Following a traumatic birth in Lagos, just days after her father-in-law’s funeral, Hanna returns home to the UK confused, disorientated… and convinced the new baby
is not hers.
While her husband, Mark, throws himself into his latest venture – turning their gothic mansion home and respite care
business into a thriving conference centre, a series of omens, portents and ghostly visitations see Hanna questioning both
herself and those around her, as she struggles to accept the child as her own.
But when glamorous and imperious researcher, Deòiridh, sweeps into their lives, Hanna’s world is turned upside down further still. Can she uncover the new, very real threat that Deòiridh poses… before it’s too late?
Prescient Spirit. A psychological thriller from the author of Three Faced Doll.
Extract from Novel
A clatter of cutlery echoes as a trolley is pushed along the corridor. I open my eyes and gaze about me. I’ve been moved to a small ward. Two women in the beds opposite cradle their babies.
I raise my head from the pillow and call out. ‘Hello?’
A nurse hurries over. ‘You back. You been out a long time. How you feel now?’ She sticks a thermometer in my mouth and wraps a band around my arm to test my blood pressure. She checks the IV fluids being pumped into my system. ‘That all good.’ She nods before moving away from my bed.
‘Please,’ I call after her. ‘Can I have my baby?’
‘Yes. Baby due feed anyway.’
As she leaves the room, I pull myself up to sitting, anxious to see my baby’s beautiful face again.
The nurse returns moments later and places a swaddled baby in my arms.
Lowering the shawl, I stare down at a screwed-up face with wide indignant eyes. ‘No.’ I hold the child out to the nurse. ‘This is someone else’s baby.’
Frowning, she takes the baby. ‘This your baby, ma’am.’ She pulls the shawl away from its angry little face. “See his little nose? Just like his mammy’s.’
My heart races. ‘No.’ I try to remain calm. ‘This is not my baby.’
She backs away while the women opposite watch.
Blood pounds in my ears. ‘Mark, Mark.’ Everyone’s staring. ‘Where’s my baby?’ I scream. ‘WHERE IS MY BABY?’
Mark rushes into the ward, his coffee sloshing from a paper cup. ‘What’s the matter, what’s happened?’
The nurse shakes her head.
Mark comes closer. He cradles me in his arms.
‘My baby,’ I sob. ‘My baby…’
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