My Mother, The Liar: A chilling crime thriller to read with the lights on

The girl nodded and scurried off, briefly pausing to turn and ask, ‘Still or sparkling?’

Charlie rolled his eyes. ‘Tap,’ he said impatiently.

The girl returned with the water and the proprietor of the café in her wake, a sensible-looking woman who offered to pull the screen across and give them some privacy. Charlie accepted gratefully and took the water, holding it to Rachel’s mouth and making her drink though she was still disorientated.

The café woman ushered the waitress away. ‘Can I do anything? Should I check her bag, call a relative or something?’

Charlie shook his head. ‘No thanks, it’s fine. I’ll look after her.’

The café woman frowned, looking unsure of him. ‘Not being funny, but do you actually know her?’ she asked, shifting her posture to demonstrate that she wasn’t to be trifled with if he turned out to be some random weirdo.

Charlie closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. He supposed it did look somewhat strange. ‘You could say that I do.’

The woman peered at him, suspicion rippling across her face. ‘Are you a relative?’

He looked down at the pale, thin woman who lay against his chest giving everyone the perfect impression of a limp rag. To this day he still didn’t understand how they’d come to this. All those years and here she was, still able to hurt him with a single look.

‘I’m her husband,’ he said.

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