THE GIRL BEFORE YOU
Nicola Rayner
Published by AVON
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins 2019
Copyright © Nicola Rayner 2019
Cover design © HarperCollins
Cover photograph © Alexey Karamanov/Getty Images
Nicola Rayner asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780008332730
Ebook Edition © 2019 ISBN: 9780008332723
Version: 2019-05-20
For my mother and for Jason
For there is no friend like a sister
In calm or stormy weather;
To cheer one on the tedious way,
To fetch one if one goes astray.
Christina Rossetti
Everything in the world is about sex except sex.
Sex is about power.
Oscar Wilde
Anyone looking at a map will struggle to find the university town of St Anthony’s. In truth, the inspiration for this fictional setting comes from an amalgam of places: it is halfway between Durham and St Andrews, and the town’s history also draws on that of Alnmouth in Northumberland – a place shaped by what it lost.
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Author’s Note
Prologue
Alice
Naomi
Alice
Kat
Alice
Kat
Naomi
Alice
Kat
Naomi
Alice
Naomi
Kat
Alice
Naomi
Kat
Naomi
Alice
Kat
Naomi
Alice
Naomi
Kat
Naomi
Alice
Naomi
Alice
Kat
Naomi
Alice
Naomi
Kat
Naomi
Kat
Alice
Kat
Alice
Kat
Naomi
Alice
Naomi
Kat
Naomi
Kat
Alice
Kat
Alice
Naomi
Alice
Naomi
Kat
Naomi
Acknowledgements
About the Author
About the Publisher
The last time I saw my sister she was getting ready for a party. She took particular care that night and we were quiet as we prepared, unaware of all those years of silence to come. Ruth used coconut oil, as she always did, to smooth down her unruly red hair. As she closed the hot tongs, the steam from the oil smelled like summer – suntan lotion and Malibu. It should be a happy scent, but every time I come across it now, it takes me back to that night. We had talked our way through her problem and come up with a plan. And I had confided what had been gnawing at me, too. We both knew what we had to do.
I can see her as she pats her pale face with foundation, flicks mascara on her lashes and adds a slash of red lipstick. She pins up her hair and puts on an emerald dress. When she is ready, she grabs her handbag. It holds her cigarettes, a lighter, of course, her wallet, her lipstick and condoms. These were the last things