Your Guilty Secret

by Rebecca Thornton

  I wanted to tell him, mainly to see how he’d react. Just the abridged version, of course. The papers had got a fair bit of it anyway. And obviously he knew the bits Joanne and I had told him when I arrived. I wondered if the paranoia would go away a bit if I did tell him. Problem shared, problem halved and everything, but then the idea of losing control over that portion of my life tightened my chest considerably.

  ‘It has nothing to do with Ava’s disappearance,’ I told him. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘What doesn’t?’ He got up and stroked my arm. It felt good to have some physical comfort after having been alone all this time. With Matthew gone I had no one else to really turn to. Perhaps he would help. I’d tell him, he’d get rid of it all. I should have trusted him at the beginning. I started to cry.

  ‘Do you promise, Conor. Not to be mad?’

  ‘I promise.’ He nodded and I felt his fingertips squeeze around my upper arm. ‘Go on.’

  ‘England. The night that everything started going wrong. There was more. Much more. The press never got the whole story. I think it’s her emailing.’ I thought of the peroxide-haired girl snarling at me and then shut my mind off before it went any further. ‘She probably wants money.’

  ‘Well, we can give her money,’ said Conor. ‘We can give her however much she wants. Just tell me. Tell me what happened.’ I opened my mouth, wondering which bit I should start with. ‘Wait,’ I said, and I walked to the door and opened it.

  ‘Just checking Joan’s not listening,’ I said. If he was shocked, he didn’t show it. That’s why you are so good at this, I thought.

  ‘It was at about midnight, I guess.’ As I started talking, my whole body felt lighter. This was a good thing, I told myself. I already felt better. The paranoia started to settle, my thoughts flat-lining into something altogether more coherent. We were interrupted when the doorbell rang, making us both jump.

  ‘What the . . .’ Conor looked at his watch. I stared at him, willing him to answer. I was too frightened.

  ‘Can you get it? It’s after midnight,’ I said. ‘Do you think it’s Detective Mcgraw? With news?’ I sat down.

  ‘Oh wait,’ he said, looking at the video entry phone. ‘It’s Anna.’

  ‘Anna? Who’s Anna?’

  ‘Anna Devon. She’s a lawyer.’ He spoke quite calmly, but he rubbed at his eyes. ‘I’ll answer it. But if you don’t tell me now, the end of this story, before she gets here – this could be very, very bad indeed.’ He was whispering now, right up to my face. ‘And the truth. All of it.’

  ‘I was telling you the truth just now,’ I said. But I started to tell him. The very final parts. I could feel the memories threatening to overflow. Shame swirled around in my gut and then I stopped because I thought if I told anyone the worst part, my entire career was going to be over. Just like that. And that would also mean that when Ava came home, we’d both be finished. I’d have done her a total disservice.

  ‘What, Lara?’ he hissed. ‘What? You need to tell me. Quick.’ But I’d changed my mind, and with that, I’d already started to run to the front of the house, before Joan could get there first. I could hear her coming up the stairs. I opened the door and looked at the woman in front of me. She was all made-up. Red lipstick, softly smudged brown eyeliner, as though she was about to go for a night on the town. I was about to show her in, when she pushed past me and made her way through to the kitchen and sat down. She’d put a large folder on the table and was busy thumbing through its pages.

  It was only after she’d introduced herself, stiff in her red suit and oxblood briefcase, that I realised I’d never called a solicitor. It was the middle of the night. And she looked ready to start an entire day of work.

  So that meant it was someone else who’d got her to come over. Conor. And by the looks of things, he thought I was about to be in an awful lot of trouble.

  England, December 2004

  The peroxide-blonde girl was right up close to me now, the slash of her red lips opening and closing, flashes of white gum on her tongue.

  Stuck-up little bitch, she said.

  ‘What did you just say?’ I repeated to her. I got right up close. I could feel her breath on my cheek.

  ‘I said, yeah right, you don’t have any money on you. Don’t say you’ve got nothing. You filthy little liar.’ Keep cool, I told myself. Joanne had told me all along. Don’t let people rile you. The press – they’ll do it on purpose. Shout nasty things to get a reaction. Don’t rise.

