The French Girl

***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected copy proof***




Chapter 1

Looking back, the most striking thing is that she knew I didn t like her and she didn t care. That type of self-possession at the tender age of nineteen well, it s unnatural. Or French. She was very, very French.

It s Tom who calls to tell me the news. Perhaps that should have tipped me off that something was wrong. I can t remember when he last called me. Which is not to say he isn t in touch: unlike most of my male friends, he s remarkably good on e-mail. I suppose I thought he would be calling with glad tidings: an invitation to a party, or a wedding Tom s wedding after all, he s been engaged to Jenna for what seems like years.

But what he says is: Kate, do you remember that summer? Seven years in Boston hasn t changed his accent a bit: still unmistakably a product of the finest English schooling money can buy. An image jumps into my mind of him, as I last saw him two summers ago: his blue eyes standing out against tanned skin with freckles across his remarkable hooked nose, his rumpled dark hair long enough to curl. He won t look like that now after a hard New England winter, but the image won t shift.

I know exactly which summer he means: the summer after we finished university, when six of us spent an idyllic week in a French farmhouse. Idyllic, or mostly idyllic, or idyllic in parts . . . It s hard to remember it objectively since Seb and I split up immediately afterward. I opt for a flippant tone. Isn t it a bit like the sixties? If you can remember it you weren t there.

He ignores my teasing. The girl next door

Severine. I m not flippant anymore. And I no longer expect a party invitation. I close my eyes, waiting for what I know must be coming, and a memory floats up unbidden: Severine, slim and lithe in a tiny black bikini, her walnut brown skin impossibly smooth in the sun, one hip cocked with the

Lexie Elliott grew up in Scotland, at the foot of the Highlands. She graduated from Oxford University, where she obtained a doctorate in theoretical physics. A keen sportswoman, she works in fund management in London, where she lives with her husband and two sons. The rest of her time is spent writing, or thinking about writing, and juggling family life and sport.

Praise for The French Girl

You shouldn t have any trouble picking up Lexie Elliott s debut novel, The French Girl. It comes with a warning, though, because you will definitely have trouble putting it down. Richmond Times-Dispatch

The French Girl commands attention. The author provides the perfect dose of character development before unveiling eerie details from her cast's past, ensuring that we're properly unnerved when their lives begin to unravel. Associated Press

The shifting dynamics within the group will keep the reader guessing until the end. First novelist Elliott has done a phenomenal job of combining a whodunit with a Big Chill vibe. Library Journal (starred review)

A gripping mystery that delves into the past and the darker side of friendships, this book will have you questioning everything you think you know. The French Girl is a fantastic debut about tangled relationships, shifting perceptions, and the memories and people that haunt us. I was completely captivated from beginning to end. Megan Miranda, New York Times bestselling author of The Perfect Stranger

Scottish debut novelist Elliott, who holds a doctorate in theoretical physics from Oxford, launches a fiction-writing career with a smart, suspenseful thriller. Booklist

A maelstrom of complicated friendships and shifting alliances. This addictive debut will keep you up late into the night! Karen Dionne, author of The Marsh King's Daughter