BLOG TOUR: Don't Turn Around by Amanda Brooke

Ten years ago, Jen’s cousin Meg killed herself after failing to escape an abusive relationship.

Now, Meg’s ex is back and Jen’s domestic abuse helpline has started getting frightening calls from a girl who knows things about Meg – details that only the dead girl or the man who hurt her could have known…

As Jen starts to uncover the past, someone is determined to stop her. Can she save this young woman from Meg’s fate? Or is history about to repeat itself.

Amazon UK

Claire's Review  
⭐⭐⭐⭐

It’s no surprise that I am a huge fan of Amanda Brooke’s work, and I couldn’t wait to get my hands on this book! 

This book firstly touches on some difficult subjects, namely suicide and abuse. Meg committed suicide after failing her exams and not getting into university although her family have always blamed her boyfriend. Ten years later, the family now run a helpline where megs cousin Jen is a volunteer, who is determined to find out exactly what happened to Meg.

This was a good phycological thriller, I however found it slow to begin with and I struggled to relate to the characters. That saying I still did really enjoy it and I found it picked up more as the story unfolded. 

Definitely a book to make your own opinion on.

Extract

Jen

Two months earlier . . .

As I watch the TV crew setting up the interview, I stand as close as I dare to the floor-to-ceiling windows to give myself the best view across the office. The intensity of the summer sun reflecting off the white Portland stone of the neigh­bouring Port of Liverpool Building forces me to shield my eyes as I follow what the camera sees.

A banner for the Megan McCoy Foundation, set up by Ruth and Geoff set up in their daughter’s name three years after her death has been strategically placed to obscure the logo of McCoy and Pace Architects. It looks a little worn but better than it did this morning when I unearthed it from the bottom of the stationery cupboard. I used a Sharpie to cover up the scratches and I’m hoping the camera won’t pick up where I went outside the lines on the telephone number for the Lean On Me helpline. There’s half a roll of duct tape holding it all together on the back, but if the relaunch goes as well as we’re hoping, I can order new banners.

The cameraman points his lens over the reporter’s left shoulder while she asks, ‘Perhaps you could start by telling us a little about Megan.’ The camera zooms in on the middle-aged woman sitting at one of the two helpline pods that represent the sum total of the foundation’s resources.

Ruth’s long, slender body is tense but I see the lines creasing her brow soften as she begins to build a picture of her daughter in her mind. ‘She was my youngest – I have a son, Sean, who’s two years older – but Megan was the baby of the family. I know we spoiled her but that didn’t spoil her, if you know what I mean. She was no trouble, always did as she was told and she couldn’t have been more thoughtful and caring. Not a day went by without her doing something that was sweet, or funny, or just made my heart clench with love.’ Ruth’s smile broadens as she adds flesh to her daughter’s memory.

The spider’s web of wrinkles around her eyes that mark the ten years Ruth has lived with her heartache cut a little deeper and her smile falters. Her short, dark brown hair emphasises her paling complexion.

‘What went wrong?’ asks the reporter.

Ruth’s eyes flick towards me. ‘She fell in with the wrong crowd.’

I know my aunt better than I know my own mother. The look she gives me is not one of reproach. I’m no more responsible for Meg being led astray than she, but we carry our own guilt. I shift uncomfortably, aware of the wall of glass next to me that seems suddenly fragile.

‘Megan had been doing extremely well at school. Eleven A star GCSEs,’ Ruth continues. ‘Sean had gone off to univer­sity and we expected her to follow suit, but when she went into sixth form, everything changed. In those last two years, she went from being able to talk to us about anything, to not wanting to be in the same room as me or her father. I thought our relationship with our daughter was unbreakable but it was as if someone had hacked into her mind and completely rewired it. Geoff and I tried everything to get her back on track, from cajoling, to bribery, to threats, but nothing worked. As a last resort, we grounded her, some­thing we’d never had to do before, but when she wasn’t barricading herself in her room, she would sneak out as soon as our backs were turned. We could see what was happening and were helpless to stop it.’

Ruth pulls at her polished fingernails and I find myself looking through her and into the past. I spent more time with Meg than I did my own sisters and of all the memo­ries I have, the one that rises quickest to the surface is our last trip to school to pick up our A Level results. I have a vivid picture of standing with a cluster of friends as we tore open our envelopes. I had the grades I needed for my first choice uni, but my joy was short-lived as I became aware of other people’s reactions, and Meg’s in particular. She was deathly pale but her cheeks were pinched crimson as she watched Lewis Rimmer punch the air. She screwed up her envelope and flung it at his smug face.

‘What did I do?’ he asked as she stormed off.

It’s a question I still ask myself.

I wonder if Ruth is thinking of him too as she curls her fingers into fists. ‘Meg was devastated when she failed her exams. Uni had been her escape route, I think. It would have given her the chance to distance herself from the bad influences in her life.’

‘Was there substance abuse?’

‘No, but there was abuse,’ Ruth says carefully.

Shock forces me back a step and my shoulder thumps against the window before I can right myself. What is Ruth doing?