The Girls in the Garden: A Novel
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One of People’s, Glamour’s, and Buzzfeed's Best Reads of Summer
“Jewell expertly builds suspense by piling up domestic misunderstandings and more plot twists than an SVU episode. It’s a page-turner for readers who like beach reads on the dark side.” —People
Imagine that you live on a picturesque communal garden square, an oasis in urban London where your children run free, in and out of other people’s houses. You’ve known your neighbors for years and you trust them. Implicitly. You think your children are safe. But are they really?
On a midsummer night, as a festive neighborhood party is taking place, preteen Pip discovers her thirteen-year-old sister Grace lying unconscious and bloody in a hidden corner of a lush rose garden. What really happened to her? And who is responsible?
“Full of suspense yet emotionally grounded…Fans of Liane Moriarty, Paula Hawkins, and Carla Buckley will adore this peek inside a gated community that truly takes care of its own, no matter the consequences." —Booklist (starred review)
had made a beeline for Leo. She knew they’d done some clandestine things in the dark of night. She knew that Leo and Patrick had fallen out about it for a long time after, especially in the wake of Phoebe’s death. She’d always found the whole scenario quite bizarre, something far from her own youthful experiences. But Phoebe had been fifteen. Only a few months short of the age of consent. She’d already slept with Patrick, and she hadn’t, apparently, been a virgin when she slept with him. It was
have guessed he wasn’t the kind of man to miss cues, to avoid the meat of a conversation. ‘And your husband is …?’ ‘Chris,’ she said. ‘Christian Wild. He’s a documentary maker. You might have heard of him?’ She saw Leo’s face brighten with realisation. ‘Oh, God, of course. Yeah. He did that documentary about the Polish skinheads, the neo-Nazi thing?’ Clare nodded. ‘Didn’t he get an Oscar for that?’ Clare smiled proudly. ‘He was nominated.’ ‘So did you get to walk the red carpet then?’
good human being. And personally, I don’t believe that you need to play the short game in order to win the long game. I genuinely believe you can skip it. That it’s optional.’ There was a beat of weighty and ominous silence before Gordon spoke. ‘That is utter, utter, utter bullshit. Dear Christ, Mrs H., it’s in the middle of your so-called short game that the worst things can happen. Your dear, oh-soinnocent children are running wild out there, just like my boys did, and look what happened
too.’ ‘No one else?’ ‘No.’ ‘Grace’s father?’ ‘No,’ Clare replied circumspectly. ‘We’re estranged.’ ‘OK. So what happened at two p.m.? Party ended?’ ‘Yes. The party ended. The older ones disappeared. Pip and I tidied up. Then Pip went out into the communal garden – she was taking part in some pet competition thing. My mother left a few minutes later and I sat in my back garden for a while, reading. Then Pip came back, said she wanted me to come and look at some animals with her, some kind of
were in the Rose Garden, then Leo came in with Scout, and then he left. And the girls were still there?’ ‘So far as I know, Adele, yes. And then I came indoors.’ Adele frowned. ‘I can’t think why they would be so interested. I mean, if Catkin was there it’s not as if anything could have happened, is it?’ ‘I did find it strange, yes. But you know, Adele, I did tell the police boy another thing. I told him about Phoebe. And I told him about Gordon. And I also told him that I had seen Gordon