  I took a breath. Don’t rise. But then she leaned forward again.

  ‘I saw you. Earlier,’ she said, her nails tapping the surface. ‘I saw you all by yourself. Think yourself popular, but everyone hates you. None of your so-called friends would even sit with you,’ she snarled. I looked down at her hands. The tips of her fingers were stained brown and I feel something shift, but at that point, I could still control it. I swallowed. And then she leaned even closer, grabbing tightly at my wrist.

  ‘Bet your parents don’t even like you,’ she whispered. I stood there, my mouth dry. ‘Am I right? You hoped they’d be proud. Instead they just see you for who you are. Mummy and Daddy think you are a slag,’ she had been singing then, ‘a dirty, little, slag.’ And then she took a swig from a bottle she’d taken from beside the sink. She swilled it around in her mouth and then spat the liquid into my face.

  I wiped at my skin.

  ‘What the fuck have I done to you?’ I screamed back. ‘You’re a disgusting cheap whore.’ Everything around me felt like it was spinning around, and I was caught in the middle – a centrifugal force. ‘You fucking ugly, cheap whore.’ I got right up in her face to show her I wasn’t scared. ‘You stalked me on the dancefloor,’ I hissed. ‘And now, when I didn’t give you attention, you turned like the filthy little slut that you are.’ And then I saw it. A small, red light moving around in my vision, her hands holding a mobile phone down by her waist, following my face, my hands as I moved around the room.

  Fuck. I think. Fuck.

  Why would she pick on me? Why? When there were countless other high-profile people in here. I was an easy target, I thought. That’s why. She saw me coming a mile off. And I wonder how much money she’d make from that little video of hers.

  ‘You’ll only get a couple of thousand for that,’ I told her. ‘I’ll give it to you. You nasty piece of work.’ But she just gave me a small, triumphant smile. And then I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My eye make-up had started to run and I looked all sorts of crazy, a dead-eyed stare with the promise of fame and glamour. I stepped back, grabbing onto the diamonds around my neck. I started to feel alert.

  ‘Look,’ I said. ‘Stop filming. Like I told you. I’ll give you some money, if that’s what you want.’ I pointed to the door. ‘I’ve got . . . let me just go and get my bag.’ But she was now holding up her phone.

  ‘I don’t want your money,’ she said loudly. She was jittery, her limbs jerking around. ‘I just want a bit of respect.’ She wiped her nose. ‘But now people are going to know the truth about you.’ My heart sank. I wanted to explain. I’d had too much to drink. The people – the noise. It had all got to me but she was staring, eyes glittering. I heard a gagging sound coming from a toilet stall and I jolted suddenly remembering why I was here. Kaycee.

  I ran over, knocking on the door of the locked cubicle. It was only a half door, with space at the top and bottom, so I crouched down and peered underneath. It was Kaycee, hunched over the loo, totally passed out. Her hair was spread around the porcelain like some kind of Medusa. I slid myself underneath and pulled myself up the other side, opening the lock and then dragged her out, pulling her up over to the sink.

  ‘Here,’ I said. ‘Here, cold water.’ I started running the tap, turning towards the blonde-haired girl but there was no one else in bathroom. Just me and Kaycee. How strange, I thought. It was almost as though I’d imagined it. An empty space where she had been, only the flicker of low lighting over the sink. Even the bathroom attendan
t had gone.

  Just me, myself and my thoughts. As though none of it had ever happened.

  August 25th 2018

  1850hrs

  ‘Mommy,’ she said. Ava rarely called me that. ‘Can I talk to you before bed?’

  ‘Sure,’ I told her. I was sitting on the large grey sofa outside her bedroom. ‘Want to see my Instagram?’ But she shook her head. ‘Why not?’ I asked.

  ‘Because Joan said I wasn’t to look at it too much. That I needed to get affir-something elsewhere.’

  ‘Did she now?’ I said, putting down my phone. I had been thinking about Joan a lot in the past few hours. How much she’d been taking up my time with her moods and lectures about my parenting. How much she’d been intruding on my mental space. I’d told Joan to finish work early today and even though she was off the clock, she had still been hanging around, sapping my energy.

