The New Girlfriend

by Sheryl Browne

Genres: Thrillers; Crime Fiction; Psychological Thrillers; Suspense

Synopsis

‘Whew! What a ride! ’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars ‘Holy moly! This book was one to remember.’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars ‘ Wow! Just wow!’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars ‘ Left me speechless.’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars Cassie once did something so bad she’s never spoken about it since. When her beloved son, Josh, dies suddenly in a tragic accident, Cassie is overcome with grief. And, as she cries on her husband’s shoulder, her phone lights up with a message that terrifies her. I know what you did and I’m going to make you pay. Somebody from Cassie’s past has found her and they want revenge for something Cassie did when Josh was just a baby. They want everyone to know just what kind of a woman Cassie really is. As Cassie tries to hide the message from her husband, there is a knock on the door of their perfect home. Cassie’s biggest secret is about to be revealed. And you won’t believe what she does next… A truly gripping page-turner that will keep you reading well into the night, The New Girlfriend is perfect for fans of The Girl on the Train, My Lovely Wife and Gone Girl. What readers are saying about The New Girlfriend : ‘Sheryl Browne is a master of the jaw-dropping twist… My goodness this book is a page turner. I couldn’t put it down and read it in an afternoon. The twist has me gasping out loud.’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars ‘ OMG, I don’t know what to say. A stellar book… Loved everything about it!… Unputdownable.’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars ‘Sheryl Browne has done it again with this page-turner. Lots of twists and turns, so hang on for the ride of your life!’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars ‘A brilliantly addictive page-turner with an ending I never saw coming.’ NetGalley reviewer, 5 stars ‘A captivating tale… An incredibly well written page turner. A gripping tale of secrets, lies and manipulation that had me hooked from the first page.’ Nicki’s Life of Crime, 5 stars ‘I frantically turned the pages until I finished it. An excellent psychological thriller… Keeps the reader on the edge of their seat.’ NetGalley reviewer, 5 stars ‘I couldn’t wait to read this and now I’m sad it’s over! Another brilliant book by Sheryl. She has such a way with her writing where you are drawn in straight away and the only problem is how to put the book down! I read it in less than a day. It was excellent!! ’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars ‘An excellent domestic thriller that kept me engaged throughout the entire journey. Highly recommend.’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars

Release date: August 3, 2020

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 350

Sample

Alone on the station platform, Josh huddled further into his coat and tugged his collar up against the freezing rain. His train was overdue, running late, he supposed. Such was his luck lately. If it could go wrong it did, spectacularly. Everything he touched seemed to fall apart. What he’d done to make the women in his life hate him he still didn’t know. He breathed in hard, his throat feeling raw from the spirits he’d tipped down it after his teaching colleagues had left the retirement do he’d felt obliged to go to this evening. Bad idea. It had only brought his problems into sharp focus.

Reeling, he heaved out a sigh and checked his watch. It would help if he could see the bloody thing. He closed one eye and squinted at it. Christ, he felt bad. He’d felt rough when he’d woken up that morning, having drunk more than he should after the gut-wrenching conversation with the woman who’d thwarted his every attempt to support her. Trying not to think about it, at least until he’d spoken to his stepfather, he moved further towards the one light on the platform that hadn’t been smashed, checked the time on his phone and then attempted to read the text his stepfather had sent him. Adam had agreed to meet him at Worcester station. He was a decent bloke, whose opinion Josh valued. He knew he could trust him not to relay anything back to his mother.

He could barely read the text, feeling disorientated as the words swam out of focus. He hoped he wasn’t going to pass out. Lying on a railway station platform in sub-zero temperatures, he’d probably freeze to death before the train arrived.

Had the train he was waiting for been cancelled? He checked the app, succeeding after two fumbling attempts, only to find that it had. Great. There was no way now he would make his connection at Birmingham. So what did he do? He could hardly walk to the centre of Birmingham in this state. He debated whether to call Adam and ask him to come and fetch him. Adam would be okay about it, and it would mean they could talk on the way, but Josh was loath to ask him to drive out here after being at work all day. Deciding it was probably his only option, he was about to call when he saw another text from him.

Do you want to message me when you’re at Evesham? I’ll set off as soon as I get it.

There’s a problem with train times, Josh texted back. Will call you.

He’d just selected Adam’s number when his phone rang.

