Maggie: a gripping psychological thriller Read online

  Table of Contents

  Epilogue

  Also By Netta Newbound

  Praise for An Impossible Dilemma:

  Praise for The Watcher:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Maggie

  Netta Newbound

  Copyright © 2017 Netta Newbound

  The right of Netta Newbound o be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  First published in 2017 by Bloodhound Books

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  www.bloodhoundbooks.com

  Contents

  Also By Netta Newbound

  Praise for An Impossible Dilemma:

  Praise for The Watcher:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Epilogue

  A Note From Bloodhound Books

  Acknowledgments

  Also By Netta Newbound

  An Impossible Dilema

  The Watcher

  Praise for An Impossible Dilemma:

  'Parts of this were gruesome and highly disturbing, Newbound’s writing style is so good and descriptive...' Amy Sullivan - Novelgossip

  'An Impossible Dilemma is one of those books that will stay with me forever making this one of my top reads for 2017.' Shell Baker - Chelle's Book Reviews

  'It's brilliant. In a truly dark & twisted way, it really is fantastic.' Sarah Kenny - The Great British Book Off

  'An Impossible Dilemma is a dark, disturbing and heart wrenching psychological thriller.' Diane Hogg - Sweet Little Book Blog

  'The book is easy to read and will definitely grip you and suck you in, and it is bound to give you a lot to think about.' Rebecca Burnton - If Only I Could Read faster

  Praise for The Watcher:

  'I really enjoyed reading The Watcher, it is well written with great characters and the coldness of the baddie is chilling.' Rebecca Burnton - If Only I Could Read Faster

  'The writing style is great and entertaining, the characters are true to life.' Caroline Vincent - Bits About Books

  'This is a very gripping well written book with twists and turns that keep the reader guessing right to the end.' Jill Burkinshaw - Books n All

  'WOW. The Watcher is brilliant with a very clever individual character!' Gemma Gaskarth - Between The Pages Book Club

  'WOW what a fantastic psychological thriller, very harrowing, slow burning page turner with the OMG where did that come from pull you in factor, so much so I couldn't put it down.' Diane Hogg - Sweet Little Book Blog

  I would like to dedicate this book to two wonderful women -- my gorgeous mum, Linda, and my amazing mother-in-law, Nova. Your continued love and support inspires me.

  1

  The sounds of ‘Jerusalem,’ my mother’s favourite hymn, reverberated off the four walls of the quaint village chapel.

  I couldn’t sing. I could barely perform the most basic of functions as I stared at the casket that held her fragile and wasted body.

  Breast cancer had been responsible for taking the best mother a girl could have wished for. She’d found it too late, and the specialists had told her no amount of treatment would make any difference. So, she’d made the call not to even try.

  I couldn’t believe how brave she’d been. And now, just four months after finding that first bastard lump, she was gone.

  I’d helped look after her as much as I could, but towards the end, the palliative care team had taken over. Then, last week, even the night times had been covered by a Marie Curie nurse. But still, I had insisted on helping.

  Mum seemed to be aware, and I could tell by the look in her eyes, she was grateful.

  My stepdad, Kenny, wasn’t much help. In fact, he’d been a total waste of space. It seemed as though he thought if he ignored what was happening, then it wouldn’t actually be true. He made me sick. They’d been married since I was eight, half my life, yet they’d never had any more children. I got the impression it had been his decision, not hers. Mum had enough love for a houseful of kids, but not him.

  I glanced at him, standing beside me crying, his mouth wide as he bawled unashamedly. For a handsome man, he was certainly an ugly crier. But I envied his tears. I hadn’t shed any since my mum took her final, rasping breath.

  Kenny, or Kenneth Edmond Simms as he was known professionally, was the village accountant. He was well liked and looked up to by everyone he had any dealings with. But I’d noticed the way some of the local women had been looking at him when news of my mother’s terminal illness had been made public.

  I figured it wouldn’t be long before he was parading his fancy women on his arm, without a thought for my poor mum. Even though I wasn’t seventeen yet, I wasn’t behind the door when it came to the psychology of men. As long as their meals were being made, their laundry done, and their egos
stroked, they were almost anybody’s.

