Teaser: My Sister’s Bones by Nuala Ellwood

Have you been following the My Sister’s Bones teaser trail over the past few weeks? We’ve got the fourth and final teaser right here for you to enjoy!

Kate Rafter is a high-flying war reporter. She’s the strong one – the one who escaped their father. Her younger sister Sally didn’t. Instead, she drinks. But when their mother dies, Kate is forced to return home – and on her first night she is woken by a terrifying scream. At first Kate tells herself it’s just a nightmare. But then she hears it again, and this time she knows she’s not imagining it.

What secret is lurking in the old family home? And is she strong enough to uncover it – and make it out alive?

Read on for an exclusive taste from Nuala Ellwood‘s debut thriller…

My Sister’s Bones
by
Nuala Ellwood

I slump to bed at nine-thirty, drowsy with pills and a two-hour TV documentary on Margaret Thatcher. The Iron Lady’s voice is the last thing I hear as I collapse into bed, curled up like an ancient fossilized creature, my knees touching my chest, my chin buried deep under the covers.
        The bed smells of 1979. My miserable child¬hood is embedded in the wood, in the springs of the mattress, in the blue velvet headboard, and as I close my eyes I follow the scent and find myself tumbling down the rabbit hole.
        My father’s voice, thin and reedy, bleeds through the air pocket that connects the past with the present; a warped present, an infinite series of moments that I find myself living through night after night. I try to shout at him, to tell of the legacy he left us, a world of guilt and pain, but my anger has no outlet. My adversary looks back at me with hollow eyes. The dead can’t fight back.
        His voice grows fainter as I reach the darkest point of the tunnel. I’m back in the shop in Aleppo, the first shot has just been fired and there is still time. If I go quickly I can get to him but each time I try something alters. Tonight the street is filled with water and, as I plunge into it, relief soars through my body. I’m a strong swimmer and the water is washing away the dust and the blood. I can do this; I can get to him in time. But as my hands take hold of him, a noise punctures the air, a terrifying cry that seems to come from inside me.
        I let go and feel myself rising up, up into pale moon¬light that trickles into my eyes. Stillness hangs above the room like a thin membrane, time is suspended; outside, the suburbs are holding their breath and I hold my breath too, waiting for the film to be punctured.
        Nothing. I turn over and begin to count. I’ve been told that counting helps ward off anxiety attacks.
        ‘One, two, three, four . . .’
        The scream comes again, sharp and unbidden, and I sit bolt upright in the bed, my hands shaking. It sounds like a wounded animal fighting for its life and it is com¬ing from outside my head.

Don’t miss the My Sister’s Bones blog tour which kicks off on Tuesday 25^th October!