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![Something in the Water: A Novel by [Catherine Steadman]](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/516UUqPhCdL._SY346_.jpg)
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A shocking discovery on a honeymoon in paradise changes the lives of a picture-perfect couple in this taut psychological thriller from the author of Mr. Nobody and The Disappearing Act.
“Steadman keeps the suspense ratcheted up.”—The New York Times
ITW THRILLER AWARD FINALIST • NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY GLAMOUR AND NEWSWEEK
If you could make one simple choice that would change your life forever, would you?
Erin is a documentary filmmaker on the brink of a professional breakthrough, Mark a handsome investment banker with big plans. Passionately in love, they embark on a dream honeymoon to the tropical island of Bora Bora, where they enjoy the sun, the sand, and each other. Then, while scuba diving in the crystal blue sea, they find something in the water. . . .
Could the life of your dreams be the stuff of nightmares?
Suddenly the newlyweds must make a dangerous choice: to speak out or to protect their secret. After all, if no one else knows, who would be hurt? Their decision will trigger a devastating chain of events. . . .
Have you ever wondered how long it takes to dig a grave?
Wonder no longer. Catherine Steadman’s enthralling voice shines throughout this spellbinding debut novel. With piercing insight and fascinating twists, Something in the Water challenges the reader to confront the hopes we desperately cling to, the ideals we’re tempted to abandon, and the perfect lies we tell ourselves.
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherBallantine Books
- Publication dateJune 5, 2018
- File size2526 KB
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Editorial Reviews
Review
“The perfect beach read . . . Unreliable characters and a plot packed with twists will keep you guessing until the final, thrilling page.”—PopSugar
“With unreliable characters, wry voices, exquisite pacing, and a twisting plot, Steadman potently draws upon her acting chops. . . . A darkly glittering gem of a thriller from a new writer to watch.”—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
“Captivating . . . daring . . . The threats and increasingly bad decisions accelerate with Bourne-like velocity. . . . Steadman [is] a newcomer worth watching.”—Publishers Weekly
“This debut’s opening hook, which jumps ahead in the story to reveal a shocking outcome, teamed with Erin’s spunk and the threat of Russian mobsters, creates irresistible suspense—of both the what-will-happen and the how-did-that-happen varieties.”—Booklist
“An unbearably tense debut with a knockout premise, Something in the Water had me hooked from the very first sentence. Thrilling and thought-provoking, it’s the perfect beach read. I devoured it!”—Riley Sager, New York Times bestselling author of Final Girls
“This is a book that puts you right into the shoes of the characters and has you asking: What would I do? You may find yourself increasingly uncomfortable with your answers. An unputdownable story that poses the age-old question of how well we can ever know someone else—and, perhaps even more important, how well do we know ourselves?”—Amy Engel, author of The Roanoke Girls
“We all think we know our own boundaries. We all think we’d do the right thing. But what if the opportunity for the perfect crime appeared right in front of your eyes? How many rules would you break in pursuit of the perfect life? Catherine Steadman’s debut novel, Something in the Water, is as scary as it gets. This terrifying morality tale is guaranteed to keep you up at night.”—Michelle Richmond, New York Times bestselling author of The Marriage Pact
“Pure adrenaline: I swallowed this book whole.”—Erin Kelly, author of He Said/She Said
“I absolutely loved Something in the Water, a stunning debut. . . . Superbly written, clever and gripping.”—B. A. Paris, New York Times bestselling author of Behind Closed Doors and The Breakdown
“As frightening as it is funny, Something in the Water feels like a thriller for our times, a caper with a dark heart.”—Louise Candlish, author of The Swimming Pool and Our House
“A taut and smart thriller, Something in the Water is a fast-paced examination of the slippery slope and precariousfoundations our middle-class lives are built on, and a sensitive examination of a marriage under pressure. Catherine Steadman is a genuinely unique voice in crime fiction.”—Gillian McAllister, author of Everything but the Truth and Anything You Do Say
“Brilliant.”—Catherine Isaac, author of You Me Everything
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Saturday, October 1
The Grave
Have you ever wondered how long it takes to dig a grave? Wonder no longer. It takes an age. However long you think it takes, double that.
