Also by Jo Jakeman

Sticks and Stones

Safe House

What His Wife Knew

One Bad Apple

Copyright

Published by Constable

ISBN: 978-140871-844-5

All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright © Jo Jakeman, 2025

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.

The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

Constable

Little, Brown Book Group

Carmelite House

50 Victoria Embankment

London EC4Y 0DZ

www.littlebrown.co.uk

www.hachette.co.uk

To James, Alex and Danny for their love,

support and patience while I play make-believe.

Part One

Chapter 1

Eloise

Eloise Ford was a Small Pond person. And within that pond, she wasn’t even a big fish.

She didn’t suffer from wanderlust, nor grass-is-greener syndrome. She didn’t hanker after what everyone else had, and when life inevitably tested her, she never asked, ‘Why me?’

Eloise had never believed that her life was a series of happy accidents or a bitter twist of fate. She’d nudged and nurtured her way to this safe and simple way of living that suited her so well, and she could predict what would happen in her day with impressive accuracy.

Those who pitied her small life were looking at it all wrong. If they simply followed her lead, it would save them so much trouble. In her opinion, comfort zones weren’t something to be pushed or set free from; they were where you retreated to when life was tough. Her friends seemed to wear their lives like an ill-fitting bra that they couldn’t wait to unclasp at the end of the day, but Eloise had carved out this sheltered, comfortable life to be devoid of danger and rid of risks.

And it was nothing short of blissful.

When she walked down the streets she knew so well, she invariably bumped into people she could stop and pass the time with.

‘How’re the kids? Has your mum had that hip replacement yet? I see there’s a new wine bar on the high street – let’s go next week.’

Her life was richer due to the familiarity of having lived in the same town for over half her life. She’d lived in the same narrow house for twenty-two years and been married to the same dependable man for twenty-five. She still drank the same branded tea bags and the same coffee. It was only her choice of wine that had changed. Now, it came in hand-picked crates from small, organic, sustainable vineyards instead of boxed in litres by the lowest bidder. It had taken a while, but Eloise had finally become the woman she’d been pretending to be when she’d first met Kit. Eight years older than she was, Kit had seemed sophisticated and wise. He’d taught her about music and love, but more than anything, he’d taught her what it was to feel safe.

Eloise rinsed out her favourite yellow mug and left it turned turtle on the draining board before scraping out her son’s cereal bowl and placing it in the dishwasher. She’d given up explaining to him that proximity to the dishwasher was not enough to clean the pots. The same was true for laundry and the washing machine. There’s no such thing as cleaning by osmosis, Edward.

Maybe she shouldn’t have done so much for her children, because Edward was now unable to do anything for himself, stricken as he was by an acute case of Overbearing Mother Syndrome. Ready or not, that was all about to change when he left home to go to university in a couple of weeks and Eloise became the reluctant caretaker of an empty nest. She was going to need a new project.

She hitched up her yoga pants and walked into the pantry to grab a protein bar. She paused by the catering-sized packs of rice and a bumper pack of toilet rolls, where pen-drawn lines made piano tiles up the wall. Edward at two years old, at four, at six. Meghan at seven and three quarters, at nine, at thirteen. They’d stopped measuring when Edward had overtaken his older sister in the height stakes, but Eloise still tracked their growth by the number of steps they took away from her towards independence.

And by that rationale, they had finally outgrown her.

Being a mother had been such a large part of her identity for more than twenty years that she wasn’t sure what else she had to offer the world. But she wouldn’t go to pieces, because it was her job to get her children safely to this point. If only they weren’t so keen to be free of her. Though they couldn’t see it, she still had some uses, and one day they would realise she did know better.

