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The Death of Mrs. Westaway by [Ruth Ware]

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Ruth Ware

The Death of Mrs. Westaway Kindle Edition

by Ruth Ware (Author) Format: Kindle Edition

4.3 12,195 ratings

Goodreads Choice Award nominee

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A “perfectly executed suspense tale very much in the mode of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca” (The Washington Post) from the #1 New York Times bestselling author of In a Dark, Dark Wood, The Woman in Cabin 10, The Lying Game, and The Turn of the Key.

On a day that begins like any other, Hal receives a mysterious letter bequeathing her a substantial inheritance. She realizes very quickly that the letter was sent to the wrong person—but also that the cold-reading skills she’s honed as a tarot card reader might help her claim the money.

Soon, Hal finds herself at the funeral of the deceased…where it dawns on her that there is something very, very wrong about this strange situation and the inheritance at the center of it.

Full of spellbinding menace and told in Ruth Ware’s signature suspenseful style, this is a “captivating and eerie page-turner” (The Wall Street Journal) from the Agatha Christie of our time.

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511 pages
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English
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Gallery/Scout Press
Publication date

May 29, 2018
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Popular Highlights in this book

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You can’t influence fate, or change what’s out of your control. But you can choose what you yourself do with the cards you’re dealt.
Highlighted by 833 Kindle readers
When they gave themselves over to superstition, they were giving up on shaping their own destiny.
Highlighted by 669 Kindle readers
Hal’s mother—the woman who had loved her, and brought her up, and cared for her—was not the woman who had given birth to her.
Highlighted by 368 Kindle readers

From the Publisher

Editorial Reviews

Review

"Ruth Ware is a magician. Her novels—suspenseful, sophisticated, relentlessly compelling—blow the dust off half a dozen crime genres, from Golden Age whodunits to psychological suspense. And The Death of Mrs. Westaway, her latest, is also her best: a dark and dramatic thriller, part murder mystery, part family drama, altogether riveting. More, please, and soon."
—A. J. Finn, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Woman in the Window

"A classic never goes out of style. Consider the confident simplicity of the dry martini, the Edison lightbulb and Meghan Markle’s wedding dress. Now, add to that list Ruth Ware’s new novel, The Death of Mrs. Westaway… a perfectly executed suspense tale very much in the mode of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca."
—Washington Post

"[A] captivating and eerie page-turner."
—The Wall Street Journal

"Ware's novels continue to evoke comparison to Agatha Christie; they certainly have that classic flavor despite the contemporary settings. Expertly paced, expertly crafted."
—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

“Ware’s fourth novel is her best yet, with steadily increasing tension, a complicated twisty mystery, and a sharp, sympathetic heroine who’s up to the challenge of solving it… well-crafted, gothic-tinged suspense.”
—Library Journal (starred review)

"Ware, who, with a run of acclaimed thrillers, including The Lying Game (2017), has established herself as one of today’s most popular suspense writers, twists the knife quite expertly here… The labyrinth Ware has devised here is much more winding than expected, with reveals even on the final pages… a clever heroine and an atmospheric setting, accented by wisps of meaning that drift from the tarot cards."
—Booklist (starred review)

"Evocative prose, artfully shaded characters, and a creepy, claustrophobic atmosphere keep the pages of this explosive family drama turning."
—Publishers Weekly

"This British writer knows how to hook crime-novel/psychological suspense fans."
—USA Today

"I’ve adored Ruth Ware’s work for some time, ever since I picked up her first playful puzzler of a mystery, In a Dark, Dark Wood. She’s been making her way through classic mystery settings, making each her own, and her new volume promises to continue the trend, in a tale of a con artist headed to a family funeral that promises to be the most entertaining fictional British burial since the film Death at a Funeral first graced our screens."
—Literary Hub

"Fans of The Woman in Cabin 10, rejoice. Ruth Ware is bringing you another page-turning tale of suspense... Thrilling and clever, The Death of Mrs. Westaway will be hard to put down."
—PopSugar

