By Penny Vincenzi
In an issue of seconds, totally every little thing can swap …In this masterfully crafted page-turner, peopled with extreme characters and based on one devastating second that includes all of them, plot-twist queen Penny Vincenzi vividly captures how the activities of 1 individual can dramatically impact many within the blink of an eye.On a normal Friday afternoon, on an important highway open air of London, a trailer truck unexpectedly and violently swerves throughout fives lanes of traffic—careening automobiles into each other like dominoes and leaving a path of chaos and confusion. in the area of a minute, an amazing miles-long pileup has accumulated, and, because the survivors watch for aid, their tales unfold.Vincenzi expertly maneuvers the plot among the panic-stricken husband trapped in his automobile along with his younger mistress, his adultery guaranteed to be came across; the bridegroom attempting frantically to get to the church on time (he won’t); the widow on her strategy to reunite with the affection of her existence after sixty years, now compelled to wonder whether she’ll ever see him back; the junior health care professional ready to obtain the crash sufferers within the ER … And on the epicenter of this box of destruction lies the truck driving force, struggling with reminiscence loss, whereas the mysterious hitchhiker, the one one that is aware what rather occurred, has fled the scene.Spellbound through those intimate and evocative stories, we watch as destiny takes its strong direction and the far-reaching results of the crash ripple during the lives of thousands of individuals. Written with outstanding verve, candor, and wit, Penny Vincenzi finds human habit in all its attention-grabbing element as she demanding situations her characters to stand hindrance boldly—and she surprises us with the implications at each flip.
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In his wife he had an absolute treasure, as he often told not only her but the world in general; for as well as being beautiful, Laura was sunny natured and sweet tempered, and indeed, this same observer, studying her quite intently as she went through her days, would have been hard-pressed to catch her in any worse humour than mild irritation or even in raising her voice. If this did happen, it was usually prompted by some bad behaviour on the part of her children, such as Charlie, who was eleven, sneaking into the loo with his Nintendo when he had had his hour’s ration for the day, or Lily and Daisy, who were nine and seven, persuading the au pair that their mother had agreed that they could watch High School Musical for the umpteenth time until well after they were supposed to be in bed.
I’ve never been down there myself; I’d love to go. You know Shakespeare is buried here, and Samuel Johnson and Chaucer—” “Chaucer? ” She giggled again, her big blue eyes dancing. ” “Maybe,” he said. He felt slightly bewildered by her now, almost bewitched. ” “What …” Could he ask her this? ” He risked it. She didn’t seem to mind. “Well—at five. But then I really do have to be getting home, because of the blackout and the bombs and so on—” “Yes, of course. Well—maybe another time. Miss … Miss …” “Miss Jennings.
Which was true, she told herself. He was. In a way. Russell’s stories of splendid houses and Cadillacs and swimming pools were clearly true; his parents were rich, with an apartment in New York and a house somewhere called Southampton, full of big houses, and people played polo there and sailed on the ocean in their yachts. He and Nancy spent every weekend at the Southampton house. It had been a happy marriage, as far as Mary could make out; as hers to Donald had been. But Nancy had died when she was only fifty-two, of cancer, and Russell had married again, to a woman called Margaret.