Her daughter, Meghan, no longer returned Eloise’s calls from her white-walled flat, with its soft cream sofas, shaggy-dog cushions and neatly stacked pile of home interior magazines on a smudge-free glass table. Even her partner, Charlie, had a face that looked like it had never had a spot, blemish or wildly sprouting eyebrow hair. Eloise didn’t feel comfortable there. Homes should be messy, chaotic places where spills and scuffs were part of the decor. Too much cleanliness made her think that someone was hiding something. And if anyone should know, it was Eloise. She was a connoisseur of concealment, a doctor of deceit. Though everyone said it was the quiet ones you had to watch, they never did, and that was why she sailed through life without a care.

She glanced at the contraption on her wrist, which logged her heart rate, steps and poor night’s sleep. She was going to be late for yoga, and by ‘late’, she meant she would only be ten minutes early.

Wherever possible, Eloise liked to arrive for appointments at least twenty minutes ahead of schedule. She had to factor in being caught in a traffic jam caused by a broken-down vehicle, or an unscheduled stop to fill the car with diesel if the tank showed less than a quarter full. At this thought, her heart rate spiked. The more she watched the numbers on her wrist climb, the more panicked she became. This blasted thing was going to kill her.

She closed the pantry door, grabbed her car keys and water bottle from the little table in the hall, and then she was outside, squinting against the glorious sunshine and wondering where she’d left her sunglasses. She was almost at the car before she realised she’d forgotten her bag and yoga mat.

‘For goodness’ sake.’ She turned and jogged back to the house, imagining the ten-minute window narrowing. She picked up the mat and her bag, then remembered the toy for Wendy’s grandson, and the surprisingly spicy book Jan had lent her. Goodness, where was her head today?

Once again she walked out into the sunshine and closed the door. This time, she took a moment, took a breath and took in everything around her. All was as it should be. That was the beauty of living such a small, predictable life – absolutely no surprises.

Truth Seekers UK Facebook Page

Where true-crime fans search for the truth Missing but never forgotten

Patty Hansen

Have you seen the news about that missing woman in Scotland? Cake in the oven, phone, keys and purse still in the house?? Something suss there. The husband keeps changing his story. I say lock him up now.

Niki Hunter

Praying for her safe return.

Andy Pickford

The last time I was in Scotland, I was nearly eaten alive by midges. Have we checked their alibis?

Patty Hansen

Andy, do you take anything seriously?

Marsha Pirolo

If you watch the body-cam footage from the police, you can see a ghostly figure in the doorway. She died in that house for sure.

Sally Ann

Every time I read about a woman going missing, it makes me think of my aunt, Elizabeth, who disappeared before I was born. It tore our family apart. How can people vanish off the face of the earth like this? My mum has never stopped hoping that she’ll get answers one day, even if it’s just to know her final resting place.

Holly Bobs

Sorry about your aunt, Sally Ann. You can’t walk down the road without being caught on CCTV. Phones and bank cards can be tracked. Every transaction you make is traced. It takes serious effort for someone to vanish completely. They don’t do it on their own. Someone knows something and they’ll crack eventually. Keep the faith, hun.

Chapter 2

Holly

Holly Bond had far too much to be getting on with, and so she took a deep breath and did precisely nothing.

She’d tried to go back to sleep. Couldn’t.

She’d considered getting up. Wouldn’t.

Instead, she lay on her bed, studying the cracks and watermarks on her ceiling, making them into shapes and patterns while she listened to cars speeding past her bedroom window. She imagined those people going to work, going out, doing something with their lives, and she hated every last one of them.

Holly’s friends were working in cafés or packing to go to university to follow their dreams or, at the very least, get away from home, but Holly had nothing to look forward to. She was even jealous of Lola McFee for being pregnant, as disgusting as it was, by a bloke thirty years older than her with a gold tooth. No wonder she threw up each morning. At least Lola knew what she’d be doing for the next eighteen years. Holly didn’t know what she’d be doing in eighteen days. No plans, no future, no hope. And more importantly, no clean underwear.

Holly missed her mum for a thousand reasons, but today, the reason was knickers. Mum had always made sure she had clean clothes, but her stepdad, Liam, didn’t even make sure there was food in the house. Apparently, she was old enough to take care of herself, even though all the evidence suggested otherwise.

