When one thinks of a modern-day psychological thriller, one usually thinks of a lurid cover with a neon yellow and teal colour scheme. The book will be called something like ‘I Know What You Did Last Tuesday’, and carried by a switchbacking but unlikely narrative that delights in piling on the twists. Celia Dale, who died in 2011, didn’t write those sorts of books. Her psychological thrillers are defined by a distinct domestic realism in which the slow burn is all. ‘The Innocent Party’ was first published in 1973, the story centring on the Dalton family who live on the fourteenth floor of a London tower block. There’s Den, a travelling salesman who, when he’s at home, presents as a loud, jovial sort. He’s married to Vera, his weary wife. Linda is their 12-year-old daughter and the narrative is largely filtered through her perspective. We learn that Linda dotes on her father, but is increasingly resentful towards her mother. Because of her age, however, Linda’s grasp of adult behaviour—sex, conflict, deception—is sketchy. ‘The Innocent Party’ is one of Dale’s darkest and most unsettling novels. The milieu—cigarettes burning down to ash on bathroom sinks, platefuls of biscuits on doilies—is masterfully drawn, the claustrophobia ratcheted up as the family unit is pulled apart. If you’re in the market for a psychological thriller that doesn’t rely on cheap sleights of hand to achieve its aims, then open up your heart to Dale and let the dankness in. RM