The Sting: Pre-order the most explosive thriller of 2019 from the No.1 bestseller
*PRE-ORDER THE EXPLOSIVE NEW THRILLER FROM THE QUEEN OF GANGLAND CRIME*The brand new novel from the No.1 Sunday Times bestselling author, Kimberley Chambers
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Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Copyright © Kimberley Chambers 2019
Jacket photographs © Joran Johnsen (woman), Shutterstock.com (London skyline)
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019
Kimberley Chambers 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 e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, 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: 9780008144784
Ebook Edition © February 2019 ISBN: 9780008144791
Version: 2019-01-07
In memory of my brave friend Suzanne’s son
Ricky Paul Hayden
14.05.89—13.09.16
Cruelly taken far too soon
RIP Ricky xxx
Contents
New Year’s Eve 1972
‘Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my jo,
For auld land syne,
We’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.’
I’m in the middle of the circle holding hands with my sisters Hazel and Linda. My mum, dad and Nanny Noreen are all singing at the top of their voices. My mum looks happy, even though she still has the remainder of a black eye that my dad gave her on Christmas Eve.
‘Open the front door, Tommy,’ orders my dad. He calls New Year’s Eve Hogmanay after an oatcake.
I do as I’m told. Old Mr Cleaver across the road is banging two dustbin lids together. I feel something brush past my leg and then I scream when I realize what it is. It’s a black cat and it’s obviously been run over. It collapses in the hallway right in front of me.
Nanny Noreen goes ballistic and blames me. She’s very religious and believes in Scottish folklore. ‘You stupid boy,’ she bellows. ‘You know the first to step through the door after midnight affects the fortunes of everyone who lives in the house. I’ve told you that enough times, so what do you invite in, a dying black cat. Now we’re going to have bad luck all year. You wait and see.’
I stare at the cat as it takes its last breath. Little did I know at that point Nanny Noreen was speaking the truth.
In a few days’ time, my life as I’d known it would no longer be. Everything was about to change for the worse.
My name is Tommy Boyle and this is my story …
Christmas 1972
Tommy Boyle pressed his nose against the cold glass of his bedroom window. The weather had taken a turn for the worse this week. It was literally freezing, but Tommy didn’t care about the cold. All he was bothered about was his father coming home from the oil rigs. He was so excited; he’d barely slept last night.
Hearing his sisters squabbling over the record player, Tommy sighed. Three months at a time his father worked away for, and it was difficult being surrounded by females. He missed the simple things: such as watching The Big Match or Match of the Day and discussing the games. Girls knew nothing about football. Nor Cowboys and Indians, or Battleship.
‘Not this rubbish again. Turn it off,’ shouted twelve-year-old Tommy. His younger sister had obviously got her way. Linda was obsessed with little Jimmy Osmond, reckoned she would marry him one day. ‘Long-Haired Lover from Liverpool’ was one of only two songs Linda ever played. Benny Hill’s ‘Ernie (The Fastest Milkman in the West)’ was the other and Tommy hated both. He thought they were silly songs.
‘Breakfast’s ready, kids.’