She sat up and checked her phone. She lifted it higher, pulled her vest lower, and pouted. She smiled as she sent the picture to Eddie, but her face fell as soon as she looked at her laptop. She couldn’t put it off any longer. She needed a job.

She didn’t know why she’d bothered taking her A levels. She’d always known she wouldn’t go to university. Where would she have gone? What would she have done? She didn’t want to be a vet, an accountant, or anything that required formal training, and she couldn’t leave Cornwall, or else Lisa wouldn’t know where to find her. She’d only done her exams to put off the inevitable race to the bottom and because she and her sister had promised each other that they would make something of themselves. And that made them both liars.

The only good thing Holly could say about college was that it was where she’d met Eddie. He never took himself seriously, never took anything seriously, and that was one of the things she liked most about him. He was a skinny geek who talked about politics, foreign films and computer games, but he listened as well as spoke. He made her laugh like nobody else, cared what she thought, and never called her stupid when she got something wrong. But like everyone else in her life, he was leaving her.

They’d talked about travelling together and doing bar work or fruit picking while exploring places they’d only seen on the telly. But that was all forgotten when he was offered a place to study computer science in Sheffield. He said she could visit him when he was settled, but she knew better than that. She was fun to hang out with, but she wasn’t the kind of girl that guys like Eddie stuck with. And yes, she was sad about that, but she wouldn’t go to pieces over a lad. She’d miss spending time with him, but more than that, she would miss being at his house with his typical family, a fridge with food in it and an actual biscuit jar with the fancy chocolate biscuits.

She flipped open the laptop and watched it flicker to life. Holly was expanding her CV and attempting to find creative ways to dress up her lack of tangible experience. Though she was intent on looking for a job, she got sidetracked every ten minutes or so and fell back into reading those true-crime Facebook pages where they shared pictures of people who’d disappeared or turned up dead. Some people offered prayers for the safe return of loved ones, while others were convinced of wrongdoing. There was a lot of finger-pointing and blame. The husband did it, they said. A serial killer, for sure. Trafficking! They would pass judgement on the pictures of missing girls. Look at her eyes! they’d say. Drugs. And, Is it any wonder? All the while patting themselves on the back for being above such things. A guy in one of the American groups kept telling people to Wake up! Couldn’t they see the obvious answer to all these missing people? Alien abduction. She’d laughed. They all did. But the truth was, she’d rather accept that aliens had abducted Lisa than a serial killer. It was all about what you were willing to believe to preserve your sanity.

Each of these missing people posts hit Holly hard. Some had only gone missing last week, and some hadn’t been heard from in two months, two years or two decades, but no one was giving up their quest to find the truth. Holly admired their resilience.

‘Huh,’ she said aloud. ‘Resilience.’ And then she added it to her CV under Attributes.

Sometimes there were stories about unsolved murders, people hoping they could finally get answers. Other times, the people were missing without a trace. But without exception, when the families asked for information about a missing person, they were fooling themselves that there could still be a positive outcome. After a certain amount of time, you had to accept they weren’t coming back. Holly just didn’t know how long a ‘certain amount’ of time was, and whether she was fooling herself too.

She scrolled the photos and the posts, looking for a familiar face. She knew she wouldn’t find Lisa there, smiling under a headline saying that she’d hit her head, got amnesia, and forgotten her name. She also knew she didn’t want to see an artist’s impression of an unidentified female. Do you recognise this young woman whose body was found washed up on a beach?

She knew she shouldn’t do this to herself, but the sites made her feel less alone. Only these people knew what it was like to be so desperate for answers you turned to Facebook, of all places. Every day without news meant there was a chance that Lisa was living happily ever after with a hot new boyfriend and a cat called Mittens.

