Girl A

by Dan Scottow

  Peter reached for the note in her hand. She snatched it away.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘It’s got blood on it.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  Beth sprang to her feet. Peter eyed her suspiciously.

  ‘What’s happened to the dog, Mum?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You’re lying.’

  ‘Don’t speak to me like that.’

  Peter stood up. He was taller than Beth. He took a step towards her, leaning in, his face inches from her own.

  ‘I’ll speak to you however the fuck I like,’ he growled.

  Beth could feel his hot breath on her cheek.

  ‘Something is going on here. You and Dad are both acting weird. Someone has done something terrible to our dog. Why?’

  ‘I don’t know, Peter. I heard a car. Maybe there was an accident.’

  Peter slammed his fist down on the worktop. Beth flinched.

  ‘That’s bullshit!’ he shouted, droplets of saliva splattering Beth’s face.

  ‘You actually expect me to believe somebody ran over the dog, and left his blood-soaked collar on the kitchen side, but didn’t stick around to say anything? How stupid do you think I am?’

  Beth didn’t reply.

  ‘What’s on the paper?’

  ‘It’s nothing!’ Beth held the note behind her back.

  ‘Give it to me,’ he demanded.

  Beth shook her head. Peter reached round and grabbed her wrist, trying to force it round in front of her. She struggled, screwing the paper up tight in her hand.

  Peter tightened his grip. For a skinny lad, he was strong.

  ‘You’re hurting me!’ she whined.

  He pushed forwards, the weight of his body forcing Beth down sideways onto the counter. Her arm was crushed painfully between her torso and the marble edge. He tried to force the note from her hand.

  Beth wriggled free somehow, and Peter fell clumsily onto the floor. She ran, but he came after her, scrambling across the kitchen tiles, grabbing at her feet. She tumbled, banging her forehead on the ground.

  Peter flipped her over onto her back, straddling her. He had both hands wrapped around her clenched fist, trying to prise it open. The paper screwed up into a tight ball in her sweaty hand.

  She scratched at his arms.

  ‘Give it to me!’

  ‘No!’

  Beth raised a knee into Peter’s groin, and he rolled off her, doubled over in pain. She flipped onto all fours and tried to crawl away, reaching the edge of the island unit before she felt Peter’s hands around her ankles. He yanked, and she collapsed down onto the tiles, screaming.

  Peter dragged her towards him. She kicked. She flailed. But it was no use. He was stronger.

  Once again, he tried to wrestle the note from her hand.

  ‘What the hell is going on in here?’

  Charlie’s voice boomed through the kitchen.

  And everything stopped.

  28

  Charlie’s words echoed around the kitchen.

  Beth rolled out from underneath Peter, who straightened up onto his knees, looking sheepish.

  ‘Peter?’ Charlie growled as Peter stood up.

  He looked down at his feet, not saying a word.

  Beth clambered up from the floor, brushing a loose strand of blonde hair from her face, tucking it up behind her ear.

  ‘Beth?’

  She didn’t know what to say. How could she explain this? This wasn’t a mother-and-son play-fight. This was aggressive. Nasty.

  Charlie took a step forward into the kitchen, and his gaze drifted to the worktop. He looked confused, unsure at first, but as his brain made sense of what he was looking at, his eyes widened in disbelief.

  ‘Is that… Cooper’s collar?’

  He strode to the counter, picking up the bandana. Realising the blood was still wet, he dropped it on the floor, wiping his hand on his jeans.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  Beth picked up the collar.

  ‘We think somebody hurt Cooper,’ Peter replied. He still didn’t dare look up at his father.

  ‘What do you mean, hurt him?’

  Beth took a few steps towards Charlie.

  ‘I came down this morning… the front door was open. Cooper had escaped. It was so foggy, we couldn’t find him… but we heard him. There was… a cry, and a car drove away. There was blood on the driveway and when we got back in the house…’ Beth glanced at the collar.

  Charlie stared at the red mess on the counter, trying to take it all in.