I’m sure you’ve seen it in movies: the hero, gun to his head perhaps, as he sweats and grunts his way deeper and deeper into the earth until he’s standing six feet down in his own grave. Or the two hapless crooks who argue and quip in the hilarious madcap chaos as they shovel frantically, dirt flying skyward with cartoonish ease.
It’s not like that. It’s hard. Nothing about it is easy. The ground is solid and heavy and slow. It’s so fucking hard.
And it’s boring. And long. And it has to be done.
The stress, the adrenaline, the desperate animal need to do it, sustains you for about twenty minutes. Then you crash.
Your muscles yawn against the bones in your arms and legs. Skin to bone, bone to skin. Your heart aches from the aftermath of the adrenal shock, your blood sugar drops, you hit the wall. A full-body hit. But you know, you know with crystal clarity, that high or low, exhausted or not, that hole’s getting dug.
Then you kick into another gear. It’s that halfway point in a marathon when the novelty has worn off and you’ve just got to finish the joyless bloody thing. You’ve invested; you’re all in. You’ve told all your friends you’d do it, you made them pledge donations to some charity or other, one you have only a vague passing connection to. They guiltily promised more money than they really wanted to give, feeling obligated because of some bike ride or other they might have done at university, the details of which they bore you with every time they get drunk. I’m still talking about the marathon, stick with me. And then you went out every evening, on your own, shins throbbing, headphones in, building up miles, for this. So that you can fight yourself, fight with your body, right there, in that moment, in that stark moment, and see who wins. And no one but you is watching. And no one but you really cares. It’s just you and yourself trying to survive. That is what digging a grave feels like, like the music has stopped but you can’t stop dancing. Because if you stop dancing, you die.
So you keep digging. You do it, because the alternative is far worse than digging a never-ending fucking hole in the hard compacted soil with a shovel you found in some old man’s shed.
As you dig you see colors drift across your eyes: phosphenes caused by metabolic stimulation of neurons in the visual cortex due to low oxygenation and low glucose. Your ears roar with blood: low blood pressure caused by dehydration and overexertion. But your thoughts? Your thoughts skim across the still pool of your consciousness, only occasionally glancing the surface. Gone before you can grasp them. Your mind is completely blank. The central nervous system treats this overexertion as a fight-or-flight situation; exercise-induced neurogenesis, along with that ever-popular sports mag favorite, “exercise-induced endorphin release,” acts to both inhibit your brain and protect it from the sustained pain and stress of what you are doing.
Exhaustion is a fantastic emotional leveler. Running or digging.
Around the forty-five-minute mark I decide six feet is an unrealistic depth for this grave. I will not manage to dig down to six feet. I’m five foot six. How would I even climb out? I would literally have dug myself into a hole.
According to a 2014 YouGov survey, five foot six is the ideal height for a British woman. Apparently that is the height that the average British man would prefer his partner to be. So, lucky me. Lucky Mark. God, I wish Mark were here.
So if I’m not digging six feet under, how far under? How deep is deep enough?
Bodies tend to get found because of poor burial. I don’t want that to happen. I really don’t. That would definitely not be the outcome I’m after. And a poor burial, like a poor anything else really, comes down to three things:
1. Lack of time
2. Lack of initiative
3. Lack of care
In terms of time: I have three to six hours to do this. Three hours is my conservative estimate. Six hours is the daylight I have left. I have time.
I believe I have initiative; two brains are better than one. I hope. I just need to work through this step by step.
