Description:
Review
“The perfect beach read . . . Unreliable characters and a plot packed with twists will keep you guessing until the final, thrilling page.”—PopSugar
“With unreliable characters, wry voices, exquisite pacing, and a twisting plot, Steadman potently draws upon her acting chops. . . . A darkly glittering gem of a thriller from a new writer to watch.”—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
“Captivating . . . daring . . . The threats and increasingly bad decisions accelerate with Bourne-like velocity. . . . Steadman [is] a newcomer worth watching.”—Publishers Weekly
“This debut’s opening hook, which jumps ahead in the story to reveal a shocking outcome, teamed with Erin’s spunk and the threat of Russian mobsters, creates irresistible suspense—of both the what-will-happen and the how-did-that-happen varieties.”—Booklist
“An unbearably tense debut with a knockout premise, Something in the Water had me hooked from the very first sentence. Thrilling and thought-provoking, it’s the perfect beach read. I devoured it!”—Riley Sager, New York Times bestselling author of Final Girls
“This is a book that puts you right into the shoes of the characters and has you asking: What would I do? You may find yourself increasingly uncomfortable with your answers. An unputdownable story that poses the age-old question of how well we can ever know someone else—and, perhaps even more important, how well do we know ourselves?”—Amy Engel, author of The Roanoke Girls
“We all think we know our own boundaries. We all think we’d do the right thing. But what if the opportunity for the perfect crime appeared right in front of your eyes? How many rules would you break in pursuit of the perfect life? Catherine Steadman’s debut novel, Something in the Water, is as scary as it gets. This terrifying morality tale is guaranteed to keep you up at night.”—Michelle Richmond, New York Times bestselling author of The Marriage Pact
“Pure adrenaline: I swallowed this book whole.”—Erin Kelly, author of He Said/She Said
“I absolutely loved Something in the Water, a stunning debut. . . . Superbly written, clever and gripping.”—B. A. Paris, New York Times bestselling author of Behind Closed Doors and The Breakdown
“As frightening as it is funny, Something in the Water feels like a thriller for our times, a caper with a dark heart.”—Louise Candlish, author of The Swimming Pool and Our House
“A taut and smart thriller, Something in the Water is a fast-paced examination of the slippery slope and precariousfoundations our middle-class lives are built on, and a sensitive examination of a marriage under pressure. Catherine Steadman is a genuinely unique voice in crime fiction.”—Gillian McAllister, author of Everything but the Truth and Anything You Do Say
“Brilliant.”—Catherine Isaac, author of You Me Everything
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Saturday, October 1
The Grave
Have you ever wondered how long it takes to dig a grave? Wonder no longer. It takes an age. However long you think it takes, double that.
I’m sure you’ve seen it in movies: the hero, gun to his head perhaps, as he sweats and grunts his way deeper and deeper into the earth until he’s standing six feet down in his own grave. Or the two hapless crooks who argue and quip in the hilarious madcap chaos as they shovel frantically, dirt flying skyward with cartoonish ease.
It’s not like that. It’s hard. Nothing about it is easy. The ground is solid and heavy and slow. It’s so fucking hard.
And it’s boring. And long. And it has to be done.
The stress, the adrenaline, the desperate animal need to do it, sustains you for about twenty minutes. Then you crash.
Your muscles yawn against the bones in your arms and legs. Skin to bone, bone to skin. Your heart aches from the aftermath of the adrenal shock, your blood sugar drops, you hit the wall. A full-body hit. But you know, you know with crystal clarity, that high or low, exhausted or not, that hole’s getting dug.
Then you kick into another gear. It’s that halfway point in a marathon when the novelty has worn off and you’ve just got to finish the joyless bloody thing. You’ve invested; you’re all in. You’ve told all your friends you’d do it, you made them pledge donations to some charity or other, one you have only a vague passing connection to. They guiltily promised more money than they really wanted to give, feeling obligated because of some bike ride or other they might have done at university, the details of which they bore you with every time they get drunk. I’m still talking about the marathon, stick with me. And then you went out every evening, on your own, shins throbbing, headphones in, building up miles, for this. So that you can fight yourself, fight with your body, right there, in that moment, in that stark moment, and see who wins. And no one but you is watching. And no one but you really cares. It’s just you and yourself trying to survive. That is what digging a grave feels like, like the music has stopped but you can’t stop dancing. Because if you stop dancing, you die.
So you keep digging. You do it, because the alternative is far worse than digging a never-ending fucking hole in the hard compacted soil with a shovel you found in some old man’s shed.
As you dig you see colors drift across your eyes: phosphenes caused by metabolic stimulation of neurons in the visual cortex due to low oxygenation and low glucose. Your ears roar with blood: low blood pressure caused by dehydration and overexertion. But your thoughts? Your thoughts skim across the still pool of your consciousness, only occasionally glancing the surface. Gone before you can grasp them. Your mind is completely blank. The central nervous system treats this overexertion as a fight-or-flight situation; exercise-induced neurogenesis, along with that ever-popular sports mag favorite, “exercise-induced endorphin release,” acts to both inhibit your brain and protect it from the sustained pain and stress of what you are doing.
