I would have done anything to make him feel better. Anything at all. Because it was my fault – all of it – but I can never tell him that.
The children go to the local primary, and it takes me thirty minutes to drive to my slightly larger school. By the time I arrive home each night Dominic has started the dinner, played with the children, and the world seems a calm, organised place. At least, the world between the four walls of my home.
Nevertheless, tonight I need to delay my journey.
I quickly send Dom a text to say I’ll be home by six, and find jobs to do to justify my late departure. Finally, when I can’t put it off any longer, I walk out to my car, knowing I’m going to have to make a call. I’ve been putting it off all day, but there is one person who knows more than anyone should, and I need her to keep that knowledge to herself.
I pull my mobile from my bag, switch it to hands-free and start the engine.
‘Hi, Mum, it’s me,’ I say unnecessarily as her phone is set to play ‘Isn’t She Lovely’ when I call, and there’s no persuading her to change it.
‘Hello, darling. I’m so glad you called – I’ve been worrying about you all day. I heard the radio this morning and tried to speak to you a few times, but it went straight to voicemail.’
I know my mother will have heard the broadcast. She likes to listen to the same radio station and watch the same television programmes as I do. The truth is she’s lonely, but she won’t move away from the home she shared with my dad. I shudder when I think how close she came to losing it.
‘I’m sorry, Mum. I was in a meeting and switched my mobile off.’ It’s a poor excuse, but I hadn’t wanted to speak to her until I had calmed down. I needed to be ready because I know exactly what she’s going to say.
‘Did you hear Scott on the radio, Anna? What a turn-up. You thought he was dead, didn’t you? I’ve been thinking of nothing else since this morning. I bet it was a hell of a shock for you.’
I slam the car into reverse. ‘Not really, no. What’s there to think about, Mum? Scott is dead. I went to his funeral – well, his memorial service anyway. His parents were there. This is someone else. There’s more than one Scott in the world, you know.’
I have to convince her that it’s nothing – that she’s got it all wrong. If I don’t, she will talk to Dominic about it, and I can’t let that happen.
‘Yes, but what about the Nebraska bit?’
I make sure my sigh is audible. ‘You do know, don’t you, that Nebraska is about one and a half times the size of England? You wouldn’t think it strange if a man was talking about his girlfriend and said they went to England, would you?’
‘No,’ my mother says slowly. ‘I suppose you’re right.’
I don’t mention the fact that Nebraska isn’t exactly a popular destination for British tourists, and I’m hoping my mother has no idea. For a woman who thinks Manchester is a foreign country even though she only lives a hundred miles away in Cumbria, this seems a fairly safe bet. She has to think it’s nonsense – nothing more than a coincidence. Thank God the date means nothing to her.
‘Look, Mum, can we not talk about this again, please? I’ve never spoken to Dominic about that summer.’
‘Why not?’ My mother sounds bemused. ‘You were nineteen years old. Surely Dominic wouldn’t mind that you had a boyfriend? I’m sure he doesn’t believe he’s the first man in your life.’
Dom knows there was someone, although he has no idea how much I loved him, but he also knows I did a degree in English literature, and there is no way that would have included a two-month work-experience placement in Nebraska, which is what my mother believes.
‘Of course Dom knows I had boyfriends before him. He even knows one was called Scott, but we’ve never felt the need to share any details, and I don’t want to start now. Please, Mum, let’s not talk about this again.’
It’s my mother’s turn to sigh. ‘Well okay, if you say so. I never thought Scott was good enough for you anyway, but you were so far away, and me and your dad were just pleased there was someone looking out for you, although you were in such a state when you came back from America. He made you quite ill, didn’t he?’
I close my eyes for a moment, remembering the pain, then I force myself to speak normally. ‘Let’s not go back there, Mum. It was years ago. I’m a happily married woman with a great job and two terrific kids now, so let’s look on the bright side, shall we? I’ll speak to you soon.’
