It Ends At Midnight Read online

  Copyright © 2022 Harriet Tyce

  The right of Harriet Tyce to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  First published as an Ebook in Great Britain

  By Wildfire, an imprint of Headline Publishing Group in 2020

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

  Cover images © Thana Sukjan/Shutterstock (clocktower) and Tim Robinson/Arcangel Images (clockface). Other images © Shutterstock.

  eISBN: 978 1 4722 8009 1

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  An Hachette UK Company

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  50 Victoria Embankment

  London EC4Y 0DZ

  www.headline.co.uk

  www.hachette.co.uk

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About Harriet Tyce

  Praise for Harriet Tyce

  Also by Harriet Tyce

  About the Book

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Part 1

  The Fox

  12:00:35

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  The Dog Walker

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Autumn Term

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  @BBCbreaking

  12:01:25

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  The Cameraman

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Hogmanay

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  The Crime Scene Manager

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Spring Term

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Part 2

  12:03:53

  The Firefighter

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Spring Term

  The Waitress

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Part 3

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Summer Term

  The Pathologist

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  12:04:59

  Tess

  About the Author

  Harriet Tyce grew up in Edinburgh and studied English at Oxford University before doing a law conversion course at City university. She practised as a criminal barrister in London for nearly a decade, and subsequently completed an MA in Creative Writing – Crime Fiction at the University of East Anglia.

  Blood Orange, her debut novel, was a Richard and Judy Book Club pick and a Sunday Times bestseller. The Lies You Told, her second novel, was also a Sunday Times bestseller. It Ends At Midnight is her third novel.

  Praise for Harriet Tyce:

  ‘A blisteringly brilliant read. Harriet Tyce is at the very top of the thriller game.’ Sarah Pinborough

  ‘It Ends at Midnight has it all - mystery, murder, courtroom drama, revenge and sex, in an explosive mix. I devoured this gripping novel in a couple of sittings, and raced to the shocking end.’ Alex Michaelides

  ‘Intriguing characters, deceptive twists and a punch-to-the-gut finale. Harriet Tyce always delivers.’ John Marrs

  ‘What a dark, delicious read - with an ending that made me literally gasp.’ Charlotte Duckworth

  ‘Toxic friendships, deadly secrets and a chilling finale. This thriller is one wild ride.’ Nikki Smith

  ‘I read The Lies You Told in two days, barely able to turn the pages fast enough. It’s spare and taut, the sense of wrongness building in chilling, skilfully written layers, with a jaw dropping last line twist’ Lisa Jewell, #1 bestselling author

  ‘A classy thriller with complex and compelling characters’ Clare Mackintosh, author of I See You

  ‘A triumphant encore [. . .] intriguing, well-written and addictive’ Sara Collins, award-winning author of The Confessions of Frannie Langton

  ‘Totally addictive - I was gripped’ Sophie Hannah, author of Haven’t They Grown

  ‘A breathless read - with a shocker of an ending!’ Shari Lapena, bestselling author of The Couple Next Door

  ‘Delicious and addictive - a perfectly crafted treat!’ Louise Candlish, author of Our House

  ‘Complex and menacing, this is a very impressive debut’ Alison Flood, Observer

  ‘Blood Orange is dark and immensely readable. An impressive debut’ The Times

  ‘Fans of Apple Tree Yard and The Girl on the Train will love the atmosphere of clenched ambiguity Tyce sustains so well’ John O’Connell, Guardian

  ‘A sizzlingly addictive read . . . its mysteries unfurl brilliantly to that often most elusive quality: a genuinely satisfying end. Five stars’ Lisa Howells, Heat

  ‘A dark and disturbing domestic noir’ Louise Jensen, author of The Sister

  ‘Blood Orange kept me frantically turning the pages, desperate to know what would happen next. A superb, compulsive read’ Tess Gerritsen, author of I Know a Secret

  ‘This brilliant debut from Harriet Tyce has it all – a tricky murder case, a complex and conflicted female barrister battling her own demons, and layer upon layer of intrigue’ Rachel Abbott, author of Only the Innocent

  ‘We get it, every thriller going is “the new The Girl on the Train” but this one really does have you turning the pages in the same obsessive way . . . It’s not all about the twisty ending like some other thrillers. Instead it deals with issues faced by career women and the notion of “good” and “bad” in a way that will keep you thinking long after you’ve found out what happens’ Cosmopolitan

  ‘Gripping’ Daily Mail

  ‘A smash hit’ Best

  ‘This thriller breathes new life into the domestic noir genre and grips until the final page’ Daily Express

  ‘A heart-pounding thriller . . . and deliciously twisty plot’ Good Housekeeping

  ‘This is essential reading for fans of Girl on the Train and Apple Tree Yard, and it is just as unpredictable and page-turningly good. It is as disturbing as it is gripping and not for the faint-hearted’ Herald

  ‘If The Girl on the Train gave you a taste for alcoholic female narrators grasping at their last chance to turn their lives around, you’ll like Blood Orange, which I think is even better’ Sunday Express

