by Dan Scottow
‘Daddy?’
Charlie’s eyes darted up quickly. Daisy was standing on the doorstep, looking at him with fear and confusion.
She’d been crying.
‘Don’t come out here, honey, Daddy has broken a glass.’
‘Are you okay? Where’s Mummy?’
Charlie stood.
‘Go inside, Daisy. Go upstairs and pack some clothes. Tell Peter to do the same. We’re leaving.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘For an adventure. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
‘What about Mummy?’
Charlie crossed to the door, crouching down so he was face to face with his daughter.
‘Mummy will meet us there, okay, so go up to your room and pack a bag.’
Daisy scurried away and up the stairs, and Charlie thought, funny, it is easy to lie to your family after all.
He stepped into the kitchen, crossing to what was affectionately known as the shit drawer in the Carter household.
Opening it, he rummaged through charging cables for long-dead mobile phones, old wallets, and antiseptic wipes. He eventually found a notepad, creased and dog-eared, towards the bottom of the drawer. He placed the pad on the bench and fished around once again for something to write with. Finding one of Daisy’s thick colouring pens in fuchsia pink, he poised, ready to pour his heart out.
Beth… he wrote.
Closing his eyes for a moment, he pictured the scene where they first met. Or at least where he had first seen her. It took him a few weeks to pluck up the courage to actually speak to her. But he had first spotted her in the university library, second week of term.
Her hair had been dark brown, almost black back then, cut into a short pixie. She wore thick-rimmed tortoiseshell glasses.
Charlie admired her for looking different to all the other girls on campus. Having her own sense of style.
In hindsight, he now realised this was an attempt to alter her appearance. She must have been terrified of being recognised. Her clothing was plain. She wore baggy blue denim dungarees over a dark sweatshirt. She had been sitting on her own reading a book, something lofty, but the title and subject escaped him now.
Charlie could see her clearly, as if it were yesterday.
Two small, translucent, plastic, cherry-shaped earrings dangled gracefully from her lobes. Charlie had been transfixed by them. The light from an adjacent window shone through them, causing green and red shapes to dance over her cheek. Over the years at uni they would become Charlie’s favourite thing that she wore, as they always reminded him of the first time he had seen her. These, along with the small silver key which Beth always wore on a chain around her neck; a twenty-first birthday gift, were two constants.
Two things which were quintessentially Beth.
He hadn’t been able to stop staring at her. She didn’t notice. Didn’t glance up from her book once.
Over the following days he saw her many times, always sitting at the same spot. He eventually realised he was returning to the library each day simply to glimpse her.
But she never looked up. Never knew he was watching her.
Which made her more attractive.
Charlie was used to girls noticing him. So Beth’s failure to do so made her a challenge for him.
He pictured those cherry earrings. Did she still have them somewhere upstairs? He wondered how long ago she’d stopped wearing them. Wondered sadly why he hadn’t noticed.
In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to see his wife in those stupid plastic earrings.
And his heart broke a tiny little bit.
30
Sitting in a lay-by, Beth cradled her head in her hands. How had it come to this? She had driven the winding lanes around her home for an hour, before pulling over. When the grief had hit her. The sudden realisation that life would never be the same.
That the man she loved may never look at her in the same way ever again.
Of course, she had fantasised about that moment, many times. Offloading her terrible secret. The one thing she did her utmost to make sure Charlie would never find out. She didn’t know what she had expected. She had always imagined that he would be angry for the deception, but then embrace her tightly, telling her he still loved her. She was still his Beth. Nothing would change that.
But the look in his eyes in reality… was far different.
Anger. Hatred. Suspicion?
When he had told her to go, she hadn’t quite believed it at first. His lack of empathy for how hard it had been for her to confess to him felt like a betrayal. It hurt. Real, physical pain.
An aching in her heart that she had never known. Not even when her father had refused to come to court to support her. Nor when he had shouted she was no daughter of his and spat at her.
But she hadn’t loved him. He was a weak, pathetic excuse for a man, so she hadn’t expected anything from him. Charlie was different.
Or so Beth had thought.
‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ Beth screamed, as she thumped the steering wheel hard with both hands.
When she had failed to reveal the truth to Charlie within their first year together, she had decided she should never tell him. To have kept a secret for so long was bound to upset him. So she knew in her gut that it had to remain just that. And she had done so well.
Even when she had wanted more than anything to pour her heart out, to scream it in his face. She’d held back. And after she became pregnant with Peter, that simply sealed the deal. She would take her identity to the grave.
But Charlie had backed her into a corner today. She had run out of excuses to not get the police involved. A note threatening their children, and their dog’s blood spilled on their driveway.
No rational person would think attempting to tackle the situation alone was the sensible thing to do. And so she’d been left with no choice. The truth, as hard as it was, the only option.
She pulled her phone from her pocket, dialling Charlie’s number. Straight to voicemail. She hammered out a text asking if she could come home. Demanding he call her.
The waiting drove her insane.
She longed to see her family; to hold her children. How dare Charlie tell her to leave? It was her house. He had no right. Anger replaced her grief.
