Bitter Orange

Our narrator is near death and recalling the events of the summer of 1969 when she found herself at an abandoned country house. Despite her boozy sounding name, Fran Jellico is a 39 year old, thick around the middle, awkward, greying virgin barely held together with her mother's (who she's just lost) foundation garments. Suddenly she's thrown in with Peter and his mercurial wife Cara and despite not knowing how to meet people, make friends, and hold a conversation she manages to strike a summer friendship with the couple.

When it's done well, I'm happy to read a sun dappled and bittersweet recollection of a summer past, but there's something more going on here. From the very onset Fran remembers looking down from the upstairs peephole to a body, lying in the pinking water of a bathtub, eyes open and staring for too long.

Gothic elements from shadowy figures hovering in windows, mysterious noises and secret rooms are introduced. Cara seems deeply troubled and her and Peter's relationship is not what it seems on the surface. The two stories seem at odds but are pulled together beautifully keeping you off-balance and questioning like some high-literary thriller. Kazuo Ishiguro, meets Charlotte Bronte channelling Gillian Flynn. An unexpected surprise.