Exhaustion is a fantastic emotional leveler. Running or digging.
Around the forty-five-minute mark I decide six feet is an unrealistic depth for this grave. I will not manage to dig down to six feet. I’m five foot six. How would I even climb out? I would literally have dug myself into a hole.
According to a 2014 YouGov survey, five foot six is the ideal height for a British woman. Apparently that is the height that the average British man would prefer his partner to be. So, lucky me. Lucky Mark. God, I wish Mark were here.
So if I’m not digging six feet under, how far under? How deep is deep enough?
Bodies tend to get found because of poor burial. I don’t want that to happen. I really don’t. That would definitely not be the outcome I’m after. And a poor burial, like a poor anything else really, comes down to three things:
1. Lack of time
2. Lack of initiative
3. Lack of care
In terms of time: I have three to six hours to do this. Three hours is my conservative estimate. Six hours is the daylight I have left. I have time.
I believe I have initiative; two brains are better than one. I hope. I just need to work through this step by step.
And number three: care? God, do I care. I care. More than I have ever cared in my entire life.
|||
Three feet is the minimum depth recommended by the ICCM (Institute of Cemetery and Crematorium Management). I know this because I Googled it. I Googled it before I started digging. See, initiative. Care. I squatted down next to the body, wet leaves and mud malty underfoot, and I Googled how to bury a body. I Googled this on the body’s burner phone. If they do find the body . . . they won’t find the body . . . and manage to retrieve the data . . . they won’t retrieve the data . . . then this search history is going to make fantastic reading.
Two full hours in, I stop digging. The hole is just over three feet deep. I don’t have a tape measure, but I remember that three feet is around crotch height. The height of the highest jump I managed on the horse-riding vacation I took before I left for university twelve years ago. An eighteenth-birthday present. Weird what sticks in the memory, isn’t it? But here I am, waist-deep in a grave, remembering a gymkhana. I got second prize, by the way. I was very happy with it.
Anyway, I’ve dug approximately three feet deep, two feet wide, six feet long. Yes, that took two hours.
To reiterate: digging a grave is very hard.
Just to put this into perspective for you, this hole, my two-hour hole, is: 3 ft x 2 ft x 6 ft, which is 36 cubic feet of soil, which is 1 cubic meter of soil, which is 1.5 tons of soil. And that—that—is the weight of a hatchback car or a fully grown beluga whale or the average hippopotamus. I have moved the equivalent of that up and slightly to the left of where it was before. And this grave is only three feet deep.
I look across the mud at the mound and slowly hoist myself out, forearms trembling under my own weight. The body lies across from me under a torn tarpaulin, its brilliant cobalt a slash of color against the brown forest floor. I’d found it abandoned, hanging like a veil from a branch, back toward the layby, in quiet communion with an abandoned fridge. The fridge’s small freezer-box door creaking calmly in the breeze. Dumped.
There’s something so sad about abandoned objects, isn’t there? Desolate. But kind of beautiful. I suppose, in a sense, I’ve come to abandon a body.
The fridge has been here a while—I know this because I saw it from the car window as we drove past here three months ago, and nobody has come for it yet. We were on our way back to London from Norfolk, Mark and I, after celebrating our anniversary, and here the fridge still is months later. Odd to think so much has happened—to me, to us—in that time, but nothing has changed here. As if this spot were adrift from time, a holding area. It has that feel. Perhaps no one has been here since the fridge owner was here, and God knows how long ago that might have been. The fridge looks distinctly seventies—you know, in that bricky way. Bricky, Kubricky. A monolith in a damp English wood. Obsolete. Three months it’s been here at least and no collection, no men from the dump. No one comes here, that’s clear. Except us. No council workers, no disgruntled locals to write letters to the council, no early morning dog walkers to stumble across my quarry. This was the safest place I could think of. So here we are. It will take a while for it all to settle, the soil. But I think the fridge and I have enough time.
I look it over, the crumpled-tarp mound. Underneath lie flesh, skin, bone, teeth. Three and a half hours dead.
I wonder if he’s still warm. My husband. Warm to the touch. I Google it. Either way, I don’t want the shock.
Okay.
Okay, the arms and legs should be cold to the touch but the main body will still be warm. Okay then.
I take a long, full exhalation.
Okay, here we go. . . .
I stop. Wait.
I don’t know why, but I clear his burner phone’s search history. It’s pointless, I know; the phone’s untraceable and after a couple of hours in the damp October ground it won’t work anyway. But then, maybe it will. I place the burner back in his coat pocket and slip his personal iPhone out of his chest pocket. It’s on airplane mode.
I look through the photo library. Us. Tears well and then streak in two hot dribbles down my face.
I fully remove the tarp, exposing everything it conceals. I wipe the phone for prints, return it to its warm chest pocket, and brace my knees to drag.
I’m not a bad person. Or maybe I am. Maybe you should decide?
But I should definitely explain. And to explain I need to go back. Back to that anniversary morning, three months ago.
Reviews:
Phenomenal. Absolutely phenomenal. Please write more.
