LOUISE STONE
worked as a teacher before turning her hand to fiction. She was brought up in Africa and the Middle East and then ‘as an adult’ travelled extensively before moving to London and finally settling in the Cotswolds with her partner, and now baby. When she’s not writing, you will find her scouring interior design magazines and shops, striving toward the distant dream of being a domestic goddess or having a glass of wine with country music turned up loud. As a child, she always had her nose in a book and, in particular, Nancy Drew. S is for Stranger is her first psychological suspense thriller and it was shortlisted for the Harry Bowling Prize. She also writes women’s fiction under the pseudonym Lottie Phillips. Readers can find Louise Stone, otherwise known as Charlotte Phillips, on Twitter @writercharlie or at www.writercharlie.com
S is for Stranger
Louise Stone
To my wonderful parents.
Fracture for fracture, eye for eye, tooth for tooth. As he has injured the other, so he is to be injured.
Leviticus chapter 24: verse 20
TABLE OF CONTENTS
September 2011
I tapped the rim of the table with my right forefinger: one, two, three. Bad things didn’t happen when I counted to three.
‘Don’t you like strawberry?’ I asked, twiddling my straw with my other hand. ‘You can have mine.’ I pushed the chocolate milkshake in her direction and she shook her head. I gave in and took it back. ‘So, how’s school?’
‘OK.’
We had been playing this game for over an hour now: I asked the questions and she offered one-word answers. Licking my lips, I went in for another drag of the sweet, sickly chocolate drink. I turned to look out the window and pulled a face. Milkshakes were not my thing. I had thought it was what all eight-year-old girls liked doing – eating junk food and visiting Claire’s jewellery shop.
‘You don’t like it, do you, Mummy?’ Amy asked me and nodded toward the milkshake.
I smiled – caught out. ‘Not really. What about you?’
Amy revealed the first small smile of the day. ‘No.’ She looked down at her lap. ‘I don’t like milkshakes. Daddy knows I don’t like milkshakes.’
‘I