Toxic: The addictive new crime thriller from the best selling author that will have you gripped in 2018. Jacqui Rose

We don’t want anyone hearing us, do we?’

      Smiling and kissing Molly on her forehead, Bree tried to push down the rising panic, attempting to ignore the thought she’d started something she couldn’t finish.

      ‘Well, what is it? What’s the surprise? Is it for me?’ Kieran Dwyer, although only nine, was the spitting image of his father. Both in temperament and looks. He stood at the bathroom door, grinning widely. He loved surprises.

      ‘No, sweetheart.’

      Kieran folded his arms petulantly, reminding Bree so much of Johnny. ‘Then I ain’t going bleedin’ nowhere. Go on your own.’

      Tenderly smoothing down his thick black hair, Bree looked sadly at Kieran. She loved him so much at times it ached, but with each passing day, Kieran was becoming more and more like Johnny. Idolising him and wanting to be just like his father when he ‘grew up’; another reason why she had to get them away before it was too late.

      Patiently, Bree spoke, crouching down to Kieran’s height. ‘Okay, I tell you what, how about this. If you come with me now, I’ll buy you any game you want.’

      Kieran’s blue eyes darkened as he stared suspiciously at Bree. ‘Any game?’

      ‘Any. I promise. But we have to go, now.’

      ‘Why?’

      That was enough talk. Grabbing hold of both Kieran’s and Molly’s hands, Bree gently pulled the pair along the hallway. But as they neared the front door, it burst open and a tall figure, silhouetted against the bright sun, stood just inside the hallway.

      ‘Hello, darlin’. What’s all this then?’

      Backing away, Bree clutched the children’s hands tightly as she began to shake.

      ‘Johnny … I … I …’

      High-pitched laughter burst out as he clapped his hands, skipping on the spot. ‘Bree falls for it every time! Funny Bree. Funny Bree.’

      Bree’s legs collapsed underneath her. ‘Ryan! You bleedin’ idiot. What you have to go and do that for?’

      Ryan shrugged, looking hurt. His face crumpled as he held his head and rocked back and forth on the spot. ‘I found kittens. Nice, nice kittens. Have I done bad? Has Ryan done bad? In trouble with Ma? In trouble with Ma?’

      Bree stared at Ryan Dwyer, Johnny’s identical twin brother. She tried to keep her voice even as she smiled at him kindly, trying to alleviate his panic. ‘Shhh, Ryan. It’s okay. You’re not in trouble. I promise. But we have to go. Come on, hurry.’

      Molly piped up. ‘We’re going to get a surprise.’

      Ryan’s eyes narrowed, looking troubled, his mind trying to comprehend. He stuttered.

      ‘Does … does … does Johnny know? Got to tell Johnny. We tell Johnny.’

      Getting up, with her legs still trembling, Bree spoke soothingly. ‘Well it wouldn’t be a surprise then, would it, Ryan. Look, darlin’, we need to go. Come on Molly, hold my hand.’

      Bree only managed to get part way down the stone white path before Ryan, who was dressed as usual in a blue Ralph Lauren tracksuit, stopped.

      ‘Wait! Need to tell Ma!’

      Bree spun round, her face strained with fear. ‘No, Ryan, you don’t need to do that. Please. It’s just our secret. Remember? It will spoil the surprise.’

      Ryan turned his head to the side, keeping his eyes on Bree. He rocked on his feet, looking anxious as he played with his hands. ‘No, need to tell Ma. Need to tell Ma. Ma! Ma!’

      ‘Please, Ryan, no! Don’t!’

      ‘Ma!’

      The pink front door to the next mobile home was opened. ‘What the bleedin’ hell’s all that racket for?’

      Ma Dwyer stood in a blue, silk cornflower print dressing gown, tied too tightly around her bulging waistline. She rested her arms on her hips as her grossly obese body wobbled towards Bree and Ryan; the top of her legs sounding noisily as they rubbed and squelched together with sweat.

      With egg yolk dried on her chin, Ma Dwyer sniffed, then burped loudly. ‘This better bloody be good Ryan, otherwise I’ll be giving you another brain injury.’

      Holding Ryan’s hand, Bree shook her head frantically. Her eyes wide with terror. ‘Ryan, no. Look at me, no!’

      ‘What she bleedin’ on about? Go on, tell yer ma.’

      A moment of hesitation rushed through Ryan’s eyes before Ma Dwyer reached up and whacked her son hard around the head. ‘I’m talking to you, you little shit.’

      Ryan rubbed his head, looking so much younger than his thirty years. ‘We shouldn’t tell you. Can’t tell Ma.’

      Ma stared at Ryan. Her voice was mean and hard. ‘I’m warning you son, you better tell me, unless of course you want to be in trouble. Is that what you want, Ryan? You want to be in trouble?’

      Agitated, Ryan looked down, playing with his hands as he shook his head. ‘No. No.’

      ‘Then tell me!’

      Blurting the words out as quickly as he could, Ryan said, ‘She’s off to get Johnny a surprise. A secret.’

      Ma Dwyer grinned nastily. ‘Is she now … Take the kids into the house, Ryan, I want a little word with Bree.’

      ‘But I want to see the kittens.’

      ‘I said take the friggin’ kids inside, you dopey muppet!’

      Ma Dwyer watched as Ryan skipped into the house with Molly and Kieran, who were giggling happily. She turned coldly to Bree.

      ‘So now you can tell me all about this surprise, or maybe I should just call Johnny and ask him … Oh, no need … Look … Somebody’s going to be taught a lesson.’

      As Ma cackled, Bree swivelled round to see Johnny’s black Range Rover coming up the drive. The next minute Bree started to run, listening to the sound of Ma Dwyer’s screeching voice behind her.

      ‘Johnny! Johnny! Quick, she went that way!’

      Bree Dwyer had never run so fast in her life. She could hardly get her breath as she leapt and bounded through the thick undergrowth of Shadwell Wood, feeling the bushes and branches tearing at her flesh.

      She could hear Johnny behind her as she raced through the woods. Faster and faster she went, stumbling down ditches, scrambling and falling as her shoe caught in the twisted shrubs. She slipped on the wet leaves and her nails scraped at the mud as she tried to get her footing, as she slid back down the hill.

      She could taste her tears and her own fear and her chest began to tighten. She was too afraid to look behind her, but she knew Johnny was there. Closing in. Coming to get her.

      ‘Don’t run from me, Bree! There’s nowhere to go!’

      Johnny’s voice seemed to engulf the whole of the area; echoing through the trees, echoing through the branches. Her legs were aching now, but she continued to run, her thin trousers covered in blood. She headed towards a small, gravelled track aiming for the copse on the other side.

      ‘Bree! Bree!’

      She glanced back, then she heard a roar. A screech. The sudden slamming of brakes.

      ‘Look where you’re going, you dozy mare! I could’ve killed you.’

      She spun round, feeling the car on her leg as she leant her hands on the hot bonnet. Panting.

      Blinking.

      Staring at the driver. A moment of slight recognition passed between them before Bree began to run.

      ‘Hey, come back! You alright, love?’