The trip, p.1
The Trip, page 1
Praise for Phoebe Morgan
‘An exhilarating, read-in-one-sitting ride’
Louise Candlish
‘A deadly cocktail of lies, secrets, obsession and revenge’
T.M. Logan
‘Morgan has a particular skill for creating a vivid sense of place’
Daily Mail
‘Combines a beautiful, exotic location with a slithering, unsettling sense of suspense. A page-turner, full of secrets and reveals’
Adele Parks, Platinum
‘A delightfully sinister tale’
Crime Monthly
‘A heart-stopping rollercoaster of a read with a dark sense of menace and hugely relatable characters’
B.A. Paris
‘This chilling thriller is packed with tension and twists!’
My Weekly
‘Dark, twisty plotting, compelling characterisation and an ending I didn’t see coming at all’
Harriet Tyce
‘Superb … toxic, sinister and mysterious – this nail-biter is sure to keep you guessing’
Woman’s Own
‘A hugely entertaining thriller that turns a dream holiday into a nightmare’
Jane Casey
PHOEBE MORGAN is a bestselling author and award-winning editor. She studied English at the University of Leeds after growing up in the Suffolk countryside. She edits commercial fiction for a publishing house during the day, and writes her own novels in the evenings. She was shortlisted for Editor of the Year at the British Book Awards in 2022, and has won both a Trailblazer Award in association with the London Book Fair in 2018 and the Bookseller Shooting Star Award in 2021. She lives in London and you can follow her on X @Phoebe_A_Morgan, Instagram @phoebeannmorgan, and Facebook @PhoebeMorganAuthor. You can find her blog about writing and publishing at www.phoebemorganauthor.com.
Her books have sold over 250, 000 copies worldwide, and have been translated into ten languages including French, Italian, Polish and Croatian. They are also on sale in the US, Canada and Australia. Phoebe has also contributed short stories to the award-winning charity anthologies Afraid of the Light, Afraid of the Shadows, and Afraid of the Christmas Lights. Her short story Sleep Time is being adapted into a short film.
Also by Phoebe Morgan
The Doll House
The Girl Next Door
The Babysitter
The Wild Girls
Copyright
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2024
Copyright © Phoebe Morgan 2024
Cover design by Kate Oakley at HQ.
Cover image © GettyImages & Shutterstock.
Phoebe Morgan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Source ISBN: 9780008406998
Ebook Edition © APRIL 2024 ISBN: 9780008406981
Version 2024-04-12
For my beautiful Grandmother, Margaret Joan Parkinson
Contents
Cover
Praise
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Acknowledgements
Extract
After
Part One
Prologue
About the Publisher
Prologue
You’d have to be looking carefully to see it. The body, carried by the waves, a flash of white in a beautiful turquoise sea. At first, you might think it was a trick of the light, or something innocent – a piece of rubbish, maybe, floating on the breeze. Disrupting the paradise. You’d dismiss it as nothing.
You’d have to be standing there on the golden sand to see it for what it really is – a person, or what remains of one. You’d need to be right up close to see the blood staining the skin, the clothes heavy with water, the dead eyes staring up at the sky, the light extinguished from them forever. You’d need to be paying attention.
Luckily – or unluckily, depending on whose side you are on – that day, somebody was.
Chapter One
Saskia
‘We’re going to be late!’
Theo, my boyfriend – sorry, husband, I’ve got to get used to saying that – is calling me from the bedroom. My suitcase is on our bed, and my clothes are scattered everywhere; I can’t decide among three swimming costumes. There’s the one with the high-cut legs, the one with the scallop neckline and the red one Theo likes, but my case is crammed full, and I can’t fit them all in.
‘Come on, Sask,’ he says, appearing in the doorway. He’s been packed for ages – he’s always like that – and he’s right, we are going to be late if we don’t leave for the airport in the next ten minutes.
‘Got your passport?’ he asks me, and I nod, point to my handbag. ‘Right there. Can you help me shut this case? You might need to sit on it.’
I close my eyes and grab one of the costumes at random, shoving it into the side of the case, the material slippery between my fingers. Theo grins.