I blow out a long slow breath as I disconnect, hoping my call has done the trick. I can’t let her start digging up the past, and she always talks about my time at Manchester University as if it was an aberration on my part. She hadn’t wanted me to leave home when I was eighteen, but the thought that she and my dad had – at least initially – been reassured by Scott’s presence in my life is almost more than I can cope with.
‘If only you knew, Mum,’ I whisper.
5
15 years ago
‘Mum, will you please stop fussing!’ I whispered fiercely, horrified that someone might be able to hear every word through the open door to my room. The corridor was buzzing as all the other first-year students settled into their new home in the halls of residence without any of this nonsense. But my mum would not shut up.
‘Listen, Anna, you’re a long way from home, and I need to be sure you’re going to be okay.’
I wanted to tell her it was actually only a hundred miles, but I was beginning to wish I had chosen a university on the south coast.
‘Let’s get you unpacked,’ she said, bustling around the room, trying to open the bigger of the two suitcases.
‘No, Mum.’ I reached out an arm and put it around her shoulders. ‘I know you’re trying to help, but I honestly don’t need you to. I haven’t decided where to put my stuff yet.’
I couldn’t tell her that this felt like my break for freedom. I had the best parents in the world, but they couldn’t understand why I would want to leave the beauty of our home in the Lake District to come here, to Manchester. It was only a few years since the IRA bomb in the city centre, and Mum was convinced there would be another one – with me slap-bang in the middle. She wanted me to stay at home and get a job in a local hotel – maybe even the one where she worked – until I got married and started a family of my own.
A family was all she had ever wanted, although I was a major surprise – I hadn’t come along until she was forty-two and they had given up all hope of having children. She couldn’t believe that I wanted something different.
I turned to my dad, who was leaning against the wall with a faint smile on his lips.
‘Don’t look at me, Anna. You know she won’t listen to what I have to say on the subject.’
I turned back to my mum, who suddenly looked lost. With no daughter to fuss over, cook for, drive around, it was going to be hard for her. It was going to be hard for me too. I lacked the confidence of other girls my age; I’d known everyone back at home since I was born, but no one else. We never even went on holiday because my mum’s job was seasonal. But I had to learn to fend for myself.
I wanted to make my own decisions, and the first of those would be to do something drastic with my hair. I felt as if I needed to reinvent myself – kick-start the new me into life – so I was going to dye it blonde and have it shorn to a spiky cut. A brave decision, but nothing ventured…
‘Come on, Iris, love,’ my dad said, trying to ease Mum gently out of my room. ‘Give the girl a bit of space. Let’s get off home – you’ll want to get back before dark.’
I could see my mum was trying hard not to cry, so I ignored the lump in my throat and gave her a hug. ‘I’ll miss you both, but I’ll be home for the weekend soon, and before you know it, it’ll be Christmas. It’s an easy train ride, Mum – you can always come and see me for a day if Dad’s working.’
That was true, but the life we led in the back of beyond was so quiet that a trip into Keswick four miles away felt like a major event. Taking a train
to a big city like Manchester on her own was way outside Mum’s comfort zone.
As they reached the door she turned back and reached out her hands to grip mine.
‘We’ve had the conversation about boys and watching yourself, but there are some bad people in the world, Anna. Types that you have no experience dealing with. Be careful, love. I mean it. Be very careful who you trust. Bad things can happen to good people too, you know.’
I smiled, never thinking for a moment that she was right to warn me – that I might do something I would be so ashamed of that I would never be able to tell a soul.
I closed the door behind my parents and leaned against it, my heart beating a little faster with a heady mixture of excitement and apprehension. For a moment I wanted to open the door and yell, ‘Come back! Take me home!’ Instead I focused on the mental image of the exciting life I had been dreaming of for years and held it in my mind until I was sure my parents had gone. Then I slid down the door until I was on the thin carpet, knees hugged tightly, and allowed a few silent tears to drip down my cheeks.
