Not My Daughter

by Suzy K Quinn

  The landscape looks the same as it did that day, when Dee drove me away from Michael’s house with baby Liberty in my arms.

  ‘So … are you going to tell me how all this happened?’ I ask. ‘I feel like I’m missing at least twenty different things.’

  ‘I decided to fix things,’ says Liberty. ‘It felt safer doing that than carrying on as things were.’

  ‘Liberty, I’m not sure you’re thinking straight. Maybe seeing the dog attack someone has affected you… You’re talking like you planned this.’

  ‘I did plan it. I’ve been planning it for about two years.’

  ‘What? How? You’ve only just found out who your father—’

  ‘No. I found out when I was fourteen. I broke into your safe and found your old medical records and your old surname. I worked it all out. That you couldn’t have been my real mother. Then I did newspaper research and found pictures of you and Michael.’

  ‘But you told me you only just found—’

  ‘A white lie. Once I got Skywalker trained up, I was ready to visit Michael’s house. I was hoping you might give me your blessing. That was the original plan. Have Skywalker sniff out the remains, show footage to the police, then ask them to dig. But you said no.’

  ‘Wait a minute. The woods. Skywalker—’

  ‘I trained Skywalker to find human remains. My science teacher gave me a human placenta to use. And Skywalker found that same scent, you know dead human flesh, in three different sites in Michael’s woods. They’re all marked up, ready for the police. I geotagged everything. And then I got Michael on camera, admitting my real mother is buried in his woods.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘On a button camera. And my phone.’

  ‘You have your phone? You’ve had your phone this whole time?’

  ‘I told you. I know your safe code, Mum. It’s my birthday. Not all that safe really.’

  I shake my head in disbelief. ‘I could have called you this whole time?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have answered.’

  ‘So … you believed me about your father? That he was dangerous?’

  ‘Of course I believed you,’ says Liberty. ‘All the psychological indications suggested you were telling the truth. Michael, on the other hand, was a clear case of words not matching actions. I mean, a so-called environmentalist keeping a collection of polluting classic cars. Talk about a mismatch.’

  ‘Weren’t you scared?’ I ask. ‘Walking right into his house, thinking he could have killed … well, your mother?’

  ‘Terrified,’ says Liberty. ‘I nearly didn’t go through with it. But I had my phone with me. I had Skywalker.’

  ‘What if Michael had found your phone and taken it?’

  ‘That wouldn’t have happened,’ says Liberty.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I would have set Skywalker on him. I made sure we were never separated.’

  ‘He owns a collection of shotguns, Liberty.’

  ‘I know. But I told you. Skywalker sniffed them out and we put them out of action.’ She taps her nose. ‘Chess player, mother. Chess player. Many moves ahead.’

  ‘Mother. You’re still okay to call me that?’

  ‘Of course I am. I told you. I’ve known for years we’re not related. It’s never mattered to me. And when I found all those articles – all that stuff you said about him – I pieced everything together. Who my real mother must be, what must have happened to her. I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t lie about what happened to Annalise.’

  I stare at her. ‘And what … you just didn’t care that I’m not your real mother? You didn’t say a word to me about it?’

  ‘I’ve known my whole life you were hiding something. It was a relief really. I mean, it could have been much worse. And what’s biology anyway? Michael Reyji Ray is my biology. A man who wears sunglasses indoors. Biology doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t take care of you. It doesn’t love you. It doesn’t mean anything.’

  ‘And you worked out who your real mother was?’

  ‘Yes,’ says Liberty. ‘If Annalise was staying with Michael, like you said in those articles, I figured there must be some kind of sexual relationship going on. And if she got pregnant with me underage, it would have given Michael a reason to, you know … get rid of her.’

  ‘And how do you feel about that? That your real mother died? And how she died?’

  ‘How do I feel? Awful. Terrible. It’s really sad. But it’s okay. I got you as a mother instead.’

  Happily ever after …

  ‘If they do leave us in the forest, we’ll find our way home,’ said Hansel to his sister.

  Crash!

  The final piece of fencing falls down and light floods into the kitchen.

  Nick and I watch from the kitchen, listening to the radio play ‘It’s a Wonderful World’.