  “You okay, Maggie?” Claudia, our next-door neighbour, asked.

  I nodded, suddenly back in the room, and I realised everybody was up on their feet as heavy, gold curtains closed around the casket. Panic gripped me, and my body shuddered.

  As the congregation headed to the door, I turned and allowed myself to be caught up in the crowd. For that brief moment, I was anonymous. Nobody looked at me with pity and sadness. But when outside, the crowd dispersed, and I was left feeling utterly alone and vulnerable.

  “Maggie? Maggie!”

  I turned, disorientated, and I couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from. Then, Claudia stepped from the sea of people and pulled me into her arms.

  “Oh, my poor darling. Come, let me find you a seat – you look done in.”

  She ferried me back towards the doors just as Kenny emerged surrounded by well-wishers, mostly female.

  Claudia barged amongst them. “Your daughter needs some attention, Kenneth. She’s not looking too good. Maybe it’s her asthma.”

  Kenny made a display of pulling me into his arms and sobbing. His tears soaked into my plain, grey dress. I didn’t like dresses, but I’d decided I needed to make an effort for Mum.

  Lots of comments and murmurs followed.

  Aw, how sweet. They will need each other now…

  Emily was their rock…

  So, so sad…

  I shut my ears to them – what the hell did they know? It was always the same; people saw one thing and would make their minds up about something they knew nothing about.

  “Is everything set up at the house?” Kenny asked when we were alone in the back of the funeral car.

  I nodded. The neighbours had all pulled together, led by Claudia, and helped prepare a buffet fit for a queen’s send off.

  “We’ll get through it, you know. At least she’s not suffering anymore. I couldn’t bear seeing her like that.”

  I wanted to remind him he’d not seen much of her suffering anyway. He’d hardly been by her side during the final stages. But I didn’t reply. My mother had taught me if I couldn’t say anything nice, to keep my mouth shut.

  Back at our modest home, I was surprised by how many people had actually followed us. I didn’t think we’d get them all inside, let alone feed them. But it didn’t matter. They were there to pay their respects to my beautiful and funny mother. Nobody would care if they couldn’t find a seat.

  The sound of their voices clamouring together in our dinky, middle of the row, terraced house, made my head throb. After a few minutes, I slid away to the comfort of my room and curled up on the bed.

  But Kenny soon clicked I wasn’t around and came bursting in, demanding I make an appearance. I had a job to do, and people needed looking after.

  Reluctantly, I followed him back downstairs.

  When everybody had gone, Kenny brought in several glasses from the front doorstep and placed them on the kitchen worktop. “That was a decent send off,” he said, with a smile.

  I nodded and continued loading the dishwasher.

  “Look, Mags. You and I are all that’s left. We need to support each other.”

  “I know.” My words were no more than a whisper.

  “We’ve never been very close, probably down to me, but I’m willing to make an effort, if you are?”

  I shrugged and turned my back on him.

  When I went through to the lounge later, I found him lying on the sofa.

  “Go and get in bed, Mags. It’s been a long day.”

  I noticed how pale and tired he looked and realised maybe he was missing Mum after all. “Can I get you anything before I go up?”

  “I couldn’t face another thing, but thanks anyway.” He smiled sadly. “I’ll probably get an early night myself.”

  I heard him trudge up the stairs while I was in the bathroom. His bedroom door was already closed when I came out. Mum had been sleeping in the front room, and so he was used to having the bed to himself.

  The past few days, since Mum died, I’d felt out of place. Without her, where did I belong? Mum didn’t have any family, I was her only living relative, and she mine – unless you counted my birth father who’d run out on us when I was barely six months old.

  Without Mum, Kenny wouldn’t want me hanging about, cramping his style.

  I could get a job. I was old enough to legally leave school, although I had planned to stay on for sixth form and then, the following year, go to college to take my A levels. But, if need be, I could leave now.

  We lived in a village called Harley on the outskirts of Manchester, and at a push, I could travel into the city by bus. But if I left school, there would be no reason to stay in the village. I would just look for a bedsit close to wherever the job was.

