Molly Chapman, a mother of three, finds her once-loving marriage falling apart.. Struggling with her mental health and neurodivergence, she seeks support from her psychiatrist.
To escape her troubled home life, Molly walks her puppy along the beach, where she encounters a handsome stranger.
One night, after another fight with her husband, Molly contemplates taking her own life but falls from the sea wall under mysterious circumstances.
Injured and in a coma, Molly wakes up with no memory of her life and a stranger by her bedside.
As Molly questions her new reality, will she uncover the truth and regain her memory, or will she learn to live a the lie?
Molly Chapman, a mother of three, finds her once-loving marriage falling apart.. Struggling with her mental health and neurodivergence, she seeks support from her psychiatrist.
To escape her troubled home life, Molly walks her puppy along the beach, where she encounters a handsome stranger.
One night, after another fight with her husband, Molly contemplates taking her own life but falls from the sea wall under mysterious circumstances.
Injured and in a coma, Molly wakes up with no memory of her life and a stranger by her bedside.
As Molly questions her new reality, will she uncover the truth and regain her memory, or will she learn to live a the lie?
5th of October (Three weeks before)
Molly finds herself enveloped in the steam emanating from her invigorating shower.
The bathroom windows fog as the warm water works magic on her tired muscles.
Standing precariously in the bathtub, Molly reaches for the plush towel hanging over the sink, tenderly drying her slender body before dusting herself with talcum powder.
The struggle with her bra straps against the dampness of her skin serves as a reminder that a new bra was on her to-do list, and perhaps a smaller size at that.
Molly credits her improved fitness and toned physique to her regular walks with the dog, acknowledging that certain areas, affectionately termed her ‘saggy bits,’ need additional toning.
In her internal dialogue, Molly disagrees with her daughter Bonnie’s assertion that she is merely ‘cuddly’ and prefers to describe herself as ‘fat and saggy.’ Bonnie, adhering to political correctness, would often challenge Molly on her self-description, but Molly, with a touch of humour, asserts her right to identify as she pleases.
A gentle breeze enters through the window, giving Molly goosebumps and prompting her to hasten her dressing routine.
The mirror, now resembling a defrosted surface, reveals an aged young woman with tired, heavy blue eyes – the only feature Molly truly admires.
Unhappy with her appearance, Molly reflects on the severe bullying she endured in secondary school for perceived flaws in her looks and her family’s financial situation.
Molly’s delicate face, illustrated with a pointy nose and a dimple inherited from her grandfather Charles, applies a light application of make-up, highlighting her fair complexion.
A skilful blend of smokey brown eye shadow, a subtle flick of glittery silver eyeliner, and a light touch of mascara completes Molly’s self-declared readiness to face the world, with a mask serving as her shield.
Living in a protective bubble most of the time, Molly’s sensitivity extends to her role as a mother.
Despite her sacrifices, she doesn’t consider herself a perfect Mum, admitting to not engaging in stereotypically maternal activities.
Nevertheless, Molly’s children adore her for the love and care she showers upon them.
Before leaving the bathroom, Molly snatches a black scrunchie from a basket on the windowsill, securing her hair in a tight, short blonde ponytail.
A few wisps of baby hairs are delicately tugged to create a fringe, and after a playful kiss at the bathroom mirror, Molly descends the stairs, ready to take Daisy, her faithful companion, for an afternoon walk.
*********************************************************************
Lillie’s rosy cheeks bore the mark of the chilly October wind that has swept in, replacing the mild 22-degree temperatures of September with a brisk 11 degrees.
Living in close proximity to the Irish Sea means that the wind, gaining strength from the sea breeze, carries a salty sting that burns our faces.
Lillie, exhausted from chasing after our large and beautiful Dogue De Bordeaux, Daisy, bore the brunt of the wind on her already reddened cheeks.
Daisy’s unleashed excitement is noticeable as she prances along the promenade, showcasing her powerful, muscular thighs with each bound. Her jumps seem almost gravity-defying, reminiscent of bouncing off a trampoline.