This is the best book I've read all year.Catherine's prose is drum-tight and evocative. She captures perfectly the dizzying downward slide of "just one more" that sees so many people end up trapped in a web of their own making. Like all gifted writers, Catherine references her themes again and again so that each character's story is an echo of the main plot. Nothing feels disjointed or extraneous in this book. It is a story told by a very, very smart person who spent a fair amount of time asking herself "what if?"I read a lot, and, lately, I've been reading quite a bit more due to some life changes / a major injury. Thrillers are a good way to pass time, and to forget about some of the hell I'm dealing with in my life currently. So, by now, I've nearly had my fill of books where I get frustrated with the main heroine. Why didn't the main character read up on printing shops before she pretended to own one? Why didn't the hero learn how to use his gun before he got into a fight? Why didn't the private eye study cocaine manufacturing before he had to question a witness about his plants?The question I always ask is: Why didn't anybody think through the possibilities before they took the action?Reading Catherine's book, I didn't utter that phrase once. The main character(s) were not competent, but they were intelligent. Her main character knew what she did not know, and therefore took steps to remedy that OR find a way around it. As an example, she decides to bring a gun to a dangerous meeting. She has never fired a gun. So she watches videos on how to clean her model of gun, and practices all afternoon. Cleaning, loading, drawing, etc. Over and over. Then she goes to the woods and practices firing the gun, over and over. Will she be an expert in an afternoon? No, obviously not! But the main character is able to think ahead - like any smart person would - and prepare herself, as best as she can.If you had to do something new to you, how would you prepare?Catherine answers that question, over and over.So many novels in this genre rely on the main characters doing something stupid. It's even a meme in the movies: "Don't go in there!" or "Call the police!" we yell at the screen, as the young actress does the stupidest thing possible. In Catherine's novel, however, the characters continually make significant effort to cover their tracks, to do the smart thing. No, they do not do the moral thing. But they do the smart thing. And that's a wonderful, wonderful breath of fresh air.SPOILERThe major twist is one I hoped for from one of the first chapters. It's not right to just say I expected it - I did - but it's more than that. I HOPED for it. Catherine created a character with flashes of real meanness. The gaslighting of the main character was brilliant. Not every reader would pick up on it; many people would just skip over the woman debasing herself in front of her husband. That's the natural order of things, isn't it? The wife goes to try something, it backfires, her husband calls her stupid, and then "forgives" her for being stupid. I caught it every time, and was so, so, so hoping Catherine would take it in the direction she did.Anyone who has been in, or even near, an abusive relationship will find themselves shivering at a few points in this book. There is absolutely no physical abuse, and not even - really - any "bad" emotional abuse. But the groundwork is laid. See how angry Mark gets when Erin doesn't understand him? At one point in the latter half of the book, Erin is terrified - but not of the bad guys. She's terrified Mark will find out what she's doing (she's going off on her own). She promises herself she will "never lie again" after this. That she will "be the perfect wife". That's exactly how the thought process starts. "I made him mad. I was less than perfect. I deserved him yelling at me / hitting me / calling me a whore."Spooky.END SPOILERI honestly don't have enough words to showcase how much I enjoyed this book.I suspect some people may not like this book because of the very obvious immorality of the main character. We don't really have a person to root for, and that's true. People who like their novels to have flawless heroes, or like perfectly-paced steps leading to a conclusion where the good guys win perfectly, will not like this book. Do not buy this book if you aren't interested in moral grays (and even immorality). The main character is not a good person. This book imitates life: it is messy, people are imperfect, and decisions made do not lead to predictable outcomes.If, however, you can handle ambiguity and reality and ugliness, buy this book. Read it. It's great.
Fun and fast thriller
The story captured my attention right away and delivered throughout. It gets a little road runnerish toward the end! Some of the actions both the husband and wife are able to accomplish are a bit far fetched. I don’t think average people would have the skills to investigate Russian intel, nor outwit professionals coming after them. It’s a good yarn and an escape from reality though.
Well-Written and Engaging, But Lacked the Suspense I Expected
Something in the Water was a good read—well-written, with strong character development and a gripping beginning that pulls you in quickly. I found the story engaging enough to keep turning the pages, and I appreciated the author’s attention to detail and pacing.That said, I think I went in with my expectations a bit too high based on all the rave reviews. I was hoping for more suspense and unexpected twists. While the plot was interesting, it didn’t quite deliver the level of tension or surprise I was looking for in a thriller.Overall, a solid debut and worth a read, especially if you enjoy character-driven stories—but don’t expect a heart-pounding, edge-of-your-seat experience.
Intense, fast-paced, excellent
Excellent, fast-paced, well-written novel. I will read other books by this author.
Not a bad read
Just finished this one, it was rather slow to start and midway through you figured out The Who dunnit but it wasn’t a bad read. Rather far fetched story line but she brings all the pieces together.
TERRIFIC! A grand read about a "lucky" find! 5-STARS PLUS!
