Her Perfect Life: A gripping debut psychological thriller with a killer twist

‘He’s over from Munich for a conservation conference,’ Daphne says.

Gracie’s brows lift, signalling – Sexy and green. Where do you find them?

Daphne grins and whisks Dieter away to dance.

On her way back to the kitchen Gracie bumps into Tom’s friend Geoff from ACP. It’s the first time she’s seen him since the business with Alicia.

‘Hi, Gracie, you’re looking great.’

She searches his face for hints of pity or embarrassment and blinks nervously, unsure of what she sees. ‘Thanks, Geoff.’

She’s moving quickly through the crowd when Kelvin, her producer, wobbles past on a unicycle. Gracie jumps back laughing, almost treading on the fingers of a woman sitting in the grass.

‘Oops, sorry.’

It’s Juliet from the dance class. She’s made an effort and she’s looking pretty good – her hair is up, the red linen dress shows off her figure and the toenails peeking through the front of her strappy high heels are freshly varnished. Her daughter sits beside her, gazing entranced at a fairy princess juggling glitter balls.

‘Hey, you haven’t got a drink!’ Gracie says.

Juliet looks up. ‘It’s OK. I’ll grab one in a minute.’

‘I’ll get it, what do you want – wine, beer, Pimm’s or punch?’

‘Pimm’s please.’

Gracie smiles at Juliet’s daughter. ‘What would you like …’ a pause for a fraction of a second then a quick relieved smile as she says her name, ‘Freya – do you want to come and choose an ice cream soda?’

Freya looks warily at Gracie’s outstretched hand, only taking it when Juliet gives her a little push. ‘Go on, sweetheart, don’t be shy.’

Gracie shoulders her way to the bar, helps Freya to choose a raspberry chocolate float and chats to Heather’s boyfriend Lyall, who is manning the soda fountain, while she collects a couple of glasses of Pimm’s. On the way back to Juliet she makes a detour to deliver Freya to the face-painters under the gazebo.

‘Thanks, she loves having her face painted,’ Juliet says, taking the glass Gracie hands her. ‘We haven’t seen you at ballet for a while.’

‘Work’s been crazy.’ Her eyes flit across the nearby faces. ‘Hey, Kelvin, come and work your charm! Juliet, this is Kelvin the creative genius from Mange Tout TV who produces all my shows. He’s also the one to blame for the band.’ She pushes the second glass of Pimm’s into his hand and dashes away to greet Laura and a tall older man in a neatly pressed check shirt who must be Amber’s dad.

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Faces whirl past as Kelvin twirls Juliet around the dance floor: famous names waving across the crowd, dressed-down media types murmuring into their phones, celebrity mums cooing over that ludicrously over-the-top cake – a prancing, rainbow-maned unicorn with a golden crown spiked with six candles on its head – and Elsie in gleaming white dungarees and sequined high top trainers queening it over swarms of pushy children clustered around the entertainers. This isn’t a magazine spread. This is Gracie’s life. And here she is, Juliet Beecham, finally on the inside, seeing it for real.

A craggy-faced blond man in faded denim flicks her a glance, tips a bottle of beer to his mouth and disappears into the crowd and there’s Gracie – greeting, laughing, hugging – mistress of it all. While Kelvin is flirting over her shoulder with a waiter half his age, Juliet slips from his grasp, takes another glass from a passing waitress and makes her way towards two stocky men – white shirts, cropped hair, a little too muscly. Juliet knows security when she sees it and she’d noticed them by the door discreetly checking out the guests when she handed in her invitation.

The men separate, nodding and smiling, never quite mingling. She ducks past Dawn and Leslie, knocking back punch in their sweaty, over-made-up best, and approaches the older of the men. He wears an earpiece, holds a can of Coke in thick fingers and doesn’t take long to meet her gaze.

‘Hi.’