The Passengers(105)
The sour taste of vomit crept up the back of Jack’s throat. Blood rose to the surface of his skin, making it feel like he was burning, but it brought him out in a cold sweat.
Gradually the music returned, the volume becoming louder and louder as Jack desperately attempted to switch the entertainment system off and clear his head to formulate a plan. He jabbed at the screen but nothing happened and the song he had chosen began again from the start.
But this time when Nina Simone sang of feeling good, Jack no longer shared her sentiment.
Chapter 70
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The Passengers took much more research than any of my other books to date, and much of that was undertaken by my husband John Russell. So first and foremost, thanks, JR, for all the effort you put into this. It would have taken much more time without your thoroughness and attention to detail. Thanks also go to my mum Pam for her continued support, and my dog Oscar who has appeared in every one of my books to date. Apologies for turning you from a Border Terrier into a Pomeranian this time, Oz.
I would also like to offer my huge thanks to the team at Ebury. My editor and Chief Penguin Gillian Green for having faith in the story (even if you did reduce the unhappy-ever-afters); and to Little Penguin, Stephenie Naulls, for your constant creativity and bright ideas. Thanks also to everyone else who has worked on this book and The One, including Tess Henderson, Bethany Wood, Katie Seaman, Rae Shirvington, Alice Latham and Donna Hillyer plus everyone else who are too numerous, but equally talented, to mention. And of course thanks to the former Big Penguin, Emily Yau, for the idea and for putting me on this crazy journey.
I’d like to offer a shout-out to my fellow writers Louise Beech, the Ena Sharples of the literary world, for being my sounding board and to Darren O’Sullivan for all the DMs over the last year. Thanks also to Cara Hunter, Randileigh Kennedy and Jo Edwards, CJ Skuse and the ever-hilarious Claire Allan for the many distractions from writing that our Tweets have given me.
No book of mine would be the same without a character called Tracy Fenton. Tracy and the team at Facebook’s THE book Club have been there for me from the very start of my writing career. Thanks for staying the course on this amazing journey. Also thanks to Wendy Clarke and members of The Fiction Café; Bee Jones and Lost In A Good Book and the UK Crime Book Club. And my gratitude also goes to the countless bloggers out there, many of whom have hosted me during my blog tours. Thank you for being so supportive to authors. You do a fantastic job, working long hours for little – and usually no – payment because you just love reading. You don’t always receive the recognition that you deserve.
Much appreciation goes to my Queen of Social media, Pippa Akram of @Social_Pip, for her invaluable advice on the future of where social media is heading; to Jenny Knott and also author David Kerrigan. His book Life As A Passenger is perfect further reading for anyone interested in the future of driverless cars.
And cheers to Mandie Brown, Danielle Graph, Jo Edwards, Rachael Cochlin and Niamh Lanigan Bonner.
To test yourself and make ethical decisions on what a car should do in the event of a collision, visit the website moralmachine.mit.edu
Finally, thank you, each and every one of you, for picking up or downloading this book. You will never appreciate how grateful I am to you for allowing me to continue this career.
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Chapter 1
MANDY
Mandy stared at the photograph on her computer screen and held her breath.
The shirtless man had cropped, light-brown hair, and posed on a beach with his legs spread apart with the top half of his wetsuit rolled down to his waist. His eyes were the clearest shade of blue. His huge grin contained two perfectly aligned rows of white teeth, and she could almost taste the salt water dripping from his chest and onto the surfboard lying by his feet.
‘Oh my Lord,’ she whispered to herself, and let out a long breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. She felt her fingertips tingle and her face flush, and wondered how on earth her body would react to him in person if that’s how it responded to just one photograph.
The coffee in her polystyrene cup was cold but she still finished it. She took a screengrab of the photograph and added it to a newly created folder on her desktop entitled ‘Richard Taylor’. She scanned the office to check if anyone was watching what she was up to in her booth, but no one was paying her any attention.
Mandy scrolled down the screen to look at the other photographs in his Facebook album ‘Around the World’. He was certainly well travelled, she noticed, and he had been to places she’d only ever seen on TV or in films. In many pictures he was in bars, trails and temples, posing by landmarks, enjoying golden beaches and choppy waters. He was rarely on his own. She liked that he seemed the gregarious type.