Dammit. His heart rate ratcheting up as he realised who it was, he was about to answer when something dark and sleek darted past his feet, almost causing him to jump out of his skin. Christ, what the hell was that? If it was a rat, it was a big bugger. His heart palpitating, he inched cautiously towards the worn yellow band at the edge of the platform and peered over. He sighed with relief when he saw two alarmed green orbs blinking up at him. It was a cat. A black cat, lucky if it crossed his path. Definitely not a rat. He laughed shakily as the cat, clearly as spooked as he was, imparted its feelings with a feral hiss, then leapt back up onto the platform in one swift move and slinked warily past him.

Jesus. He’d be imagining werewolves next. Taking a breath, he hit return call, praying silently as he did. He was half expecting it to go to voicemail, but she picked up. ‘You called me,’ he said, his stomach knotting.

‘To tell you I’m deleting your number,’ she replied curtly. ‘There’s no point you ringing and texting me, Josh. We’ve said all we have to.’

‘You have,’ he retorted, disbelieving. He had a lot more to say, if only she would give him a chance. ‘Why are you doing this?’ he asked, anger churning inside him when she didn’t reply. ‘Look, I’m trying here. Can we not both just act like adults, given the situation?’

‘Perhaps you should try looking at the situation from my point of view,’ she suggested. ‘I’m going.’

‘Don’t,’ Josh said, swallowing back a knot in his throat. What in God’s name was he supposed to do if she wouldn’t listen to anything he had to say? ‘Look, can’t we at least meet up again? There has to be some way we can—’

He heard the wild mewl of the cat a split second before he lurched forward. A sharp jolt ripped through him, jarring his bones agonisingly as he landed on the unforgiving tracks. White-hot pain searing down his spine, he tried to raise his head. Couldn’t. Shit! Icy fear gripped his stomach as he heard a train approaching. He had to move. Now! Careless of the grit and gravel biting into his cheek, he brought his hands up, attempting to get some leverage. His gut twisted as he noticed the crimson stain flowering beneath him, felt the warm stickiness of his own blood. Christ, he had to get off the fucking tracks. Desperation clutching his chest, he tried to call out, but nothing escaped his throat other than a muted rasp.

Help me. He blinked at the phone, which lay tauntingly just out of his reach, and dragged in a harsh breath. The tracks hissed. Not a lucky black cat. Not for him. Deadly steel snakes vibrating beneath him, reverberating inside him. He heard the gurgle as he gulped back the coppery taste in his mouth. Felt the terrifying rumble of thunder beneath him. Heard a scream. Someone, somewhere, calling out.

Cassie had wanted something upbeat in place of the traditional hymns, to reflect who Joshua was. She’d decided on something by a French band he’d been into since he’d heard their demo tapes on the internet. Tears stung her eyes as she recalled how he’d shown her a YouTube clip, explaining to her that it was electro-swing, and then promptly waltzed her around the kitchen. Sitting in the church, where she was somehow supposed to say goodbye to her son, she glanced sideways at Adam, grateful for the solidity of him, of their marriage. She wouldn’t be able to get through the service if it wasn’t for him, this dependable man who loved her unquestioningly – though she wondered whether he would still love her if he knew all there was to know about her.

Her heart aching unbearably, she clung to his hand as one of Josh’s friends from work recited the short poem she’d asked permission to read as a tribute. Adam squeezed her fingers as she listened to the girl’s tremulous voice: ‘“Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there, I did not die.”’

It wasn’t true. She squeezed Adam’s hand back, acrid grief crashing through her. Josh wasn’t here. And she needed him to be. She needed to see him, to reach out and touch him; her child, who’d come so unexpectedly into her life, filling the void inside her. He’d saved her, his tiny body comforting her when she’d been so bereft. Where was he now?

Adam wrapped an arm around her as fresh sobs racked her body. She bowed her head. She couldn’t look at the coffin. Her chest heaving, the tears spilled unchecked from her eyes onto the order of service on her knees.

She felt his arm slip from around her after a second, and wondered how he would contain his emotion as he delivered the eulogy. He’d loved Josh as if he were his own. He’d always been there for him. Cassie knew he was berating himself now for not being there when Josh had needed him most. As if he could have been. He couldn’t make himself believe that Josh had fallen onto the tracks and died such a horrific death because he’d drunk too much. The colour had drained from his face when the police had speculated about suicide. It was inconceivable, he’d told them categorically. Josh wasn’t conflicted or depressed. He’d texted him from the station, he’d pointed out. Showing them the text had swayed them back to their former assumption that he’d fallen accidentally, possibly landing awkwardly and sustaining an injury. His blood-alcohol concentration had been high, they’d eventually confirmed. There wasn’t much else left of him to establish cause of death, other than the obvious trauma caused by the train.

