The Flood
A gripping, atmospheric crime novel about a town on the edge of collapse, and a murder that shakes the community. Perfect for fans of The Dry. When Daniela Cain returns to her small hometown after seven years’ absence, she finds that flooding has left the village all but deserted. She’s there to collect something she left in her childhood home, then she plans to leave. But upon entering the old house she discovers her younger sister’s body half-submerged in the water. As Daniela tries to work out what happened to Auryn, she uncovers dark secrets from her childhood as one of four sisters in the household, when the Cain’s and another local family begin to turn on each other with devastating results.
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The Flood
RACHEL BENNETT
Published by AVON
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Copyright © Rachel Bennett 2019
Cover Design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019
Cover photographs © Shutterstock.com
Rachel Bennett asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
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.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008333287
Ebook Edition © September 2019 ISBN: 9780008333270
Version: 2019-07-08
For my sisters, who are actually delightful
Table of Contents
October 2003
‘We need a funeral,’ Franklyn said.
She’d been joking about it for a good few days, but now she squared her shoulders, as if prepared for a physical argument. Daniela could tell she was serious.
Stephanie, predictably, was happy to argue. Daniela wondered why Franklyn had bothered telling Stephanie, rather than just going ahead and hoping she wouldn’t find out, like usual.
Although, this time, Stephanie did have a point. ‘It’s weird and morbid,’ she said. ‘Funerals are for dead people.’
‘She might as well be dead, for all we’re going to see of her,’ Franklyn said. It was only dinner time, but Daniela suspected Franklyn had been drinking already. ‘We need some closure. It’s for us, not her. Funerals always are. We’re closing one part of our lives so we can open another.’
And perhaps, privately, Stephanie agreed, because she took herself off somewhere else in the house while the rest of them made plans.
‘How’re we actually going to do this?’ Auryn asked. She and Daniela had trailed Franklyn into the garage. Franklyn dragged out the cardboard boxes their father had stored away six months earlier, once it’d become obvious that wherever their mother had gone, she wasn’t coming back.
‘We each take whatever we want,’ Franklyn said. ‘Two or three items each max.’ Franklyn had a way of talking like she’d thought of everything in advance. ‘Any more than that and he’ll know what we’ve been up to.’ Franklyn rarely referred to their father by name anymore. If he walked into the room, she left.
There was a time – maybe as little as two months ago, maybe as much as six – when they’d each believed their mother was coming home. Franklyn, the eldest of the four sisters, gave up hope first. Stephanie, second oldest but most mature by some distance, had been practical enough to accept the situation quickly. That left Daniela and Auryn. At thirteen and twelve respectively, it’d seemed impossible to them that their mother could’ve just walked out. For weeks afterwards Daniela would wake with clear certainty: today she’ll come home.
A month after their mother left, their father went around the house and systematically removed every trace of her. Pictures, trinkets, jewellery; everything went into cardboard boxes to go into storage. When Auryn asked if she could keep the ceramic kittens from the mantelpiece, their dad had snapped at her. Auryn was used to being the favourite, being granted every whim, but apparently that was about to change as well.
Franklyn started taking items out of the boxes and setting them aside. Some she studied for a moment then put back. Others she wouldn’t even touch. Her eyes were narrowed, as if she was focusing so hard, she could see nothing except what was right in front of her. Daniela watched her, fascinated and a little worried.
Franklyn glanced into the bin bags of clothes but then shoved them out of the way. She paused over the wooden crucifix that used to hang in the hallway. Daniela had never liked it, with its sad Jesus that watched her every time she left the house. Secretly, she was pleased their father had taken it down. Now, she felt a tinge of regret as Franklyn put it back in the box, tucked securely under a pile of magazines.
At length, Franklyn settled on three objects. A silver-backed hairbrush, a small vanity mirror, and a set of wind chimes, which she had wrapped with newspaper to shut them up.
‘All right.’ Franklyn sat on her heels. ‘That’ll do for a start. You guys pick something to add.’