"The best-selling writer of psychological thrillers (In a Dark, Dark Wood and The Woman in Cabin 10) has a new winner… the situation grows increasingly complicated and creepy, Agatha Christie-style."
—AARP

"Ruth Ware’s master storytelling again sets readers on edge."
—RT Book Reviews

"Ruth Ware continues making a name for herself in the suspense genre with her Agatha Christie-esque novel, The Death of Mrs. Westaway."
—Bookpage

"Ruth Ware continues to revitalize the traditional mystery for millennial audiences in The Death of Mrs. Westaway, for another mystery that functions both as tribute to the genre’s tropes and a playful revisioning of the drawing room mystery."
—CrimeReads

"If you’ve been pining away for a first-rate gothic murder mystery for the past 40-odd years since Agatha Christie’s passing, hie yourself to your local (or online) book vendor for Ruth Ware’s The Death of Mrs. Westaway. It has everything you’re looking for… Atmospheric and twisting in a very Christie-like manner (manor?), The Death of Mrs. Westaway is guaranteed to keep you flipping pages well past your bedtime."
—BookPage

"Ruth Ware has written another gripping thriller... Creepy and atmospheric, The Death of Mrs. Westaway will keep readers on the edge of their seats. Ware spins a convincing web of intrigue and tension."
—Shelf Awareness

"British suspense novelist Ware has a knack for old-haunted-house novels, and this one kept me flipping pages late on a summer’s night last year... Ware uncannily conveys the chill that pervades both the region and the house, in its frigid rooms and in the eyes that gaze at our heroine."
—Seattle Times

“The Death of Mrs. Westaway is a modern Gothic tale from Ruth Ware that will have you pulling the covers under your chin to stave off the chills as you read.”
—PopSugar

About the Author

Ruth Ware worked as a waitress, a bookseller, a teacher of English as a foreign language, and a press officer before settling down as a full-time writer. She now lives with her family in Sussex, on the south coast of England. She is the #1 New York Times and Globe and Mail (Toronto) bestselling author of In a Dark, Dark Wood; The Woman in Cabin 10; The Lying Game; The Death of Mrs. Westaway; The Turn of the Key; One by One; The It Girl; and Zero Days. Visit her at RuthWare.com or follow her on Twitter @RuthWareWriter.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Chapter 1