Still Adam was determined that he couldn’t have fallen. Josh had texted him, he’d repeated quietly as they’d left the inquest.

Feeling his pain, Cassie closed her eyes as he began: ‘Standing here today to say goodbye to our son, Joshua, is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.’ She heard his voice crack as he spoke, and her heart bled for him. His face was pale, she noticed, incongruous with years of outdoor work; his expression taut. He was struggling, fighting to maintain his composure.

‘As Josh grew from a boy into a teenager, I could see the man he would become,’ he went on falteringly. ‘Strong, dependable, macho when he needed to be on the rugby field but never afraid to show his caring side.’ Pausing to swallow, he stopped and glanced at the ceiling.

‘He loved his music and his sport,’ he continued shakily. ‘Lived for his canoeing. Casting off the shackles of everyday life, as he referred to it. Getting back in touch with himself through nature. I’ll never forget the time he pointed out that I was perhaps a little too close to nature to be enjoying the experience. He was right. A novice and upside-down in a canoe is not a great place to be. Josh never took credit for it, but I think he saved my life that day.’

He paused again, pinching the bridge of his nose hard. ‘He urged me to get back on the horse.’ A sad smile curved his mouth. ‘We often went canoeing together after that. We would spend hours talking about life, his plans for the future. I’m a builder by trade, it’s all I’ve ever known. It’s not up there as far as high-powered careers go, but on one of those trips Josh told me he was proud of me, proud of the fact that I run my own company, provide people with jobs and teach them a trade. I couldn’t have been prouder of him at that moment. Our teenage son was growing into a man right before my eyes.’

As Adam hesitated again, Cassie felt her brother shift in his seat next to her, ready to take over should he be too overcome. Knowing that Adam wouldn’t want that, she pressed her hand to Tom’s arm, urging him to stay.

‘He confided that he wanted to be a teacher,’ Adam managed after a second, his voice choked. ‘Wondered what I thought. He was concerned I’d be disappointed that he didn’t want to join me in the business, I think. I told him that Cassie and I would both be proud of him. It was a perfect vocation for someone with a caring soul and a natural instinct to help others.

‘He had so many plans. One of those was to take Cassie and me to a concert to see his favourite band, whose music we chose today because it was so much a part of who he was. There was one song he played over and over. It talks about every day being a miracle, helping one another and connecting back with people. We didn’t realise until he’d gone what a miracle every day we had with Josh was. He laughed a lot, loved people, loved life. He wasn’t the kind of person who would hunker down and wait for the storm to pass; he danced in the rain. Remembering his enthusiasm and desire to live life to the full, seeing the many friends he made, I know in my heart he wouldn’t want us to hide away in our grief. He would want us to celebrate his life by remembering the good times and living ours.’

He stopped, looking directly at Cassie. Even from yards away, she could see the anguish in his eyes. He was as broken as she was. How could he not be? To begin with, she hadn’t felt she could go on, hadn’t thought she deserved to. Josh had left because of her, because of the silly argument they’d had. She would never forgive herself for that. Now, though… Imagining Adam trying to deal with grief twice over, the torture he would suffer, undoubtedly blaming himself again if she chose what seemed to be an easier option than trying to live without her son, she knew she could never do that to him.

‘Goodbye, Josh,’ he said unsteadily. ‘You were the best son anyone could ever have. We’re not ready to lose you, but we have to let go. Wherever you are, stay safe in the knowledge that we love you.’

Cassie wanted to run as the curtains began to close, not away from her boy’s coffin, but towards it. She was scared, terrified for him. She couldn’t bear the thought of him going through this on his own.

It was her brother who stilled her. ‘Come on, Cas,’ he urged her, his arm sliding around her shoulders as she stood, only to feel the muscles in her legs grow weak. ‘Josh will always be with us in our hearts.’

How? Cassie stifled a sob as she leant into him. How could he be in her heart when he’d taken it with him?

She felt Adam’s arm around her as they made their way to the exit. ‘We have to thank his friends,’ he said softly. ‘But if you’re not up to it…’

Cassie drew in a breath. It stopped short of the raw pain in her chest. ‘I’m fine,’ she murmured, wiping futilely at the tears on her cheeks. She had to do this. Seeing so many of Josh’s friends here today, she’d ached with a combination of fierce pride and stomach-wrenching sorrow. She had to thank them personally, meet the young people who’d shared his life and were also grieving the loss of him.