For better or for worse appeared to be another broken promise.
She started the engine and headed for home. As she drove, she thought of Charlie. Tried to picture his eyes when he laughed. All she could see was his expression as her words sank in.
I am Kitty Briscoe.
Shock, followed by disappointment, then something darker. Far worse.
She wanted to make things right. She shouldn’t have left. Should have demanded that they talk it out. That they hug. She should have insisted they go for ice cream as a family, and then a walk on the beach.
Anything but walking out the door.
A feeling she had not experienced since childhood overwhelmed her. This was the exact reason she had vowed as a teenager that she would never give her heart to a man. She thought of the first boy she had truly trusted. How he had thrown that back in her face without regard for her feelings.
Glenn Jones. She almost said the name out loud.
Her mother had warned her not to get too close.
Beth could hear her mother’s thick Brummie accent ringing in her ears.
‘It’ll only end in tears. You mark my words…’
31
1994, Aylsham, North Norfolk, England.
The summer passed in a blur. Kitty wished it could be the beginning of the holidays again, but alas, she was more aware than most her age that you can never go back. The last day of term as the kids were all getting ready to head home for the break; that’s when Glenn Jones had first approached her.
He wasn’t what you would call a good-looking boy. Not classically. But he was funny and popular. He had caught up with Kitty at her locker, slightly out of breath. But, of course, by that point she was no longer called Kitt
y.
This time she was Lucy. She had been through so many identities. Inevitably, someone would find out. And her family would run again. She knew it was all her fault.
Her father made sure she never forgot that fact.
She’d been working hard to hide her accent, but sometimes, when she was feeling relaxed, it slipped. Glenn had shouted her name a few times. She still wasn’t used to it.
‘So I was wondering if you’d like to… er… hang out over the summer at all?’ Glenn looked down at the floor nervously.
Kitty blushed. She had always blushed so easily.
‘My parents don’t really… I mean, I’m not supposed to.’ Kitty opened her locker, pretending not to notice how crushed Glenn had been by her reply.
‘Do you have to tell them?’ he asked, a cheeky glint in his eye.
Kitty shut the metal door, smiling.
‘I suppose not.’
And that had been it. They had spent pretty much every day that summer together. Hiding in fields of wheat where nobody could see them. Climbing tall trees, then sitting in branches above the river, watching as folk passed by below, oblivious to Glenn and Kitty’s existence high over their heads.
And kissing. There had been lots of kissing.
Kitty had never kissed a boy before. She was worried she wasn’t doing it properly. But Glenn kept wanting to do it again, so she assumed she must have been doing something right. Kitty may only have been fifteen, but she had an older head on her shoulders. The hand she’d been dealt had deprived her of the luxury of a normal childhood.
Eventually, her mother grew suspicious of her sneaking out every day and not returning until it was dark, and Kitty told her.
‘His name’s Glenn, he’s in my year at school… and I’m in love.’
Her mother had been furious; had forbidden Kitty to see him again. But Kitty was defiant, and you can’t stop a teenager from going out in the summer holidays.
‘It’ll only end in tears. You mark my words!’ her mother screamed at her.
‘You’re wrong! Glenn is different. He loves me too!’ Kitty had assured her, slamming the door as she left. And on a warm August evening, when Glenn Jones had slid his fingers tentatively inside the elastic waistband of Kitty’s knickers, whispering in her ear with hot breath that he loved her, she had known.
This was exactly what she wanted. And Glenn was the one.
A few days later Kitty had been woken early by a commotion downstairs. Lots of shouting. As she pulled on her dressing gown and stepped out onto the landing, her father had sneered at her from his bedroom door.
‘Did you think they wouldn’t find out this time?’ he said, a grin on his lips.
Kitty’s heart thumped. She took a few steps down the stairs, perching halfway, peering through the bannisters. She knew who it was before seeing the face. She recognised her voice.
Glenn’s mother. Kitty craned her neck to hear better what was being said.
‘And don’t you even try to deny it. We all know exactly who you are. Who she is!’
Kitty had heard that venom many times in her life. That tone. Almost those exact words. Every time.
‘I knew she looked familiar the first time Glenn brought her to the house, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I said to my John, I said, she looks awful familiar, that girl.’
Kitty leaned further down the stairs for a better view. Why wasn’t her mother defending her?
She just stood on the doorstep, head hung low. She had come to expect this. The first time had been a shock. But not anymore.
Kitty fidgeted, making more noise than intended. Glenn’s mother’s eyes darted up, and she saw Kitty. She lurched forwards into the hallway, pointing a trembling finger at her.
‘You keep away from my son! You hear me? I don’t want you in my house again, you evil little bitch!’
‘That’s enough!’ Kitty’s mother had hissed. ‘She didn’t do it!’
‘You’re disgusting. We don’t want your family here. We’ve all got children, and you’re not welcome.’
She turned abruptly and stormed off down the path. Kitty’s mother closed the door, looking sadly at her daughter, but the pity changed quickly to anger. Her mother lost her temper often these days.
