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

Pick a memory, any memory, and there was Meg right at the centre of it all, bright and beautiful.’ Ruth’s eyes light up, only to dim when she adds, ‘But in the space of two short years, he took every last spark of life she had and stamped it out. It was as if my sweet girl had been hollowed out. I lost her long before the day she died.’

      I close my eyes, feeling a tension headache creeping up my temples. Even without a name, there are plenty of viewers who will know exactly who Ruth is talking about. I have to hope that Lewis won’t be one of them.

      ‘And that was three days before her eighteenth birthday,’ the reporter adds.

      ‘Ten years ago this coming Thursday.’

      ‘And the note Megan left. Did it mention anything about what she had been through?’ the reporter asks as she refers back to her notes.

      ‘The scrap of a note we were left with explained nothing,’ Ruth replies, choosing her words carefully.

      When she looks at me, I shake my head urgently. The police investigation had found no evidence that someone else had been there when Meg hung herself, or that the note she had left had been tampered with, despite never finding the missing half to the page taken from her notepad. No matter what we might think privately, our suspicions can’t be made public. Acid burns in my stomach as I watch Ruth return her gaze to the camera, her eyes blazing with fury.

      ‘Meg told us she wanted her shame to be buried with her, but no child should be buried in shame. She was seventeen years old. If there’s any shame, it’s mine. I didn’t see what was in front of me, and I can never change that.’

      ‘You have nothing to be ashamed of,’ the reporter tells her.

      ‘Tell that to the people who go to extraordinary lengths to avoid mentioning how I lost my daughter,’ Ruth hits back. Her voice softens when she adds, ‘But if we don’t talk about suicide and the pain it causes families like mine, how can we open up the conversation and reach out to those struggling with suicidal thoughts? Meg thought she was sparing us. I wish I could have told her that whatever she was going through, or whatever she thought she was putting us through, it wouldn’t last. It’s the grief that goes on forever. I didn’t simply lose her that day, I lost an entire future. I’ve recently become a grandmother but I’ll never see the children Meg might have had, or celebrate countless other milestones in her life.’

      ‘You’ve created a wonderful legacy in her memory. She would be very proud of you,’ the reporter says gently.

      ‘As I am of her. The Megan McCoy Foundation wouldn’t exist without her. Our daughter thought she had run out of options and our job is to make sure that young women, and men too, realise there are always options. I’ll never know what Meg would have made of her life if things had been different, but thanks to the Lean On Me helpline, I know quite a few young people who were on a similar path and are now enjoying lives they never thought possible. It’s a lovely feeling when they get back in touch to share good news.’

      ‘Perhaps you could tell me about some of the people you’ve helped.’

      ‘I didn’t do it alone. It’s been a group effort,’ Ruth says as she catches my eye. There’s a hint of a smile. She’s back on script.

      Pressing my chin to my chest as Ruth recounts the foundation’s successes, I allow the relief flooding my chest to ease away my tension.

      I’m not sure Ruth realises it, but the first person she saved was me. Meg’s death didn’t only rewrite her parents’ future, it rewrote mine too. I was always the shy one, hiding behind Meg’s armour of overconfidence. She could jump from a stage and never doubt that someone would catch her, while to this day I refuse to step into a lift because I’m convinced a cable will snap. Unlike Meg, I’ve never put my fears to the test but then I don’t need to. Bad things do happen – Meg proved that.

      It would have been nice if my response to my cousin’s premature death had been to grab every opportunity that life had to offer, but I didn’t see the point. Not all leaps of faith ended well, so why take the risk? Much to my mother’s chagrin, I turned down my place at university and denied her a full complement of four daughters with degrees, husbands and successful careers. In her eyes, I’ve failed on all counts.

      I spent the years I should have been at uni flitting from one casual job to another until Ruth asked for my help setting up the foundation. She had commandeered a corner of the new offices of McCoy and Pace Architects and she wanted my help to launch the Lean On Me helpline. The role was voluntary, the charity couldn’t afford paid staff or much else for that matter, but Ruth found a way around that by employing me as an admin assistant and allowing me to split my time between the firm and the foundation.

      I was reluctant at first, and Mum wasn’t too pleased that I was being offered such a lowly position in her brother’s firm, but I wasn’t looking for favours from Auntie Ruth and Uncle Geoff. They became simply Ruth and Geoff as we adjusted to our new roles in each other’s lives, and although certain aspects of the work can be a challenge, I’ve been surprised by how much satisfaction I’ve gained from helping others through the charity. I’m less keen on my admin duties but, if the relaunch of the helpline is a success, if we secure more funding and reach out to more people, then I plan to start training to be a counsellor. It’s by no means guaranteed and I share Ruth’s desperation, but I’d like to believe that Meg is steering me towards a career I never knew I wanted. This relaunch has to work.

      When I lift my head, Ruth is beaming a smile at the reporter. She’s in full flow, talking about the helpline. It might not be on the grand scale of some of the national charities we work with like the Samaritans, Women’s Aid and Refuge who can offer twenty-four-hour support but, for three evenings a week, we are there for young people who often have nothing more than a growing sense of unease about a relationship and want to talk it through. A listening ear might not sound like much, but we’ve had enough successes to make the last seven years worthwhile, and long may it continue.

      A shadow appears in my periphery and I turn to find Geoff with his shoulder pressed against the window.

      ‘I wish you wouldn’t do that,’ I whisper, my pulse racing as I imagine a creak as the window frame loosens, followed by the sound of glass and bone shattering on the concourse below.

      Geoff straightens up. ‘Sorry.’

      Like Ruth, my uncle’s tailored appearance gives no hint of the trauma he’s suffered. He was the one who found Meg in the garage but if the shadow of that memory persists, it’s hidden behind the twinkle in his grey eyes. The only marked difference I’ve noticed in the past decade is a receding hairline and the slight paunch he carries as a result of too many whiskeys.

      ‘How’s it going?’ he asks, tipping his head towards Ruth.

      I attempt a smile but my eyes give something away.

      ‘What’s happened?’

      ‘Ruth might have suggested Meg was being abused,’ I say with a wince. ‘She didn’t mention him by name but she said enough for anyone who knew Meg to join the dots.’

      ‘Including Lewis,’ Geoff replies, his mouth twisting into a snarl. ‘I wish we could name that bastard and prick his conscience, but I doubt he has one. He’s not the one who suffers when old wounds are reopened.’

      I want to give my uncle a hug but that would simply acknowledge the pain he tries so hard to hide. ‘It’ll be worth it if just one person sees the interview and reaches out,’ I tell him.

      ‘It’s a lot of effort to go to for one person, Jennifer,’ he warns.

      Despite being a trustee of the foundation, Geoff has always taken a pragmatic view of our work. He was the first to challenge the effectiveness of the helpline in light of the sharp decline in callers, and his initial suggestion was to wind things up as a precursor to retirement, which he’s mentioned an awful lot since turning sixty. The relaunch isn’t only about convincing new clients to believe in us.

      ‘We’ll get plenty of new