Never Tell
Your past will always find you…With her three beautiful children, millionaire husband and Cotswolds mansion, former investigative journalist Rose Miller has an enviable life. But behind the domestic bliss lies a secret past…As Oxford students in the early nineties, Rose and James belonged to Society X, an elite clique that knew no boundaries. Led by the enigmatic Dalziel, the group were hell bent on breaking down society's norms - until an unimaginable tragedy occurs.With the subsequent scandal covered up, Rose has settled into family life - but is afraid to admit her feelings of boredom. So when her ex-editor asks Rose to dig the dirt on a wealthy businessman new to the area, adrenaline enlivens her.But as Rose's investigation begins to threaten her family she backs away - and then a tragedy at her home begins to widen the cracks in her domestic façade. As their world crumbles around them, is Rose about to atone for the sins of her past?An utterly gripping novel that will captivate fans of Sophie Hannah and Nicci French.
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CLAIRE SEEBER
Never Tell
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
AVON
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
Copyright © Claire Seeber 2010
Claire Seeber asserts the moral right to
be identified as the author of this work
Extract from River of Time is reproduced by kind permission of the author. Published by William Heinemann Ltd, 1995
A catalogue record for this book is
available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780007334674
Ebook Edition © 2010 ISBN: 9780007334681 Version: 2018-06-18
For Tiggy & Bethy
As the song says, We are Family …
Last year I read ‘River of Time’ – a family favourite – by renowned journalist Jon Swain who reported so bravely on Vietnam and Cambodia. I’m immensely grateful to Jon for allowing me to use his words in NEVER TELL; they help explain Rose’s addiction to chasing a story.
I also owe barrister Rupert Bowers a great debt of gratitude (or maybe a bottle of wine or two) for all the court-room advice. (‘That would never happen’ – he said a lot: wherever fiction takes over from fact, I’ve chosen to ignore his tutelage). Thanks to Nicola and Matthew Sweet who really did make it to Oxford, and to all my mates who knew about guns and bombs. (Bit scary, really.) Thanks as usual to Flic Everett the 1st for speeding through the first draft and to Beth for taking it to the beach; to the Goldsmiths 4 for listening & commenting so constructively, especially when I was blushing in the more ‘shocking’ scenes! Thanks to Tim for letting me lock myself away.
Huge thanks as ever to all at Avon: especially Keshini Naidoo and Kate Bradley (and bon voyage, Max!). Sincere thanks to everyone who has supported me during the past year, particularly the last six months. You know who you are and I’m very grateful. Last but never least, thanks to my agent Teresa Chris for all the pep talks and the belief.
The desire to cover stories is sometimes irresistibly powerful; this ruthlessness for getting the story over and above all else, including love, has wrecked the personal lives of many colleagues …
There was a restlessness in my spirit, added to which I didn’t know how to say no to a challenge … an irreconcilable conflict of interest in my life.
River of Time, Jon Swain
Contents
Prologue
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Part Two
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Part Three
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
About The Author
Copyright
About The Publisher
All the way to London, the woman’s words circled round my head like carrion crows. She’d hung up before I could ask more; that silky voice echoing down the years, a voice I was sure I knew and yet couldn’t quite place. One more piece from the nightmare jigsaw the last year had become; one more piece nearly slotted back in.
Off the motorway, the traffic snaked back solid to the Blackfriars interchange. Frantically I watched the clock, creeping forward incrementally, until I could bear it no longer. Abandoning the car on a broken meter, I sprinted through the rush-hour fumes, dodging swearing cyclists and the motorbikes that sneaked down the middle, stumbling over the kerb on Ludgate Hill, until I was falling in panic, unable to right myself. A double-decker bore down on me, horn blaring; a builder in a yellow hard hat snatched me from its path in the nick of time, his warm calloused hand on mine. I was too stunned to do much more than blink at him and run on.