Holly’s sister wasn’t officially missing, but she clearly wasn’t here and hadn’t been for months. She had argued with their stepdad, which led to Liam throwing a punch at her, which she expertly dodged. Unfortunately for Liam, he connected with the door frame and broke a bone in his hand. Lisa left quickly after that and said she’d be in touch, but her phone was no longer in service and her social media accounts hadn’t been updated in months.

The way Holly saw it, there were three ways to view this situation. One was that Lisa was doing just fine and was having too much fun to remember her younger sister. Another was that Lisa was in trouble, and Holly was the only one who could help her. The least favourable – and perhaps most likely – option was that Lisa was already dead. Sometimes Holly believed all those things at once. She didn’t know if it was better to remain in the dark or to discover a truth that would destroy her for ever. Hope was all she had left, but it was a slimy little sucker that slipped from her grasp if she held on to it too tightly.

She had told the police everything she knew, which wasn’t much. Her sister had argued with Liam before going to London to stay with friends while looking for work there, but Holly hadn’t heard from her since. No, she didn’t know which friends. No, she didn’t know where in London. It happens all the time, the police officer said. Lisa was an adult who had left of her own free will. They told Holly to sit tight and maybe get her mum or dad to call them if they had any concerns.

It was just Holly and Liam now, and he wasn’t happy at being landed with her. Though Holly wouldn’t admit it, she couldn’t help but wonder if Liam had … God, how to put it? Played an active role in Lisa’s disappearance.

Probably not.

Almost certainly not.

But there was no doubt that Liam lost control when he’d been drinking, so she had to make sure she didn’t make him angry. She had to keep out of his way until she could find somewhere else to live. First, though, she needed a job.

Chapter 3

Eloise

Late. Eloise was never late. It was practically unheard of. Temporary lights and a burst water pipe meant she hit traffic no matter where she turned. She might have cried if there’d been any moisture left in her body, but she was sweating so much she was basically a husk.

By the time she’d found a parking space on the hill behind the yoga studio and power-walked fast enough that her rasping thighs almost ignited the flammable material of her leggings, she knew the game was up.

She paused at the entrance to the Salutation Studios and considered turning around and going home. She could pretend she’d had a flat tyre or a debilitating bout of diarrhoea, anything but admit to the cardinal sin of being late to Monday-morning yoga. She could, of course, sneak into the back of the class and mouth ‘sorry’ before taking her place – the class had started only six and a half minutes ago, after all – but she didn’t want to risk annoying Mimi again.

The best thing she could do was draw a line under the challenging morning and ensure everything went smoothly from now on. She made her way around to the café in the courtyard at the back of the studio, where she would take a moment to gather herself, wait for her friends and try to get a grip on her day.

Usually Monday was Eloise’s favourite day of the week. Whereas schoolkids and office workers felt a sense of dread on a Sunday evening, Eloise positively revelled in it. She laid out her sports kit, filled her water bottle, and went to sleep knowing the following day was all hers. No errands, no paperwork, no expectations. Her husband, Kit, would be out at work, the gallery would be closed, and no one would dare lay claim to her time. It was an entirely guilt-free day.

On Mondays, she went to yoga with her oldest and closest friends, Mimi and Jan. Then, on sunny days, the morning would slide into lunch and tumble into cocktails quite effortlessly. Other times, she’d take herself off to the harbour after her post-yoga coffee to let the icy water snatch her breath away so she could emerge refreshed, invigorated and ready to take on the world. Or she’d take a dog-eared book to the beach and not speak to another soul as she napped, swam, read, and treated herself to an ice cream, a toastie or a cake. Because Monday was her day, and calories didn’t count on a Monday. Fact.

She secured her favourite table under the sea-glass and shell windchimes, placing her yoga mat by her chair and water bottle on the table before hugging her oversized bag to her chest and heading back to the window under the sun canopy.

‘No yoga today?’ asked Wendy, pouring syrup into an iced coffee. Her rosy cheeks suggested high blood pressure rather than good health, but she had unlimited energy.