And number three: care? God, do I care. I care. More than I have ever cared in my entire life.
|||
Three feet is the minimum depth recommended by the ICCM (Institute of Cemetery and Crematorium Management). I know this because I Googled it. I Googled it before I started digging. See, initiative. Care. I squatted down next to the body, wet leaves and mud malty underfoot, and I Googled how to bury a body. I Googled this on the body’s burner phone. If they do find the body . . . they won’t find the body . . . and manage to retrieve the data . . . they won’t retrieve the data . . . then this search history is going to make fantastic reading.
Two full hours in, I stop digging. The hole is just over three feet deep. I don’t have a tape measure, but I remember that three feet is around crotch height. The height of the highest jump I managed on the horse-riding vacation I took before I left for university twelve years ago. An eighteenth-birthday present. Weird what sticks in the memory, isn’t it? But here I am, waist-deep in a grave, remembering a gymkhana. I got second prize, by the way. I was very happy with it.
Anyway, I’ve dug approximately three feet deep, two feet wide, six feet long. Yes, that took two hours.
To reiterate: digging a grave is very hard.
Just to put this into perspective for you, this hole, my two-hour hole, is: 3 ft x 2 ft x 6 ft, which is 36 cubic feet of soil, which is 1 cubic meter of soil, which is 1.5 tons of soil. And that—that—is the weight of a hatchback car or a fully grown beluga whale or the average hippopotamus. I have moved the equivalent of that up and slightly to the left of where it was before. And this grave is only three feet deep.
I look across the mud at the mound and slowly hoist myself out, forearms trembling under my own weight. The body lies across from me under a torn tarpaulin, its brilliant cobalt a slash of color against the brown forest floor. I’d found it abandoned, hanging like a veil from a branch, back toward the layby, in quiet communion with an abandoned fridge. The fridge’s small freezer-box door creaking calmly in the breeze. Dumped.
There’s something so sad about abandoned objects, isn’t there? Desolate. But kind of beautiful. I suppose, in a sense, I’ve come to abandon a body.
The fridge has been here a while—I know this because I saw it from the car window as we drove past here three months ago, and nobody has come for it yet. We were on our way back to London from Norfolk, Mark and I, after celebrating our anniversary, and here the fridge still is months later. Odd to think so much has happened—to me, to us—in that time, but nothing has changed here. As if this spot were adrift from time, a holding area. It has that feel. Perhaps no one has been here since the fridge owner was here, and God knows how long ago that might have been. The fridge looks distinctly seventies—you know, in that bricky way. Bricky, Kubricky. A monolith in a damp English wood. Obsolete. Three months it’s been here at least and no collection, no men from the dump. No one comes here, that’s clear. Except us. No council workers, no disgruntled locals to write letters to the council, no early morning dog walkers to stumble across my quarry. This was the safest place I could think of. So here we are. It will take a while for it all to settle, the soil. But I think the fridge and I have enough time.
I look it over, the crumpled-tarp mound. Underneath lie flesh, skin, bone, teeth. Three and a half hours dead.
I wonder if he’s still warm. My husband. Warm to the touch. I Google it. Either way, I don’t want the shock.
Okay.
Okay, the arms and legs should be cold to the touch but the main body will still be warm. Okay then.
I take a long, full exhalation.
Okay, here we go. . . .
I stop. Wait.
I don’t know why, but I clear his burner phone’s search history. It’s pointless, I know; the phone’s untraceable and after a couple of hours in the damp October ground it won’t work anyway. But then, maybe it will. I place the burner back in his coat pocket and slip his personal iPhone out of his chest pocket. It’s on airplane mode.
I look through the photo library. Us. Tears well and then streak in two hot dribbles down my face.
I fully remove the tarp, exposing everything it conceals. I wipe the phone for prints, return it to its warm chest pocket, and brace my knees to drag.
I’m not a bad person. Or maybe I am. Maybe you should decide?
