After the tragic death of her mother in a car accident and the ending of a coercive relationship, a new city and a new job offer Eimear a fresh start – an opportunity for healing and renewal, but her fragile peace is shattered when unsettling events begin to occur.
Florence Gillan has always been fascinated by how decisions made in haste or desperation have consequences far into the future. Unacknowledged mistakes lead to secrecy and create barriers in relationships. We may not lie by commission, but our silence and evasion can wreak havoc in the future. They can be the harbingers of disaster.
In her new book, Tangled Web, the protagonist, Eimear, finds that past choices come back to haunt her, endangering her and shattering her dreams for a new and happy life.
Read on for an extract below…
She caught a bus home. She rarely brought her car to work as parking was in short supply near the office and, besides, she only needed the Mini when she was heading to Sligo. The bus wasn’t too busy, and she got to read her novel and relax.
The bus stopped across the road from the flat. The weather had turned nasty. Sheets of rain hit her face, so she pulled her blue coat over her head and raced to the apartment block.
She was about to go upstairs when she decided to check her post-box. Perhaps there would be something from Meg. She had sent lots of texts and a postcard. There were four letters – three were bills, but she realised one was from Meg as she recognised her sloping handwriting and saw a French stamp. She smiled in delight. Meg had kept her promise.
Intriguingly, there was also a large A4-sized envelope. The postmark was the city centre and her name and address were typed. Must be something official – she couldn’t think what.
She hurried up to her flat, put on the kettle and made tea. Then, tea in hand, she sat on the couch to enjoy the letter from Meg. It was nice, long, and full of descriptions of the people she had met on her travels and the beautiful sights of Paris. Being Meg, she had also described her culinary experiences. The woman did love her food. Meg joked that now she had fulfilled her promise but Eimear wasn’t to expect any more letters as her hand was unused to the effort and strain. When she finished reading, she put the letter back in the envelope to read later whenever she needed a dose of her aunt’s good humour and warmth.
She glanced at the bills and decided to deal with them later. Then she picked up the large envelope and pulled the flap open.
She stared at the contents. Photographs. She tipped the envelope and several large photographs slipped out. She spread them out. They were all of her. In them, she was pictured outside her office, coming back from the local Deli with Kate, and finally and most disturbingly entering her apartment. Her heart thumped. What the hell?
She remained frozen to the spot and, then, as though released from a horrible spell, she turned them over and looked to see if there was anything written or printed on the back – perhaps an address of where they had been developed. Nothing. She checked the envelope, looking for a note. Nothing.
She replaced the photos in the envelope.
Someone was surreptitiously taking photographs of her. Was it Donal? Who else could it be?
She picked up her phone and called Lana, her friend from school.
Lana picked up immediately.
‘Hey, stranger, how nice to hear from you! How’s the new job?’
‘Fine, all good. Listen, Lana. Can you tell me something?’ She didn’t feel up to fielding questions, anxious to get to the point. ‘Do you know if Donal is still in town? I mean, has he made any recent trips to Dublin?’
‘Oh God, he’s not bothering you still, is he?’
‘No, no. But do you know if he’s left Sligo since I got here?’
‘I don’t think so – he’s still going to work. I’ve seen his car parked in the usual spot.’
‘What about at the weekend? Has he been around?’
‘Well, he’s been in the pub every Saturday despite the evil eye he gets from us all. He treated you so badly, and your real mates don’t forget.’
‘What about Jen? Has she been about?’
‘She’s by his side like his protector, deflecting the death stares we’re sending him.’
‘I see. Thanks, Lana.’
‘Hey, hold up, girl! What’s this about? He’s been bothering you again, hasn’t he? I thought after Alec had a word he cooled his jets.’
‘No, no – I haven’t heard from him. It’s just …’
‘Just what, Eimear?’
‘I just wanted to make sure he was still in Sligo.’
‘And he’s not harassing you?’
‘No. Perhaps everything is going too well, and I’m a bit spooked.’
‘Are you telling me everything?’
‘Yes, I’m fine. Work is going great, and hopefully I’ll make it down for a visit and we can all go out together and have a bit of craic. Tell me how everyone is doing.’
Eimear listened with half an ear while Lana filled her in on all the gang. Eventually, she was able to end the call.
She stared at the envelope. It was like what Donal would do: take pictures of her to make her feel scared and vulnerable. He had bombarded her with texts and messages when she broke up with him. He sent her numerous pictures on Facebook and, even after she blocked him, he continued to send her emails. It was like he wanted to remind her that he was still there, waiting in the wings, ready to pounce. But if he was in Sligo, who took the photos?
She pulled them out of the envelope again. She was wearing a dark green scarf in the picture of her leaving the office. It had belonged to her mam. She wore that only a couple of days ago. In the photograph of her entering the flat, she wore the blue jacket she had bought to keep her warm now that winter was closing in. Yesterday was the first day she had worn it. Christ, he was keeping tabs on her! Lana thought Donal was still in Sligo, but she didn’t know for certain. For all she knew, Donal could have slipped up to Dublin on the train and be tailing her all over town. She shivered at the thought.
She stared at the photos. This whole thing smelled of Donal. Could he have had someone else take the pictures? What should she do? In the past, when Donal was being a dick, she had contacted Alec. One time, during an evening out with friends in the local pub, he had mortified her by having a very public row, alternatively wheedling and guilt-tripping her and ultimately verbally abusing her. It was the first time that he frightened her. He was no longer just a pest or a nuisance. The persistence and, above all, the way he looked at her and the violent ugliness of his words scared her. Alec had stepped in and put him straight. And things had got better. Alec was convinced that Donal would stop bothering her. But was this a new campaign from a safe distance? After all, she couldn’t prove it was Donal.
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