 Penguin Random House Audio presents Big Little Lies, by Leo Moriarty, read for you by Caroline Lee. You hit me, you hit me, now you have to kiss me. Schoolyard chant. Peer away public school where we live and learn by the sea. Peer away public is a bully-free zone. We do not bully. We do not accept being bullied. We never keep bullying a secret. We have the courage to speak up if we see our friends bullied. We say no to bullies. Chapter 1 That doesn't sound like a school trivia night, said Mrs. Patty Ponder to Marie Antoinette. That sounds like a riot. The cat didn't respond. She was dozing on the couch and found school trivia nights to be trivial. Not interested, eh? Let them eat cake. Is that what you're thinking? They do eat a lot of cake, don't they? All those cake stalls. Goodness me. Although I don't think any of the mothers ever actually eat them. They're all so sleek and skinny, aren't they? Like you. Marie Antoinette sneered at the compliment. The let them eat cake thing had grown old a long time ago and she'd recently heard one of Mrs. Ponder's grandchildren say it was meant to be let them eat brioche and also that Marie Antoinette never said it in the first place. Mrs. Ponder picked up her television remote and turned down the volume on Dancing with the Stars. She turned it up loud earlier because of the sound of the heavy rain had eased now. She could hear people shouting. Angry hollers crashed through the quiet cold night air. It was somehow hurtful for Mrs. Ponder to hear as if all that rage were directed at her. Mrs. Ponder had grown up with an angry mother. Goodness me. Do you think they're arguing over the capital of Guatemala? Do you know the capital of Guatemala? No, I don't either. We should Google it. Don't sneer at me. Marie Antoinette sniffed. Let's go see what's going on, said Mrs. Ponder briskly. She was feeling nervous and therefore behaving briskly in front of the cat. The same way she'd once done with her children when her husband was away and there were strange noises in the night. Mrs. Ponder heaved herself up with the help of her walker. Marie Antoinette slid her slippery body comfortably in between Mrs. Ponder's legs. She wasn't falling for the brisk act as she pushed the walker down the hallway to the back of the house. Her sewing room looked straight out onto the schoolyard of Pirawee Public. Mum, are you mad? Can't live this close to a primary school? Her daughter had said when she was first looking at buying the house. But Mrs. Ponder loved to hear the crazy babble of children's voices at intervals throughout the day. And she no longer drove. So she couldn't care less that the street was jammed with those giant truck-like cars they all drove these days with women in big sunglasses leaning across their steering wheels and terribly urgent information about Harriet's Ballet and Charlie's speech therapy. Mothers took their mothering so seriously now. Their frantic little faces, their busy little bottoms strutting into the school and their tight gym gear, ponytail swinging, eyes fixed on the mobile phones held in the palms of their hands like compasses. It made Mrs. Ponder laugh. fondly though. Her three daughters were exactly the same and they were all so pretty. How are you this morning? She always called out if she was on the front porch with a cup of tea or watering the front garden as they went by. Sample complete. Ready to continue?