"On n'est pas dans le futurisme, mais dans un drame bourgeois ou un thriller atmosphérique"
What secret could be so terrible that a mother would endure years of abuse to keep it concealed?
Susan Trent is in her sixties, living in a house she loves, in a prosperous village. She has a nice job in the local estate agents which keeps her active, and she very much enjoys her garden: she ought to be well-satisfied with her lot. Instead she lives in constant terror of her semi-employed, abusive, middle-aged son. Her friends suspects that the cuts and bruises she explains away as her own clumsiness are really caused by his fists, but no-one steps in, unsure of why she puts up with it.
Then a stranger comes to lodge in the village, triggering a series of events which will eventually bring to light why Susan has really been so protective of her son. But not until much more of her blood has been spilled.
Il n'y a pas encore de discussion sur ce livre
Soyez le premier à en lancer une !
"On n'est pas dans le futurisme, mais dans un drame bourgeois ou un thriller atmosphérique"
L'auteur se glisse en reporter discret au sein de sa propre famille pour en dresser un portrait d'une humanité forte et fragile
Au Rwanda, l'itinéraire d'une femme entre rêve d'idéal et souvenirs destructeurs
Participez et tentez votre chance pour gagner des livres !