Concern lingers in my mind, fearing that Daisy might spot a seagull or another dog and effortlessly clear the sea wall, with the landing being the cause of my greatest worry.
During high tide, the sea nearly touches the top of the wall, revealing enormous rocks and boulders during low tide that break the waves before reaching the promenade.
Stormy weather occasionally transforms the sea foam into a spectacle, resembling bubbles from a bubble machine, reaching up and covering adjacent streets. However, since new sea defence walls were installed, the sea no longer breached the promenade during such conditions.
In her late teens, Lillie retains the same enchanting baby face that captured my heart when she was born.
Freckles decorate her nose and cheeks, and her fair skin frames beautiful blue/grey eyes. Her thin fingers and long arms conceal surprising strength despite her delicate appearance.
Lillie’s aspirations for a career as an Army Medic were dashed when recurring cysts on her ovaries led to her medical discharge at 16.
Despite scoring exceptionally well in the ‘Selection’ process, the setback dealt a blow to her confidence and triggered the onset of anxiety.
As the eldest of my three children, Lillie is joined by Bonnie (Bon), age fourteen and Oliver, age nine.
While some deem having a mix of both genders fortunate, I prefer a house full of boys.
Oliver, in particular, proves the easiest to raise, content with whatever attention I provide.
Managing two girls close in age occasionally leads to torn allegiances, especially during the tumultuous period of puberty.
While exhibiting a degree of annoyance, Lillie criticises my handling of Daisy’s leash, advising me to tighten it and prevent her from pulling so forcefully.
Despite being a pup, Daisy’s large paws and strength validate Lillie’s point about proper dog-walking etiquette.
The suggestion sounds like a military boot camp, but Lillie insists I’d improve with more walks.
Dark clouds overhead hint at imminent rain, rendering the streets relatively deserted except for a few fellow dog walkers.
The colder weather allows me to embrace cosy jumpers and chunky scarves while strolling with Daisy.
As we stroll, we encounter the enchanting ‘Gynn Pub and Restaurant,’ an architectural gem spanning two floors adorned with charming timber frames and beams.
The ambience is further enhanced by a sizable open fireplace, perpetually aglow during the initial winter months, marking the low season.
Nestled on the verge of a roundabout, the Gynn underwent a seasonal metamorphosis.
In the bustling peak season of summer, the pub thrived with a vibrant atmosphere, drawing in tourists seeking good food, reasonably priced drinks, and the warmth of friendly staff.
Directly across the roundabout from the pub, a picturesque artificial woodland walk awaits.
This idyllic area features meticulously manicured gardens of shrubs, flowers and a rockery laid out neatly by a charming waterfall around the entrance.
Our previous visit left an indelible impression on Oliver, who, amidst the rose bushes, stumbled upon a hidden treasure—a book entitled:
‘The Tales and Times of Bamber Badger.’
The allure of this serene setting and unexpected discovery made it a cherished memory from our stroll.
“Mum,” exclaimed Oliver, carefully extracting a small thorn from his middle finger, a feat met with surprising stoicism.
My attention was diverted briefly to his minor injury, but I refrained from making a fuss, knowing it would only intensify any potential discomfort.
Unfazed, I shifted my focus to a discovery Oliver had made. “Oh, look at this!” I remarked, gesturing toward the book he held.
Its cover bore a note: ‘Bispham Book Fairies. Free to take, read & re-hide.’
Expressing my admiration, I shared, “What a delightful idea! You can take the book, read it, and then hide it again for someone else to discover and enjoy.”
Oliver, captivated by the concept, looked genuinely impressed.
“Can I take it home, Mum?” he pleaded, a hopeful smile accompanied by puppy dog eyes.
“Of course,” I agreed, “but on one condition—you must finish reading it. Someone else might relish the opportunity if you don’t, and that’s the beauty of this ‘Book Fairies’ tradition.”
Every time I meander through the meticulously arranged artificial path, a smile unfailingly graces my face, especially considering that Oliver was engrossed in the same book.
I couldn’t help but ponder whether he would eventually reach the last page and partake in the book-hiding ritual.
