We’ll Meet Again…
When Ali inherits her great-aunt’s house, she doesn’t expect to end up moving her whole family in. Ecstatic to finally own her own home, Ali begins redecorating, going through the rooms, making each one her own with the help of her daughter, Kelly. But when, under the wallpaper in Kelly’s new room, they discover a scrawled message from 1944, Ali begins to question the history of the house as she knows it.
Her family has always seemed so picture perfect, not a blemish or a secret to be found. Yet, this discovery throws her into confusion and Ali begins to question exactly what she knows about her family and the mysteries they have kept hidden…
Moving between 2014 and 1944, The Pearl Locket is a darkly emotional story that will stay with you long after you have turned the last page.
Perfect for fans of Rachel Hore and Kate Morton.
Praise for The Emerald Comb
“…exciting, fast-paced and impossible to put down…”
– Books Reviews by Em
“Two stories: one historical, the other contemporary, cleverly interwoven with conflict, mystery and passion…an absorbing read”
– Jane Hunt
“Infuriatingly well-written…an intelligent and refreshingly different read”
– Read Reviewed
“Totally worthy of five of my cupcakes, and more. I cannot recommend this book enough!”
– Becca’s Books
“An edge of your seat read, that is a page turner and gripped me from page one”
– Comet Babe
“…beautifully written and left you wanting more. More of everything.”
– Feed Me Into Books
KATHLEEN MCGURL
lives in Bournemouth with her husband and teenage sons. She always wanted to write, and for many years was waiting until she had the time. Eventually she came to the bitter realisation that no one would pay her for a year off work to write a book, so she sat down and started to write one anyway. Since then she has written several books and sold dozens of short stories to women’s magazines. She works full time in the IT industry and when she’s not writing, she’s often out running, slowly. For more information or to get in touch, please visit kathleenmcgurl.com or follow @kathmcgurl on Twitter.
Firstly, enormous thanks to my wonderful sons. Fionn McGurl once again acted as beta reader, and Connor McGurl gave me some extremely valuable boy perspective for ‘Jack’s chapter’. I could not have written that part without his help. And to my husband Ignatius, who is always there, putting up with me rambling on about my work-in-progress at every possible opportunity. Thanks also to my editor Victoria Oundjian for her expert help and guidance shaping the final version of this novel.
Writing is a solitary pursuit, so finally I’d like to thank my groups of writer-friends, in particular the Write Women and the Carina UK authors, for their continuing friendship and support which keep me going when times are tough.
Chapter One
July–August 2014
‘So, this is it,’ Ali said, gazing up at the house. ‘It’s smaller than I remember. But I was just a child when I was last here.’ She had only vague memories of being here before—muddled images of an imposing, double-fronted art-deco-style house, with bay windows, a large garden and, best of all, the beach just a couple of minutes’ walk away. It had been her spinster great-aunt’s house, and the childless Betty had left it to Ali in her will.
‘Smaller?’ said her husband, Pete. ‘It’s huge! Well, compared with everywhere else we’ve ever lived.’
Ali nodded. She couldn’t argue with that. But the size didn’t matter, as she was going to put the house on the market immediately. They had no intention of living in it. ‘I suppose we should have a look round inside, now that we’re here.’
‘Well, that was the point of the visit,’ Pete said, smiling. He took Ali’s hand and led her to the front door. She was grateful for the gesture of support. It was strange being here. Although the house now belonged to her, it didn’t feel like it did. She’d never owned a house before; they’d always rented. She felt like an intruder. The front door was stiff—Betty had spent the last couple of years of her life in a nursing home, and apparently very few people had entered the house in that time. A pile of junk mail lay on the doormat. Ali gathered it up and placed it on a dusty sideboard in the hallway. She glanced around.
‘What a state. I guess we’ll have to clear everything out before we can sell it. What’ll we do with all the furniture? I suppose we might want to keep a few pieces but not much.’ She opened a drawer in the sideboard. It was full of pens, coins, elastic bands, buttons, old receipts and other odds and ends. ‘And we’ll have to sort all the contents out as well. Gran might want to keep a few things. It’s going to be a huge job.’