‘Not today,’ replied Eloise. ‘The universe had other plans for me.’

‘Anything exciting?’ asked Wendy.

‘My need for granola and cappuccino was deemed to be greater than my need for tree poses and savasana.’

‘Shall I make it a double, love?’

‘You’re an angel. Oh, and I’ve got something for Henry.’ Eloise reached into her bag and pulled out a plush toy penguin. ‘Didn’t you say he was obsessed with them? I saw it in a shop window and—’

‘Oh, bless your heart! That’s so kind of you. He’ll love it.’ Wendy wiped her hands on her apron and took the toy from Eloise. She smiled and stroked its fur before placing it on a shelf under the counter. ‘That’s made my day, that has. I don’t care what anyone else says, you’re bloody lovely, you are.’

‘Oh,’ said Eloise. ‘Do other people—’

‘Joke,’ laughed Wendy. ‘I’m joking, love. I’ve literally never heard anyone say a bad word about you. You’re golden.’

Eloise wrinkled her nose and turned her head. She often felt like she was missing the punchline. ‘How did Henry’s first day at school go?’

‘Worse for us than him,’ Wendy said. ‘Henry were as good as gold. Loved everything about it. He thinks his teacher walks on water. I’m having him this weekend while our Melanie’s away. I’m thinking of taking him to the Seal Sanctuary at Gweek. Have you been? I really want to take him to Scotland over half-term if Mimi will let me have the time off. I tell you what, it’s lucky I moved down here when I did, because God only knows how she’d cope without me.’

‘Mimi or Melanie?’

‘Both. But between you, me and the gatepost, I’m in the doghouse with Mimi.’

‘That makes both of us,’ said Eloise. ‘What are you in for?’

‘I forgot to lock up. I was sure I had, but the door was open when she got here this morning.’

Eloise grimaced. ‘Was anything taken?’

‘Nah. But why would anyone break in? I don’t even lock my own back door. If someone wants in, they’re going to do it whether I lock up or not, aren’t they? I don’t want to come home to broken windows and splintered door frames, so let them have at it, I say. I don’t own anything that I can’t live without.’

‘Won’t it invalidate the insurance if the doors are unlocked?’ asked Eloise.

Wendy waved her hand. ‘Who bothers with insurance nowadays? Anyway, I’ve got to keep Mimi sweet if I want time off with my grandbaby, so put in a good word for me when you see her, would you?’

Eloise watched Wendy grab a flapjack with tongs and place it on a small blue plate on a napkin. ‘I still find it hard to believe you’re old enough to be a grandmother.’

‘Family tradition,’ Wendy said. ‘Mum was sixteen when she had my sister and eighteen when she had me. I couldn’t wait to have my own kids, and our Melanie was the same. Family is everything, isn’t it?’

Eloise’s gaze was momentarily caught by a fly buzzing weakly in a spider’s web beneath the sunshade canopy. As the spider darted towards it, she said, ‘It depends on the family.’

‘Do you want to take a seat and I’ll bring your coffee over,’ Wendy said. ‘I’m on my own this morning, so it might take a while.’

‘Sure. No rush.’

Eloise weaved her way through the tables and sank into her seat. She sipped her water, which was already warming up, and checked her phone for an update on that burst water pipe. She needed to know if she’d have to take a longer route home. There couldn’t be any more surprises today.

But on the local news website, it wasn’t the headline about the water pipe that caught her eye, nor the fact that the reservoirs were running dangerously low. It was the third article down that made her sit forward in her seat. She clicked on it and tapped her fingers as she waited for it to load. She wiped the sweat off her top lip.

Human remains, she read. Old Engine House. And there, under a photograph taken at least thirty years ago, was a name she’d hoped never to read again.

Elizabeth King.