Standing outside the church, she made herself smile as she and Adam went through the formalities, shaking hands with people, many assuring them how loved their son was. The look in one girl’s eyes as she approached them, a young man supporting her, tore a fresh wound in her heart. She was obviously distraught.

‘I’m so sorry,’ the girl whispered, hugging Cassie fiercely for a brief second before pressing a hand to her mouth and turning away.

The young man with her fed her into the arms of another woman, who led her away towards the toilets, and then turned back to shake Adam’s hand. ‘I’m sorry for your loss, Mr Colby,’ he said, his own eyes shiny with tears he was clearly working to hold back.

Smiling briefly, Adam nodded his appreciation. ‘Thank you…?’

‘Ryan Anderson,’ the young man supplied. ‘I was a couple of years above Josh at school. Jemma… my wife… she knew him too. He was a good mate, looked out for people, you know?’

Cassie smiled, though it felt like there were a thousand shards of glass inside her. She knew that was true. Growing up, Josh was always surrounded by friends who thought the world of him. ‘Your wife and I have met briefly,’ she said, swallowing back her tears. ‘Thank you both for being here for him, Ryan.’

‘I’d better get Jemma home.’ Ryan nodded after her. ‘She’s not feeling too well.’

‘She’s clearly very upset.’ Guessing her baby was due soon, Cassie smiled understandingly. ‘Please thank her for me, and pass on my best to her.’

‘I’ll make sure to,’ Ryan promised.

‘His rugby coach is here,’ Adam said, indicating the man as Ryan turned away. ‘I’ll just go and acknowledge him.’

Cassie smiled gratefully, guessing he would know what to say to him. Glancing around, she caught sight of a girl with long flame-coloured hair standing hesitantly by the churchyard gates. Noticing her looking in her direction, she wondered whether she might be about to approach her, but the girl looked away, gazing around as if searching for someone. She seemed very young, her face pale, without any apparent make-up. She was heavily pregnant, her thin cotton smock dress accentuating her bump. Cassie’s breath caught in her throat as she noticed the cross-body bag she was wearing.

It was Josh’s. She’d bought it from John Lewis for his birthday. She was sure it was the same one. The girl had obviously known him well, if she had his bag. Cassie’s heartbeat quickened and she took a step towards her, then stopped as Adam pressed a hand to her arm. ‘He’s coming on to the reception,’ he said. ‘How are you holding up?’

‘Coping. Just,’ she assured him with a small smile. ‘I was wondering who that girl was.’ She nodded back to the gates, but the girl had gone.

Twelve weeks since Josh’s death. Twenty-four years since the day he was born, the day that had started out as the bleakest day of her life and had turned into the best. Cassie stared at the alarm clock she kept by her bed. Wished she could will the hands back. She’d thought she would leave the hospital empty-handed; instead she’d left with a miracle. How could she continue going through the days, marking them off on a calendar, when there seemed to be no purpose in life, no future worth facing without him?

She hadn’t realised her time with him would be so short when she’d brought him home, examining every perfect inch of him before placing him in his pretty white cot. She’d vowed to love and protect this child until the day she died. She hadn’t lived up to her promise. Josh had been snatched away from her. It was karma, Cassie was sure of it.

She listened to the sounds of life going on around her: cows mooing in the fields that backed onto the house, pre-milking; neighbours shouting hello to each other as they went through the morning ritual, climbing into cars and slamming doors; the letter box flapping, a dull thud as the newspapers landed on the hall floor bringing news she was no longer interested in. As a reporter, she always used to scan them. Now they piled up, unread.

She could hear Adam downstairs, making tea she couldn’t bring herself to drink. He was trying so hard to be there for her; to reach out and comfort her. Her heart constricted as she recalled how he’d tried to embrace her once the police had left after delivering the news she’d begged them not to tell her. She’d pulled away from him. His arms around her, his palpable grief would have made it real. She didn’t want it to be real. Couldn’t bear it, had to contain it, the silent scream rising inside her, the terror.

She’d gone upstairs, something driving her, some desperate hope that she would find her son there, lying on his bed, his stuff strewn all over the place, a bemused smile on his face as he wondered what all the fuss was about. He wasn’t there. Cassie had whimpered like a wounded animal. She’d heard the sound escaping her mouth as she’d wrapped her arms around herself. She hadn’t realised at first that it had come from her.

