This is absolutely nothing like Fyfield's Helen West books - based on the two of those I have read. This one has no elements leading to a series, thank goodness. I'm not sure whether it is a mystery or a horror story. In some respects it reminds me of Ruth Rendell at her most ... whatever it is that she is at her most. Grotesque, bizarre, I'm not sure of an appropriate adjective. Insanity, certainly, in its perverse form of masquerading as sanity and manipulating the innocent.
I recognized the center of the madness comparatively early on, but that, if anything, heightened the tension. Rachel, the main character, is on the fringes, and is forced to examine what she is told by those she trusts in the context of what she senses about the ones she is led to mistrust. And I'm being as obscure as Fyfield in my attempts to avoid spoilers for any who might choose to read it.
If I had this in paper instead of electrons, I would definitely have flipped to the end to make sure that the good guys survive and maybe to find out who they are.
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