‘Stop it, Anna,’ I muttered to myself, scrubbing at my face with a tissue. ‘You can do this.’
6
Now
The house seems strangely quiet when I walk in. There isn’t the usual cacophony of children playing, although I can hear the television and I wonder if, for once, Dominic has relented and let them watch some cartoon or other. It sounds like the news, though – something we rarely watch until Holly and Bailey are in bed. I push open the sitting-room door to find Dominic standing up, arms folded, staring at the screen. He switches the television off and replaces the remote on the table.
‘Hi, darling,’ he says, turning to me with a smile.
‘What were you watching?’
‘The news. Some guy’s been found murdered in a car park in town.’ Dominic shakes his head, as if in despair at what the world is coming to.
‘Do they know who he is? Have they caught his killer?’
‘Apparently not – in answer to both questions. Or at least they’re not saying.’ He steps closer and reaches out his arms to pull me into a hug and speaks to the top of my head. ‘But on to more cheerful subjects – how was your day?’
‘Okay. Nothing special. A boring meeting with the trustees, but they seem happy enough. Where are the kids? It’s very quiet around here.’
I had been relying on the children to keep me occupied and to give me somewhere to focus my gaze so as to avoid Dom’s penetrating eyes, worried he would read the turmoil this morning’s radio programme has created. I’m safe at the moment, with my head buried in his chest.
‘Holly was invited to go and play with her latest best friend, Daisy, and Bailey kicked up such a stink about being excluded that Daisy’s mother very kindly said he could go too, much to Holly’s disgust. I’ll go and pick them up in a couple of minutes.’
I push myself out of his arms and give him a grateful smile, turning away before he can study me too closely. ‘I’ll go and get changed out of this suit then. I won’t be long.’
As I walk through the hall towards the stairs, the doorbell rings.
‘I’ll get it,’ I shout, climbing over the clutter to reach the door.
I’m half-expecting to find that the children have been brought home early, and am surprised to see a man in black leathers with a red stripe down each side, his helmet visor pushed back so he can speak.
‘Pizza for Franklyn.’ He holds out a stack of four boxes.
Surely Dominic hasn’t ordered pizza? He’s obsessed with healthy food, especially for the children.
‘Are you sure they’re for us?’
‘Well if your name’s Franklyn and this is your address, then yes. They’re for you.’
‘Okay, how much do I owe you? I’ll get my purse.’
‘Nothing to pay. All paid for in advance.’
The delivery man pushes the pizza boxes into my hand and turns back towards his scooter. ‘See you next time,’ he says with a wave as he strides off down the path, belatedly remembering to shout ‘Enjoy!’ over his shoulder.
I carry the pizzas towards the kitchen, stopping at the door to the sitting room. Dominic has put the news on again and has his back to me.
‘You didn’t say you’d ordered pizza,’ I shout over the monologue of the newsreader.
‘That’s because I didn’t,’ he says, turning to see me standing with the stack in my hands. ‘You didn’t pay for those, did you?’
‘No. He said they were already paid for so I presumed you’d ordered them.’
‘Nothing to do with me. I’ve made fish pie.’
I see Dominic’s puzzled expression and know it reflects my own.
‘How weird. Shall I call them and check it out?’ I ask.
‘Nope. If they’ve delivered them by mistake it’s not our problem. You eat one if you like, but I’d rather the kids had the fish pie I made. A bit better for them than pizza.’
I hate wasting food. Surely it wouldn’t hurt the children to eat pizza for once; the fish pie will keep until tomorrow. I carry on towards the kitchen and plonk the boxes on the table, lifting the cardboard cover of the first one to check what topping it’s got. Under the lid is a handwritten note: ‘Enjoy the pizza – your third prize win in this month’s charity raffle.’
I stand staring at the note, my heart thudding, not realising that Dominic has come up behind me.
‘You won them in a raffle? Really?’