  ‘There it goes,’ I say. ‘Our old, safe little space. Bulldozed.’

  ‘The best decision you ever made, Lorna,’ says Nick. ‘It feels great. All this light.’

  ‘I’ll tell you a bad decision,’ I say. ‘This vegan cheese. I should have paid more for the cashew nut stuff. I mean look at this.’ I give the yellow cube a prod. ‘It feels like a pencil eraser and smells like feet.’

  ‘Liberty won’t mind,’ said Nick. ‘She’ll be feeling too happy about her exam results to notice the finer details of her vegan feast. Assuming she got the results she wanted.’

  ‘Of course she will,’ I say. ‘Neither of us need to worry about Liberty and exams.’

  ‘Lucky her to be born with that brain,’ says Nick. ‘My parents gave me a clip around the ear on my exam-results day.’

  ‘The house feels good with the fences down, doesn’t it?’ I look at the tree-lined street and blue sky. Then I see Liberty and her bandmates bounding towards the house, talking and laughing, dressed in tight jeans, oversized boots, leather and hand-printed T-shirts.

  ‘There they are,’ says Nick. ‘The next Oasis. I’ve never seen so much ripped denim.’

  ‘All change today, right?’ I say. ‘The start of something new.’

  Nick starts singing the song from High School Musical, about this being the start of something new.

  I cover my eyes. ‘Don’t let those guys hear you sing that.’

  ‘Liberty knows who I am,’ says Nick. ‘Lame and proud. And we’re getting on better for it.’

  The radio music fades into the six o’clock news:

  The death toll rises today as more human remains are found at Huntingdon Wood.

  Nick kisses my head. ‘I know it’s horrible. But at least everything is out in the open now. The truth heals.’

  ‘It is horrible,’ I agree. ‘But it’s also like putting down a heavy backpack. The world knowing. And being able to talk with you about it. I thought you’d run away screaming. I have to pinch myself that you stuck around.’

  ‘I’d never leave you. You know that.’

  ‘I wish I’d told you the truth when we first met. You’re right. The truth heals. And now everything’s so much better. With Liberty. With everything. We have the family we want.’

  ‘We’re doing great. We’re all doing great.’

  I like living with a personal trainer. It’s very motivating.

  The remains, believed to be female, were discovered this afternoon in the private woodland belonging to singer Michael Reyji Ray. Two female bodies have already been identified at Ray’s Sussex home as those of Annalise Cannon, daughter of singer-songwriter Cat Cannon, and Karla Muller, a German teenager who went missing at the height of Ray’s fame.

  It is thought Michael Reyji Ray killed the women, dismembered their bodies and buried them in his grounds. Annalise Cannon’s body was partially burned.

  Ray died at his home earlier this year, whilst holding his daughter and ex-partner captive. He sustained fatal injuries from an exploding shotgun and a dog attack.

  A video of Ray threatening his daughter with a shotgun has had over 10.6 billion views
.

  Michael Reyji Ray’s wife, Diane Ray, has now moved out of the singer’s former home. Mrs Ray, heard speaking here from her new home in New York, claims to have been fooled by the singer:

  ‘This has shattered my whole world. I was married to Michael for twenty years. He was a caring and loving partner. The man who killed those girls is a man I never met. I’m still hoping to wake up from this nightmare.’

  Diane Ray faces charges of—

  Nick flicks the radio off. ‘Focus on the positive, yeah?’

  I nod. ‘Agreed. You know, I feel sorry for Diane. She was a victim too.’

  ‘She chose to look the other way, didn’t she? I mean, she must have had some idea of who Michael was.’

  ‘She was the sort of woman who believed in supporting her husband, no matter what. He was a god to her. Michael played on that. He played everyone.’

  ‘Well, I think she deserves to be locked up,’ says Nick. ‘If she hadn’t helped protect his image, Michael might have been caught a long time ago.’

  ‘Maybe. But I don’t think she had a choice. Michael was a predator. He preyed on weaknesses. It’s like telling someone in a prison cell they should get out. They don’t know how.’