  ‘Glittering and fierce and resolutely unsentimental, a glorious bonfire of a marriage thriller’ Irish Times

  ‘Gritty and compelling, Blood Orange drags you right into the hearts of the flawed characters and their stories from the get go. A book that will keep you up all night’ Kate Hamer, author of The Girl in the Red Coat

  ‘Brilliantly done. Writing, plotting, characters – wonderful and deeply satisfying, devour-in-one-sitting stuff’ Lucy Mangan, author of Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading

  ‘We were gripped’ Bella

  ‘An addictiv
e and unforgettable domestic noir, at once shocking, sharp and seriously twisted’ Culturefly

  ‘One of the best psychological thrillers I have read for a long time . . . This book truly has it all! 10 stars out of 10’ Peterborough Telegraph

  ‘This gripping novel, an absolute page-turner with many twists and turns, had me hooked from start to finish . . . If I didn’t have to rise early for work I would have finished Blood Orange in a single sitting’ RTE Guide

  ‘A deftly plotted domestic noir thriller of the highest order with a shocking twist in the tail. Debut novelist Tyce is going places’ Irish Times Independent

  ‘It is a terrific domestic noir that will be one of THE book club reads this year’ Sun

  ‘The way in which these two themes are entwined – Alison’s humiliatingly sozzled, sex-mad life, and the case she is defending (rather well) – are deftly handled. There is a marvellous denouement’ The Tablet

  ‘Dark and compelling’ Mel McGrath, author of The Long Exile

  ‘An addictive and unforgettable domestic noir, at once shocking, sharp and seriously twisted. It’s the perfect book to binge read over the weekend’ Culturefly

  ‘Combines sharp spare prose with a gloriously twisty plot – I read this in one heart-pounding, furiously angry sitting’ Emma Flint, author of Little Deaths

  ‘The debut novel of the year. Harriet Tyce is now on my “must read” list’ Jeff Abbott, author of The Sam Capra Series

  ‘I raced through Blood Orange by Harriet Tyce, which is oh-so-timely and had me gasping aloud at the final twist’ Hannah Beckerman, author of If Only I Could Tell You

  ‘Dark, sophisticated and sexy, Blood Orange is a very powerful debut in the vein of Apple Tree Yard, that had me gripped to it’s very last page. I couldn’t recommend it more highly’ Elizabeth Fremantle, author of Queen’s Gambit

  ‘Tyce gives the domestic noir a timely update with this dark debut’ iNews

  ‘A dark and disturbing thriller – we were gripped’ Closer

  By Harriet Tyce and available from Headline

  BLOOD ORANGE

  THE LIES YOU TOLD

  IT ENDS AT MIDNIGHT

  About the Book

  IT ENDS AT MIDNIGHT

  It’s New Year’s Eve and the stage is set for a lavish party in one of Edinburgh’s best postcodes. It’s a moment for old friends to set the past to rights - and move on.

  The night sky is alive with fireworks and the champagne is flowing. But the celebration fails to materialise.

  Because someone at this party is going to die tonight.

  Midnight approaches and the countdown begins - but it seems one of the guests doesn’t want a resolution.

  They want revenge.

  To My Friends

  Acknowledgements

  My time during sixth form was in some ways similar (all the good bits), and in some ways very different (all the bad bits). I was lucky not to be surrounded by boys like those in this book, but by boys (and girls) who remain close friends of mine to this day. But, as I looked back on what were to me almost halcyon days, I was at the same time reading with horror the stories as they emerged from the Everyone’s Invited website, and this horror worked its way through into my writing. I think those of us who grew up before the age of internet porn were really very lucky indeed.

  My deepest thanks go to my editors Jack Butler and Kate Stephenson, my agent Veronique Baxter, Rosie Margesson, Joe Yule, the Rights Team, and the superb teams at Wildfire and Headline. None of this would be possible without you.

  Russell, Neil, Fergus, Og, Gav, Norms, Sandra, Susan, George, Steven, Justin, Alan, Jim – I love you all and the others too. 1990 was a very good year.

  Sarah, I miss you. Thank you for marrying someone as great as Kris.

  Emmie, Louise, Kate, Katie, Trevor – thanks so much for reading the early drafts.

  Sarah P – thanks for talking me down and keeping me sane. You belong in the above group but you deserve a special mention too.

  Nat, Freddy, Eloise – you know how much I love you all. Thank you for letting me get on with it.

  A special thanks to Jill Whitehouse and Gareth Quarry for donating their names to me by taking part in the ‘Books for Vaccines’ auction.

  Part 1

  THE FOX

  The fox hates fireworks. While they’re going off, she’d rather keep herself hidden, curled up in a bush somewhere quiet. Hogmanay is the worst, Edinburgh one big explosion. Normally she’d wait till they were finished, but tonight she’s too hungry. Slim pickings lately; it’s time to scavenge, fireworks or not.

  Her usual spot is a garden behind a house halfway along Regent Terrace. Not much to be found off season, but when the house is full, there’s always food overflowing from the bin. Not this evening though. She has to go further afield.