  ‘Ava,’ I said. ‘Do you think you are getting a little old for a nanny?’ She shook her head and started to cry.

  ‘No,’ she said, her bottom lip sticking out. ‘I’m only six.’

  ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Well, she’d better watch herself that’s all,’ I muttered, to no one in particular.

  ‘What do you mean, Mommy? Watch herself?’

  ‘I mean exactly that.’ I watched her face crumple again. ‘It’s OK. She just has to remember who is in charge here.’ As I was talking, I felt more and more angry. Angry that Joan had been questioning me, hovering around judging and watching. Implying I wasn’t looking after my daughter properly.

  ‘She said she’s worried about me,’ said Ava, sitting down on her bed.

  ‘The announcement,’ I said, steering her mind into a different direction.

  ‘I saw everything,’ she whispered. ‘The swimming pool. I was there. The whole time.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I said. ‘Saw what?’ I gave a tinkly laugh but she turned her head and wiped her eyes.

  ‘I tried not to make a big deal of it, Mommy. Because I didn’t want you to be cross. But I saw. I think I know what was happening. It was real, wasn’t it.’ I thought back to how she would have reacted if I’d explained to her exactly what she’d seen.

  ‘I hope you didn’t tell Joan.’ I patted her on the head, thinking about how Joan would go straight to the police if she knew. I dreaded even thinking about it. For a start I’d have to say goodbye to absolutely everything I’d built. I sat upright. One way or another, I’d make sure Joan didn’t find out. The way she was about Ava at the moment, meant that I didn’t trust her not to do something impetuous.

  ‘You know what, Ava? Joan told me a little secret,’ I said. ‘She told me that you have a big, big crush on Daniel at school.’ I thought back to how I overheard them talking one day in the kitchen, the giggles of my daughter as she told Joan how handsome Daniel was and made her pinky promise to keep it quiet.

  ‘She did? Why did she tell you that? I told her not to say anything.’ She started to cry again.

  ‘Don’t say anything to her, will you, Ava? About me telling you. She thought it rather sweet actually. Thought I should know since I’m your mother, after all, but she did tell me that you’d asked her not to say anything. But she does tell me things. Quite a lot actually. So I’m a bit worried about how to trust her. Do you see?’ She nodded her head and looked sad. ‘Because you’d asked her not to say anything but she still did. That’s no good, is it? That she can’t keep a secret. She has quite a big mouth.’ I stopped myself then. I wanted to say more but I knew I had to keep it controlled if Ava were to believe me and my plan was to work out. ‘So you mustn’t say a thing to Joan. OK? Not about whatever it was you saw in the pool. Nothing. We need to keep some things quiet.’ I put my finger to my lips. ‘Remember when Conor gave you that talk? About never, ever saying what goes on in our family?’

  ‘But Matthew’s not . . .’

  ‘Shhhhh,’ I said again. ‘Shhhhh, little one.’ I pulled her towards me. ‘He is. Do you realise how very powerful you are, my little Ava? You, me and Matthew together? How much we can do as a three?’

  ‘I want to go and play with my dolls,’ she said, twisting herself away from me.

  ‘No, Ava, come here and listen to me,’ I called, but she’d gone. I heard the patter of her feet on the stairs. Something let loose inside me, the sting of anger curling itself around my stomach. I dug my nails deep into my palms and wondered if I should do something differently. Poor Ava. Thinking Joan had betrayed her. I knew it was wrong, but I was desperate. I thought about how we could work on this together. How I had her best interests at heart alongside the pressures of my job. I wanted so desperately for her to be happy and comfortable and for everything to be OK. More than OK. I wanted us to thrive. I thought back to my own upbringing. How there’d always been a hole inside me that couldn’t be filled. I didn’t want the same for Ava.

  Tomorrow, I thought to myself. Special mother-daughter bonding time. I vowed not to have any social media.

  I texted Joan and decided I’d be straight with her too. Perhaps then I’d be able to trust her again.

  We’ve already spoken about your day off tomorrow. Confirmed. I’ll need you back by tomorrow night at five.