The thought lingered and inspired me to consider adopting a similar practice with the books the children have outgrown.
Imagining the joy of other young readers stumbling upon these hidden treasures, I envisioned a myriad of unique hiding spots waiting to be discovered.
Motivated by this whimsical idea, I made a mental note to embark on a thorough post-Christmas book sorting session. The prospect of spreading literary surprises in unexpected nooks and crannies seemed like a delightful endeavour that could potentially brighten the face of a child stumbling upon an unexpected tale.
The anticipation of creating these moments of joy would make the effort worthwhile.
Lillie and I stroll in companionable silence, immersing ourselves in the captivating tapestry of the garden scenery.
Despite the chill in the air, a refreshing quality invigorates our senses.
Today’s walk, I found, was a particular delight as I savour the crispness of the atmosphere and relish each moment of our tranquil journey through the gardens.
I admire the recently planted shrubs and plants for the winter.
Exiting the woodland area, we reach a higher elevation, with distant views of the North Pier’s big wheel and the Blackpool Tower.
As rain seems imminent, I suggest heading back, prompting Lillie to agree.
Turning around, Daisy resists, pulling in the opposite direction.
Spotting another Dogue De Bordeaux, an older one, and its owner, I couldn’t help but feel a blush as our eyes met.
Lillie, noticing my reaction, teases me about my potential newfound interest, igniting laughter.
With Daisy now under Lillie’s control, we walk home silently, occasionally interrupted by Lillie’s laughter.
Despite my dishevelled appearance and the struggle with Daisy’s leash, I couldn’t deny the fluttering feeling from the charming encounter.
*********************************************************************
I carefully hang Daisy’s lead in its customary spot – a brass cup hook I had fastened to the cupboard wall beneath the stairs.
The cupboard, crammed with miscellaneous items like the Hoover, carpet steamer, boxes, old screws, and nails, along with a small toolbox, poses a bit of a challenge to access.
Ever curious, Daisy inspects the lead with fervent sniffs, inadvertently drooling into the children’s shoes below.
Lillie, hesitantly making her way to the kitchen, offers to make coffee, a gesture seldom made willingly by the children.
Bon, in particular, detests the task, associating it with a brief separation from her phone and the fear of missing out (FOMO) on social media.
Watching Lillie, I marvel at her natural beauty.
Despite once disliking her freckles, she now embraces them and opts for minimal makeup. Her freckles are a charming testament to her unfiltered, genuine nature.
Entering the front room with Daisy at my side, I settle into my comfortable spot on the sofa.
Daisy, a constant presence since she joined us at 16 weeks, has become my loyal shadow, sensing my vulnerabilities.
A gift from the children, Daisy provides companionship, with Lillie leading her training and walks.
My worn-down trainers find their place under the coffee table despite the designated shoe cupboard in the porch.
I chuckle at the memory of Ray’s drastic response to Oliver’s misplaced trainers, thrown outside in the rain.
Ray’s strict rules about footwear placement have a certain thrill to them, a hint of excitement in an otherwise ordinary routine.
As Daisy jumps beside me, the darkening evening signals the approaching winter and the imminent clock adjustment.
Daisy nestles her head across my lap, offering a warm and comforting presence.
The faint sounds of Lillie’s kitchen activities, including the spoon clinking and the hot water dispenser’s bubbling, reach my ears.
The ageing kettle, its light no longer functioning, and a tendency to spit water is due for replacement. However, adhering to Ray’s principle of not fixing what isn’t broken, we await its inevitable demise.
Lillie returns with the coffee cups, her slim hands struggling to maintain their steadiness.
Daisy, leaping off my lap, inadvertently causes a spill, prompting Lillie to rush to the kitchen for a cloth.
I assure Lillie that it was fine and observe her natural tendency to worry.
Silently sipping my coffee with Daisy at my feet, I close my eyes, finding comfort in the warmth emanating from her.
The children’s playful activities and the low hum of the 5 o’clock news serve as a backdrop to my brief moment of relaxation.