But I should definitely explain. And to explain I need to go back. Back to that anniversary morning, three months ago. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
Product details
- ASIN : B075HYDH8B
- Publisher : Ballantine Books (June 5, 2018)
- Publication date : June 5, 2018
- Language : English
- File size : 2526 KB
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Sticky notes : On Kindle Scribe
- Print length : 453 pages
- Best Sellers Rank: #24,026 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- #120 in Women's Psychological Fiction
- #373 in Psychological Fiction (Kindle Store)
- #645 in Psychological Thrillers (Kindle Store)
- Customer Reviews:
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About the author

Catherine Steadman is an actress and author based in London. She has appeared in leading roles on British and American television but is perhaps best known for playing Mabel Lane Fox in the series Downton Abbey. As well as on screen she has also appeared in the West End where she has been nominated for a Laurence Olivier Award. Catherine lives in Hackney, North London.
Catherine's first novel, Something in the Water, was a number one New York Times bestseller with rights sold in over 30 territories. Film rights were picked up Reese Witherspoon's production company, Hello Sunshine, with Something in the Water becoming a Reeses's book club pick in the US and a Richard and Judy Book club pick in the UK.
Mr Nobody, her second novel, was listed as one of Newsweek's 20 Most Anticipated Books of 2020, and her third novel, The Disappearing Act, released in 2021, was number #1 in on the iTunes Audiobook chart.
Her fourth novel The Family Game will be out Sept 2022.
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Catherine's prose is drum-tight and evocative. She captures perfectly the dizzying downward slide of "just one more" that sees so many people end up trapped in a web of their own making. Like all gifted writers, Catherine references her themes again and again so that each character's story is an echo of the main plot. Nothing feels disjointed or extraneous in this book. It is a story told by a very, very smart person who spent a fair amount of time asking herself "what if?"
I read a lot, and, lately, I've been reading quite a bit more due to some life changes / a major injury. Thrillers are a good way to pass time, and to forget about some of the hell I'm dealing with in my life currently. So, by now, I've nearly had my fill of books where I get frustrated with the main heroine. Why didn't the main character read up on printing shops before she pretended to own one? Why didn't the hero learn how to use his gun before he got into a fight? Why didn't the private eye study cocaine manufacturing before he had to question a witness about his plants?
The question I always ask is: Why didn't anybody think through the possibilities before they took the action?
Reading Catherine's book, I didn't utter that phrase once. The main character(s) were not competent, but they were intelligent. Her main character knew what she did not know, and therefore took steps to remedy that OR find a way around it. As an example, she decides to bring a gun to a dangerous meeting. She has never fired a gun. So she watches videos on how to clean her model of gun, and practices all afternoon. Cleaning, loading, drawing, etc. Over and over. Then she goes to the woods and practices firing the gun, over and over. Will she be an expert in an afternoon? No, obviously not! But the main character is able to think ahead - like any smart person would - and prepare herself, as best as she can.
If you had to do something new to you, how would you prepare?
Catherine answers that question, over and over.
So many novels in this genre rely on the main characters doing something stupid. It's even a meme in the movies: "Don't go in there!" or "Call the police!" we yell at the screen, as the young actress does the stupidest thing possible. In Catherine's novel, however, the characters continually make significant effort to cover their tracks, to do the smart thing. No, they do not do the moral thing. But they do the smart thing. And that's a wonderful, wonderful breath of fresh air.
SPOILER
The major twist is one I hoped for from one of the first chapters. It's not right to just say I expected it - I did - but it's more than that. I HOPED for it. Catherine created a character with flashes of real meanness. The gaslighting of the main character was brilliant. Not every reader would pick up on it; many people would just skip over the woman debasing herself in front of her husband. That's the natural order of things, isn't it? The wife goes to try something, it backfires, her husband calls her stupid, and then "forgives" her for being stupid. I caught it every time, and was so, so, so hoping Catherine would take it in the direction she did.
