Fearnley Fiction

Buy Here                                15th July 1998 I can’t sleep thinking about what we will do tomorrow. I’m scared he will know; I’m scared he will be watching me… Chapter 1   August 1998 Three weeks after…   O nward they trudged. Step by step. Deeper into the woodlands, trying as best they could to maintain the straight line they had been instructed to hold. They didn’t speak, they could barely look one another in the eye. They all knew just one look would confirm their worst fears, that the searching was in vain. They weaved around bushes and climbed unsteadily over fallen trees. The mud, thick and heavy, made progress even slower, and on a few occasions the sludge underfoot dragged wellington boots clean off tired feet. The summer had burnt bright and long,  one of the hottest on record. But the woods were dark, cold. The air didn’t move the...

Buy Here Merryknowe Bakery and Tearooms was the most visited shop in the tiny village, which wasn’t a point of pride – not when the village was dying a slow death from lack of visitors and actual inhabitants. It wasn’t the prettiest village in Wiltshire and Rachel Brown tried to bring some elegance to the window of the bakery with her baked goods. Sometimes she made cupcakes with pink iced roses or chocolate eclairs with satiny icing but today she had cream-filled butterfly cakes on the silver tray. She watched the man and his child walk away from the shop until they were out of sight and she felt herself turn red when she remembered the way he’d looked at the bruise on her cheek. It’s not what you think , she had wanted to say to him. She knew people thought it was a man who did this to her, but it wasn’t a man. Rachel had never been close enough to have a man touch her in passion or anger. There was no way she could even meet a man, not with what she had to do every d...

Buy Here October 2017 The spray from the wheels of a lorry splashed across Stuart Ingram’s windscreen, temporarily blinding him. He switched up his wipers, resisted the temptation to depress the brake, a movement that would send him sliding across the dual carriageway, and squinted, battling for a clear view of the road through the darkness and the rain pummelling his windscreen. He overtook the lorry and pulled off at the next junction into Rothwell, a small market town on the fringes of the Northamptonshire border. The streets were deserted, dull hues behind tightly drawn curtains the only sign of life in the old terraces that lined the roadside. After a week of unnaturally high October temperatures and the Met Office predicting a possible autumn drought, the rain had arrived with a vengeance, swamping everything in sight and leaving a slick residue as the hard-baked ground failed to cope with the sudden onslaught. The streetlights bobbed and flickered throu...

Buy Here DECEMBER 1945 By the time the Glasgow train pulls into the insignificant station, still forty miles short of its destination, darkness has already claimed the village and its surrounding countryside. In a few houses there is the wavering light of a candle, in others the flare of an oil lamp. The scant illumination gives to the cottages and bigger houses along the road a forlorn, uncared for appearance, even though Christmas is only a few days away. A woman alights from one of the carriages. She is still young, no more than thirty, but her headscarf and sombre coat make her look older than her years. Turning, she heaves down a heavy suitcase, then offers her hand to another woman, just old enough to be her mother, who takes one leaden step and then a second onto the platform, before looking joylessly about her. With a sharp hiss, a cloud of steam envelops them as the train eases its way out of the station to continue its northward journey. The exit, to which they ...

Buy Here I had to start this book twice as the first time I lost concentration so forgot who was who. The 2nd time, I managed to get into it and remembered who was who. This was my own fault and nothing to do with the book. There are a lot of characters in this book, once you figure out who is who it does get easier to read. Becomes a second nature. I like the plot, there was some great twists and turns in there. I kept thinking i had it when i didn't. It really does make you think about what is happening and also about family dynamics.  Great ending with a twist you don't see coming. I knew something was up with the character but I never expected that! Great read

Buy Here Verity had met Nathan soon after he had returned from a summer working – and, it now transpired, making babies – in Greece. If asked, she would have said that they had a happy, secure marriage with two beloved sons, but now, with Saskia’s arrival, it felt as if a wedge had slipped or rather been rammed between them. The truth, now she made herself admit it, was that since both boys had left for university, they were finding it difficult to communicate with each other. She and Nathan had almost a year being just the two of them before Marius and then Toby were born. Nathan worked in the financial world and when the boys were older, she went back to teaching history A level in a crammer. Saskia had been conceived before she and Nathan had even met , she kept reminding herself as she waited for the kettle to boil. If Saskia’s mother had not become so ill and died, would she ever have told her daughter the name of the man who had fathered her? This she said to Jen a...

Buy Here I’m in court when my phone rings. It’s a Tuesday, just after three. We’re all sitting in silence – the court clerk, the prosecutor, myself and the usher – while District Judge Long peruses the papers for the next case. The judge is a tall, thin-framed man in his sixties with wavy grey hair, kind intelligent eyes and a soft-featured face. We call him Lock-’em-up Long because, in spite of his gentle appearance, he’s known for being tough. You could say he takes no prisoners but, actually, he does – a lot. I sometimes wonder what he’s like at home, what happens when he falls out with his wife. He must feel annoyed that he can’t lock her up. Maybe they don’t argue; I wouldn’t. No, that’s not true – I probably would. The judge finishes reading and looks up as Cathy from the Youth Offending Team walks in. He asks her if my client, Jerome, is complying with his Youth Rehabilitation Order. Cathy shakes her head. ‘No, sir, unfortunately not. He’s not been engaging well, I’m a...