No Turning Back: The can’t-put-it-down thriller of the year. Tracy Buchanan

felt her sinuses sting at the threat of tears. She saw it all over again in her mind, Guy softly pressing his lips against Joni’s head three months before, whispering he’d see her very soon. Anna had begged him to stay then instantly felt foolish, desperate, weak. She hated appearing weak. But the fact was, Joni was too young to watch her father walk away, just five months old at the time. And Anna had never dreamed of being a single mother, a divorcee, it just wasn’t how she’d envisaged her life unfolding. Yes, their marriage had been having difficulties for a while. But why wouldn’t he fight for it like she was willing to?

      She surprised herself now as a sob escaped her. She quickly clamped her hand over her mouth.

      ‘Come here,’ Nathan said, putting his arms out to her. She hesitated a moment, peering through the glass divider at the production studio. But Heather and the assistant producer had their backs to them, peering at the computer screens. So Anna sank into Nathan’s arms, taking comfort from the familiar musky smell of his aftershave. ‘Cry all you want,’ he said into her ear. ‘I might even have some mascara in my drawer from that photoshoot I did with the Ridgmont Waters Chronicle a while back.’

      She laughed into his polo shirt. ‘I’m just tired, that’s all.’

      ‘Are you sure you need to be here?’ he asked, looking down at her. ‘Might be better you get yourself home, pick up that gorgeous baby of yours and have a duvet day in your new home. I can do the show alone.’

      Anna pulled away and shook her head, the ends of her long brown hair skimming her arms. ‘Absolutely not, I’ve only been back a couple of hours. I’m fine, really. Just first-day-back jitters, that’s all.’

      Nathan tilted his head as he examined Anna’s face.

      ‘What?’ Anna frowned, putting her hand to her cheek. Were there still flakes on her face from the stale blueberry muffin she’d gulped down for breakfast that morning?

      ‘You’re a tough cookie, always have been,’ he said.

       Tough cookie.

      That’s what everyone said when they discovered what had happened to her when she was a kid. You go through all the stuff she had, you survive it and what are you left with? Comparisons to a biscuit. Thing is, she wasn’t feeling so tough at the moment. Did that mean she could crumble any minute?

      ‘I’m not the only working mother in the world, Nathan.’

      ‘I know. But with everything going on at home too…’

      ‘It’s hard,’ Anna said, making her voice strong. ‘But I’ll get through it. As long as Joni is okay, that’s all that matters.’ She looked at the photo she had of Joni. She’d taken it during one of their regular afternoon walks along the beach. She was sitting on the pebbles, her yellow sundress grubby, her dark hair a tangled mess around her red cheeks, brown eyes sparkling.

      Nathan followed Anna’s gaze. ‘She’s adorable.’

      Anna’s face softened. ‘She’s everything.’

      He nodded as he turned the speaker system back on. ‘Keep that strong in your mind, all right? That’s all that matters.’

      Anna looked at the photo on Nathan’s desk of his twin boys: one fair like Nathan, the other dark like Val, his wife.

      ‘One minute to airtime,’ Heather’s uptight voice blurted into their ears.

      Nathan smiled. ‘Here we go.’

      ‘Here we go.’ Anna took a long deep breath as Heather started counting down. ‘Five…four…three…’

      The show’s intro tune pounded in Anna’s ears, giving her strength.

      ‘Two…one…’

      Anna opened her eyes, a smile set on her face. ‘Morning, morning, morning!’ she said. ‘This is Anna Graves, welcome to “Your Say” on the south coast’s most popular regional radio show, Coast to Coast.’

      ‘And this is Nathan Wheeler. It’s seven a.m. and everything is right with the world because we have our wonderful Anna Graves back this week.’

      ‘Oh, isn’t he a charmer,’ Anna said into her microphone, smiling at Nathan. ‘Yes, I am back and I’d like to say I’m raring to go. But any of you exhausted parents out there will know that’s not a phrase we use at this time of the morning.’ She narrowed her eyes at Heather as Nathan tried to suppress a smile.

      ‘You have coffee though,’ he said.

      ‘Yes, plenty of coffee,’ Anna replied, lifting her mug to the webcam in the corner. ‘My saviour.’

      ‘So what have we got in store for our listeners today, Anna?’

      ‘In our “Your Say” phone-in this morning, we’re asking: has the war on drugs failed? We’re also sharing tips on how to keep cool in a month where we’re told temperatures may reach record highs.’ She fanned her face with an envelope as she raised her eyebrow at the webcam.

      ‘And twenty years from when the last victim of the Ophelia Killer was discovered,’ Nathan said, ‘we have a special report asking the question: will the families of those seven young boys murdered that summer ever get justice?’

      Anna felt herself tense slightly at the mention of the Ophelia Killings, just as she had when she’d seen them on the running order that morning. But as Nathan reeled off the rest of the show’s itinerary, Anna felt the anxiety dissipate, replaced by that familiar thrill that came with doing her job.

      Soon, it was like she’d never been gone.

      Anna pushed Joni’s pushchair down the small path that lined the pebbly beach, pointing out the seagulls jutting their beaks at the remains of someone’s ice-cream cone. Ridgmont Waters, the seaside village where she’d grown up, spread out behind them, a thin strip of pretty houses, shops and cafes overlooking the sea. People stretched out on the beach, soaking up the sun’s rays, children screaming in delight as they ran in and out of the shallow waves. In the distance, the old lighthouse her family owned lorded over the sea, tall and white atop craggy grey rocks.

      Anna squinted up at the sun, letting out a contented sigh. It was good to finally be out of the studio and with her daughter, the more bearable warmth of the late afternoon sun on her skin, the smell of salt and seaweed blowing the cobwebs away. The small house she was currently renting in the town’s new estate might not be as pretty or as full of character as the Victorian terrace she’d renovated with Guy, but it was closer to the sea, just a two-minute walk.

      That was something, wasn’t it?

      ‘Love you, baby,’ Anna said, peering down at Joni’s soft brown hair.

      Joni peered up at her mother and smiled, making Anna’s heart swell. She looked just like Anna with her brown eyes and oval cheeks.

      ‘Mama,’ she gurgled.

      Anna paused. ‘Did you just say mama?’

      Joni gave her a sweet smile and Anna leaned down in front of the pushchair. ‘You said mama. Oh darling, you said mama!’

      ‘Mama!’ Joni said again, giggling in delight.

      Anna thought about how Guy would react when she told him later. Then she remembered: he was gone and soon the house they’d worked so hard to make their own would belong to someone else. She felt the tears come again and squeezed her face into Joni’s chubby neck. This wasn’t how she’d envisaged things panning out, a single mum living in a downsized property, ruled over by some upstart at work. But she was managing, wasn’t she? And Joni was happy. That was what was most important.

      ‘Right, we better go say goodnight to your granddad before you start wanting your dinner.’

      She headed towards the small patch of beach that lay in the lighthouse’s shadow, leaving the chatter from the busier part of the beach behind.