I absolutely LOVED this book - all parts of it - all the bits - were fun. I loved hearing about vacationing on BoraBora (I wanna go!) - I loved the voice of Erin (main protagonist), who tells the story through a slightly quirky first-person point of view. I enjoyed reading about her obvious missteps too (she always ignored me when I hollered: "NO! Don't do THAT!") And usually, I dislike a prologue, but this time it really worked. The characters were all terrific and well rounded. Eddie the jailed mobster was a favorite!This is the story of Erin & Mark, a young couple who met, fell in love, and are planning their wedding, when Mark loses his job. This is upsetting news for the couple, and especially for Mark, who had a very well paying job that would cover the lion's share of their home expenses and post-wedding plans. He is frustrated in his job hunting. The couple's planned wedding extravaganza is scaled down quite a bit, and the honeymooners opt for two weeks in beautiful, tropical BoraBora, instead of three.The writing is so good, it is almost magical! It brings everything to life! Even details of Erin's novice scuba diving were marvelous to read! The couple is clearly in love, and they enjoy the grueling adventures of BoraBora as they honeymoon together--climbing, hiking, swimming -- and boating. And on a return sail from a coral reef back to their accommodations, something bangs against their boat.OK - they find something that changes everything. But I won't go too much farther into the plot, as I don't want to spoil the story and its surprises. But here is where the thrills really start, with a discovery of the object in the water. Hmmmm.......Back home, Erin resumes her job. She is filming a documentary of three jailed convicts who are soon to be released. She wants to interview the three and film them in their new lives, once they have attained freedom. But complications arise when Erin can't control her own surges of curiosity. Meanwhile, jobless Mark is now dashing about, trying to establish his own independent firm. Erin and Mark are almost like ships passing in the night; they find that most of their communication is now via text. Meanwhile, Erin is convinced that she is being followed and watched - by police? - or by something to do with the package in the water?But Erin tries to move forward with her documentary. Her taped & filmed conversations with gangster "Eddie" seem to be getting quite familiar, when he asks her to turn off the camera. Then, he appeals to her - to do him a favor. Erin, true to her nature as already established, says YES, as long as Eddie will do a favor for her in return. Eddie's character is marvelous! The author has painted such grand pictures of the characters that people this story! They are real--!!I can't believe that this was a debut novel--the writing is just so so so good! Also, the author is an actress from the cast of Downton Abbey! How much talent can one person have? This is a marvelous book, and I would recommend it to .... everyone! Read and enjoy!
Disappointing and so so long
I was really intrigued by the book and its description but as soon as I started reading it… didn’t click. I tried giving it a chance, reading the first chapters and wow - so long and boring and kind of predictable after a while. You know Erin will always make the most terrible choices, the over descriptive scenarios and texts are exhausting to read. I usually love thrillers/mysteries and go through them for like three days but this took weeks. I was dreading having to finish it but I had to…
Gripping read with a soft ending
Loved it, couldn't put it down - but found the ending slightly cheesy... which was disappointing for such a strong book. Still, I give it 4 stars as I thoroughly enjoyed it. I see Emily Blunt for the lead role in this movie adaptation...
Unterhaltsamer und spannender, nicht immer logischer Thriller
Ich lese relativ wenig Thriller, aber da ich Cat Steadman als Schauspielerin kannte, habe ich mir ihren Bestseller besorgt, und bin sehr angenehm überrascht worden.Ein wenig erinnerte mich das Ganze an Hitchcock Filme. Alles fängt harmlos und banal an, ein Paar plant Hochzeit und Flitterwochen. Die unerwartete Arbeitslosigkeit des Ehemannes trübt etwas die Freude, die Traum Flitterwochen werden halt etwas verkürzt. Ein unerwarteter Fund bringt dann eine Geschichte ins Rollen, bei der nichts mehr so bleibt wie es war.Wie bei vielen anderen Büchern dieser Art bleibt die Logik manchmal auf der Strecke, und manches ist einfach nicht realistisch. Dennoch, unter dem Strich bleibt eine spannende und unterhaltsame Lektüre, bei der sich die Autorin auch vor dem 'F-Wort' nicht scheut.
Riveting
Keeps u entertained will the very end.Would defiantly recommend it, you can identify with the main character!Great book.
Una buena lectura
Te mantiene intrigado.
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Something in the Water: Reese's Book Club: A Novel
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Visit the Ballantine Books Store
Something in the Water: Reese's Book Club: A Novel
AED8181
Quantity:
Order today to get by 7-14 business days
Delivery fee of AED 20. Free for orders above AED 200.
Imported From: United States
At BOLO, we work hard to ensure the products you receive are new, genuine, and sourced from reputable suppliers.
BOLO is not an authorized or official retailer for most brands, nor are we affiliated with manufacturers unless specifically stated on a product page. Instead, we source verified sellers, authorized distributors or directly from the manufacturer.
Each product undergoes thorough inspection and verification at our consolidation and fulfilment centers to ensure it meets our strict authenticity and quality standards before being shipped and delivered to you.
If you ever have concerns regarding the authenticity of a product purchased from us, please contact Bolo Support. We will review your inquiry promptly and, if necessary, provide documentation verifying authenticity or offer a suitable resolution.
Your trust is our top priority, and we are committed to maintaining transparency and integrity in every transaction.