The girl leaned, rather than walked, into the wind, clutching the damp package of fish and chips grimly under one arm even as the gale plucked at the paper, trying to unravel the parcel and send the contents skittering away down the seafront for the seagulls to claim.
     As she crossed the road her hand closed over the crumpled note in her pocket, and she glanced over her shoulder, checking the long dark stretch of pavement behind her for a shadowy figure, but there was no one there. No one she could see, anyway.
     It was rare for the seafront to be completely deserted. The bars and clubs were open long into the night, spilling drunk locals and tourists onto the pebbled beach right through until dawn. But tonight, even the most hardened partygoers had decided against venturing out, and now, at 9:55 p.m. on a wet Tuesday, Hal had the promenade to herself, the flashing lights of the pier the only sign of life, apart from the gulls wheeling and crying over the dark restless waters of the channel.
     Hal’s short black hair blew in her eyes, her glasses were misted, and her lips were chapped with salt from the sea wind. But she hitched the parcel tighter under her arm and turned off the seafront into one of the narrow residential streets of tall white houses, where the wind dropped with a suddenness that made her stagger and almost trip. The rain didn’t let up. In fact, away from the wind it seemed to drizzle more steadily, if anything, as she turned again into Marine View Villas.
     The name was a lie. There were no villas, only a slightly shabby little row of terraced houses, their paint peeling from constant expo- sure to the salty air. And there was no view—not of the sea or any- where else. Maybe there had been once, when the houses were built. But since then taller, grander buildings had gone up, closer to the sea, and any view the windows of Marine View Villas might once have had was reduced to brick walls and slate roofs, even from Hal’s attic flat. Now the only benefit to living up three flights of narrow, rickety stairs was not having to listen to neighbors stomping about above your head.
     Tonight, though, the neighbors seemed to be out—and had been for some time, judging by the way the door stuck on the clump of junk mail in the hall. Hal had to shove hard, until it gave and she stumbled into the chilly darkness, groping for the automatic timer switch that governed the lights. Nothing happened. Either a fuse had blown, or the bulb had burned out.
     She scooped up the junk mail, doing her best in the dim light filtering in from the street to pick out the letters for the other tenants, and then began the climb up to her own attic flat.
     There were no windows on the stairwell, and once she was past the first flight, it was almost pitch-black. But Hal knew the steps by heart, from the broken board on the landing to the loose piece of car- pet that had come untacked on the last flight, and she plodded wearily upwards, thinking about supper and bed. She wasn’t even sure if she was hungry anymore, but the fish and chips had cost £5.50, and judging by the number of bills she was carrying, that was £5.50 she couldn’t afford to waste.
     On the top landing she ducked her head to avoid the drip from the skylight, opened the door, and then at last, she was home.
     The flat was small, just a bedroom opening off a kind of wide hallway that did duty as both kitchen and living room, and every- thing else. It was also shabby, with peeling paint and worn carpet, and wooden windows that groaned and rattled when the wind came off the sea. But it had been Hal’s home for all of her twenty-one years, and no matter how cold and tired she was, her heart never failed to lift, just a little bit, when she walked through the door.
     In the doorway, she paused to wipe the salt spray off her glasses, polishing them on the ragged knee of her jeans, before dropping the paper of fish and chips on the coffee table.
     It was very cold, and she shivered as she knelt in front of the gas fire, clicking the knob until it flared, and the warmth began to come back into her raw red hands. Then she unrolled the damp, rain- spattered paper packet, inhaling as the sharp smell of salt and vinegar filled the little room.
     Spearing a limp, warm chip with the wooden fork, she began to sort through the mail, sifting out takeout fliers for recycling and put- ting the bills into a pile. The chips were salty and sharp and the battered fish still hot, but Hal found a slightly sick feeling was growing in the pit of her stomach as the stack of bills grew higher. It wasn’t so much the size of the pile but the number marked FINAL DEMAND that worried her, and she pushed the fish aside, feeling suddenly nauseated.
     She had to pay the rent—that was nonnegotiable. And the electricity was high on the list too. Without a fridge or lights, the little flat was barely habitable. The gas . . . well it was November. Life without heating would be uncomfortable, but she’d survive.
     But the one that really made her stomach turn over was different from the official bills. It was a cheap envelope, obviously hand- delivered, and all it said on the front, in ballpoint letters, was “Harriet Westerway, top flat.”
     There was no sender’s address, but Hal didn’t need one. She had a horrible feeling that she knew who it was from.
     Hal swallowed a chip that seemed to be stuck in her throat, and she pushed the envelope to the bottom of the pile of bills, giving way to the overwhelming impulse to bury her head in the sand. She wished passionately that she could hand the whole problem over to someone older and wiser and stronger to deal with.
     But there was no one. Not anymore. And besides, there was a tough, stubborn core of courage in Hal. Small, skinny, pale, and young she might be—but she was not the child people routinely assumed. She had not been that child for more than three years.
     It was that core that made her pick the envelope back up and, biting her lip, tear through the flap.
     Inside there was just one sheet of paper, with only a couple of sentences typed on it.
     Sorry to have missed you. We would like to discuss you’re financial situation. We will call again.
     Hal’s stomach flipped and she felt in her pocket for the piece of paper that had turned up at her work this afternoon. They were identical, save for the crumples and a splash of tea that she had spilled over the first one when she opened it.
     The message on them was not news to Hal. She had been ignoring calls and texts to that effect for months.
     It was the message behind the notes that made her hands shake as she placed them carefully on the coffee table, side by side.
     Hal was used to reading between the lines, deciphering the importance of what people didn’t say, as much as what they did. It was her job, in a way. But the unspoken words here required no decoding at all.
     They said, We know where you work.
     We know where you live.
     And we will come back.