  ‘So you haven’t actually found the dog?’

  ‘No, only that,’ Peter chipped in.

  ‘And what did I walk in on there? Why the hell were you two… fighting?’

  Beth felt a crimson patch begin to spread up her chest and onto her neck, as the shame of the situation hit her.

  ‘There was a note. With the collar. But she wouldn’t let me see it.’

  Charlie’s eyes darted to Beth’s. She shook her head almost imperceptibly. Charlie looked back at his son.

  ‘She said it was nothing, but she was crying when I found her. She was trying to hide it from me. I wanted to know what was going on.’

  Charlie stepped closer to Peter, towering over him. He leant in, his face right in front of his son’s.

  ‘And you think that gives you the right to attack your mother?’

  Charlie’s voice was low, rumbling. Peter turned away.

  ‘Do you?’ Charlie roared, shoving his son hard on both shoulders.

  Peter stumbled backwards, steadying himself on the counter.

  ‘Someone just killed our dog. I deserve to know. You two are hiding something. You’ve both been acting dodgy since that note came through the door.’

  Charlie slammed his hand down on the worktop.

  ‘We are your parents. We are the adults in this house, and while you are living under our roof, you abide by our rules. And if your mother doesn’t want to tell you, you goddamn respect her decision! Do you understand?’

  Peter didn’t respond. Charlie grabbed the scruff of his son’s T-shirt.

  ‘Do you understand?’ he bellowed.

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Get out of my sight before I do something I regret!’

  Peter scurried from the kitchen. Charlie didn’t often reprimand the kids, so when he did lose his temper, it was terrifying.

  Beth crossed to the island, pulling out a stool. She eased herself onto it, sore from the struggle.

  Charlie stared at her, arms folded across his chest.

  Beth looked back at him defiantly.

  ‘The dog… is he…’ Charlie whispered.

  Beth shook her head, running both hands through her hair.

  ‘I honestly don’t know. There was a lot of blood. And the collar. He came into our house. Whoever it was walked in here and put that there.’

  She nodded at the collar.

  Charlie stepped towards his wife.

  ‘And the note?’

  Beth smoothed out the screwed-up ball of paper and handed it to Charlie. He grimaced as he saw the blood.

  Beth watched as he read, his eyes widening in horror.

  ‘My God. Are you okay?’

  ‘No. No, I’m not. I’m scared.’

  Charlie sat at the stool next to Beth, placing an arm around her shoulder. He pulled her into him.

  ‘We have to tell the police now. This has gone far enough,’ Charlie whispered. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

  Beth shrugged his arm from her. She turned and stared into his face.

  ‘Whoever this person is, they are threatening us. They have done… God knows what to our dog…’ Charlie’s voice wavered for a moment, but he cleared his throat, regaining his composure.

  ‘I can’t,’ Beth replied in an almost inaudible whisper.

  ‘You’re being ridiculous. This is madness. Our family… our children are at risk. We are at risk. What’s it going to take for
you to listen to me?’

  ‘I just can’t,’ she said again, louder this time.

  ‘We have to!’

  ‘You’re not listening to me, Charlie. I can’t!’ she screamed.

  ‘Why? For God’s sake. Why are you so averse to talking to the police? They can protect us. We are an innocent party here.’

  ‘Because I’m her.’ Beth’s voice was quiet again now, as if she didn’t want anybody to overhear.

  Charlie blinked. Once. Twice.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I am Kitty Briscoe.’

  And Beth Carter’s life as she knew it, it ceased to exist.

  29

  Charlie stared dumbfounded at his wife. His mouth hung open.

  He stood from his stool.

  ‘Charlie, please! Sit down. Let me explain.’

  He walked away, but Beth grabbed at his shirt, pulling him backwards.

  ‘Explain what? That you’ve been lying to me. Pretty much for our entire life together? Or how you were involved in the murder of a two-year-old boy when you were a child and kept that a secret from me too, perhaps?’

