I have been reading my entire life – with an older sister I was always reading ahead of my age recommendations, and the love that I inherited from my father has never once waned. As a result, when I read books, it’s very rare that anything surprises me, and whilst I still love reading, I’m used to predicting the route of the book without too many surprises. As a result, I am delighted to announce that Jane Corry surprised me not once, but twice in the duration of this novel, and one of the surprises was in the final pages. As a result, if you haven’t read this novel before, I strongly suggest that you don’t read on yet – please go and experience the novel first, as this review will contain spoilers.
Alison, Kitty and Vanessa were heading to school when a horrible accident left one child dead, one severely physically injured and the third with psychological scars. Now an art teacher, Alison’s first person narration portrays a period of transition in her life. The third person narration that follows Kitty, alongside the occasional first person insight, shows a similar period of change in Kitty’s life, and the development of her relationships with others as well as her journey to receiving the technology she needs in order to be able to communicate. Alison’s new job in a prison, and Kitty’s unexpected pregnancy, frame key aspects of the action, as the girls travel to developing a new relationship with each other.
The front cover and tag line ‘three little girls. One good. One bad. One dead’ are actually very deceptive. The ‘three little girls’ are 18 and 11, and whilst one did die, the judgement of ‘one good, one bad’ is an extremely poor representation of the complexities of the novel. Whilst it did draw me in, as I am often guilty of choosing a novel from its front cover and tag line, it actually doesn’t do Corry’s novel justice, and I would look to change this in the future should this ever be re-released.
Alison was introduced as a troubled, well-meaning character, whose love for art rescued her from a life of self-flagellation and self-pity. Her passion for art, especially stain glassed windows, leads her to take a job in a prison in order to pay her penance and better the lives of criminals… or so it seems. Which leads us to the reveal which floored me… ALISON KNEW! She knew that Crispin would be transferred to the prison and she knew what she wanted to do. She planned to fake an attack on her person, whilst pretending not to recognise the supposed driver of the car, but more importantly, her rapist. I’d have to read through the novel again to be certain, but I know that Corry placed small hints throughout the novel that there was more going on – a brief mention of the lawyer’s letter, the fact that her scarf is tightening when no one is near by – but these things fell by the wayside with so much more action taking place. It isn’t until she admits to the reader, though not to any person, that she allowed herself to go to prison for something that wasn’t her fault, partly because of her role in the events leading up to the accident but also because of some further, unspoken secret. Corry kept the intrigue going, with her clues so subtle its only with hindsight that I’m even thinking of them now. To be able to realistically keep something like that back as part of a first person narration is a serious skill, and I really can’t wait to read something else by Corry to see if she pulls something similar off again.
The second surprise, although chronologically the first, was that Crispin wasn’t actually driving the car. This revelation reveals much more about Alison’s manipulative side than I initially considered. She was angry at Crispin for raping her, and rightfully so, but her malicious attempt to give him sole responsibility for an accident that wasn’t actually his fault added layers of depth to Alison’s character that I hadn’t been expecting. She fools herself, and others, into believing things that aren’t true, and she deems her own form of justice as more valid than anything the public correctional centres could offer. It was a warning I missed with regards to Alison’s character.
The final phrase in the book:
‘Squeaky-clean school shoes
Shoulder bags bobbing.
Blonde plaits flapping.
Two pairs of feet. One slightly larger.
‘Come on. We’re going to be late.’
is actually incredibly sinister. It refers to the two cousins, Kitty and Alison’s children, walking to school together and follows the pattern that has continued throughout the book of Kitty re-discovering her memories leading up to the event of the accident. As manipulative, jealous, cruel Alison is raising the two girls, it does seem a little frightening and the parallels of Vanessa having violin lessons and Florence wanting them is deliberately provocative and representative of the complications between Alison, Kitty and Vanessa.
I have nothing bad to say about this book. I was surprised, disgusted and shocked more than once. The story was coherent and believable. It didn’t play down the rape or the accident, or the culpability of the sisters pushing each other into the road. The twists were sometimes predictable, sometimes not, but all in keeping with the characters Corry developed. I’m off to go order ‘My Husband’s Wife’, and I look forwards to reading more by Corry in the future!