•     •     •

The rest of the mail was just junk and Hal dumped it into the recycling before sitting wearily on the sofa. For a moment she let her head rest in her hands—trying not to think about her precarious bank balance, hearing her mother’s voice in her ear as if she were standing behind her, lecturing her about her A-level revision. Hal, I know you’re stressed, but you’ve got to eat something! You’re too skinny!
     I know, she answered, inside her head. It was always that way when she was worried or anxious—her appetite was the first thing to go. But she couldn’t afford to get ill. If she couldn’t work, she wouldn’t get paid. And more to the point, she could not afford to waste a meal, even one that was damp around the edges, and getting cold.
     Ignoring the ache in her throat, she forced herself to pick up another chip. But it was only halfway to her mouth when something in the recycling bin caught her eye. Something that should not have been there. A letter in a stiff white envelope, addressed by hand, and stuffed into the bin along with the takeout menus.
     Hal put the chip in her mouth, licked the salt off her fingers, and then leaned across to the bin to pick it out of the mess of old papers and soup tins.
     Miss Harriet Westaway, it said. Flat 3c, Marine View Villas, Brighton. The address was only slightly stained with the grease from Hal’s fingers and the mess from the bin.
She must have shoved it in there by mistake with the empty envelopes. Well, at least this one couldn’t be a bill. It looked more like a wedding invitation—though that seemed unlikely. Hal couldn’t think of anyone who would be getting married.
     She shoved her thumb in the gap at the side of the envelope and ripped it open.
     The piece of paper she pulled out wasn’t an invitation. It was a letter, written on heavy, expensive paper, with the name of a solicitor’s firm at the top. For a minute Hal’s stomach seemed to fall away, as a landscape of terrifying possibilities opened up before her. Was someone suing her for something she’d said in a reading? Or—oh
     God—the tenancy on the flat. Mr. Khan, the landlord, was in his seventies and had sold all of the other flats in the house, one by one. He had held on to Hal’s mainly out of pity for her and affection for her mother, she was fairly sure, but that stay of execution could not last forever. One day he would need the money for a care home, or his diabetes would get the better of him and his children would have to sell. It didn’t matter that the walls were peeling with damp, and the electrics shorted if you ran a hair dryer at the same time as the toaster. It was home—the only home she’d ever known. And if he kicked her out, the chances of finding another place at this rate were not just slim, they were nil.
     Or was it . . . but no. There was no way he would have gone to a solicitor.
     Her fingers were trembling as she unfolded the page, but when her eyes flicked to the contact details beneath the signature, she realized, with a surge of relief, that it wasn’t a Brighton firm. The address was in Penzance, in Cornwall.
     Nothing to do with the flat—thank God. And vanishingly unlikely to be a disgruntled client, so far from home. In fact, she didn’t know anyone in Penzance at all.
     Swallowing another chip, she spread the letter out on the coffee table, pushed her glasses up her nose, and began to read.