Anyone who has been in, or even near, an abusive relationship will find themselves shivering at a few points in this book. There is absolutely no physical abuse, and not even - really - any "bad" emotional abuse. But the groundwork is laid. See how angry Mark gets when Erin doesn't understand him? At one point in the latter half of the book, Erin is terrified - but not of the bad guys. She's terrified Mark will find out what she's doing (she's going off on her own). She promises herself she will "never lie again" after this. That she will "be the perfect wife". That's exactly how the thought process starts. "I made him mad. I was less than perfect. I deserved him yelling at me / hitting me / calling me a whore."
Spooky.
END SPOILER
I honestly don't have enough words to showcase how much I enjoyed this book.
I suspect some people may not like this book because of the very obvious immorality of the main character. We don't really have a person to root for, and that's true. People who like their novels to have flawless heroes, or like perfectly-paced steps leading to a conclusion where the good guys win perfectly, will not like this book. Do not buy this book if you aren't interested in moral grays (and even immorality). The main character is not a good person. This book imitates life: it is messy, people are imperfect, and decisions made do not lead to predictable outcomes.
If, however, you can handle ambiguity and reality and ugliness, buy this book. Read it. It's great.
This was an easy read that kept me engaged. The last chapter left a question hanging, which I didn’t think was necessary.
This is the story of Erin & Mark, a young couple who met, fell in love, and are planning their wedding, when Mark loses his job. This is upsetting news for the couple, and especially for Mark, who had a very well paying job that would cover the lion's share of their home expenses and post-wedding plans. He is frustrated in his job hunting. The couple's planned wedding extravaganza is scaled down quite a bit, and the honeymooners opt for two weeks in beautiful, tropical BoraBora, instead of three.
The writing is so good, it is almost magical! It brings everything to life! Even details of Erin's novice scuba diving were marvelous to read! The couple is clearly in love, and they enjoy the grueling adventures of BoraBora as they honeymoon together--climbing, hiking, swimming -- and boating. And on a return sail from a coral reef back to their accommodations, something bangs against their boat.
OK - they find something that changes everything. But I won't go too much farther into the plot, as I don't want to spoil the story and its surprises. But here is where the thrills really start, with a discovery of the object in the water. Hmmmm.......
Back home, Erin resumes her job. She is filming a documentary of three jailed convicts who are soon to be released. She wants to interview the three and film them in their new lives, once they have attained freedom. But complications arise when Erin can't control her own surges of curiosity. Meanwhile, jobless Mark is now dashing about, trying to establish his own independent firm. Erin and Mark are almost like ships passing in the night; they find that most of their communication is now via text. Meanwhile, Erin is convinced that she is being followed and watched - by police? - or by something to do with the package in the water?
But Erin tries to move forward with her documentary. Her taped & filmed conversations with gangster "Eddie" seem to be getting quite familiar, when he asks her to turn off the camera. Then, he appeals to her - to do him a favor. Erin, true to her nature as already established, says YES, as long as Eddie will do a favor for her in return. Eddie's character is marvelous! The author has painted such grand pictures of the characters that people this story! They are real--!!
I can't believe that this was a debut novel--the writing is just so so so good! Also, the author is an actress from the cast of Downton Abbey! How much talent can one person have? This is a marvelous book, and I would recommend it to .... everyone! Read and enjoy!
Top reviews from other countries



The problem I have with this book is typified at around page 30, as I’m treated to a full page of just how gorgeous the boyfriend of the lead character Erin is. The book essentially spends its first 100 pages outlining how glamorous Erin’s life is, with constant references to things like BA first class, Cafe Royal and Annabelle’s nightclub. After a while you start to wonder if Erin is some sort of preferred alter ego of the author.
When we eventually get to the something in the water you naturally expect a change of mood but still,amongst the drama, there is room for the book to spend 2 whole pages describing Erin buying Chanel clothes to help with the plan. Its at this point I stopped rooting for either Erin or Mark as their motivation is simply based on greed and therefore I could not have cared less what happened to them.