  On the far side of the road now, over the road from the houses, slinking along the edges. She’s been kicked before. Humans scare her, the stink of them. The noise.

  Nothing but leaves. Empty wrappers. No sustenance to be found here.

  Her ears prick. There’s a scream, a dull thud. Not too close, not a threat. She stops, poised to run, ready to seek shelter again. But as she’s about to turn, it hits the back of her nostrils. She’s caught a scent.

  Blood.

  Meat.

  Fresh meat.

  Now she’s caught the trail, she’s straight over the road, caution thrown to the winds, following her nose.

  A long, wet trail, running across the pavement, into the gutter. Glistening in the streetlights. She starts to lap it up.

  If she just looked up, towards the source of the blood, she’d see what had happened. But she doesn’t. She keeps lapping up the liquid. The closest she’s come for days to proper nourishment.

  Another bang disturbs her. Then some barking. She raises her head. There’s a dog approaching, hot on the scent. For a moment she stands, waits, wanting to see if it’ll go or if she needs to move on. The draw of her meal is strong.

  That’s how the dog walker would have seen her if he’d looked. She’s standing in front of the house. A silhouette. A shadow. She turns and flees, tail low.

  Behind her, a trail of little paw prints.

  Each red as blood.

  12:00:35

  No.

  This isn’t happening. I’m not here, not hanging over the railings face down staring at the pavement. Going to try and look up.

  It hurts. Try to move, to touch it. Cold metal. Wet iron. I lift my hand again, but it flops down.

  I can’t move.

  Catch my hand in the light. Squint, my eyes closing fast.

  Red. Covered in red.

  I close my eyes.

  1

  ‘You won!’

  ‘I won,’ I say, suppressing my grin. The victim’s family are standing nearby at the door of court and I don’t want to rub it in. My client’s mum might be delighted that his sentence has been cut by the appeal court from twelve years to eight, but judging by the mutterings and dark looks I’m being thrown, they’re less than pleased.

  ‘I don’t know how you sleep at night,’ a man says, pushing past me to join the family. I pull my gown more closely around me, tipping my head so my wig obscures my eyes.

  ‘Ignore him,’ my solicitor Jonah says. He’s not trying to suppress his smile. He looks delighted. ‘It’s a brilliant result.’

  ‘We got what we wanted,’ I say. ‘Let me get changed and we’ll get out of here.’

  ‘Drink?’ he says, looking from me to our client’s parents who are standing beside us. I nod, but they shake their heads.

  ‘It’s been a long day,’ the father says. ‘Thank you, though. We know he’s still going to be in prison for a long time, but at least we can see the end of it now.’

  ‘I’ll see you out of the building,’ Jonah says to them. He turns to me before he goes, ‘Daly’s?’

  I nod again, before skirting round the hostile group to get to the robing room where I chan
ge quickly, folding my gown up and ramming it into my red bag along with my wig and my papers. Normally it’s my trusty wheelie bag, but not today; appearances at the Court of Appeal are rare enough that they warrant the use of the bag that was given to me by my first pupil master, my mentor, the top QC in chambers, after the kidnapping trial that we did together.

  He’ll be pleased with today’s result. I’m pleased too. It all went off exactly as I’d hoped. Better, even.

  ‘Nice one, Sylvie,’ the barrister for the prosecution calls out to me. I’m about to walk out of the main doors of the Royal Courts of Justice. I turn to face him, moving back into the hall.

  ‘You did well,’ he continues. I look at him closely, wondering if there’s a note of condescension lurking underneath. ‘I’ve heard a lot of good things about you. Turns out they were right.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, my voice respectful. Maybe the condescension is there, but to be fair he’s ten years my senior. And a QC with a hotline straight to the Judicial Appointments Commission. If this is going to be a good reference, I’m not going to fuck it up. ‘It was an interesting case.’

  ‘Very interesting,’ he says. ‘Normally I’d say they should throw away the key for kiddy fiddlers, but you made a compelling argument.’ He leans towards me, his face taking on a more familiar expression. ‘Rumour has it you’ve got a judicial application in the works. On the basis of today I’d say you’re well in there.’ He pats my shoulder, walks away. My heart pounds with excitement. One step closer to my holy grail, the red sash and purple robes of the Crown Court judge.

  Jonah has snagged a table and bought a bottle of wine. He pours me a glass as I approach.

  ‘That was great,’ he says once I’ve sat down. ‘You had them eating out of your hand.’

  ‘Not the way to talk about Appeal Court judges,’ I say, raising my glass to him. ‘They were very receptive, though.’

  ‘It was your skeleton argument that did it. You’d laid it all out so well. I’m impressed.’

  I take a sip of wine, but the warmth that’s lighting up inside me comes from his words, not the alcohol. I worked very hard on this appeal. I knew how much was riding on it. Sure, I have to fill in the application forms, go through all the tests that are required in the process of trying to become a judge, but the better I’m doing in my real-life work, the greater my chances.