C J Tudor - The Chalk Man
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Tense, skillful storytelling.
Ali Land, internationally bestselling author of Good Me Bad Me
A promising debutwith the nightmarish inevitability of the Grimmest of talesher storytelling prowess is undeniable.
Publishers Weekly
Kept me up until five in the morning. Wonderfully written. I loved it!
Kimberley Chambers, bestselling author of Backstabber and The Wronged
A swift, cleverly plotted debut novel that ably captures the insular, slightly sinister feel of a small village.
Kirkus Reviews
A stunning debut, a riveting thriller about the powerful grip of the past and the unbreakable bonds of childhood friendship. The ending of this smasher will completely throw you for a loop. Dont miss a word of it!
David Bell, bestselling author of Bring Her Home and Somebody I Used to Know
Its been a while since Ive read such an impressive debut. The pace was perfectly judged, the characters superbly drawn, and theres a creeping sense of unease that starts with the prologue and grows throughout the book. And then that ending! It feels so fresh and deserves to be a huge success.
James Oswald, bestselling author of the Inspector McLean series
What an amazing debut! Such an ingenious, original idea. I was engrossed from the very first page. I loved how the 1986 and present day storylines weaved so skillfully together to create that unforgettable and unexpected ending. Compelling, taut, and so very, very chilling. This book will haunt you!
Claire Douglas, bestselling author of Last Seen Alive
A cleverly constructed, artfully told tale of secrets, lies, and warped passionsfeaturing a troubled protagonist, a terrible murder that wasnt what it seemed to be, and a raging monster at the heart of it all.
John Verdon, internationally bestselling author of Think of a Number and the Nero Awardwinning Peter Pan Must Die
Impossible to put down, cleverly constructed and executed.
Ragnar Jnasson, author of the bestselling Dark Iceland series
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2018 by C. J. Tudor
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Crown, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
crownpublishing.com
CROWN and the Crown colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
Previously published in Great Britain by Michael Joseph, a division of Random House Group Limited, a Penguin Random House company, London.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN9781524760984
Ebook ISBN9781524761004
Cover design by Tal Goretsky
Cover photograph by MITO images/Offset
v5.1
ep
FOR BETTY. BOTH OF THEM.
The girls head rested on a small pile of orange-and-brown leaves.
Her almond eyes stared up at the canopy of sycamore, beech and oak, but they didnt see the tentative fingers of sunlight that poked through the branches and sprinkled the woodland floor with gold. They didnt blink as shiny black beetles scurried over their pupils. They didnt see anything anymore, except darkness.
A short distance away, a pale hand stretched out from its own small shroud of leaves as if searching for help, or reassurance that it was not alone. None was to be found. The rest of her body lay out of reach, hidden in other secluded spots around the woods.
Close by, a twig snapped, loud as a firecracker in the stillness, and a flurry of birds exploded out of the undergrowth. Someone approached.
They knelt down beside the unseeing girl. Their hands gently caressed her hair and stroked her cold cheek, fingers trembling with anticipation. Then they lifted up her head, dusted off a few leaves that clung to the ragged edges of her neck, and placed it carefully in a bag, where it nestled among a few broken stubs of chalk.
After a moments consideration, they reached in and closed her eyes. Then they zipped the bag shut, stood up and carried it away.
Some hours later, police officers and the forensic team arrived. They numbered, photographed, examined and eventually took the girls body to the morgue, where it lay for several weeks, as if awaiting completion.
It never came. There were extensive searches, questions and appeals but, despite the best efforts of all the detectives and all the towns men, her head was never found, and the girl in the woods was never put together again.
Start at the beginning.
The problem was, none of us ever agreed on the exact beginning. Was it when Fat Gav got the bucket of chalks for his birthday? Was it when we started drawing the chalk figures or when they started to appear on their own? Was it the terrible accident? Or when they found the first body?
Any number of beginnings. Any of them, I guess, you could call the start. But really, I think it all began on the day of the fair. Thats the day I remember most. Because of Waltzer Girl, obviously, but also because it was the day that everything stopped being normal.
If our world was a snow globe, it was the day some casual god came along, shook it hard and set it back down again. Even when the foam and flakes had settled, things werent the way they were before. Not exactly. They might have looked the same through the glass but, on the inside, everything was different.
That was also the day I first met Mr. Halloran, so, as beginnings go, I suppose its as good as any.
Going to be a storm today, Eddie.
My dad was fond of forecasting the weather in a deep, authoritative voice, like the people on the telly. He always said it with absolute certainty, even though he was usually wrong.
I glanced out of the window at the perfect blue sky, so bright blue you had to squint a little to look at it.
Doesnt look like therell be a storm, Dad, I said through a mouthful of cheese sandwich.
Thats because there isnt going to be one, Mum said, having entered the kitchen suddenly and silently, like some kind of ninja warrior. The BBC says its going to be hot and sunny all weekendand dont speak with your mouth full, Eddie, she added.
Hmmmm, Dad said, which was what he always said when he disagreed with Mum but didnt dare say she was wrong.
No one dared disagree with Mum. Mum wasand actually still iskind of scary. She was tall, with short dark hair, and brown eyes that could bubble with fun or blaze almost black when she was angry (and, a bit like the Incredible Hulk, you didnt want to make her angry).
Mum was a doctor, but not a normal doctor who sewed on peoples legs and gave you injections for stuff. Dad once told me she helped women who were in trouble. He didnt say what kind of trouble, but I supposed it had to be pretty bad if you needed a doctor.
Dad worked, too, but from home. He was a writer for magazines and newspapers. Not all of the time. Sometimes he would moan that no one wanted to give him any work or say, with a bitter laugh, Just not my audience this month, Eddie.
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