On a Monday night in October in a small seaside town in Suffolk, a woman is brutally murdered. There are no obvious suspects, she was not an obvious victim. She just wasnt, thinks her grieving, bewildered friend Tess, the type to have something happen to her. Something Might Happen is not a murder mystery. There are clues, false trails, detectives, all the paraphernalia of the whodunnit, but Myersons concern is with the effect of the murder on an ordinary community and specifically on Tess herself, her husband Mick and her three children. As the police go about their routine investigation, Tesss world of nappies, school runs and baked beans begins to unravel. Suddenly nothing is certain, the mundane becomes charged with significance, established relationships begin to crumble and places that once were safe are safe no longer. It is the naked honesty of Myersons prose that makes her work so compelling, and this novel stands as her most impressively realised work to date-Myerson has a forensic interest in the messiness of grief, which she itemises with the awful clarity of vision that often accompanies shock Guardian