‘I hope you’re happy with yourself. Was he worth it?’ her mother spat, before storming down the hall into the kitchen.
Kitty heard her father sniggering from upstairs.
The following day she had waited at their usual spot. But Glenn didn’t arrive. When she finally saw him at school a week later, he blanked her.
Everyone had blanked her.
The truth was out. Nobody wanted to know her anymore. Even her teachers were looking at her warily in lessons.
She caught up with Glenn at lunchtime in the canteen. He didn’t want to speak to her. He tried to walk away, but she grabbed his sleeve, tearing his cuff. She saw a flicker of something, then his eyes darted around the room, took in the surroundings.
Everyone was looking.
‘Look what you’ve done, you stupid cow!’ he shouted.
‘I don’t care. I need to talk to you. I need to explain.’
‘There’s nothing to explain. And there’s nothing to say. You’re a child killer. And your name isn’t even Lucy!’ He walked away from her.
‘Glenn, I’m still the same girl I’ve been all summer. Please… can we go somewhere more… private, and talk about this?’ Kitty glanced nervously around the canteen, painfully aware that people were staring at them. ‘Nothing has changed,’ she pleaded.
Glenn spun around to face her, and she saw that familiar hatred in his eyes.
‘Yes it has,’ he spat. ‘Everything’s changed. Leave me alone. Don’t ever speak to me again, you hear me? Just fuck off.’ And he walked away.
There were a few sniggers. Some people whispered. Some simply looked at her, waiting for her to react, to cry, or run away. But she didn’t give them the satisfaction. She walked out of the canteen, her head held high. Over the years, she’d learned to put on a brave face.
With her rucksack slung over one shoulder, she headed home, away from yet another school.
A week later Kitty and her family moved, again.
32
The driveway was empty as Beth pulled up outside. She left her car door open, running towards the house. With a trembling hand, she slipped her key into the lock.
Stepping into the hallway, she half expected Cooper to come scurrying out from the kitchen.
And then she remembered.
‘Charlie?’ Beth shouted as she rushed through the corridor. ‘Daisy? Peter?’
Her shouts were met with an unfamiliar silence. It wasn’t often the house was quiet.
No dog barking. No kids arguing. No television.
Nothing.
She hurried up the stairs and along the landing, poking her head into each of the children’s rooms on the way. Empty.
She checked the bathroom, the door wide open. The whole place, still and quiet. Deserted.
A wave of panic shot through her. She ran into her own bedroom, throwing open the wardrobe. Some of Charlie’s suits and shirts were missing, the hangers dangling empty on the rail.
Down the stairs, Beth made her way into the kitchen. A crisp sheet of white paper lay on the island unit. A pen beside it. She picked it up. The writing was Charlie’s.
Beth,
I appreciate it must have been difficult telling me the truth after all these years. I thank you for finally being honest with me.
While I am grateful, and also aware that this is a stressful time for you, I can’t pretend I’m not hurt and angry. It’s a lot to take in.
It’s not the details that you have divulged, but the fact that you’ve been lying for so long that’s so painful. I feel that you have put our family, my children, at risk, and continued to do so by not coming clean when this situation first arose.
It’s clear that somebody is targeting you because of your past. It
is also clear that our children are not safe around you. They may as well have targets on their backs while somebody is trying to hurt you.
I need time to think.
And I have to keep the kids out of harm’s way. That’s my primary concern now.
I implore you to talk to the police. It’s obvious this has got to a point where you are in danger. I am in two minds to tell them myself, but I feel it’s your decision. Please make the right one.
Stay safe.
Charlie
Beth stared at the note. The words swam around in her head, stinging like a paper cut in her brain. She screwed the sheet up into a ball, and dropped it on the floor, fishing her phone from her pocket. She hammered Charlie’s number into the keypad. He answered after a few rings.
‘Oh thank God, Charlie, I didn’t think you would pick up for a second there.’
‘I almost didn’t.’
‘Charlie, please, can we talk?’
‘There’s nothing to say. Everything I have to say for the time being is in the note.’
‘But I love you. And I love the kids.’
‘Then you’ll understand why I have to do this. It’s for the best. They’re not safe with you.’
Beth flinched, as she wondered if there was a double meaning in Charlie’s statement.
‘Where are you?’
The sound of Charlie’s heavy breathing was the only answer she received.
‘They’re my children too. I have a right to know where you have taken them!’
Eventually, a sigh.
‘We’re gonna stay at Derek’s rental for a while. It’s empty, and he said it’s fine for as long as I need it.’
‘Does he know?’
‘About you? Of course he doesn’t. You think I’d want to advertise… that?’ Charlie’s spiteful tone was painful.
Beth sat, her ear to the phone for a few moments.
‘When can I see the kids?’
‘Beth, I really don’t think it’s a good idea.’
‘Charlie, please–’
‘No. Not at the moment. If you go to the police, get them to sort out what’s happening, then we can discuss it. But for now, it’s not safe. Surely you understand that?’