my first forays into social media and author websites, Jo Wickham, for easing me gently into the world of publicity, and Dominic Wakeford for all your work on the manuscript, and Ceara Elliot for a fabulous cover design. It’s such a pleasure to work with you all.

Another enormous thank you to my amazing agent Nelle Andrew, who is always there for me with the right words of advice, and bucketloads of support. I feel very lucky to have you on my side.

Huge thanks also to the fabulous Rachel Mills, Alexandra Cliff and Marilia Savvides at PFD who have sent my first book out into the world with wings on. Lovely Rebecca Wearmouth completes the foreign rights team and it’s been so much fun to work with all of you.

To all the international editors and publishers who took on the book: thank you so much, you’ve also given me the courage to throw myself into
The Perfect Girl
. It’s been a joy to work with and to meet many of you over the past year.

Thank you to my writing partner Abbie Ross for being there every step of the way. Your tireless support, friendship and determination have kept me going and inspired me too.

Thank you so much also to Annemarie Caracciolo, Philippa Lowthorpe, Bridget Rode, Janie and Phill Ankers, Jonathan and Cilla Paget, Andrew Beck and Vonda Macmillan Beck for always being there with words of encouragement. Annemarie, you get the trophy for the best pep talks.

My two retired detectives, who helped me so much with
Burnt Paper Sky
, were once again extremely generous with their time and advice for this book, and in particular they helped me devise a crime scene and timeline that would work with the intricate plot that I had in mind. Thank you so much to you both.

I also undertook research in the worlds of criminal law and incarceration to support elements of this book. Rob Rode and Margaret Evans were both extremely generous with their time and knowledge in this respect, and I’m very grateful to you both.

Any legal or police procedure mistakes are mine alone!

On the home front, another massive thank you must go to my family who has been very patient with me while I disappeared into my basement office for days, weeks and months on end to tackle this book.

Jules Macmillan. Thank you for feeding the children, the dogs, and the fish while I wrote. Thank you for listening when I needed to talk about the book (which was pretty much all the time), and helping me reverse out of many a plot cul-de-sac, and for your brilliant and thoughtful suggestions. Thank you most of all for being unstintingly supportive of this book, and of me.

Rose, Max and Louis Macmillan. Thank you for everything. You’ve never once complained as your full-time mum became a full-time writer, and that’s something. Thank you too for patiently answering all my questions and letting me feed some of your own interests into my story. And not forgetting, most importantly, a very big thank you to each one of you for making me smile every day. I’m so proud of you all.

 

 

Rachel Jenner turned her back for a moment. Now her eight-year-old son Ben is missing.

But what really happened that fateful afternoon?

Caught between her personal tragedy and a public who have turned against her, there is nobody left who Rachel can trust. But can the nation trust Rachel?

The clock is ticking to find Ben alive.

WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON?

Available now in paperback and
ebook
from
Piatkus
 

#burntpapersky