Alex North follows up his best-selling The Whisper Man with a suspenseful, surprising saga of parental sacrifice.
Alex North has us gearing up for quite an encore.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, then, buzz is already high on what the author has coming next:The Shadows.
Credit: Celadon/Macmillan
North returns to themes of parental sacrifice in the upcoming thriller.
Things start to go wrong.
Pauls mother insists that theres something in the house.
And someone is following him.
Its the only time I can remember her losing her temper.
I was fifteen years old, standing in the kitchen, flanked by two huge policemen.
My mother was in the doorway.
It slowed as we reached the old playground.
Dont look, my mother told me.
I saw the cordons that had been put in place.
The officers lining the street, their faces grim.
All the vehicles that were parked along the roadside, their lights rotating silently in the late afternoon sun.
I saw the old jungle gym.
It all seemed so quiet and solemn, the atmosphere almost reverential.
And then the car ahead of us came to a stop.
You have to do something about Charlie.
I was fifteen years old, and it wasnt fair.
Or else they had decided it was easier to leave it alonethat the grass it was poisoning didnt matter.
It should not have been left to me to deal with Charlie.
I understand that now.
A small, lonely figure in the distance, perched awkwardly on the jungle gym.
That he was waiting there for Charlie and Billy.
And I had walked past him.
Stared at and judged.
Then I flinched as a sudden noise filled the air.
It took me a second to realize that my mother was leaning on the car horn.
She kept her hand pressed down, and the sound continued, echoing around the town.
Then the police car in front of us began moving slowly away again.
My mother lifted her hand from the horn and the world fell quiet again.
Because I was her son, and she was going to look after me.
Its going to be okay, she said.
I did not reply.
Grateful there was someone with me who cared about me.
Someone who had such faith in my innocence that the words themselves didnt need to be spoken out loud.
Someone who would do anything to protect me.
After what felt like an age, she nodded to herself, and began driving.
And my mothers words were still echoing in my head as we reached the main road.
Its going to be okay.
Twenty-five years have passed, but I still think about that a lot.
Its what all good parents tell their children.
And yet what does it really amount to?
Its a hope, a wish.
A hostage to fortune.
Yes, I think about that a lot.
How every good parent says it, and how often theyre wrong.
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