  A reply came three seconds later.

  I’m so pleased you’re having some proper time together. I’ll be back for five. Enjoy.

  All of a sudden, the feeling of high-pitched anxiety and stress disappeared, despite Joan’s behaviour. Perhaps I’d misread things. Perhaps I was being too defensive as a mother. Perhaps she was doing the right thing. Perhaps I was being too hard on my daughter. It was my fault. I was in charge here. I was the one that was going to have to change everything. Matthew could take over some of the sponsorships. I’d bring in someone new to help Lily with the business side of things and the organisation. I’d delegate more, so that I could spend precious time with my child without the glare of the media.

  That’s exactly what I planned to do. Make everything OK again. I’d obviously ceded too much control over what was going on under my own nose, in my own house, and because of that, bad stuff had started to happen. I rubbed at my arms. That would have to end.

  I couldn’t wait to see Ava’s face when I told her everything I was planning to do. She’d stick her tongue in the gap between her teeth and squeeze her little fists together.

  ‘Yes,’ she’d say. ‘Yes, just you and me?’

  And I’d tell her over and over, ‘Just you and me. And we’ll have to start getting used to Matthew being around too, like I told you. But I’m going to concentrate on you, and you alone, Ava. My beautiful, funny girl. OK? I promise you. I promise you that.’ And then she’d forget about the swimming pool. She’d forget about asking who her real father was. And then things would be on track for our future. A perfect family of three.

  The sun would rise again and I was being given a sign. A chance. And if I didn’t want my daughter traumatised in her own home, I had to make sure I had control over everything – absolutely everything – that went on inside it.

  August 27th 2018

  0120hrs

  I needed everyone in my house to disappear, so I could continue my search for the fob and find out what was in the small bird I’d found in Ava’s room.

  ‘Anna, if you’d like to freshen up I’ll ask Joan to show you the spare room,’ I told her. ‘You can use that as your base.’

  ‘Thank you, Ms King. But that won’t be necessary just yet.’ She looked at her Rolex. ‘I normally have a few hours of sleep a night so I’ll be up for a while – I’d like to talk to you for a bit then I’ll have a sleep when I’ve got the important bits done. Sound good?’

  ‘Yes. Thank you.’

  ‘Now, I’m dreadfully sorry about your daughter,’ Anna said, looking anything but. She was flicking through another pile of papers that she’d pulled out of her bag. ‘Sit down,’ she said, not looking up. I did as I was told. But then the doorbell rang again.

  ‘Jesus,’ I said. ‘That must be
Mcgraw.’

  I was right. He stood there, alone, holding a laptop. He walked right on in too, towards Conor. It seemed I had no control over who came in and out of my house. I thought I was going to start hyperventilating.

  ‘Detective Mcgraw.’ He nodded towards Anna.

  ‘Anna Devon.’ She stood up and held out her hand. ‘I’m Ms King’s lawyer.’

  ‘Do you need to talk to my client?’ She turned to me. ‘Would you like to talk to Detective Mcgraw alone?’ When she referred to me as her client, I started to feel frightened. It seemed that this whole thing surrounding the disappearance of my daughter had taken on an entirely new life of its own.

  ‘No,’ I replied. ‘What are you doing here again?’ I said to Detective Mcgraw.

  ‘There’s nothing solid,’ he replied. ‘We’ve got some leads with a few cars that were seen in the area, witnesses coming forward but nothing to warrant me disclosing anything more, Ms King. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Then . . .’ I looked up at the clock on the wall. He interrupted me before I could go much further.

  ‘I am here for a quick chat about something that may or may not be relevant though. In my mind, it probably is. So, in absence of you being down at that station, do you mind if I record this?’ He held up a small black dictaphone. I felt sick.

  ‘No,’ I whispered.

  ‘Good. Now. You ready? For the benefit of the recording it’s now one thirty-five in the morning, August twenty-seven, twenty eighteen. Ms King, do you want to watch this video footage?’ he said, opening up his laptop. Conor tripped over towards the desk and looked at me. I wondered if somehow, he’d got footage of me and Ava at the swimming pool annexe, the day of the announcement.