     Dear Miss Westaway,
     I am writing at the instruction of my client, your grandmother, Hester Mary Westaway of Trepassen House, St Piran.
     Mrs Westaway passed away on 22nd November, at her home. I appreciate that this news may well come as a shock to you; please accept my sincere condolences on your loss.
     As Mrs Westaway’s solicitor and executor, it is my duty to contact beneficiaries under her will. Because of the substantial size of the estate, probate will need to be applied for and the estate assessed for inheritance tax liabilities, and the process of disbursement cannot begin until this has taken place. However if, in the meantime, you could provide me with copies of two documents confirming your identity and address (a list of acceptable forms of ID is attached), that will enable me to begin the necessary paperwork.
     In accordance with the wishes of your late grandmother, I am also instructed to inform beneficiaries of the details of her funeral. This is being held at 4 p.m. on 1st December at St Piran’s Church, St Piran. As local accommodation is very limited, family members are invited to stay at Trepassen House, where a wake will also be held.
     Please write to your late grandmother’s housekeeper Mrs Ada Warren if you would like to avail yourself of the offer of accommodation, and she will ensure a room is opened up for you.
     Please accept once again my condolences, and the assurance of my very best attentions in this matter.
     Yours truly,
     Robert Treswick
     Treswick, Nantes and Dean
     Penzance

     A chip fell from Hal’s fingers onto her lap, but she did not stir. She only sat, reading and rereading the short letter, and then turning to the accepted-forms-of-identification document, as if that would elucidate matters.
     Substantial estate . . . beneficiaries of the will . . . Hal’s stomach rumbled, and she picked up the chip and ate it almost absently, trying to make sense of the words in front of her.
     Because it didn’t make sense. Not one bit. Hal’s grandparents had been dead for more than twenty years.
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

Product details

ASIN ‏ : ‎ B078MDYVVT
Publisher ‏ : ‎ Gallery/Scout Press (May 29, 2018)
Publication date ‏ : ‎ May 29, 2018
Language ‏ : ‎ English
File size ‏ : ‎ 4492 KB
Text-to-Speech ‏ : ‎ Enabled
Screen Reader ‏ : ‎ Supported
Enhanced typesetting ‏ : ‎ Enabled
X-Ray ‏ : ‎ Enabled
Word Wise ‏ : ‎ Enabled
Sticky notes ‏ : ‎ On Kindle Scribe
Print length ‏ : ‎ 511 pages

Best Sellers Rank: #27,430 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- #63 in Psychological Literary Fiction
- #137 in Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Literary Fiction
- #794 in Psychological Thrillers (Kindle Store)

Customer Reviews:
4.3 12,195 ratings

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Ruth Ware

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Ruth Ware is an international number one bestseller. Her thrillers In a Dark, Dark Wood, The Woman in Cabin 10, The Lying Game, The Death of Mrs Westaway, The Turn of the Key, One by One and The It Girl have appeared on bestseller lists around the world, including the Sunday Times and New York Times, and she is published in more than 40 languages. She lives on the south coast of England, with her family.

Visit www.ruthware.com to find out more, or find her on facebook or twitter as @RuthWareWriter

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4.3 out of 5

12,195 global ratings

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Tabby2018

Highly Recommend!

Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on May 31, 2018

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This is now my favorite Ruth Ware book, by far (I’ve read and liked them all). It drew me in from the very first page and didn’t let me go. I tried to read it slowly — after pre-ordering and anticipating it for months — but ended up binge reading it.

I won’t give major spoilers, I’ll just say why I found it so compelling:

The suspense and subtle dread. I had to know what the next page held.

The great character study. A classic whodunnit. Was it him? Her? Him? Who?! I truly didn’t know until the end. The twists and red herrings were perfectly done ... not exploiting the reader at all, but how the story moved organically. They made complete sense, and that’s rare nowadays in this genre. I also loved how, even though Mrs Westaway had passed on, her presence was still felt so menacingly and strongly. I mean, yes, the book centered around her actions ... but instead of her being a vague idea, this cloud of doom, I felt like she might actually come around the corner at any time. The housekeeper, of course, did do just that, often, and was quite the scary character! Not in a cheesy way, no, the tension and malignancy she brought was very well done. I love family sagas, especially about old English families and estates, and this certainly delivered that!

The wonderful descriptions of the mood and setting. I felt like I was there, in that cold, drafty old house that held so many secrets and heartache. My only minor complaint about that — I would’ve liked a bit more closure regarding the attic room and how a certain someone in the past was basically held prisoner there.

