Rose’s granddaughters, Rebecca, Leia and Naomi, have never taken her prophecies seriously. But now that Rose is dead, and Naomi has a new man in her life, should they take heed of this mysterious warning?
Naomi needs to master the art of performing. Rebecca rarely ventures out of her house. She's afraid of what she might see. As for Rebecca’s twin, everyone admires Leia’s giant brain, but now the genius is on the verge of a breakdown.
Rebecca suspects Naomi’s new boyfriend is hiding something. She begs Leia, now living in the US, to investigate.
Leia’s search takes her to a remote farm in Ohio on the trail of the truth behind a tragic death.
Just who is Ethan? And what isn’t he telling Naomi?
In a story full of drama and mystery, the sisters discover there is more that connects them than they realise, and that only together can they discover exactly what’s behind Rose’s prophecy.
Rebecca doesn’t like leaving the house, even stepping out into the garden takes courage. However, she’s kids to raise and feed, and nobody must know the reason why she stays indoors. She takes risks whenever she goes out shopping. She has to be quick. When she bumps into somebody outside the baker’s shop, she tries hard to keep her mind from wandering.
The school fete was in two weeks and the PTA was in panic mode. The committee had been convened to bring order and Rebecca, as a nominal helper, was expected to attend the meeting. The start of term meant fresh parents, loose change in pockets and the opportunity to twist new mums – dads weren’t excluded, just invisible – into joining the PTA. She didn’t mind the meetings, which took place in a cosy front room of the chairperson’s house, but the fete was a problem. Rebecca prayed for rain so that the stalls had to be set up in the school hall.
‘Weather is set to hold,’ Fran said, dashing Rebecca’s hopes.
‘Jolly good. Yes, I’ll be there at the meeting.’
‘Will you make those delicious cakes?’ Fran asked. Fran possessed chubby cheeks, rather like her sons.
‘Of course. Red velvet and walnut.’
‘Delicious.’ Fran patted her stomach. ‘I love nuts.’
‘I’ll put in extra. Maybe you’ll win it in the tombola.’
‘Oh?’ Fran’s lips sunk into a frown. ‘You’re not on the cake stall?’
‘Not this year.’
Last year she’d nearly succumbed to a panic attack standing under a gazebo on the playing field thinking that any moment she would turn into a laughable zombie as her mind whisked her away to some distant place. In the end, she had seen nothing out of the ordinary, but had to sit under the shade of a tree while Eleanor fanned her with a comic book that Toby had bought with his pocket money. The intervention of her young children shamed her.
‘Oh.’ Fran pouted again. ‘Everyone loves your cupcakes.’
‘Thank you.’ She edged closer to the shop door.
‘Does Eleanor help you?’ Fran had three football mad boys. ‘Must be lovely.’
Thinking about Eleanor so intensely was a mistake. With her hand reaching for the handle, Rebecca braced herself for the heralding burst of adrenaline and flurry of icy shivers. For the first time she was with her little daughter, who was standing by the wall of the playground and alone, or so Rebecca thought.
A ginger-haired girl, slightly older than Eleanor, entered stage left and thrust her freckled face into Eleanor’s, stuck out her tongue and said something accompanied by a disapproving wrinkle of her pert nose. The first word resembled “smelly”, the second word possibly “knickers”. Eleanor’s body went rigid, her fingers clenched. The other girl giggled, her front two teeth missing.
Rebecca’s hands formed their own fists, ready to punch, but the scene ended, fading out into greyness, the “open” sign on the door substituting itself over the girl’s snarling grin.
‘Are you okay?’ Fran asked. ‘You’re very pale.’
For most of her working life, she's been a scientist and librarian, and her love of creative writing has never ceased even when surrounded by technical reports and impenetrable patents. Among moments of mummy taxi, delving into museum archives, drawing pictures and flute playing, Rachel finds a little time to pen her magical mysteries.
Twitter: @racheljwalkley
Website: Rachelwalkley.com
Instagram @ raejcreations
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