When the Evil Waits by M Lee (top fiction books of all time txt) 📕

it over with your grandparents and they’ve agreed you can move back next weekend before you start school. Your granny realises she can’t take you there every day and it’s too far for you to travel on your own. I’ve spoken with the coroner and Claire Trent. They’ve said I only have to work until three every day so I can pick you up from school.’

She jumped in front of him, a big smile on her face. ‘That’s great, Dad. I can’t wait to come back.’

‘We’ll live in the service apartment.’ He took a breath, waiting to tell her. ‘I’ve decided to sell the house.’

She thought for a moment. ‘I’ll miss my room, but I understand, Dad. Too many bad memories.’

‘Actually, too many good memories. I hope we can find a place soon, perhaps closer to your new school.’

‘Sounds like a plan, Dad. Don’t forget to take my BTS posters off the wall in my room.’

‘Don’t worry, I know how important they are to you. But one thing you have to promise…’

‘What’s that?’

‘You should spend weekends and holidays with your grandparents.’

‘Dad…’

‘It’s the right thing to do, Eve. Imagine how much they are going to miss you.’

They stopped in front of the Mersey, its waters running fast between the high banks.

He went quiet for a second before saying, ‘You know, it was my greatest achievement, being with your mum, I mean.’

‘You’ve still got me, Dad.’

‘I know.’

She looked over the river and then a small smile crossed her lips. ‘Dad…’

‘Yeah.’

‘Before I start the new school…’

‘Yeah…’

‘I was thinking of dyeing my hair bright green. What do you think?’

She looked at him, trying to keep a straight face and then she couldn’t maintain it any longer, collapsing in a fit of giggles.

He hugged her close. ‘Smart arse, just like your mum.’

‘I know, it’s where I got it from.’ She leant into him and stared down at the river below them. ‘It’s funny, Dad, but this river has been flowing here ever since the Romans. You know they built a road to Chester that crossed the Mersey over there?’ She pointed back towards Stretford. ‘That’s how the town got its name. Mum taught me that. For thousands of years, this river has been flowing to the sea. Every day of every month of every year. It’s never going to stop, is it?’

‘No, it’s never going to stop. Whatever happens, it just keeps moving on.’

‘That’s what it does.’

She pulled away from him. ‘Shall we walk back?’

He nodded and she walked back up the path, turning back to look at him as he stood on the path overlooking the river. ‘Are you coming, Dad?’

He stared down into the water, watching it bubble and flow over some rocks, moving on no matter what was thrown in its way.

‘Bye, Poll,’ he whispered, before turning back to join his daughter and walk up the hill, together.

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About the Author

M J Lee has worked as a university researcher in history, a social worker with Vietnamese refugees, and as the creative director of an advertising agency. He has spent 25 years of his life working outside the north of England, in London, Hong Kong, Taipei, Singapore, Bangkok and Shanghai.

Also by M J Lee

DI Ridpath Crime Thriller

Where the Truth Lies

Where the Dead Fall

Where the Silence Calls

Where the Innocent Die

When the Past Kills

When the Evil Waits

First published in the United Kingdom in 2021 by Canelo

Canelo Digital Publishing Limited

31 Helen Road

Oxford OX2 0DF

United Kingdom

Copyright © M J Lee, 2021

The moral right of M J Lee to be identified as the creator of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781788637466

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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