Truth Seekers UK

Sally Ann

OMG, you guys! Remember how I said we were looking for my missing aunt???? Well, human remains were found in these ruins in Cornwall at the weekend – and they belong to Elizabeth!!! I can’t believe it. They still need to do DNA tests to confirm it, but someone called the police and mentioned her by name, so we’re as sure as we can be that we’ve finally found her. The article below says it better than I can.

It’s not the outcome we’d hoped for, but it’s the one we’ve long expected.

RIP, sweet Elizabeth. #ForeverNineteen.

From The Beacon

In the early hours of Sunday morning, a dog walker discovered human remains in an abandoned engine house in Cornwall. Following an anonymous tip-off, we can exclusively reveal that they belong to Elizabeth King, a teenage runaway. The 19-year-old was last seen hitchhiking by the side of the M1 near Nottingham in February 1994. How she came to be in Cornwall is a mystery. The area remains sealed off while officers search for evidence … See more

Niki Hunter

Prayers for your family, Sally Ann. May you know the peace of the Lord.

Patty Hansen

She went missing in Nottingham?? But her body was found 400 miles away in Cornwall?? WTF??

Marsha Pirolo

The article says she was hitchhiking, so they probably drove her there and ditched the body after she was unalived. Sally Ann, condolences at this sad time. I sense that her soul is still restless. I hope you get answers.

Holly Bobs

How has the body stayed undiscovered there for THREE DECADES?? Those engine houses are sealed off but that doesn’t stop people from exploring them. Something not stacking up here.

Sally Ann

Mum doesn’t talk about her much, but I know Elizabeth had a big bust-up with their parents. It sounds like she was a complete nightmare by all accounts. She hung around with a bad crowd – parties, boys, drugs … She was going to stay with her boyfriend in Wales, but she never turned up. He was under suspicion for a while, but police never got enough evidence to charge him. Mum still thinks he had something to do with it, though.

Patty Hansen

Your mum’s 100 per cent right. It’s always the boyfriend or husband who did it. What’s his name? I bet I can track him down. It only took me seven minutes to find the tart who was sleeping with my husband, and only another two to find her boss. Within fifteen minutes, even her kids’ teachers knew what a dirty little whore she was.

Andy Pickford

Damn, Patty. Just … damn.

Sally Ann

All we know is that he was a football coach from Rhyl. He was a couple of years older than Elizabeth, and his name began with a G. Mum thinks it was Gary or Gavin. She said his surname started with a G, too, but I’d take that with a pinch of salt because she just said it was Gary Glitter. Sorry. It’s not much to go on, but that’s all she remembers.

Patsy Hansen

Leave it with me. I’ll see what I can do.

Holly Bobs

So sorry for what your family is going through, Sally Ann. It’s not even closure, though, if you don’t know what happened to your aunt. I hope you get answers soon.

Sally Ann

I know, right??!! Everyone says, ‘Well, at least you know’, but we don’t know anything apart from the fact that she’s dead. But we already knew that, or we’d have heard from her by now. I won’t rest until I find out what happened to her and who’s responsible. I owe it to my mum. We’re the only ones left. The rest of Elizabeth’s family are long dead. We need to work out her last movements, but I’m not sure where to start, and the police aren’t being any help at all.

Holly Bobs

I live close to where the remains were found. Do you want me to go to the site and see if I can find out anything?

Sally Ann

Really? Are you sure? OMG, that would be amazing!! I’ll try and get down to Cornwall as soon as I can, but I’ve got a little lad who needs looking after so I need to stay put for now and see what the police say.

Andy Pickford

Your aunt was HOT. What a waste.

Holly Bobs

Piss off, Andy, you lowlife. Sally Ann, leave it with me. Maybe Patty can use her sleuthing skills to look for leads on the Welsh boyfriend, and I’ll see what I can find out from the scene. And speaking from experience, don’t believe everything the police tell you. They’ll try to cover up the fact that they missed clues for thirty years. Who knows how many other victims there’ve been, thanks to their incompetence. Women go missing every day, and we’re the only ones who care.