‘Good choice. You look great in the red.’
He dutifully sits on top of the suitcase and I just about manage to zip it up, wincing at the effort. Anyone would think we were going for a month, not a week, but I’ve never been a particularly light packer.
‘Have you heard from the others?’ I ask him, and he nods.
‘Yep, they’re already on their way. We’re meeting them at Terminal 5. So – you ready?’
I take a final glance around the room, checking I haven’t forgotten anything. Swimming costume – check. Sun cream – check. Sunglasses – check. Silk shawl for when we go to the temple, like it said in the guidebook – check. Phone charger and adaptor – check. I’ve also got some sleeping pills and an eye mask for the plane, in case I need to relax, and a couple of books so that I can maybe try to do a bit of reading while I’m out there, when we get to the beach.
‘OK,’ I say, grabbing my handbag as Theo picks up my case and pretends to drop it because it’s so heavy. ‘You’re hilarious. Now let’s go.’
The cab drops us off outside Terminal 5. It’s a grey January day in London, overcast and cold, and I feel a shiver of excitement run through me when I think about the sunshine waiting for us on the other side of the plane journey. England in the winter is miserable – it feels like ages since I’ve felt the warmth of the sun on my face. I can’t wait. This morning when we got out of bed, there was ice on the roads outside, dead Christmas trees dotting the pavements like discarded clothes, their trunks split, pine needles scattering the tarmac. The whole city has a gloomy air, and it feels
‘Thanks,’ I say to Theo as he heaves my case out of the boot, and he loops an arm round my shoulders as the taxi drives off. I inhale the smell of him – clean, calm, familiar. Sometimes, I can’t believe he’s real, and that he’s mine. If you’d told me five years ago that I’d be married to a man like him, I wouldn’t have believed it. I wouldn’t have thought I deserved it.
My breath mists the air as we walk into the airport, a little grey ghost forming in front of my mouth, but Theo’s arm is nice and warm around my shoulders. I like the way my head tucks neatly beneath his arm; he’s a fair bit taller than me, but it’s always felt safe rather than intimidating. The double doors slide open automatically for us and we head inside, immediately met with a cacophony of noise.
Inside the terminal, it’s packed. I scan the huge room for our friends, Lucas and Holly, but there are so many people that it’s hard to make anyone out. A bunch of teenagers push past us, heading in the direction of the Wetherspoons in the corner, and Theo raises his eyebrows at me.
‘Fancy it?’
I shove him on the arm. ‘No way!’
The last time I set foot in a Wetherspoons was a long time ago; in another life.
‘There they are,’ Theo says and then I see them – Lucas and Holly – coming towards us, each pulling a suitcase.
‘You’re here!’ I say, opening my arms to them, and I wrap Holly in a big hug, her long brown hair tickling my cheek as we embrace. She looks great; she’s wearing a strappy black top with a loose white cardi over it, and black jeans with pink trainers.
‘Comfy clothes for the plane,’ she says, gesturing downwards, ‘it was hard to dress this morning, wasn’t it? Being so cold here and knowing we’ll be going somewhere hot.’
I nod, smile. ‘You look lovely though. Nice shoes.’
‘Saskia, how are we?’ Lucas says, pulling me in for a bear hug, and I kiss him on the cheek, feel the scratch of his beard against my skin.
‘You going for the unkempt traveller look already?’ Theo teases him, slapping him on the back, and Lucas grins good-naturedly. He’s taller than Theo, by about a head, with dark swept-back hair and brown, almost black eyes.
‘I’m so excited,’ Holly says, clapping her hands together. ‘A whole week in Thailand. It’s going to be incredible. And just what I need after the Christmas I had at my mother’s house.’ She rolls her eyes and Lucas rubs her arm sympathetically. I know Holly’s family can be a bit of a nightmare, she’s mentioned it before. Something to do with her mum’s drinking. I had Christmas with Theo’s family this year – or my family, I should say, now that we’re actually married. It was lovely – their house is huge, a big, Victorian build in west London. Three storeys. His dad had bought a crazily expensive bottle of champagne which we had first thing, even though he’d already given us so much for the wedding. It was actually one of the best Christmases I’ve ever had, though I don’t say that to Holly right this second. I don’t want to be insensitive.
