Praise for Lisa Hall

‘Compelling, addictive … brilliant!’

B A Paris

‘A classic twisting mystery from the Queen of Suspense, Lisa Hall’

Woman’s Own

‘Brilliantly plotted … a gripping read’

Alice Feeney

‘An uneasy creeping feeling followed me through the book – I was never quite sure who I should be trusting… I read this book in one sitting because I had to know what was going to happen next. An excellent thriller that had me hooked from the start’

Katerina Diamond

‘This is an unrelenting and scarily plausible story weaved expertly around some very real characters. Good luck putting it down…’

Heat

‘Relentlessly pacey and brilliantly written’

Phoebe Morgan

‘An addictive read’

Closer

LISA HALL loves words, reading and everything there is to love about books. She has dreamed of being a writer since she was a little girl and, after years of talking about it, was finally brave enough to put pen to paper (and let people actually read it). Lisa lives in a small village in Kent, surrounded by her towering TBR pile, a rather large brood of children, dogs, chickens and ponies and her long-suffering husband. She is also rather partial to eating cheese and drinking wine.

Readers can follow Lisa on Twitter @LisaHallAuthor.

Also by Lisa Hall

Between You And Me

Tell Me No Lies

The Party

Have You Seen Her

The Perfect Couple

Lisa Hall

ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES

Copyright

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2020

Copyright © Lisa Hall 2020

Lisa Hall asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for 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, 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.

Ebook Edition © May 2020 ISBN: 9780008356460

Version 2020-05-07

Note to Readers

This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:

Change of font size and line height

Change of background and font colours

Change of font

Change justification

Text to speech

Page numbers taken from the following print edition: ISBN 9780008356453

To my lovely Mum

Contents

Cover

Praise

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Prologue

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

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

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Acknowledgements

Extract

About the Publisher

Prologue

How well do you really know the people in your life? The person closest to you – the one you live with, share a bed with, have children with… have made an entire life with? The one person you think you know every little detail about, the one you choose to let in – your significant other. It’s a question we rarely have cause to ask. You think you know it all – you know that he can’t play football anymore because he’s ruined his knees, that he has high blood pressure, that sometimes he laughs in his sleep, that he’s a good dad and a hard worker. You know that she tells everyone she is allergic to mushrooms but really she just hates them, that she can’t tolerate liars, that sometimes when she’s tired stupid things make her laugh so hard, she cries. You notice gestures, gait, intonations that are exciting at first, until they become part of everyday life, things that are as familiar to you as your own movements. But do you know what lies underneath? The secrets that hide beneath the skin, burning and branding their way into that person until they’re indelible. Until they are a part of them, hidden from view, but still there, waiting to be exposed.

And then, how well do they know you? You let slip little details as you sit over dinner, sipping wine on the perfect first date, and then as time goes on, more is uncovered. Accidentally, you reveal little bits of yourself on romantic weekends away, holidays, and then snatched moments on the sofa in the evening after a long day at work.

You think you know them inside out and you let them think the same about you, but do they really? Have you told them every little detail of what makes you, you? Do they know what really drives you? The things you keep hidden, tucked inside yourself, too ashamed to ever let them see the light of day?

Secrets. We all have them. They are the things that turn the ordinary everyday into an enigma, sometimes exciting, sometimes explosive. But some secrets are so shocking, so devastating, that you’ll do anything to keep others from finding out. So, I’ll ask you again. How well do you know the other person in your life?

Chapter One

It’s time you got yourself sorted out. Sadie’s words echo in Rupert’s ears as he drains the last of the red wine from the bottle into his glass, grubby with greasy fingerprints. He greedily swigs at the purple liquid, shuddering slightly at the furry film it leaves on his teeth. Can he really be blamed for letting things slide? He’s been on his own for months since Caro died; surely everyone is allowed some sort of mourning period, in which they don’t have to wash the dishes every night, and red wine is allowed for dessert?

He pushes himself upright from the depths of the sofa, a struggle in his mildly inebriated state, and glances around the living

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