All product information, images, descriptions, and reviews originate from the manufacturer or from trusted sellers overseas. BOLO is not affiliated with, endorsed by, or an authorized retailer for most brands listed on our website unless stated otherwise.
While we strive to display accurate information, variations in packaging, labeling, instructions, or formulation may occasionally occur due to regional differences or supplier updates. For detailed or manufacturer-specific information, please contact the brand directly or reach out to BOLO Support for assistance.
Unless otherwise stated, all prices displayed on the product page include applicable taxes and import duties.
BOLO operates in accordance with the laws and regulations of United Arab Emirates. Any items found to be restricted or prohibited for sale within the UAE will be cancelled prior to shipment. We take proactive measures to ensure that only products permitted for sale in United Arab Emirates are listed on our website.
All items are shipped by air, and any products classified as “Dangerous Goods (DG)” under IATA regulations will be removed from the order and cancelled.
All orders are processed manually, and we make every effort to process them promptly once confirmed. Products cancelled due to the above reasons will be permanently removed from listings across the website.
Description:
Review
“The perfect beach read . . . Unreliable characters and a plot packed with twists will keep you guessing until the final, thrilling page.”—PopSugar
“With unreliable characters, wry voices, exquisite pacing, and a twisting plot, Steadman potently draws upon her acting chops. . . . A darkly glittering gem of a thriller from a new writer to watch.”—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
“Captivating . . . daring . . . The threats and increasingly bad decisions accelerate with Bourne-like velocity. . . . Steadman [is] a newcomer worth watching.”—Publishers Weekly
“This debut’s opening hook, which jumps ahead in the story to reveal a shocking outcome, teamed with Erin’s spunk and the threat of Russian mobsters, creates irresistible suspense—of both the what-will-happen and the how-did-that-happen varieties.”—Booklist
“An unbearably tense debut with a knockout premise, Something in the Water had me hooked from the very first sentence. Thrilling and thought-provoking, it’s the perfect beach read. I devoured it!”—Riley Sager, New York Times bestselling author of Final Girls
“This is a book that puts you right into the shoes of the characters and has you asking: What would I do? You may find yourself increasingly uncomfortable with your answers. An unputdownable story that poses the age-old question of how well we can ever know someone else—and, perhaps even more important, how well do we know ourselves?”—Amy Engel, author of The Roanoke Girls
“We all think we know our own boundaries. We all think we’d do the right thing. But what if the opportunity for the perfect crime appeared right in front of your eyes? How many rules would you break in pursuit of the perfect life? Catherine Steadman’s debut novel, Something in the Water, is as scary as it gets. This terrifying morality tale is guaranteed to keep you up at night.”—Michelle Richmond, New York Times bestselling author of The Marriage Pact
“Pure adrenaline: I swallowed this book whole.”—Erin Kelly, author of He Said/She Said
“I absolutely loved Something in the Water, a stunning debut. . . . Superbly written, clever and gripping.”—B. A. Paris, New York Times bestselling author of Behind Closed Doors and The Breakdown
“As frightening as it is funny, Something in the Water feels like a thriller for our times, a caper with a dark heart.”—Louise Candlish, author of The Swimming Pool and Our House
“A taut and smart thriller, Something in the Water is a fast-paced examination of the slippery slope and precariousfoundations our middle-class lives are built on, and a sensitive examination of a marriage under pressure. Catherine Steadman is a genuinely unique voice in crime fiction.”—Gillian McAllister, author of Everything but the Truth and Anything You Do Say
“Brilliant.”—Catherine Isaac, author of You Me Everything
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Saturday, October 1
The Grave
Have you ever wondered how long it takes to dig a grave? Wonder no longer. It takes an age. However long you think it takes, double that.
I’m sure you’ve seen it in movies: the hero, gun to his head perhaps, as he sweats and grunts his way deeper and deeper into the earth until he’s standing six feet down in his own grave. Or the two hapless crooks who argue and quip in the hilarious madcap chaos as they shovel frantically, dirt flying skyward with cartoonish ease.
It’s not like that. It’s hard. Nothing about it is easy. The ground is solid and heavy and slow. It’s so fucking hard.
And it’s boring. And long. And it has to be done.
The stress, the adrenaline, the desperate animal need to do it, sustains you for about twenty minutes. Then you crash.
Your muscles yawn against the bones in your arms and legs. Skin to bone, bone to skin. Your heart aches from the aftermath of the adrenal shock, your blood sugar drops, you hit the wall. A full-body hit. But you know, you know with crystal clarity, that high or low, exhausted or not, that hole’s getting dug.
Then you kick into another gear. It’s that halfway point in a marathon when the novelty has worn off and you’ve just got to finish the joyless bloody thing. You’ve invested; you’re all in. You’ve told all your friends you’d do it, you made them pledge donations to some charity or other, one you have only a vague passing connection to. They guiltily promised more money than they really wanted to give, feeling obligated because of some bike ride or other they might have done at university, the details of which they bore you with every time they get drunk. I’m still talking about the marathon, stick with me. And then you went out every evening, on your own, shins throbbing, headphones in, building up miles, for this. So that you can fight yourself, fight with your body, right there, in that moment, in that stark moment, and see who wins. And no one but you is watching. And no one but you really cares. It’s just you and yourself trying to survive. That is what digging a grave feels like, like the music has stopped but you can’t stop dancing. Because if you stop dancing, you die.