  ‘Please.’

  Charlie sat beside Beth. She touched his leg.

  ‘Don’t,’ Charlie spat. Beth snatched her hand away.

  ‘Charlie, look at me.’

  He wouldn’t. He stared ahead, jaw clenched, understandably upset. Angry, even.

  ‘I don’t… get it. How can that be you? And why have you never told me?’

  ‘How would I? How do I begin to tell you that? It’s not exactly first date material.’

  ‘No. But now, with everything that’s been going on. You’ve had every opportunity to tell me. And you chose not to. I even asked you straight out, and you lied. You lied to my face, Beth. You swore on your parents’ graves.’ Charlie paused, remembering his web searches the day before, the lack of results about a fire with two casualties, and something dawned on him.

  ‘Was any of that even true? Your parents? The fire? I tried to find it online. I couldn’t get anything. Now it makes sense. Because it was all bullshit, wasn’t it?’

  ‘No, Charlie. It wasn’t. That part was true. My parents died in a fire when I was eighteen. I wasn’t at home, and the house burned down with them asleep inside.’

  ‘How am I supposed to believe a single thing you tell me anymore? You’re clearly an accomplished liar.’

  Beth stood, pacing across the kitchen, staring out into the garden, before turning to look at her husband.

  ‘You have to understand. That girl… Kitty Briscoe. I was her. But that’s not me now. I’ve spent my whole life trying to get away from her. I may not have gone to jail, but believe me when I say I have served a life sentence. I still am.’

  She crossed back to the island, sitting down again beside Charlie.

  ‘That newspaper printed my name, my photo. They ruined my life. My parents’ lives. We had to move away. Every time we got settled, someone found out who we were, and we had to up sticks and move again. It was a nightmare.’

  ‘How could you…’ Charlie couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, but Beth knew instinctively what he was asking.

  ‘It wasn’t me. I swear to you. I wasn’t even there. Yes, I helped Kieran Taylor take him from the fair, but I had nothing to do with what happened to him. I ran away, I left him at that hotel with Kieran, and he was alive the last time I saw him.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone? You went home and kept quiet. That boy was lying there for days. His parents anguished, not knowing if he was alive. And you carried on as normal.’

  ‘Charlie, I was seven. Just think about that. I was only slightly older than Daisy. Kieran Taylor was eleven. He told me Billy was fine, and I believed him because I didn’t know why he would lie.’

  Charlie finally looked at her. His face red, angry.

  ‘It doesn’t matter now anyway, Beth. That’s not even the issue. What hurts is that you have lied to me every day of our lives. Everything you have ever said about yourself. Your family. Your name! Where you come from. All lies. Do you understand how that makes me feel?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No. You don’t. I don’t think you’d like it if the shoe was on the other foot. We’ve always said as long as we’re honest with each other we can get through anything–’

  ‘And we can!’

  ‘No, Beth. No. We can’t. Because… can’t you see? We have never had honesty.’ Charlie paused. ‘At least, you haven’t.’

  ‘But everything else has been genuine. My feelings about you. The kids. None of that is lies.’

  ‘Of course it is. It’s all rubbish. I don’t even know you. I don’t know who you are.’

  ‘I’m the woman you married. That little girl, Kitty Briscoe, she doesn’t exist anymore. When you look at her, you’re looking at a life through windows that were boarded up decades ago. She’s… dead. I erased her.’

  Charlie laughed humourlessly, standing. He strode across the room to a wall mounted cupboard, pulling the doors open. Suddenly, the man she loved seemed so distant from her.

  She watched as Charlie took a bottle of whisky and a glass tumbler from the cabinet. He half-filled the glass, downed its contents, and refilled it. After emptying it a second time, he slammed it down on the counter. As he poured a third, Beth approached sheepishly as he drained the glass again. She placed her fingers on his arm.

  ‘Charlie, please…’

  He jerked away.

  ‘Don’t touch me,’ he shouted.