  I watch Liberty lean her bike against piled-up fencing. Her eyes are wide with wonder and she silently mouths: ‘Whoa’. Then she clatters into the house on long, teenage legs, followed by her bandmates.

  ‘You got rid of the gates,’ says Liberty, flicking her hair – pink and blue today.

  Liberty’s bandmates congregate awkwardly behind her.

  ‘Hi, Abi,’ I say. ‘Hi, Freddy.’

  ‘Hello, Mrs Armstrong. Hello, Mr Armstrong.’

  ‘The garden looks good, right?’ I coax.

  ‘Very cool,’ says Liberty. ‘But what does Darcy think about it? It’s a big change. You know how she feels about change.’

  ‘You can ask her,’ says Nick, turning to the staircase. ‘She’s home already. Darcy. DARCY! Tell Bibberty what you think of the fences.’

  Darcy comes carefully down the stairs one at a time, concentrating on each step. Then she lifts her head, sees Liberty and her bandmates and says, ‘You mustn’t wear double denim.’

  Everyone laughs, except Freddy, who’s wearing double denim.

  Liberty takes Darcy’s hand. ‘Have you seen the garden?’

  Darcy squints at the sunshine, and takes a long time to scan the new, open front lawn and street.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you like the change?’

  ‘I can see the postbox.’

  ‘Yes. And you’ll be able to see me coming home,’ says Liberty. ‘So you don’t need to worry anymore.’

  ‘So we all like the change, right?’ I say.

  ‘I love it.’ Liberty gives me a hug tight enough for me to feel her bones. ‘You’re the best, Mama. Thank you.’

  ‘What about your exam results then, Libs?’ Nick asks. ‘Good news?’

  ‘I did okay,’ says Liberty. More hair flicking.

  Freddy shows beautiful white teeth. ‘We all got As across the board, Mrs Armstrong.’ His smile falters. ‘Except for one C in my case. Home Economics. The teacher warned me soufflés are tricky under exam conditions. I should have listened.’

  ‘Well done all of you. Wow. That’s amazing.’ I grin at Liberty. ‘How did I get the honour of regular dinners with a girl genius and her genius friends, huh? Lucky me.’

  ‘The food looks wonderful, Mrs Armstrong,’ says Freddy. ‘Thank you for all your hard work.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Armstrong and Mr Armstrong,’ says Abi.

  They’re such good kids. I can’t think why I was so afraid of Liberty hanging out with them.

  ‘I hope you’re hungry,’ I say. ‘And everything is vegan. Plant-based. Nick and I have been obsessively checking supermarket labels.’

  ‘Plant-based?’ Liberty’s eyes widen. ‘As in plants cruelly ripped out of the ground? I’m not up for torturing vegetables anymore, Mum. I’ve decided to only eat foods that have fallen naturally to the ground. Fruit, basically.’

  I stare at her. ‘But … I bought this vegan cheese and shredded two knuckles grating it over the salad. Do you know how hard it is to prepare rubber cheese?’

  Liberty and her bandmates snigger. Nick is laughing too. Darcy watches everyone’s faces closely, completely confused.

  ‘Oh, right.’ I put a hand to my cheek. ‘It’s a hilarious joke. Very funny.’

  Liberty throws a long arm around my shoulder. ‘I have to tease you sometimes, Mama. Or you’d take life too seriously. Thank you for the dinner. It looks amazing. And thank you for taking the fences down.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘It was hard. It’s made me realize you’ll leave me one day.’ My lip starts to wobble and I feel hot tears welling up.

  ‘But not today.’ Liberty squeezes my shoulder. She shakes her head at her friends. ‘Parents. They’re so emotional, aren’t they? Must be the hormones. Hey, Mum – what time is Cannon getting here?’

  ‘Cat?’ I check my watch. ‘You really should call her Nanna or Grandma or something … I don’t know … more respectable.’

  ‘She won’t let me. She says it makes her feel old.’

  ‘She’ll be here any minute.’

  ‘Cat won’t make us chant before we eat again, will she?’ asks Liberty.

  ‘Oh, please no,’ says Nick. ‘It took hours last time.’