So you keep digging. You do it, because the alternative is far worse than digging a never-ending fucking hole in the hard compacted soil with a shovel you found in some old man’s shed.
As you dig you see colors drift across your eyes: phosphenes caused by metabolic stimulation of neurons in the visual cortex due to low oxygenation and low glucose. Your ears roar with blood: low blood pressure caused by dehydration and overexertion. But your thoughts? Your thoughts skim across the still pool of your consciousness, only occasionally glancing the surface. Gone before you can grasp them. Your mind is completely blank. The central nervous system treats this overexertion as a fight-or-flight situation; exercise-induced neurogenesis, along with that ever-popular sports mag favorite, “exercise-induced endorphin release,” acts to both inhibit your brain and protect it from the sustained pain and stress of what you are doing.
Exhaustion is a fantastic emotional leveler. Running or digging.
Around the forty-five-minute mark I decide six feet is an unrealistic depth for this grave. I will not manage to dig down to six feet. I’m five foot six. How would I even climb out? I would literally have dug myself into a hole.
According to a 2014 YouGov survey, five foot six is the ideal height for a British woman. Apparently that is the height that the average British man would prefer his partner to be. So, lucky me. Lucky Mark. God, I wish Mark were here.
So if I’m not digging six feet under, how far under? How deep is deep enough?
Bodies tend to get found because of poor burial. I don’t want that to happen. I really don’t. That would definitely not be the outcome I’m after. And a poor burial, like a poor anything else really, comes down to three things:
1. Lack of time
2. Lack of initiative
3. Lack of care
In terms of time: I have three to six hours to do this. Three hours is my conservative estimate. Six hours is the daylight I have left. I have time.
I believe I have initiative; two brains are better than one. I hope. I just need to work through this step by step.
And number three: care? God, do I care. I care. More than I have ever cared in my entire life.
|||
Three feet is the minimum depth recommended by the ICCM (Institute of Cemetery and Crematorium Management). I know this because I Googled it. I Googled it before I started digging. See, initiative. Care. I squatted down next to the body, wet leaves and mud malty underfoot, and I Googled how to bury a body. I Googled this on the body’s burner phone. If they do find the body . . . they won’t find the body . . . and manage to retrieve the data . . . they won’t retrieve the data . . . then this search history is going to make fantastic reading.
Two full hours in, I stop digging. The hole is just over three feet deep. I don’t have a tape measure, but I remember that three feet is around crotch height. The height of the highest jump I managed on the horse-riding vacation I took before I left for university twelve years ago. An eighteenth-birthday present. Weird what sticks in the memory, isn’t it? But here I am, waist-deep in a grave, remembering a gymkhana. I got second prize, by the way. I was very happy with it.
Anyway, I’ve dug approximately three feet deep, two feet wide, six feet long. Yes, that took two hours.
To reiterate: digging a grave is very hard.
Just to put this into perspective for you, this hole, my two-hour hole, is: 3 ft x 2 ft x 6 ft, which is 36 cubic feet of soil, which is 1 cubic meter of soil, which is 1.5 tons of soil. And that—that—is the weight of a hatchback car or a fully grown beluga whale or the average hippopotamus. I have moved the equivalent of that up and slightly to the left of where it was before. And this grave is only three feet deep.
I look across the mud at the mound and slowly hoist myself out, forearms trembling under my own weight. The body lies across from me under a torn tarpaulin, its brilliant cobalt a slash of color against the brown forest floor. I’d found it abandoned, hanging like a veil from a branch, back toward the layby, in quiet communion with an abandoned fridge. The fridge’s small freezer-box door creaking calmly in the breeze. Dumped.
There’s something so sad about abandoned objects, isn’t there? Desolate. But kind of beautiful. I suppose, in a sense, I’ve come to abandon a body.
The fridge has been here a while—I know this because I saw it from the car window as we drove past here three months ago, and nobody has come for it yet. We were on our way back to London from Norfolk, Mark and I, after celebrating our anniversary, and here the fridge still is months later. Odd to think so much has happened—to me, to us—in that time, but nothing has changed here. As if this spot were adrift from time, a holding area. It has that feel. Perhaps no one has been here since the fridge owner was here, and God knows how long ago that might have been. The fridge looks distinctly seventies—you know, in that bricky way. Bricky, Kubricky. A monolith in a damp English wood. Obsolete. Three months it’s been here at least and no collection, no men from the dump. No one comes here, that’s clear. Except us. No council workers, no disgruntled locals to write letters to the council, no early morning dog walkers to stumble across my quarry. This was the safest place I could think of. So here we are. It will take a while for it all to settle, the soil. But I think the fridge and I have enough time.
I look it over, the crumpled-tarp mound. Underneath lie flesh, skin, bone, teeth. Three and a half hours dead.
