Hazel McHaffie

psychological thrillers

Domestic psychological thrillers

Although I’ve read a large number of thrillers in an effort to understand the secrets and techniques that make for success, I’ve come across surprisingly few that fit more precisely into the family-based variety I’ve been trying to create myself; ‘domestic’, so-called ‘real-life’ fiction. So when I saw Until You’re Mine by Samantha Hayes in a supermarket second-hand charity corner at the weekend, I snapped it up. And I read it in two days.

I love the cover (her trademark style apparently), and the strap-line spoke to me: To create her family she will destroy yours. My kind of territory, huh?

And it got better and better the more I read about the book and its author. She’s dipped a toe in being a barmaid, a fruit picker, a private detective, a factory worker; she’s lived on a kibbutz, holidayed on Cornwall (my home county)… – a colourful life even before she took up crime writing. And in her novels she focuses on current issues, designed to challenge the reader to think, What if this happened to me or my family? Exactly what I try to do.

And indeed, Until You’re Mine bears some striking similarities to my own new novel, Killing me Gently, which becomes available for purchase this coming weekend*. Both are based around a young career woman, trying to adapt to being a mother; things clearly not being what they seem to be; threats hanging over families; marriages and relationships in peril.

In the case of Until You’re Mine, there are three principal women involved. Claudia Morgan-Brown has a history of numerous previous pregnancies all ending in miscarriages or still births – leaving her feeling ‘ an unworthy shell of a woman‘ and ‘a freak‘. Around perfect families with perfect babies ‘jealousy stuck in my craw like a bowlful of mud shoved down my throat.’ And yet her job – a job she loves – revolves around parents and children. As a social worker heading up a child protection team, she’s constantly dealing with dysfunctional, violent, abusive, disadvantaged families. Nor is she a stranger to the painful experience of removing children from their inadequate or unfit parents.

And it’s in the course of her work that she goes to check out the welfare of 2-month-old twin baby boys, Oscar and Noah Morgan, whose mother has just died of pancreatic cancer. They are being well cared for, but Claudia falls in love with their so-recently bereaved father, James, who reciprocates the emotion. ‘He was hurting. I was hurting. Together, we were mended.’ And now she’s heavily pregnant with James’ baby, but determined to keep working up till her due date and take the minimum of time off after the birth.

Husband, James, is a naval officer, a submariner, away for long stretches of time. And in reality Claudia knows very little of his past life. She does know, however, that he has inherited wealth from his first wife, enabling them to live in a huge and beautiful house, and that he has secrets about which she knows nothing. They decide to hire a live-in nanny to enable Claudia to keep doing what she’s good at.

Enter Zoe Harper, who comes with impeccable credentials, and is clearly really good with children. The twins adore her. We, however, know from the outset that Zoe isn’t what she appears to be. She lives in the ‘centre of an ever-changing lie’. We know she is preoccupied with pregnancy and babies. We know she’s recently left an intense relationship but still longs to make contact with her past. We also know she has her own agenda and is on a mission which somehow relates to counting down to the birth of Claudia’s child.

The third woman is Detective Inspector Lorraine Fisher. She’s dealing with domestic crises at home – an errant husband and a rebellious teenage daughter determined to abandon her education and career prospects, leave home and marry her boyfriend. And on the work front Lorraine is dealing with two cases of pregnant women being sliced open and left for dead. Both the victims had troubled pasts and had been in the care of social services. Both had been wanting to terminate their pregnancies early on but for some reason had not gone through with it. Both babies and the first mother have died, but the second mother has survived, and somehow the survivor is the link between the social worker, nanny and detective.

Through the eyes of all three women we inch forward towards the critical date – the birth of Claudia’s baby girl. It’s tense, gripping stuff. But the three stories simply don’t hang together. Who is to be believed? Three women desperate to become mothers. Three women juggling competing demands. Three murders already. We’re counting down the days to deadlines with huge trepidation. The suspense keeps us glued to the pages. The killer twist in the tale, when it comes, is brilliantly executed. And the last sentence is perfection.

Phew! A serendipitous find but highly recommended. And I’ll certainly be hunting down more of Samantha Hayes’ books.

* Yep, at last! We’ve had a few glitches in the publishing process this time, hopefully now ironed out. More on this next week.

 

 

 

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Multi-tasking

I love it when the writing involves solid thinking time. This week the brain’s been working overtime during the night, but I’ve been able to mull over new ideas and possibilities while outwardly tramping in the glorious autumn scenery – simultaneously improving physical fitness and mental spark, and making the most of the light and warmth before winter grabs us by the scruff … yep, they say it’s imminent!

Somehow bright sunshine transforms the view, doesn’t it? and visiting the same place – Penicuik House in Midlothian – on two different days, paid dividends. The 18th century Palladian mansion is a ruin (albeit a very elegant one), destroyed by a fire in 1899, but the grounds are open to the public and the numerous walks are gorgeous at this time of year.

So a few cogitations gleaned from my wanderings …

I’m trying to provide more contrast in my prose – hard lines against the softer aspects, darkly sinister against lightly optimistic. Outwardly the Morgan family have everything … but something is very wrong in their household. Family, professionals, friends are wanting to see the best side of their privilege, but the safety of a baby is at stake here. That conflict/contrast was epitomised in the fabulous colours and outlines in the grounds of Penicuik House.

The storyline needs to beckon the reader on, like these alluring pathways, seducing us with suspected horror, false security. It’s not just the baby’s welfare we’re concerned about here; a marriage is in jeopardy, professional relationships are threatened. But we have to care enough in the first place to stick with the players in this drama, to creep right into their lives, to root for them.

The foreground action needs to have a coherent backstory that rings true but doesn’t intrude. We’re watching the principals but we want to believe in their context, understand why they’re kicking up the leaves, keeping their backs to the light, creating long shadows, hiding things from us.

And that backcloth too, needs to be intriguing enough to draw us in. At once credible but intriguing. And maybe just a bit scary.

After the second long tramp, I was certainly seeing light at the end of my literary tunnel. It may get dark and ominous as we sink down into the psychological mire, but there has to be hope of some kind of resolution to pull us along. The sun goes in every now and then, leaving us floundering in the darkness before we can see our way out of the quandary they present us with. But we’re inching closer to the light all the time.

Phew! Exhausting stuff mentally. But exhilarating physically.

A good week overall on the writing front, then. And more encouraging news … that Sunday BBC psychological thriller I mentioned a few weeks ago – The Cry? … it doesn’t steal my thunder at all. Wahey! No need to re-write my tale. But after watching/analysing/critiquing each episode carefully, I realise that, in a film, so much is conveyed by the actors’ skill – a look, a pause, the tone of a voice. With Killing me Gently, I have to imagine the camera rolling but capture the tension and emotion in my words on the page.

Oh, I nearly forgot … I’ve also finished writing the first draft of the annual McHaffie Christmas story-play. Which reinforces what I’ve just said. The story will be enhanced, and brought to life, indeed, immortalised, by the expressions, the voices, the actions of the players: my grandchildren. They will undoubtedly steal the show! As they should.

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