The Retreat(103)

Confusion flitted across Megan’s face, but Lily smiled. ‘You’re still my best friend.’

Megan couldn’t hide her relief. ‘I’ll do whatever it takes, Lily, to make it up to you.’

Lily had one more question. ‘Does your grandad know what happened?’

Megan looked pained. ‘I don’t think so. I mean, I’ve seen him looking at me sometimes, like he’s wondering about something. But he’s never said anything. And he never will.’

Lily nodded, satisfied, then turned away, still smiling, and said, ‘What was that?’

‘Huh?’

Lily pointed towards the far bank and moved closer to the river. ‘Down in the water, over there. I saw something shining.’

Megan stepped closer to the edge of the riverbank. ‘What? Really? I can’t see anything.’

Lily pointed towards the far bank. ‘Over there. Look.’

Megan stepped closer still to the edge, leaning forward with one hand cupped over her eyes. ‘I still can’t see it. Are you sure?’

Lily moved behind her former best friend.

‘You should be careful what you believe,’ she said. And pushed.

She watched Megan thrash in the water for a minute, watched the strong current pull her under, just as it had done to Dad. Megan came to the surface, mouth opening, flapping soundlessly, but only for a moment. The river claimed her.

Glancing around to check no one had seen, Lily headed home, smiling quietly to herself. No one would ever know it wasn’t an accident. She rubbed her scalp.

The moths were quiet at last.





Letter from the author

Dear Reader

Thank you so much for reading The Retreat. I love hearing from readers and you can email me at [email protected], find me on facebook.com/markedwardsbooks or follow me on Twitter: @mredwards. I’ve also joined Instagram (@markedwardsauthor) because the world desperately needs more photos of books, cats and dogs . . .

Please note, the rest of this letter contains massive spoilers, so PLEASE don’t read it until you’ve finished the book.

The initial spark for The Retreat came from a newspaper article I read a few years ago. A family had been driven out of their home by somebody who believed the house rightfully belonged to them. This led to an idea: a house that was haunted, not by a ghost but by a living person.

I combined this idea with an image that came to me from nowhere: a family, out walking by the river on a winter’s day; the parents rounding the corner to discover their daughter missing, and a soft toy being carried away by the churning water.

But what had happened to this girl? And who was haunting the house? It took a while to figure this out.

I have always been fascinated by urban legends and folk tales, by the stories people tell each other. Shortly before starting The Retreat I watched a fascinating documentary called Beware the Slenderman, about a horrifying case in which two young girls attempted to murder their best friend because an Internet meme told them to. At the same time, my YouTube-addicted son began to ask questions about the Slenderman and my daughter came home from school talking about Bloody Mary.

It struck me that this was what my novel was about: the scary stories we tell each other about ‘boogeymen’, stories that spread much faster and wider now we have the Internet . . . And it’s not only children who believe scary tales. In this world of post-truth politics and ‘fake news’, it’s more important than ever that we think very carefully about what, and who, we believe.

Finally, if you enjoyed this book I hope you will recommend it to a friend. Maybe pass it on to someone who doesn’t usually read much. There are few things I like better than receiving a message from a reader whose love of books has been sparked or rekindled by one of my novels. The more people we can turn on to the joy of reading, the better the world will be.

Best wishes

Mark Edwards

www.markedwardsauthor.com





Acknowledgments

Thank you to all the usual suspects, the team of people who are always there for me and help me get my books into the hands of readers: Emilie, Sana, Hatty, Eoin, Laura, Shona and everyone else at Thomas & Mercer for being fabulous publishers and knowing what authors need (a quick reply to emails and lots of alcohol); My brilliantly astute agent, Sam Copeland, whose enthusiasm for this book was infectious;

My ridiculously clever and gorgeous wife, Sara, for supporting me in every way and being my first and most critical reader (in a nice way).

A number of people helped specifically with this book. As one of the world’s least organised people, I apologise in advance to anyone I’ve missed out: Ian Pindar, my editor, for countless wise suggestions and for making the editing of this book seem almost unbelievably straightforward; The real Heledd Roberts, who not only let me use her name but provided the creepy Welsh song and helped me name the town of Beddmawr, along with Suzanna Salter and Jackie Davies; All the other members of my Facebook page who volunteered to have characters named after them: Malcolm Jones and Olly Jones (who are not related in real life!), Karen Holden, Ursula Clarke, Garry Snaith and Suzi Hastings. Also, Lily Jenkinson for helping come up with the name of the cat, Chesney, and Julie Baugh for helping me christen some of my other characters; Everyone else on my Facebook page, Twitter and Instagram for your endless enthusiasm and cheerleading;

My daughters, Ellie and Poppy, for showing such interest in your dad’s book, even though you’re not allowed to read it yet, and for advising me on words the kids of today would and would not use. I promise not to say ‘LOL’ or ‘true dat’ ever again; Lisa Shakespeare and Rachel Kennedy at Midas PR for helping to spread the word about my books – though I’m still waiting for a feature about Rebel and me in Your Dog magazine; Heather Large and Lisa Williams at the Express & Star for all your support; And finally, my mum – who engendered my love of books and who, unwittingly, started me on this path many years ago by bringing home that James Herbert novel. Thank you not just for that but for all your encouragement and support. I still need to buy you that bungalow . . .