I wonder if he’s still warm. My husband. Warm to the touch. I Google it. Either way, I don’t want the shock.
Okay.
Okay, the arms and legs should be cold to the touch but the main body will still be warm. Okay then.
I take a long, full exhalation.
Okay, here we go. . . .
I stop. Wait.
I don’t know why, but I clear his burner phone’s search history. It’s pointless, I know; the phone’s untraceable and after a couple of hours in the damp October ground it won’t work anyway. But then, maybe it will. I place the burner back in his coat pocket and slip his personal iPhone out of his chest pocket. It’s on airplane mode.
I look through the photo library. Us. Tears well and then streak in two hot dribbles down my face.
I fully remove the tarp, exposing everything it conceals. I wipe the phone for prints, return it to its warm chest pocket, and brace my knees to drag.
I’m not a bad person. Or maybe I am. Maybe you should decide?
But I should definitely explain. And to explain I need to go back. Back to that anniversary morning, three months ago.
Reviews:
Phenomenal. Absolutely phenomenal. Please write more.
This is the best book I've read all year.Catherine's prose is drum-tight and evocative. She captures perfectly the dizzying downward slide of "just one more" that sees so many people end up trapped in a web of their own making. Like all gifted writers, Catherine references her themes again and again so that each character's story is an echo of the main plot. Nothing feels disjointed or extraneous in this book. It is a story told by a very, very smart person who spent a fair amount of time asking herself "what if?"I read a lot, and, lately, I've been reading quite a bit more due to some life changes / a major injury. Thrillers are a good way to pass time, and to forget about some of the hell I'm dealing with in my life currently. So, by now, I've nearly had my fill of books where I get frustrated with the main heroine. Why didn't the main character read up on printing shops before she pretended to own one? Why didn't the hero learn how to use his gun before he got into a fight? Why didn't the private eye study cocaine manufacturing before he had to question a witness about his plants?The question I always ask is: Why didn't anybody think through the possibilities before they took the action?Reading Catherine's book, I didn't utter that phrase once. The main character(s) were not competent, but they were intelligent. Her main character knew what she did not know, and therefore took steps to remedy that OR find a way around it. As an example, she decides to bring a gun to a dangerous meeting. She has never fired a gun. So she watches videos on how to clean her model of gun, and practices all afternoon. Cleaning, loading, drawing, etc. Over and over. Then she goes to the woods and practices firing the gun, over and over. Will she be an expert in an afternoon? No, obviously not! But the main character is able to think ahead - like any smart person would - and prepare herself, as best as she can.If you had to do something new to you, how would you prepare?Catherine answers that question, over and over.So many novels in this genre rely on the main characters doing something stupid. It's even a meme in the movies: "Don't go in there!" or "Call the police!" we yell at the screen, as the young actress does the stupidest thing possible. In Catherine's novel, however, the characters continually make significant effort to cover their tracks, to do the smart thing. No, they do not do the moral thing. But they do the smart thing. And that's a wonderful, wonderful breath of fresh air.SPOILERThe major twist is one I hoped for from one of the first chapters. It's not right to just say I expected it - I did - but it's more than that. I HOPED for it. Catherine created a character with flashes of real meanness. The gaslighting of the main character was brilliant. Not every reader would pick up on it; many people would just skip over the woman debasing herself in front of her husband. That's the natural order of things, isn't it? The wife goes to try something, it backfires, her husband calls her stupid, and then "forgives" her for being stupid. I caught it every time, and was so, so, so hoping Catherine would take it in the direction she did.Anyone who has been in, or even near, an abusive relationship will find themselves shivering at a few points in this book. There is absolutely no physical abuse, and not even - really - any "bad" emotional abuse. But the groundwork is laid. See how angry Mark gets when Erin doesn't understand him? At one point in the latter half of the book, Erin is terrified - but not of the bad guys. She's terrified Mark will find out what she's doing (she's going off on her own). She promises herself she will "never lie again" after this. That she will "be the perfect wife". That's exactly how the thought process starts. "I made him mad. I was less than perfect. I deserved him yelling at me / hitting me / calling me a whore."Spooky.END SPOILERI honestly don't have enough words to showcase how much I enjoyed this book.I suspect some people may not like this book because of the very obvious immorality of the main character. We don't really have a person to root for, and that's true. People who like their novels to have flawless heroes, or like perfectly-paced steps leading to a conclusion where the good guys win perfectly, will not like this book. Do not buy this book if you aren't interested in moral grays (and even immorality). The main character is not a good person. This book imitates life: it is messy, people are imperfect, and decisions made do not lead to predictable outcomes.If, however, you can handle ambiguity and reality and ugliness, buy this book. Read it. It's great.
Fun and fast thriller
The story captured my attention right away and delivered throughout. It gets a little road runnerish toward the end! Some of the actions both the husband and wife are able to accomplish are a bit far fetched. I don’t think average people would have the skills to investigate Russian intel, nor outwit professionals coming after them. It’s a good yarn and an escape from reality though.