‘You’ve got all the bookings, right?’ Lucas asks Theo, and he nods, waves his iPhone in the air.
‘All on here, don’t worry about a thing. I’ll send you your boarding passes now.’ He taps the screen and our phones ping in unison as the images come through to our WhatsApp group, inventively named Thailand 2024.
‘Perfect,’ I say. ‘Now, I could do with a coffee. Have we got time to stop at Pret?’
‘I’ll come with you, you guys figure out where we’re heading,’ Holly says, and she links her arm through mine.
‘Back in a minute,’ we tell the boys, then head off towards the café.
‘So how are you?’ she asks me. ‘How are things, how was Christmas?’
‘All good,’ I say, ‘we were almost late because I couldn’t decide which swimming costume to bring but hey, that’s the worst of my problems at the moment, so I’m doing pretty well. And Christmas was lovely, thanks. Theo’s family are great.’
‘What did you go for, swimwear-wise?’
‘Red,’ I say, ‘a classic look.’
‘Can’t go wrong with red,’ she says, and I grin at her, relaxing into the familiarity of our relationship. It’s so wonderful to be part of a friendship group like this. I count myself lucky every single day.
‘Let’s get an airport selfie, just us two,’ I say to Holly, and before she can protest, I pull out my phone. We push our heads together, grinning, and I take three – I’ll check them later, work out which one looks best. Maybe put a filter on them too. I check how many likes the pic I put up of Theo and me in front of the Christmas tree has got – forty-four so far – and quickly tap the heart sign under a couple of other pics that pop up on my Instagram feed before shoving my phone back into my pocket. I get a rush of adrenaline every time I see the number of likes go up.
‘Two cappuccinos please,’ Holly says to the girl behind the counter in Pret. ‘Did the boys want anything?’
‘We forgot to ask,’ I say. ‘Let’s just get them a coffee too. I’ll drink extra if they don’t want it.’
‘You’ll be bouncing off the walls,’ Holly says, but she changes the order to four and we wait for our hot drinks over to one side.
‘What are you most looking forward to?’ she asks me, her head tilted to one side so that her hair falls down across one shoulder. She’s got lovely hair, thick and glossy, and she’s one of those women who doesn’t need much make-up – naturally clear skin, that English rose complexion. We’re polar opposites in terms of our looks; I’m blonde with blue eyes, and I tend to wear quite a bit of make-up, painting it on religiously every day. I think of it as my armour, I suppose. Theo’s mum got me a nice new lipstick for Christmas, I’ve brought it with me to wear out for dinner in Bangkok.
‘Lying on the beach, to be honest,’ I tell her, picturing it – it feels like so long since I really relaxed and did nothing, and the thought of stretching out on the golden sand, digging my toes in and closing my eyes against the hot sun is glorious. ‘You?’
‘Oh, I want to explore,’ she says, picking up our coffees when the waitress calls our order, ‘the food markets are meant to be incredible in Bangkok. I love Thai food.’
‘Let me help you,’ I say, taking two of the coffees, and we make our way back through the busy airport to where the boys are standing, under the departure boards, talking. As I watch, Lucas laughs at something Theo has said, throwing his head back. It’s lovely seeing them so happy together. This trip is going to be amazing. I know it.
‘All set?’ Theo asks and I hand out the drinks, wincing slightly as one of them spills and burns my fingers.
‘Let’s go,’ Lucas says, pointing towards the escalators over on the right. ‘Check-in is up here, I think. Time to get rid of your knife stash, Hol.’
‘Ha ha,’ she says, rolling her eyes at me, and I smile at her. ‘Only another week to put up with!’ I say. ‘Just grin and think of the cocktails.’
Holly
We’re sat right at the back of the plane, Lucas and me on one row, and Saskia and Theo behind us. I’ve got the window seat, which is good because Lucas is a bit of an anxious flyer whereas I like to look out. I wriggle in my seat a bit, trying to get comfy, as the air hostess talks us through the safety procedures, pointing out the emergency exits, her arms moving up and down robotically.