I swallow and force a smile onto my lips. ‘It was probably organised by one of the teachers from school.’ I slam the lid shut. ‘I’ll bin these, shall I? Your fish pie sounds much better. I’ll go and have a shower while you collect the kids.’
I know my behaviour must seem odd to Dominic. We would normally joke that of all the things we could win in a raffle, it had to be something we didn’t want. But all I can think of is how to get away from him before he realises I can hardly breathe. Because this is no coincidence. There has been no raffle. At least not for nearly fifteen years, and the only other person who knew about that one was Scott.
7
Then
The first five days after I arrived in Manchester passed slowly. I had thought it would be easy to make friends, but although everyone was chatty and pleasant, they all seemed so much more comfortable in their skins than I felt. I had never had to walk up to someone I didn’t know and introduce myself before; in Cumbria I was surrounded by familiar faces wherever I went.
I did all the right things. I signed up for activities and tours, went to special film screenings and got involved in fundraising. People chatted to me, smiled at me, laughed with me. It was great. But no one said, ‘Shall we go somewhere tonight?’ or, ‘Do you want to come to a concert with me?’
The students in my hall were always talking about what was happening that night. ‘There’s a great gig on tonight,’ one of them might say.
That was my cue. I should have said, ‘Yes, so I heard. Shall we go together?’ But I didn’t.
I had been so excited about my freedom, but I hadn’t realised how hard it would be to make the first move. At home I had automatically assumed I was included in events – one of the benefits of long-standing friendships, I suppose – and I’d never realised before that I was shy and lacking in self-confidence. To make matters worse, the new haircut that was supposed to make me feel brave and independent was a disaster.
It took me a while to pluck up the courage to head to what I’d heard was everyone’s favourite bar, where there was often live music. What if no one spoke to me? Nervous as I was, though, I had to do it.
‘Okay, here we go,’ I muttered as I locked my room. ‘It’s going to be fine.’
I wanted to reach for the sky, to soar above the clouds – and if I was going to fly, this was my first lesson. I needed to test my wings, however fragile they might be.
The bar was noisy, and there wasn’t a spare seat to be had. Maybe I should have come earlier. Tempted to t
urn round and go back to my room, I forced myself to push through to the bar to order a half of cider, and then, drink in hand, wandered to the edge of the room and propped myself up against the wall, trying to look relaxed. I felt self-conscious about being on my own, but I couldn’t see a single person I recognised.
‘Oh, I love this,’ a girl at a table nearby shouted as she leaped up from her seat and made her way towards a few dancers, joining in with people she clearly hadn’t come with and possibly didn’t even know. Even if I’d had the courage to do the same there was nowhere to put my glass, or my bag. Why I’d thought it necessary to take a bag I don’t know. I decided to have my drink and then go back to my room. At least I had made the effort, and I convinced myself it would get easier.
I felt, rather than saw, someone lean against the wall by my side. My body was turned slightly towards the dancers, and when I glanced over my shoulder I saw I had been joined by a boy. He looked to be about my age and was grinning.
‘Not dancing, then?’ he muttered, close to my ear. The music was deafening and I wondered if I’d heard him correctly. I gave him a tentative smile in return.
‘Are you a fresher? I’m a second year. Economics and politics. You?’
‘English literature,’ I answered.
I searched for something interesting to say. Fortunately the gap was more than adequately filled by the music.
‘Are you enjoying this?’ he asked.
‘It’s okay. I don’t know anyone yet, so I didn’t know who to ask about the best things to go to.’
I felt stupid. That was more information than he’d asked for.
‘Do you fancy going somewhere that’s a bit more fun – and quieter?’
I turned towards him. He was clean-shaven with a thick mop of dark curly hair and a lovely wide smile. Good teeth, as my mother would have said. I wanted to say yes, but I didn’t know him. I didn’t even know his name, so how could I go somewhere with him? I didn’t want to be rude, though.
The Shape of Lies: New from the queen of psychological thrillers Page 3