  It was thoughts of my future that had got me through the rest of the afternoon. Mum would have been mortified if she’d known my plans, since she’d had big dreams for me, but as far as I could see, I had no choice.

  In my room, I curled up on the bed and checked my phone, not really expecting any messages. Then, I stalked a couple of the popular girls from school to see how their day had been. This was the extent of my social media activity. However, stalking wasn’t really social at all.

  The few friends I did have had stopped bothering with me when Mum had become sick. I was clearly no longer any fun. Mum always told me you soon discover who your true friends are in a crisis, and she was right.

  Although summer, it was unusually hot for July in the north of England, and the duvet I usually had was in the airing cupboard. I stripped off my clothes and slid between the cool sheets. So that was that. The day we buried my mother had been and gone, and I still hadn’t shed one tear. I couldn’t believe it had really happened. It was like some kind of awful nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

  Restless, I decided to go back downstairs and empty the dishwasher. I pulled on my lime-green satin pyjamas and padded down on bare feet. Bending over the dishwasher, I didn’t hear Kenny enter the kitchen. I almost had a heart attack when I stood up and saw him beside the sink filling a glass with water. I squealed and clutched my chest.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Couldn’t you sleep either?”

  I shook my head.

  He sat at the kitchen table, sipping his water.

  When all the dishes were put away, I went back up to my room and lay on top of the sheets. The silence of the house freaked me out, being used to the nurses coming and going, and Mum’s random, fretful cries. Now, there was just the two of us, Kenny and I, politely sidestepping each other – creeping about as though trying to avoid waking the dead.

  I flicked through Facebook again. Rachel Mendoza, my ex-best friend, had posted several photos from her holiday in Ibiza, off the coast of Spain. That hurt. Surely she could have waited to post images of her and her family smiling happily for the camera. Didn’t she know how heartless that was? Today of all days.

  At last, silent tears ran down my cheeks as I flicked through page after page of Rachel’s happy images. She used to be my closest friend, and yet, I hadn’t received one message from her. Knowing how close I was to my mum, it broke my heart that Rachel hadn’t thought to drop me a text or email. Or even a sad emoji on social media. Did she even know Mum had died?

  A fierce tightness gripped my gut, forcing all the air from my lungs. The tears flowed now, and I gripped my pillow and cried – deep, racking sobs.

  “You okay, Mags?” Kenny asked from behind the door.

  I sat up and wiped my tears away with my hands, gulping for breath.

  The handle turned down and rattled a couple of times. But I’d pulled the new bolt in place.

  “Maggie? Are you all right?”

  I rolled over on the bed and placed my feet on the floor, wiping my wet hands on the satin pyjama bottoms.

  “Mags. Open the door. I’m worried about you. Come on. Open the door or else I’ll kick it in.”

  “I… I’m okay. I’m
just sad, that’s all.”

  “I know how that feels. You shouldn’t be on your own right now. Neither of us should.”

  “Please, Kenny. Just leave me alone.”

  A loud thud and crack of wood splintering had me on my feet, my hands clasped to my mouth, stifling a silent scream.

  2

  Kenny burst into my room. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told you, I won’t allow locked doors under my roof. You hear me?”

  I nodded. My body trembled.

  He reached for my hands. “There, there, little one. It’s okay, I promise you.”

  Silent tears spilled down my cheeks, and I shuddered as he wiped a thumb across my jaw.

  “Come on, Mags. We don’t need to creep about anymore. We’re free to do what the hell we like now.”

  I stumbled back, trying to get away. “No! Please, I just want to be alone. Can’t you leave me to grieve for my mother in peace?”

  “I can help you.” He nodded and gripped my arm, yanking me forwards. “We can be a great comfort to each other.”

  “No. This is wrong. Please, Kenny. Please, not tonight.”

  “I’m lonely, Mags. I just don’t want to feel lonely anymore.” He dragged me from my room.

  I fought like a wildcat. But with his six-four frame and muscles, well-toned at the gym, he easily managed to drag me across the landing and into his room, scraping my bare heels along the carpet.