This book is described as a thriller for our times which does not say much if it means greed and selfishness are the new standards.
I am sure this book will become a film and I just wonder who they will get to play the lead ?


No, I can’t say I have ever wondered but this opening question in the debut novel by actress (now also author) Catherine Steadman had me hook, line and sinker. It being a book I wouldn’t normally read, I was to say the least intrigued when I saw it was a summer pick by Reese Witherspoon’s book club. It was downloaded onto my Kindle within the next however long it takes to press ‘BUY ME NOW!!” And, I’ll be damned, I throughly enjoyed the twisty path I was lead down within each chapter.
The story of Something in the Water is told by the main character Erin; a documentary film maker, relatable, occasionally dim woman. We are taken through a wild ride through every chapter of this book from digging a grave and unpredictable criminal activity to a luscious honeymoon in Bora Bora.
This fast paced chilly thriller begins with Erin digging a grave, a 3ft x 2ft x 6ft hole to be precise. Which according to Erin is the same weight as of a hatchback car, or even more impressively, an average hippopotamus. Through this exert, Steadman astonished me with her description and in parts I felt like I was either with Erin or I WAS her. The details, the staccato sentences, I was there, I was living what Erin was doing, I could see it in my mind. The next question arrives within the first couple of pages, who is the grave for? Well that guys, you’ll have to find out for yourselves…
Erin narrates the past few months to the audience, taking us on a twisty adventure of secrets, lies, passion and crime, answering but also leaving us asking questions. As an audience, we find ourselves second guessing, maybe re-reading and occasionally in some parts relating with Erin as she grows into her character. The second chapter takes you back to where it began, the anniversary of her and her fiancé, Mark’s anniversary in Norfolk.
A documentary film maker, Erin is currently working on project explaining prisoners lives during and after their sentence. This secondary storyline ties really well into the main plot, introducing us to Alexa, a 42 year old woman imprisoned for assisting in her mother’s suicide; Holli, a young woman in prison for arson (you’ve gotta keep an eye on this one!) And Eddie, the smooth talking mob king pinned down for money laundering.
Whilst Erin is working hard with her documentary, Mark, a banker, has lost his job due to a Brexit related financial crash and it’s left him in a sticky situation with no job prospects, a three week long honeymoon to the exotic island of Bora Bora (Can you fit me in your suitcase please?) and the fast arrival of a wedding… you can kind of understand why Mark is a bit short tempered and irritable.
The wedding has been and gone and they both arrive safe and sound in Bora Bora. It’s all going so well until the trip out on the boat. Thunk thunk thunk thunk… something is in the water… Putting not only Erin and Mark’s moral compasses to the test, but also their marriage. They are thrown into a world filled with $60 million jets, deleting CCTV, mysterious text messages and a duffel bag that keeps reappearing…
Meanwhile, whilst all this is happening, Holli is released from prison and soon falls into the night with her boyfriend, who according to DCI Andy Foster, is associated with Islamic extremists in Syria. Leaving not only a missing person for her documentary but DCI Foster asking questions, which no doubt Erin isn’t exactly jumping for joy over.
Not only could I not put the book down due to the fast paced nature and excellent storyline, I also learnt how to open up a Swiss bank account, how to destroy CCTV and that sometimes life throws you curveballs and you’ve just gotta deal with it. I was left shouting, wincing but also smiling as I followed the life of Erin through the pages of the book.
Although I’m left with a few questions at the end, Steadman threw twists and turns at me that I never saw coming. Through each chapter I was left asking myself if I would do the same thing, would I follow the path that Erin and Mark took for themselves?
This book is definitely one that won’t sit on your bookshelf for very long untouched and once you’ve read one page, you’ll find you can’t put it down. A fantastic debut by Steadman, maybe a book I wouldn’t have normally chosen for myself, however I found it a refreshing read and one that I would recommend to anybody!