  ‘Come on, guys,’ I say. ‘You know Cat comes from a good place. And she’s been amazing for Liberty’s band. Not many teenagers get to record at Britannia Studios.’

  ‘Yeah, I got lucky with one of my long-lost relatives,’ says Liberty. ‘The other one … not so much. But hey. You can’t choose your family, right?’

  I think, usually you can’t.

  But if I had to choose Liberty again, and everything that came with her, I’d choose her a million times over.

  Thank you for reading

  If you have a minute, please review.

  I read all my reviews (yes, the bad ones do make

  me cry) and good reviews mean everything.

  Reviews don’t have to be fancy. In fact, just one

  word is great (as long as it isn’t ‘shit’ …). And they

  do more good than you could ever imagine.

  Suzy K Quinn xx

  Acknowledgements

  This book was completed just as Covid-19 hit the UK, so thanks go to more people than I can possibly include in a few paragraphs.

  Thank you to hospital workers, supermarket workers, delivery drivers and everyone who is keeping our world running and risking their own health during the process.

  Huge thanks to my amazing editor, Emily Kitchin, for doing a stand-out awesome job with this book and fielding questions about hairy covers. Thank you to all the team at HQ for being heroic and upbeat during a global crisis. Thank you to my partner, Demi, and my sis, Cath, for being the very best readers and critics. And thanks to all my readers.

  Peace and love to you all – and hopefully by the time you read this, the pandemic will have passed, and we will be an even more connected and caring world.

  If you enjoyed Not My Daughter, then don’t miss out on Suzy K Quinn’s gripping and heart-stopping psychological thriller, Don’t Tell Teacher - available to buy now!

  Click Here for UK

  Turn the page for an extract from the

  gripping and addictive psychological thriller

  from Suzy K Quinn, Don’t Tell Teacher…

  Prologue

  We’re running. Along wide, tree-lined pavements, over the zebra crossing and into the park.

  ‘Quick, Tom.’

  Tom struggles to keep up, tired little legs bobbing up and down on trimmed grass. He gasps for breath.

  My ribs throb, lighting up in pain.

  A Victorian bandstand and a rainbow of flowerbeds flash past. Dimly, I notice wicker picnic hampers, Prosecco, Pimm’s in plastic glasses.

  No one
notices us. The frightened mother with straight, brown hair, wearing her husband’s choice of clothes. The little boy in tears.

  That’s the thing about the city. Nobody notices.

  There’s a giant privet hedge by the railings, big enough to hide in.

  Tom cries harder. I cuddle him in my arms. ‘Don’t make a sound,’ I whisper, heart racing. ‘Don’t make a sound.’

  Tom nods rapidly.

  We both clutch each other, terrified. I shiver, even though it’s a warm summer’s day.

  Tom gives a choked sob. ‘Will he find us, Mum?’

  ‘Shush,’ I say, crouching in my flat leather sandals, summer dress flowing over my knees. ‘Please, Tom. We have to be quiet.’

  ‘I’m scared.’ Tom clasps my bare arm.

  ‘I know, sweetheart,’ I whisper, holding his head against my shoulder. ‘We’re going away. Far away from him.’

  ‘What if he gets me at school?’

  ‘We’ll find a new school. One he doesn’t know about. Okay?’

  Tom’s chest is against mine, his breathing fast.

  He understands that we can’t be found.

  Olly is capable of anything.

  Lizzie

  Monday. School starts. It won’t be like the last place, Tom knows that. It will be hard, being the new kid.

  ‘Come on, Tommo,’ I call up the stairs. ‘Let’s go go go. We don’t want to be late on our first day.’

  I pack Tom’s school bag, then give my hair a few quick brushes, checking my reflection in the hallway mirror.

  A pale, worried face stares back at me. Pointy little features, a heart-shaped chin, brown hair, long and ruler-straight.

  The invisible woman.

  Olly’s broken ex-wife.

  I want to change that. I want to be someone different here.

  No one needs to know how things were before.

  Tom clatters down the polished, wooden staircase in his new Steelfield school uniform. I throw my arms around him.

  ‘A hug to make you grow big and strong,’ I say. ‘You get taller with every cuddle. Did you know that?’