The Long Shadow

“You see Mrs Barnicott, it just happens that I know rather a lot about your husband and about the circumstances of his death. And one of the things I know is that his death wasnt an accident. And you know it too… because you killed him.” She could hardly believe she was actually hearing what the voice on the telephone was saying. While life as the third wife of a celebrated, cruel and egocentric Classics Professor had hardly been a bed of roses, murder had never entered her head. Now, it seemed that to the indignities of widowhood fear was to be added. There were times, for instance, when it looked as though her husband, who was indisputably dead, simply wouldnt die – what with messages lying about in his handwriting, work obviously continuing on an unfinished manuscript, to say nothing of disturbed files, and a macabre figure occasionally glimpsed in the attic or the study. Then there was the time she knew, beyond a doubt, that her life was in danger…

Reviews:

‘Grandmother of British domestic noir Celia Fremlin deserves to be far better known, and a must for any crime-fiction lover’s Christmas wish list is The Long Shadow. Perceptive, funny and genuinely chilling.’ The Guardian

‘Beautifully written and impeccably organised, Fremlin’s sly, subtly feminist take on the ghost story is a gem.’ The Sunday Times, Thriller of the Month (November 2018)

‘Fremlin is perfect at exploiting the family dynamic and how the relationships between family members can be more confusing and convoluted than expected. This is another dark suspense novel from the menacing pen of Fremlin. As with Millar, it is wonderful to see this author who has an acute and precise eye for detail, back in print.’ Crimesquad.com

‘Genuine chiller. Splendid suspense in brilliantly captured domestic setting.’  Sunday Telegraph

‘The story unfolds with brilliant ingenuity, always on the verge of explanation, ever plausibly plunging deeper…yet any hint of the mechanical is washed right away by the sensitivity of the social and psychological dissection, frequently, too, sharply funny.’  The Times