Rachel and Dan have just got married. Expecting their first child, they set off for an impromptu luxury honeymoon in Antigua, leaving behind them the wife of Dan's best friend Rufus, recently killed in a car crash. As soon as they set foot on Antigua, however, things start to go awry.
Rachel begins to see a mysterious figure on the fringes of their idyllic resort: a shambling, bedraggled man whose presence she alone registers and whose thoughts begin to merge with her own. As soon as she is alone, he appears to her, lying at the bottom of their swimming pool or trailing across the beach as she sunbathes. Her relationship with Dan begins to deteriorate too; she no longer trusts her new husband, and retreats into an inner world where the movement of her unborn baby (the "quickening" of the title) is the only thing that can bring her comfort.
This is the latest in a series of supernatural novellas published under the Hammer imprint by Random House. (Helen Dunmore's The Greatcoat and Jeanette Winterson's The Daylight Gate have previously been published - thanks to Fanny Blake on Twitter for pointing this out to me). And like its forebears, The Quickening is a genuinely creepy tale from a very skilled author. The notes to the book mention Julie Myerson's fondness for ghost stories and, as a ghost story obsessive, I could see the spirit of MR James hanging over this disturbing and occasionally violent chiller. The presentation of the mysterious figure recalls "Lost Hearts" in its grotesqueness, and the abrupt and shocking ending has hints of "O Whistle And I'll Come To You".
I joined in an interesting conversation with the great Sophie Hannah on twitter recently about ambiguity in modern ghost stories. She questioned whether it's become a cliché in modern ghost stories for ambiguity about the presence of the ghost or otherwise to signify a questionmark over the central character's sanity. Is it real, or is he/she simply disturbed? Lots of readers agreed that this has become a bit overdone and wished for the return of straightforwardly malevolent spirits (the prime modern example of which is, of course Susan Hill's terrifying Jennet Humfrye). Rachel's haunter in The Quickening is ambiguous in a more complex way than those which Hannah describes; whilst it's certainly true that he is real, where he ends and Rachel begins is not always clear. Has her obsession with him taken her over, or is he controlling her in a different way? (Sophie Hannah's The Orphan Choir is the next to be published under the Hammer imprint, and I am eagerly anticipating it.)
Like all good supernatural tales, The Quickening has the right balance between a growing sense of unease for the reader and the characters and some shocking moments. The ending, too, seems both inevitable and awful at the same time. And the title combines both the beginnings of life in the baby Rachel is carrying and the stirrings of something horrible in a seemingly perfect paradise.
A review copy of this novel was provided via Net Galley. The Quickening is published by Random House on 28 March.
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