The emotions! Hal is so likable, so strong, yet vulnerable. I desperately wanted things to get better for her. I cheered her on and felt what she felt. And then the family — a mixture of both sympathy and, “One or more of you is the bad person(s) here, so I’m hesitant to like you or feel compassion”. It’s fun not knowing. Ms Ware shaped them all so well, letting the reader come to their own conclusions, nothing was overtly obvious. So many books in this genre fall into cliches; this one never did. And I like how the family grappled at first with embracing Hal ... this complete stranger thrust into their lives/complicated emotions regarding their mother, her death, and the house. That aspect was another so well done. I liked them all for most of the book, but again, knew evil lurked among them, and knew some of my sympathy would be wasted at some point.

The side story with Hal and the loan sharks. Fear for her.

The great research Ms Ware must have done, and included, about Tarot cards/readings. Not a subject I’ve ever believed or had much interest in, but wow, I really got into it more and more ... and the explanations of how Hal and her mother didn’t take it literally, but could read them figuratively. It was so fascinating to me.

The ending was great. I won’t say more, just that it was satisfying in many ways. Again, rare for this genre. It makes me wish I was in a book club, I want to discuss this book with others!

Thank you, Ms Ware, for such an entertaining book! It was well worth the wait. I’m just sad it’s over and that we won’t get to see how young Hal’s life turned out afterwards. I’ll miss her and the family (well, some of them). I highly recommend this book to anyone, not just psychological suspense fans. And I really think this would make a great movie!

238 people found this helpful

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Jennifer Chichester

It's a novel worth reading, even if you're not big into thrillers.

Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on August 23, 2019

Verified Purchase

This isn't my first go with a Ruth Ware novel. I first read The Woman in Cabin 10 because I wanted to know what the hype was all about. Plus, I love thrillers. Like, really love them. Like, I'm in the process of writing one. And I wouldn't have started writing it if I hadn't read Ruth Ware's books.

The Death of Mrs. Westaway is predominantly told from the third-person, following Harriet 'Hal' Westaway, a poor fortune-teller from the seaside town of Brighton, UK. Her life telling fortunes with tarot cards on the pier doesn't pay well, but it's the legacy left by her mother, Maggie, who died in a hit-and-run accident several years before.

Things change when Hal gets a letter from a lawyer in Penzance saying that her grandmother, whom she has never met, died and left her something in her will. But this woman cannot be her grandmother... Can she? Hal has her doubts.

With unscrupulous debt collectors hot on her trail, Hal takes up the offer as a means of escape. It brings her to Trepassen House and to her newfound family: the will-obsessed Uncle Harding, his compassionate wife Mitzi, their children, Harding's brother Able, his boyfriend Edward, and the youngest of the brothers, angsty and aloof Ezra. She also meets the decrepit old housekeeper, Mrs. Warren, who seems to hate everyone but Ezra. The only person missing is Maud, Ezra's twin sister.

As Hal learns about the Westaways, she discovers a secret deep and dark involving her mother and Maud, who are both Margarida Westaway - first cousins who share the same name.

Will Hal be exposed as a fraud who does not stand to inherit anything? Will she be embraced by her newfound family? Worse... Is one of them out to kill her in order to keep their secret hidden away for good?

I won't give the ending away because, well, it's absolutely worth finding out for yourself. I will say this, though - the novel doesn't lag. I'm someone who will easily put a book down and never look at it again if it starts to dull in any part. I didn't have that problem with his novel, and I haven't had it with any of Ware's other works.

The way Ware writes tarot cards into the story is clever and appealed to me, someone who owns and uses tarot cards. She never strays too far into the mystical, keeping Hal and the story itself feeling realistic. But there is that touch of otherworldly mystery that drives the narrative.

It's a novel worth reading, even if you're not big into thrillers.

