Right from the start, Francis' plans for this week away had been more ambitious than mine. Still, his enthusiasm had spiraled out of nowhere when I had tentatively floated the idea of a house swap, lurching from apathy to manic energy in the space of seconds. He had been so appreciative of what he saw as my initiative that I had shrunk back from telling the truth: that I had signed up to the house swap site on an idle whim months ago and forgotten about it. I had only seen the message notification by chance, sifting through my spam folder in search of a mislaid communication from a friend. Someone wants to swap with you!
Domestic noir wouldn't usually be my kind of thing, but I received The House Swap in a blind gift exchange and brought it along on a beach vacation – as an undemanding page-turner, it met all my expectations. Debut author Rebecca Fleet plots out two timelines, tightly controlling the flow of information to the reader, so that when twists occur, they are surprising but not cheap. I wouldn't say this works very well as a character study – inscrutable people behave in not-quite-believable ways – but the unreliable motivations make it feel like anything can happen; and plenty happens. A fine beach read, which nonetheless doesn't quite change my mind about the genre.
After a few moments, he pulls away. “Well, that's the thing about you, Caroline,” he says lightly. “It's never easy to tell when you're lying.”In the present of 2015, Caroline and her husband Francis have decided to take advantage of a house swap opportunity to have some time away and work on their fragile marriage. We learn pretty quickly that Caro had had some kind of affair, since ended, and that Francis has much to make amends for himself: things are all a bit wobbly, made worse by each of them continuing to keep secrets and suspicions from each other. In alternating chapters that detail events from two years earlier, we learn that as Francis was dealing with depression and a pill addiction, Caroline found herself attracted to her coworker, Carl. Back to the present, and the stranger's house that they are staying in seems to hold some coded messages for Caroline – but because she doesn't want to upset Francis, not only is she alone with this information, but she's alone with her sudden dread of who they may have opened their own house up to. Back to the past, and things between Caroline and Carl become more serious:
I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me through into the meeting room and lays me down on the desk, his shadow blocking out the light as he bends over me. His hands are sliding up my thighs, stroking my skin. “No knickers,” he murmurs, “naughty girl,” and he's pinning my arms up above my head and keeping his hand locked hard around them, the other hand fumbling impatiently with his belt now that the waiting is over and he knows we both want the same thing. He's on me in an instant and the force of it drives me back onto the wood, the rhythm of our movements scraping and thudding against the small of my back – and it's going to hurt tomorrow but his breath is hot on my lips and I'm seeing stars as I close my eyes and I don't care at all.We know from the start that this affair ended badly on a specific date, so as tension mounts in the sections set in the present, it seems to take an agonisingly long time for the sections from the past to reach that fated day – and then the twists start coming. So, if that sounds like your kind of plotting, and if these quoted sections seem like your kind of writing, this would probably be your cuppa tea. As for me, it suited my mood and needs just fine.