Well-Written and Engaging, But Lacked the Suspense I Expected
Something in the Water was a good read—well-written, with strong character development and a gripping beginning that pulls you in quickly. I found the story engaging enough to keep turning the pages, and I appreciated the author’s attention to detail and pacing.That said, I think I went in with my expectations a bit too high based on all the rave reviews. I was hoping for more suspense and unexpected twists. While the plot was interesting, it didn’t quite deliver the level of tension or surprise I was looking for in a thriller.Overall, a solid debut and worth a read, especially if you enjoy character-driven stories—but don’t expect a heart-pounding, edge-of-your-seat experience.
Intense, fast-paced, excellent
Excellent, fast-paced, well-written novel. I will read other books by this author.
Not a bad read
Just finished this one, it was rather slow to start and midway through you figured out The Who dunnit but it wasn’t a bad read. Rather far fetched story line but she brings all the pieces together.
TERRIFIC! A grand read about a "lucky" find! 5-STARS PLUS!
I absolutely LOVED this book - all parts of it - all the bits - were fun. I loved hearing about vacationing on BoraBora (I wanna go!) - I loved the voice of Erin (main protagonist), who tells the story through a slightly quirky first-person point of view. I enjoyed reading about her obvious missteps too (she always ignored me when I hollered: "NO! Don't do THAT!") And usually, I dislike a prologue, but this time it really worked. The characters were all terrific and well rounded. Eddie the jailed mobster was a favorite!This is the story of Erin & Mark, a young couple who met, fell in love, and are planning their wedding, when Mark loses his job. This is upsetting news for the couple, and especially for Mark, who had a very well paying job that would cover the lion's share of their home expenses and post-wedding plans. He is frustrated in his job hunting. The couple's planned wedding extravaganza is scaled down quite a bit, and the honeymooners opt for two weeks in beautiful, tropical BoraBora, instead of three.The writing is so good, it is almost magical! It brings everything to life! Even details of Erin's novice scuba diving were marvelous to read! The couple is clearly in love, and they enjoy the grueling adventures of BoraBora as they honeymoon together--climbing, hiking, swimming -- and boating. And on a return sail from a coral reef back to their accommodations, something bangs against their boat.OK - they find something that changes everything. But I won't go too much farther into the plot, as I don't want to spoil the story and its surprises. But here is where the thrills really start, with a discovery of the object in the water. Hmmmm.......Back home, Erin resumes her job. She is filming a documentary of three jailed convicts who are soon to be released. She wants to interview the three and film them in their new lives, once they have attained freedom. But complications arise when Erin can't control her own surges of curiosity. Meanwhile, jobless Mark is now dashing about, trying to establish his own independent firm. Erin and Mark are almost like ships passing in the night; they find that most of their communication is now via text. Meanwhile, Erin is convinced that she is being followed and watched - by police? - or by something to do with the package in the water?But Erin tries to move forward with her documentary. Her taped & filmed conversations with gangster "Eddie" seem to be getting quite familiar, when he asks her to turn off the camera. Then, he appeals to her - to do him a favor. Erin, true to her nature as already established, says YES, as long as Eddie will do a favor for her in return. Eddie's character is marvelous! The author has painted such grand pictures of the characters that people this story! They are real--!!I can't believe that this was a debut novel--the writing is just so so so good! Also, the author is an actress from the cast of Downton Abbey! How much talent can one person have? This is a marvelous book, and I would recommend it to .... everyone! Read and enjoy!
Disappointing and so so long
I was really intrigued by the book and its description but as soon as I started reading it… didn’t click. I tried giving it a chance, reading the first chapters and wow - so long and boring and kind of predictable after a while. You know Erin will always make the most terrible choices, the over descriptive scenarios and texts are exhausting to read. I usually love thrillers/mysteries and go through them for like three days but this took weeks. I was dreading having to finish it but I had to…
Gripping read with a soft ending
Loved it, couldn't put it down - but found the ending slightly cheesy... which was disappointing for such a strong book. Still, I give it 4 stars as I thoroughly enjoyed it. I see Emily Blunt for the lead role in this movie adaptation...
Unterhaltsamer und spannender, nicht immer logischer Thriller
Ich lese relativ wenig Thriller, aber da ich Cat Steadman als Schauspielerin kannte, habe ich mir ihren Bestseller besorgt, und bin sehr angenehm überrascht worden.Ein wenig erinnerte mich das Ganze an Hitchcock Filme. Alles fängt harmlos und banal an, ein Paar plant Hochzeit und Flitterwochen. Die unerwartete Arbeitslosigkeit des Ehemannes trübt etwas die Freude, die Traum Flitterwochen werden halt etwas verkürzt. Ein unerwarteter Fund bringt dann eine Geschichte ins Rollen, bei der nichts mehr so bleibt wie es war.Wie bei vielen anderen Büchern dieser Art bleibt die Logik manchmal auf der Strecke, und manches ist einfach nicht realistisch. Dennoch, unter dem Strich bleibt eine spannende und unterhaltsame Lektüre, bei der sich die Autorin auch vor dem 'F-Wort' nicht scheut.
Riveting
Keeps u entertained will the very end.Would defiantly recommend it, you can identify with the main character!Great book.
Una buena lectura
Te mantiene intrigado.
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