5 people found this helpful

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CLF

excellent!

Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on December 29, 2022

Verified Purchase

This was a very compelling read; it was hard to put down! There was a moment in the middle that felt a little slow but Ruth Ware is an excellent writer! I’ll be interested to read more from her.

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booksy

Plodding and predictable

Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on October 1, 2018

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This is the first novel I've read by Ruth Ware, and if this is the standard I can expect then it'll probably be my last.
I was expecting a mystery with a gothic feel. After all, a long-lost inheritance, a supposed scam, family secrets and a stately pile in Cornwall, complete with a sinister housekeeper sounded like Agatha Christie by way of Daphne du Maurier. Unfortunately, though, this is a book full of literary tropes and clichés, none of which are executed particularly well.

If you haven't read this novel yet and don't want any spoilers, stop reading now.

My first issue (which seemed like a recurrent problem) was how much repetition the author threw into certain parts. For example, she spends a long time establishing that Hal (the young woman who believes she's been mistakenly left in the eponymous Mrs Westaway's will) is a decent person but has fallen on hard times. There's the unpaid bills, threatening debt collectors, insufficient money for meals ... It seems that the early chapters are an attempt to establish how and why Hal decides to pretend she's Mrs Westaway's granddaughter, even though she knows she's not. And this theme resurfaces later on. And while I understand the author wants to paint the main protagonist in a positive light, it just felt too long and too laboured. It's the same with all the tarot readings throughout the book, which just felt like filler material. I got bored in the end by Hal's constant references to tarot.

My next issue was with Trepassen House itself and the location. What a wasted opportunity. The author simply failed to paint a convincing or gripping enough picture of an old, decrepit home in a remote Cornish location. In fact, there was nothing of Cornwall about this novel at all - it could have been set anywhere. Apart from the odd reference to the sea or cliffs, or someone's Cornish burr, it just didn't work. It was woefully disappointing in this respect. What could have been dark, gloomy and sinister was simply droll. And the same goes for the housekeeper - there just wasn't enough done with the character. At one point, when Hal feels sure she's being spied on by her and that she may, in fact, be able to walk without her cane, my interest was piqued. However, this didn't really go anywhere - and it never was explained how the housekeeper had seemed to manage to move around easily after all.

The plot itself is so predictable. At one point, where Hal is considering if it could possibly be true and she really was Mrs Westaway's long lost granddaughter, I actually inserted a note on my Kindle saying: 'no, you're her great niece'. And that was it, at 31% in (sooner, actually) I had the plot figured out. And, believe me, I'm not someone who's that great at working out plots. But this one was paper thin. The problem is, there's a relatively small cast of characters, you know there's a family secret, you know from diary entries that the person writing them is Hal's mother (and that she's a cousin of the Westaways) - and I also figured out that her father had to be one of the cousins (thus making her a niece and a granddaughter too). It wasn't exactly a knotty mystery.

Really, I was glad to finish this book and move on to another. It felt formulaic, unimaginative and there just wasn't enough atmosphere or pace to it to make it a good read. The cover was fantastic though - just a shame the book itself didn't live up to that.

23 people found this helpful

Candygirl

Slow, tedious and silly, not recommended

Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on October 8, 2020

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I didn’t enjoy this book at all. As others have said before, it dragged and plodded and seemed too,long, too slow and then rushed to conclude the pretty improbable story in the last 30 pages.

My main issues were these: the characters was 2 dimensional and lacked any credible characteristics beyond broad stereotypes so it was hard to feel any interest, empathy or sympathy for any of them, including the heroine who was improbably called Hal.

If you were being kind you’d say that the writer gives a nod to Daphne Du Maurier and Agatha Christie, if you were being less generous you’d say she plundered their back catalogues and cooked their style and plots except it didn’t work transporting the stilted dialogue to modern day. When reading how the characters behaved and what they said you’d be forgiven for thinking the book was set somewhere between the 1930s and 1950s not modern day, so when there is suddenly mention of people listening to The Pixies it jars completely.