She’d sensed Adam standing hesitantly behind her as she’d gazed at the newly decorated walls in Josh’s room. She couldn’t smell him, she’d realised, above the paint fumes. And she’d needed to. Oh God, how she’d needed to. ‘It feels as if we painted him out of our lives the day we did this,’ she’d whispered.

She’d heard Adam suck in a sharp breath. She hadn’t meant to say it. She’d wished dearly she could take it back. She hadn’t been thinking of Adam. Of the fact that he’d redecorated the room. She’d just wanted Josh safe back home. She would have given anything, everything – a limb, an eye – for her son to walk through the door. She would have traded her soul to the devil to undo the argument they’d had before he left. To see him smile, listen to his tiresome jokes, pick up his discarded clothes. But he wasn’t going to come home. He would never come home again, and all she had left was the guilt and the pain and a room full of nothing. Memories glossed over. His life obliterated.

‘He was my son too, Cassie,’ Adam had said quietly, after a second. He’d sounded hollow, heartbroken. Still he’d been there for her, catching her as she’d finally crumpled.

Now she turned her face to the pillow, her heart bruising as she felt his crushing hurt all over again. He’d been the best father a man could be, sharing his passions and his hobbies as their boy had grown. He’d been just Josh’s age, twenty-four, when he’d come into her life. Josh had immediately taken to him. They never had managed to have a child together. After an awful late miscarriage, quietly grieving the loss of their baby, they’d finally realised her body simply couldn’t live up to their dreams. Adam had reassured her it didn’t matter, that he was happy as long as they had each other. Had he been? He’d nursed her through surgery after her cancer scare; had always been there. Quietly, though, she’d dreaded that one day he might regret not having a child of his own. And now with Josh gone… He was a handsome man, his dark, rugged looks enhanced rather than marred by the passing of time. Why would he stay with her when he could be with a younger woman, someone who could still help him achieve his dream?

Hearing the bedroom door open behind her, she closed her eyes and pressed the extra pillow closer to her midriff. Adam would want her to get up, try to function, but she couldn’t. Not today. She didn’t have the energy. She just wanted to lie here reliving each painful memory as every one of Josh’s birthdays played through her mind like a slideshow, the reel slowing, melting and snapping as she arrived at the day of his death.

She sensed him come around the bed, place the tea he’d made on the bedside table. Her eyes fluttered open as she felt him sit on the edge of the bed. She watched him run his hands over his face, drape them between his knees.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked him, pointlessly. She knew he was as lost inside as she was. ‘Adam?’ She pulled herself up. Moved towards him.

He kneaded his temples. ‘Not great,’ he said gruffly. ‘I have no idea what to do. Where to go. Everything I touch reminds me of him. Apart from the one place that should remind us of him, which I bloody well gutted. Jesus.’ He sucked in an angry breath, looked heavenwards. ‘I’m so sorry about the bedroom, Cas. I never thought… Not in my worst nightmare could I have—’

‘Adam, stop!’ Cassie shuffled closer and pulled herself to her knees. ‘It doesn’t matter about the damn bedroom. You were there for him. You were always there for him, the only father he ever knew or wanted.’

‘But I wasn’t, was I?’ Adam’s voice was full of remorse. ‘Not when he needed me to be.’

Cassie felt her heart turn over. ‘Adam, don’t.’

‘Why didn’t I offer to drive into Birmingham for him?’ He pressed his thumbs hard against his forehead. ‘I knew he’d be home late. Why the hell couldn’t I have left the job problems to the site manager and bloody well offered? I could have done something.’

‘What?’ Cassie caught hold of his hand, willed him to look at her.

‘Anything,’ Adam said gutturally.

‘The building site was flooding, Adam. You prioritised because you had to. And now you’re blaming yourself. It’s pointless. Josh wouldn’t have wanted you to do that. You know he wouldn’t.’

Adam’s jaw was taut, his shoulders tense. After a second, he pulled in a breath, blew it out slowly. ‘It wasn’t suicide, Cassie. He didn’t sound down when I last spoke to him. Worried about something, yes. But he wasn’t contemplating taking his own life. I know it in my gut. He texted me, for God’s sake. Would he have done that if he’d been planning to commit suicide?’

Cassie felt her own breath leave her body. He was finally speaking the words he hadn’t dared to say for fear of upsetting her. Even though she knew he was right, she felt as if someone had punched her.

‘He might just have fallen,’ Adam went on. ‘I suppose. . .