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Book Recommendation | Someone Close to Home by Alex Craigie #romanticthriller #thriller #bookboost

Title: Someone Close to Home

Author: Alex Craigie

Genre: Romantic Thriller, Romantic Suspense

Publisher: Ashford Carbonel Publishing

Book Blurb:

"The book is brilliant. It reads like a memoir and grips like great fiction should - beautiful characterization" Viga Boland - Author - No Tears For My Father Talented pianist Megan Youngblood has it all – fame, fortune and Gideon. But Gideon isn’t good enough for Megan’s ambitious, manipulative mother, whose meddling has devastating repercussions for Megan and for those close to her. Now, trapped inside her own body, she is unable to communicate her needs or fears as she faces institutional neglect in an inadequate care home. And she faces Annie. Sadistic Annie who has reason to hate her. Damaged Annie who shouldn’t work with vulnerable people. Just how far will Annie go? 'Someone Close To Home' is a story of love, malice and deadly menace.


We form a small procession. Theo’s in front, then me and my pusher, then Camilla. I’m taken through the big glass doors at the front and the brightness of the outside takes me by surprise.

Theo thrusts forward to where his expensive car is waiting. He pushes the fob

and the door cheeps before he swings it wide to accommodate its awkward passenger

on what will probably be her last trip. The young nurse, helps them settle me in the

back seat and she stays to wave as I’m driven off.

It’s not a long journey, but it’s fascinating to see the outside world again and

to experience movement like this. Something occurs to Camilla.

“What’s happening about the fees for The Yews? I mean, do they need paying


“Don’t worry, Cam. It’s all taken care of.”

“How? You’ve not paid for this yourself?”

“Don’t be daft, Cam! I applied for powers of attorney.”

“Come again?”

“Mum can’t make any decisions herself, so I asked Rupert to sort it out for

me. He owes me one.”

“But she does understand things, Theo. That speech therapist said she does.

She’d never agree to this.”

“You’re deluding yourself, Cam. Anyway, I’ve sold a few things to get


“What things?” We’re both annoyed at his high-handedness and need to know

if the ‘few things’ matter to us.

“Oh, this and that.”

She stares fixedly at him until he elucidates.

“Nothing important. I took some of mother’s old bits and bobs from her

travels around the world to be valued. It turns out the old Belgian tapestry is worth a

small fortune. It’ll pay for The Yews for quite a while.”

“That’s okay then.”

No it bloody isn’t. How dare he be so cavalier with my past. I grunt my

protest, but no one pays any attention. Then the full impact of his words hits me in the

chest. He has powers of attorney.

I wouldn’t trust Theo with my pocket change and now he has control over

everything I have in this world. I daresay it also gives him absolute power over the

remains of my life too. How has it come to this? What did I do to turn him into this

self-absorbed, materialistic, heartless excuse for a man?

I’m still seething when the car turns onto a gravel drive and crunches its way

to the front door of a building that has suffered many identity crises over the years.

The original building is a large and pleasant Victorian rectory with ivy scrabbling up

and into the guttering at the front. The additions range from quite tasteful to baldly

simplistic tacked-on boxes. This is a money-making, cost-cutting enterprise and I

have Theo to thank for having so thoughtfully chosen it for me.

Theo bounces up the steps two or three at a time, pushes a bell at the entrance

and disappears into the gloom.

“All right, Mummy? Soon be over.” Camilla reaches over and pats my hand.

She means the effort of getting me into this awful place, but she might as well be

referring to my life.

Theo reappears with two women wearing blue uniforms. They both flash

smiles so broad their teeth are fully on display. Then they winkle me out of the

backseat and onto the unfolded wheelchair. One of them, Mandy, speaks in a

peculiarly high, patronising voice that scratches across my nerves.

“There we go, Megan. Are we comfy?” The question is rhetorical, which is as

well considering the very limited range of animal noises at my disposal.

The other one bends her face close to mine and says, “It’s good to see you

again, Megan. Welcome to The Yews. When I heard you were coming I told Mrs

Kenton that we were old friends and she’s made me your chief carer. I’m sure you’re

going to be very happy here.”

I stare at her. She looks familiar, but I can’t place her.

“You don’t recognise me yet, do you? It’s Annie.” I still look blankly back

and she turns to Theo and says, “Don’t worry. It’s not unusual for things to be a bit

muddled after a stroke.”

She pushes me over to the side where there’s a ramp up to the entrance and I

feel that first-day-at-a-new-school fear and have to swallow several times to deal with

the knot in my throat. I’m pulled backwards through the doors and then swung round

to get my first look inside.

I’m in a hall where darkness fights with artificial candlelights near the top of

the walls. Beneath the scorched shades the walls are dotted with cheap prints of

landscapes and occasional notices such as ‘Wednesday is Bingo Day!’ and ‘Visitors

please remember to sign in and out again. Thank You.’ There’s a neglected air that

penetrates the place along with a subdued but foul odour of body fluids, disinfectant

and cheap room sprays. I’m still taking in my surroundings when a door opens

opposite us and an expensively dressed woman wearing too much make-up advances

on me with hand outstretched. She takes my useless right hand in hers.

“Welcome, Megan. Welcome to The Yews. I’m Mrs Kenton, the owner, and if

you have any worries or concerns I want you to know that my door is always open to

you. It doesn’t matter how big or small, I’m here and you can talk to me anytime

about anything. All right?”

She looks up at my disloyal children.

“We’re like a big family here and I can assure you that you’ve made the best

choice for her.”

She smiles graciously, lets go of my hand and steps back into her room,

closing the door firmly behind her.

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Author Biography:

Alex Craigie is the pen name of Trish Power.

Trish was ten when her first play was performed at school. It was in rhyming couplets and written in pencil in a book with imperial weights and measures printed on the back.

Since her birth in Sunderland, she has moved house fourteen times. The last move was to Pembrokeshire in 1986 with her husband and their three children under the age of four. They knew within that first week that they wouldn't be going anywhere else.

When her children were young, she wrote short stories for magazines before returning to the teaching job that she loved.

Trish has had two books published under the pen name of Alex Craigie. Both books cross genre boundaries and feature elements of romance, thriller and suspense against a backdrop of social issues. Someone Close to Home highlights the problems affecting care homes while Acts of Convenience has issues concerning the NHS at its heart.

Someone Close to Home has won a Chill with a Book award and a Chill with the Book of the Month award. In 2019 it was one of the top ten bestsellers in its category on Amazon.

Book lovers are welcome to contact her on

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2 comentários

Membro desconhecido
11 de fev. de 2021

The pleasure's all mine!


N. N. Light
N. N. Light
09 de fev. de 2021

Thank you, Alex, for sharing your book with us! I can't wait to read it.

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