My mind wanders as Lillie heads upstairs to find Bon, who is engrossed in TikTok videos.
I contemplate Lillie’s behaviours and quirks, wondering if she shares my mental health struggles.
Having recently undertaken informal diagnoses of Adult ADHD for myself, I recognise similar signs in Lillie.
I grapple with the guilt of not realising it sooner, pondering the lack of information and support available during their younger years.
Despite the challenges, I find solace in the warmth of Daisy, the background noise of the household, and the comforting routine of our early evening.
As the room darkens, the television murmurs fade away, and I succumb to sleep, contemplating the day’s events.
*********************************************************************
I awaken in complete darkness, disrupted by Daisy’s barking as she leaps off my lap.
The abrupt noise contrasts with the silent realm I had just emerged from.
The front door creaks open, flooding the hallway with light from the porch.
In the doorway stands my husband, Ray, his face bearing the telltale signs of a harsh chill – rosy cheeks and a hint of stress etching his features.
Leaning over the arm of the sofa, I grope for the touch lamp, coaxing it to life. The soft glow reveals Ray’s frozen demeanour, and I brace myself for his arrival.
“Hi,” I greet, hoping for a pleasant interaction.
“Evening,” he responds, the lack of a smile sending a pang of concern through me. Oops, I realise my trainers are still under the coffee table, a subtle trigger for his displeasure.
I hastily rise from my seat, bending down to retrieve my trainers.
“Just took them off. I’ll get you a coffee,” I offer sheepishly, well aware of the lie hanging in the air.
His chilly exterior accompanies a distinct perfume scent that catches my attention. Dismissing any suspicious thoughts, I enquire about his day, genuinely curious about the job he just completed.
“Yeah, good. She said she’d use me. It’s a pretty nice little candle business she has,” Ray responds, a smile finally breaking through.
Ah, the strong perfume smell makes sense now – the result of working in a space filled with scented soaps and candles.
Handing him the coffee, I congratulate him,
“Well, that’s brilliant. Well done, you!” He accepts the coffee without a kiss or a hug, heading upstairs with a casual remark about smelling like a florist.
A pang of disappointment lingers as I watch him ascend.
The growing rift between us becomes more apparent, and I question why it affects me so profoundly when the strain is seemingly one-sided.
Resigned, I head to the freezer to plan a hasty dinner, preheating the oven.
I retrieve my phone and check for messages, noting the odd absence of Ray’s customary departure notice.
Oliver’s whining interrupts my thoughts before I can delve into the matter.
“Mum, what’s for dinner?” he complains, abruptly pulling me back to the immediacy of daily life.
“Oh well, back to reality”, I say aloud, setting aside my concerns for now.
I read 496 pages only to feel deflated. In the first half, I was confused. However, after the first 200 pages, I became invested and intrigued. The ending felt rushed and incomplete, as if the book would have required a thousand pages to satisfy me!
In the end, many storylines could be inferred about what became of each set of characters; however, nothing was tied up neatly in a bow. Instead, the reader is left with open endings for each person's imagination to fill in the blanks and find solace. Very little about this book is how I would have wished it to go!
There are many inconsistencies and implausibilities; however, the interesting plot twists and tie-ins keep this book afloat. For some, it may keep them guessing; for others, they might see right through it, but the characters themselves are relatable, and some are downright despicable. No matter how you slice it, the reader will reel and feel conflicted.
What this author gets right is her descriptive writing. It's lyrically beautiful and, in that way, a tour de force and a masterpiece. This book is reminiscent of "Gone Girl" because it has defined characters to whom you will react strongly. And, a book that I cannot get into characters or storylines without spoiling it for the person who comes behind me.
While this book was not for me, I still think it was worth the read and the three stars I gave it. When books make you feel, even negative visceral reactions should be rewarded. The slow burn, inconsistencies, and implausibilities held me back from five stars because it has taken me four days to come to grips with the ending I was left with and write this vague review that is now set before you. I don't even know if the way I have interpreted the ending is true! Confused in the beginning, confused in the end, 496 pages... and what was I left with?