  He picked up the bottle and the glass, barging past Beth with such force that she almost fell. She steadied herself on the worktop, taking a deep breath.

  He strode to the French doors, flinging them open. Stepping out onto the patio, he pulled a cast-iron chair from under the table, sliding down into it, and poured himself another drink. He sat sipping it while he stared out into the field at the back of the garden.

  Beth followed him outside, standing beside him as he drank.

  ‘This is all such a mess,’ Charlie said sadly.

  Beth dragged out a chair, sitting opposite him. Still, he refused to look her in the eye.

  ‘I’ve been so scared, Charlie. Do you know how hard it is to carry a secret like this with you? Of course you don’t. Not many people do. I always planned on telling you, in the early days. Until I realised I was falling in love with you, and I was so terrified that you would react… like this.’

  Charlie slammed his glass down on the table. The sound, the level of aggression made Beth jump. She glanced up and saw Peter back away from his bedroom window.

  ‘Don’t you dare, Beth! Don’t you try to turn this around on me. I’m angry because you have lied to me. About everything. If you had told me in the beginning, I wouldn’t have reacted like this.’

  ‘Yes, Charlie, you would have. I know you would. Because people always do. I learned at a very young age that I could no longer be Kitty Briscoe. People despised her. They blamed her.’

  ‘You took him!’

  ‘Yes,’ Beth replied quietly, nodding. She gazed into the distance, eyes glazing. ‘And there is not a day that goes by that I don’t regret it. Don’t you think if I could go back and do things differently, I would? But we can’t change the past. I was a child. But you have to believe me. I am innocent. I had nothing to do with Billy’s death.’

  Charlie looked up, locked his eyes on Beth’s face. She couldn’t read his expression. For a moment she thought he might embrace her, tell her he forgave her. That he believed her. Her heart fluttered as she imagined how good that would feel.

  ‘This is all your fault,’ he said coldly. ‘I need you to go.’

  It took a few seconds for the words to hit Beth.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Go. I need some time to process all this without you here. Can you do that for me?’

  ‘I don’t want to.’

  ‘I don’t care. I need space. You have put our family in danger. You knew exactly why all this was h
appening, and you acted like it was a mystery to you. You questioned my loyalty when I asked you about it.’

  Beth reached her hand across the table, placing it on top of Charlie’s.

  He snatched it away.

  ‘I can’t even look at you. You disgust me.’

  Charlie’s words stung. Beth’s lip quivered. But she held it back.

  ‘Give me some space. I need to think and I’m so angry, I can’t do that with you around. So please go.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘I don’t care. Anywhere but here.’

  Beth knew Charlie well enough to know that he was being serious.

  She crossed to the door, turning briefly back to her husband. He didn’t look up. He sat staring into the bottom of his empty glass.

  Beth entered the kitchen, looking once more at the bloodstained collar of their beloved spaniel. Picking up her car keys, she left the house. She didn’t know where she was going, but she couldn’t be here.

  * * *

  Charlie heard the front door slam shut, followed by Beth’s Range Rover starting. He listened as she drove away across the gravel. The sound deteriorating until all that was left was the twittering of a solitary goldfinch.

  The hot sun beat down on Charlie’s face, but he shivered. He couldn’t process what was going on in his head.

  His wife, the woman he had loved for all of his adult life, was not who she said she was. She had a secret.

  And it was horrifying.

  Charlie tried to put himself in her position, asked himself if he would have acted differently. Part of him understood why she had lied. It must have been a terrible burden. But that didn’t make him feel less angry. Less sad.

  He thought of good times with Beth. He heard her laughter. He pictured the day they found out she was pregnant with Peter, and again with Daisy. He tried to reconcile that with what he had now learned, shaking his head.

  He picked up his whisky tumbler, and before he realised what he was doing, he threw it as hard as he could.

  It hit the back wall to the house beside the French doors, smashing into a thousand tiny shards. The splinters fell around the patio and Charlie thought how the shattered glass was an excellent metaphor for his life.