Don’t Turn Around: A heart-stopping gripping domestic suspense. Amanda Brooke

me from picking at the scabs of a marriage that was in the process of healing, but from Meg’s glum features, the message doesn’t get through. She looks briefly at the bowl before wrapping it up again.

      What had I been thinking as I watched her set it to one side? I recall being disappointed, and a little annoyed, but I was too busy enjoying life again to acknowledge there was a problem with my daughter that couldn’t be fixed with gentle warnings and stricter house rules. I thought she could be moulded like a piece of clay.

      The video goes blank, my chance to save Meg lost long ago, and despair consumes me. I snap the laptop lid shut and bring my fingers to my lips out of habit. I pulled off my acrylic nails this morning and can feel the rough surface of freshly gnawed cuticle. I’ll draw blood if I carry on chewing so I reach for my drink on the floor, but in my haste, I knock over the glass. It smashes against the porcelain tiles and I curse under my breath. I leap up to fetch a dustpan and brush but as I hurry into the utility room, it’s the memories I’m trying to outrun. They catch me up and I’m no longer thinking about the broken glass as I root out a large box from the back of the store cupboard.

      The collection of hand thrown pots and vases I’d amassed during my pottery classes had been wrapped with care before being buried out of sight. My heart flutters like a trapped bird in a cage as I take the box into the kitchen and unpack the contents, lining up the pieces on the breakfast bar. As I glare at them, an ethereal hand tugs at my arm and pulls me back to a memory that wasn’t caught on camera.