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Автор: E. Clark A.
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Ужасы и Мистика
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780008258283
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       Some secrets never stay buried for long…

      Newly widowed Annie Philips is plagued by the memory of her husband. But she carries a larger burden… Weeks after his death, she discovers she is pregnant. When Annie is unable to recover from depression, her sister, Sarah, suggests a healing retreat in the Welsh countryside, recommended by Sarah’s colleague, Peter. It is here that she becomes a house guest of the kind Mr and Mrs Parry – along with the enigmatic Peter. Friendly. Alluring. Mysterious.

      As Annie settles in to the Parrys’ home, and grows closer to Peter, she becomes increasingly aware of another presence… a supernatural one. Annie becomes the target of violent disturbances that begin occurring in the house. Until one day, when she is drawn into an open field where she uncovers a box.

      A box no one was ever meant to find.

       Can Annie solve the mystery she has become tied to? Or will the sinister forces surrounding the house claim her life, and the life of her unborn baby?

       Don’t miss this chilling new tale from E. A. Clark, perfect for fans of Amy Cross, Shani Struthers and Andrew Michael Hurley.

       Lay Me to Rest

      E. A. Clark

      ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES

      Contents

       Cover

       Blurb

       Title Page

       Author Bio

       Acknowledgements

       Dedication

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Epilogue

       Glossary

      Endpages

       Copyright

      E. A. CLARK lives in the Midlands with her husband and son, plus a rather temperamental cat, a rabbit and a chinchilla. She has three (now grown-up) children and five grandchildren. She is particularly partial to Italian food, decent red wine (or any coloured wine come to that…) and cake – and has been known to over-indulge in each on occasions.

      She has a penchant for visiting old graveyards and speculating on the demise of those entombed beneath. Whilst she has written short stories and poetry for many years, a lifelong fascination with all things paranormal has culminated in her first novel for adults, Lay Me to Rest. The setting is inspired by her love of Wales, owing to her father’s Celtic roots.

      I would like to thank my family for their patience! Also, the lovely Rayha Rose for her help and invaluable guidance, and the rest of the editorial team at HQ Digital. I am also very grateful to Michelle Magorian for her kind words of encouragement.

       This book is dedicated to the memory of my dear mum,

       with all my love and thanks for everything she did for us.

       We miss you.

      July 2009

      Anglesey, North Wales

      Deep into the night, the rain fell unremittingly. I lay still, listening as it battered the windowpane: a steady, rhythmic thrum. Since childhood, to be safe and warm within had always been a source of comfort to me during a storm, knowing that the angry deluge could not penetrate the walls – that I was protected from even the harshest force of nature.

      But suddenly the pattern began to change. The sound was infiltrated by a slow, persistent scratching. As the noise increased in frequency and intensity, heart in mouth, I eased myself from the bed and crossed the room, hardly daring to draw breath as my trembling hand reached for the curtain.

      It was happening again. Cold terror surged through my veins as a pair of dark, glowering eyes met my own through the glass. As far as I was from the site of the haunting, it would seem I was to be afforded no respite from her malevolent influence. I could feel her drawing closer. I staggered back from the window, my fear knowing no bounds as I became suddenly enveloped by the familiar incipient chill; inhaled the cloying, musky fragrance that I had come to dread.

      I opened my mouth to scream, but my throat was so dry that I could emit no more than a pitiful croak. It was inconceivable that I should find myself once more in this position; the previous disturbing encounters of the supernatural had been enough for