By Cath Staincliffe
4 bystanders within the improper position on the flawed time. Witnesses to the stunning capturing of a teenage boy. A second that alterations their lives eternally. Fiona, a midwife, is affected by panic assaults and not able to paintings. Has she the power to testify? Mike, a supply motive force and relations guy, faces an most unlikely choice while his nervous spouse forces him to decide on - us or the courtroom case. Cheryl, a single-mother, does not wish her baby to develop up within the comparable weather of worry. Dare she communicate out and probability her personal lifestyles? Zak, a homeless guy, bargains to speak in alternate for witness security and the opportunity of a brand new begin. traditional humans in a rare scenario. Will the witnesses stand company or be avoided from giving proof? How will they deal with the emotional trauma of reliving the homicide lower than pitiless cross-examination? A compassionate, suspenseful and illuminating tale exploring the genuine human rate of bearing witness. compliment for Cath Staincliffe: "A painfully sincere exploration of a regular kinfolk below tension ...A attractive piece of work." (Anne Cleeves). "Modest, compassionate...a stable inventive plotter with a pointy eye for family detail." ("Literary Review"). "Complex and satisfying." ("The Sunday Times"). "About pretty much as good because the British deepest eye novel gets." ("Time Out"). "It's continually fascinating to work out a author recuperate and higher, and Cath Staincliffe is doing simply that." (Val McDermid). "An engrossing read." ("Sunday Telegraph").
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Additional info for Witness. by Cath Staincliffe
This – the soft air, the food, home, it’s a mirage. Gone in an instant. It’s not safe out there. ’ She turned to watch him go: a clumsy bear of a boy. An impression strengthened by the ridiculous baggy black denims, the huge black T-shirt. At fifteen it was as if the light in him had gone out. Just a phase, everyone told her, and she hoped that was the case, and that it would not be long-lived. She took more wine. Drank deep. Felt her edges smudge. Stayed there for a while watching the birds. Then forced herself up to go and walk Ziggy.
There were two advantages to working the supermarket car park as Zak saw it: first off, because you had to use a pound for the trolley then just about everyone had a spare quid on them and second, they were on their way home after the big shop and wouldn’t be hanging around to see him use the same line ten, twenty, thirty more times. Way past the point where he’d made enough for a day-rider on the bus. The morning went well. He’d a few who refused to acknowledge him and a smart-arse who suggested he get some money out of the hole-in-the-wall or find a job.
That night, back in the derelict house he was dossing in, he couldn’t settle. His skin humming and the ball of dread there again. Echoes bounced in his head: fists and sticks, a locked room, hot delirium. He woke in the early hours with a whimper, spitting and retching. Trying to get rid of the sensation in his mouth: the brittle, bitter flakes, the taste of salt and rubber and soil. His mouth watering and his back aching with each uncontrollable spasm. He tried to tell himself it was just a dream but he knew it was more than that.
Witness. by Cath Staincliffe by Cath Staincliffe