With its intoxicating mix of murder mystery and a fateful love story, A Dangerous Crossing is an enthralling novel in the great tradition of Agatha Christie and Patricia Highsmith.
'An exquisite story of love, murder, adventure and dark secrets, Rachel Rhys brings this dangerous crossing brilliantly and beautifully alive' LISA JEWELL
'Thrilling, seductive, utterly absorbing.' PAULA HAWKINS
1939, Europe on the brink of war: Lily Shepherd leaves England on an ocean liner bound for Australia, escaping her life of drudgery for new horizons.
She is instantly seduced by the world onboard: cocktails, black-tie balls and beautiful sunsets. Suddenly, Lily finds herself mingling with people who would otherwise never give her the time of day.
But soon she realizes her glamorous new friends are not what they seem. The rich and hedonistic Max and Eliza Campbell, mysterious and flirtatious Edward and fascist George are all running away from tragedy and scandal even greater than her own.
And by the time the ship docks in Sydney, two passengers are dead, war has been declared, and life will never be the same again . . .
“For weeks, the ship has been like a world within itself, a vast floating city outside the normal rules . . .”
'Thrilling, captivating. Simply stunning' Daily Express
'It is written so beautifully it seems to glide by way too quickly, transporting you on a journey you won't want to end' Sunday Mirror
'Rhys creates such a powerful sense of foreboding that you may well gulp down the entire book in a single day' The Irish Times
September 1939, Sydney, Australia
Sandwiched between two policemen, the woman descends the gangplank of the ship. Her wrists are shackled in front of her and the men grip fast to her arms, but her back is ramrod straight, as if being held in place by the flagpole at the ship’s prow. She wears a forest- green velvet suit, the fashionably slim skirt skimming the top of her calves, and black stockings that end in green leather shoes with a delicate heel. Around her shoulders is a rust- coloured fox- fur stole, the head hanging down at the front as if it is watching how her shoes kick up the dust as she walks. The outfit is far too warm for the seventy- degree heat and the small crowd of onlookers feel grateful for their cool cotton clothes.
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