I also wonder why the writer decided to base the main part of the story in Cornwall, a part from the train going to Penzance there was absolutely no description of either the villages, scenery, cliffs, coastline or anything else. A few characters had a Cornish accent and that was it. This seems like a wasted opportunity. I wondered if the writer has ever been to Cornwall, even in bad weather it’s hardly going to take 3 hours to drive to Bodmin! The same criticism is true of Brighton where the book starts, apart from the West Pier there is no description of the twin or the sea or anything else to add atmosphere or tie it to the location.

Finally, the writing. When the writer first describes Hal holding a suitcase in front of her “like a shield” I though it was a good description, the second time she is described as holding her suitcase in front of her like a shield I thought ‘oh dear’, the third time she held her dry clothes in front of her like a shield, I thought ‘surely not’, the fourth time she held a book in front of her like a shield I just laughed. It was just so lazy. I’m a big a fan as anyone of a good simile but you really can’t use the same one 4 times in one book!

I thought the story was silly and the book lacked atmosphere, a sense of place and believable characters. I wouldn’t recommend it.

7 people found this helpful

Eva

Mysterious and haunting

Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on August 9, 2018

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The Death of Mrs Westaway is not packed full of action, nor would I call it a thriller. It has quite a slow pace but it’s nevertheless incredibly engrossing and as the tension gradually builds up throughout the story, I felt I just couldn’t put it down. It’s an intensely gripping mystery that held my attention, kept me guessing and I devoured it in one day. The Westaway family has secrets like no other and I enjoyed trying to unravel them.

I found this to be quite the dark and haunting story, set against the glorious and slightly creepy feeling of a neglected mansion. It oozes atmosphere and has that delightful gothic vibe to it. The immensely mysterious and character-driven plot full of intrigue had me completely enthralled from start to finish and Ruth Ware’s brilliant writing totally won me over.

16 people found this helpful

Amazon Customer

3 out of 5

Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on December 15, 2022

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The story follows Hal, a meek 21 year old fortune teller who lost her mother in a car accident three years ago. Since her mother’s untimely death, Hal has struggled to pay her bills and keep food on the table. We soon learn the extent of her financial troubles when we are introduced to a loan shark harassing Hal, threatening to kill her if she doesn’t pay up.

Then, on a day like any other, Hal receives a mysterious letter from a solicitor wherein she is told she is to inherit a substantial bequest from her Cornish grandmother, Mrs Hester Westaway. The letter has seemingly been sent in error as Hal’s real grandparents died over 20 years ago. But, given her money problems, she wonders if she can con her way into getting the money.

On a cold and gloomy day, Hal makes her way to Mrs Westaway’s home for the funeral and to meet her “family”. But, once there, it becomes clear to Hal that something is not quite right and that she may, in fact, be entwined in the dark history of the Westaways; a history which someone appears adamantly determined to keep hidden, whatever the cost.

I liked the overall premise of this book and initially found the storytelling highly atmospheric and exceptionally compelling. The writing was nicely paced and I was rooting for Hal throughout. But, sadly, about a quarter into the book, I guessed a few of the main twists and found the text repeating itself without adding anything further to the story. Overall, an OK read, but nothing mind blowing.

One person found this helpful

mojo

Not ballsy enough.

Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on September 10, 2018

Verified Purchase

I am always excited when a Ruth Ware book comes out - I’ve been hooked since Dark Dark Wood, but I was beyond disappointed with this one. There was too much internal dialogue with Hal, and too much unnecessary, repetitive text convincing us she’s a good person. The plot was a good one but it just lumbered on and never really went anywhere. I was irrated by Hal in the end and lost interest in the outcome of her story.
Ruth’s passion for research comes across in bucket loads. The beautiful way she described the individual tarot cards was almost spellbinding but the story just didn’t have enough balls for me.

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