Every Little Secret

by Ruby Speechley

  After spending the next day in bed, Maddy drags herself up in the afternoon. Emily is staying the night at Sophie’s. She wraps her dressing gown around her. Sarah said she ought to close his accounts or freeze them at least, sort out all his paperwork, but where is it if it’s not in the garage? She needs to find out what’s happened to her money. Did he buy into another business? She sits back on the bed. But if he did, why not tell her? She groans and throws her head back on the pillow, shutting her eyes. When she opens them, her vision rests on Max’s suitcase on top of the wardrobe. The one covered in scuff marks that he was carrying the first day he walked into the cafe.

  She jumps up and drags a chair over to stand on so she can reach up and pull the suitcase down. Thankfully, it isn’t heavy. She wipes the dust off the surface with her hand. Under the light she can see it is real leather by the feathered lines of the skin. She lays it down on the carpet and kneels in front of it. When Max asked her not to open this case, she respected that. Her dad had been a very private man: she’d never have dreamed of looking through his things… until the day she had no choice.

  She sits back on her heels. There are speckles of rust on the metal buckles and a cut in the leather, a flap of skin. On an intake of breath, she unclips the case and opens it a few inches. A musty smell of paint and dust wafts in her face. Without looking in she lets it drop shut. The leather balloons for a moment, as if it’s taken a breath for the first time in years. Then she flips it open in one swift move.

  Both halves are lined with dark material. Stacked inside is a pile of roughly folded clothes: overalls, T-shirts, bleached jeans, all splattered with paint. There’s a book about the night sky, the moon and eclipses. Maps of various towns: Manchester, Sheffield, Norwich, Uxbridge and Huntingdon. In one corner she spots something shiny. She picks up a brass lion-crested button and turns it in the light. As she puts it in her pocket, she notices a length of thread where the lining is coming away from the leather. Slipping her fingers inside, she feels a sharp edge and takes out two envelopes. One contains a parking fine addressed to Max – she remembers now, the one issued in Huntingdon that she asked him about. The other envelope is faded, the plastic window disintegrating. Inside is a photo of a blonde girl with angular features. She’s kicking up water in a rock pool on a stony beach, jeans rolled up under her knees, her top not quite reaching her navel.

  She’s about to close the lid when she notices the lining is sagging at the bottom. Drawing her hand across the bulge, she feels the weight of paper. She delves into the lining deeper until her fingers reach the slicing edges. Out come blank Inland Revenue expenses and benefits forms, a list of vaccination dates typed on an old typewriter and a bundle of vehicle licence stamp cards, almost full and all from Huntingdon Post Office. There are bank statements and a few paying-in receipts. She finds one for the twenty thousand pound cheque she gave him. She scans through the statement to find the same date. The money went in then came out again only a few days later. But who was it transferred to? The letters and numbers don’t mean anything to her. She rakes through several more papers and comes to a bundle clipped together at the back. But these are not Max’s. They belong to someone called Adam Hawkins of Lawn End, Huntingdon. Her mind goes into a spin. Why would he have these? She’s never heard him mention an Adam Hawkins before. She sits on the edge of the bed and deals out each sheet one by one, like it’s a pack of cards. There it is. The sum of twenty thousand pounds leaps out at her – transferred from Max’s bank account to this one on Friday, 24th November 2017. She swallows hard but her throat catches, her mouth is so dry. Who on earth is Adam Hawkins and why did Max give him the money without telling her? Then her eyes are drawn to a letter addressed to Mr Hawkins, the subject of the letter is underlined: Plot 146, 29 Lawn End. Why does Max have this man’s house key? What else has he been keeping from her? She knows only too well how secrets can destroy a person.

  Chapter Twelve

  Max: March 2011

  It turned out that all the living room was riddled with cracks. By Friday afternoon, Max had started the prep work on the last wall. He didn’t want to stop until he’d finished, but even with Maddy’s help, he hadn’t banked on it taking till almost midnight.

  ‘I meant to tell you I found some work with a local firm, fitting kitchens.’ He’d been dreading telling her all day.

  ‘Oh.’ Her face fell. ‘When do you start?’

  He couldn’t help feeling pleased that it bothered her. He’d been seriously tempted to turn it down. The thought of not spending every day with Maddy hit him hard, like trying to cling onto the edge of a cliff.

  ‘Monday.’

  ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’

  ‘I s’pose. But I like being here though.’ He searched her face for signs that she might miss him too. She blinked up at him with her dark innocent eyes.

  ‘Do you have any plasters? I didn’t realise I’d caught my thumb. It’s not bleeding, just sore.’ He showed her the split in a patch of dry skin.

  ‘There’s some in here.’

  He trailed after her to the kitchen, where she dug out a first aid kit from a drawer in the dresser.

  ‘Here, let me do it for you.’ She turned his hand on the side.

  He watched her carefully peel back the plastic strips and place the plaster gently across his thumb. As she pressed the sticky tabs to his skin, she gazed into his eyes. With his fingertips he lightly touched the back of her hand and, when she didn’t protest, he caressed her smooth skin.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  Her warm smile widened, eyes still fixed on his.

  ‘Would it be okay if I have a shower?’ He’d been sweating buckets all day and she was too polite to complain.

  ‘Of course. I’ll get a clean towel for you.’

  Upstairs, he stood close behind her at the airing cupboard.

  She spun round, towel in hand.

  ‘I really appreciate everything, you know,’ he said. She didn’t move away. Her breathing quickened and her hand brushed his as he took the towel.

  After his shower, he wandered downstairs wearing it around his waist. Maddy’s face flushed at the sight of him.

  ‘Can I get you a drink or something to eat?’ Her red face deepened.

  ‘A glass of water, thanks.’

  He was amused at her stealing a glance of his toned chest. As she handed him the glass, he let the towel fall to the ground. She gave a little gasp. He leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. She was more eager than he’d expected and didn’t resist when he led her up to her bedroom and started to undress her.

  * * *

  That night he lay awake in the dark with the curtains open, Maddy fast asleep. Such a stunning girl, bit old-fashioned in her ways, but that wasn’t her fault. She was incredibly kind and eager to please.

  He got up and stood at the window in the silver light of the waxing moon. Gran had sworn by the lunar rhythms and told him it was foolhardy for anyone to ignore them. Below him, a network of gardens was fronted by large houses like this one. He’d have a go at building his own one day. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, tapping the end out of the window. The ash fluttered away like a mini flurry of snow. His mind drifted back to the heavy fall in February. A brother holding each of her arms, pulling her back with every attempt she’d made to lurch forward, face criss-crossed with tears, voice brittle. The shadowy outline of her father in the background. There he went again, as if he didn’t have a future, only a magnet to the past.

  * * *

  When he woke in the morning, Maddy was already up. He washed and joined her downstairs.

  ‘Morning.’ She laid a knife and fork on the table.

  ‘You all right then?’ He pressed himself against her and fingered her hair.

  She pecked his unshaven face. ‘I don’t usually…’

  He shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘I’ve never…’

  ‘There’s a spark between us, end of.’

&n
bsp; ‘You could say that.’ She smiled, her face pink. ‘Those bruises on your back… your legs…’ Her nose wrinkled.

  ‘A nasty fall.’ He half smiled, remembering the sharp kicks as he’d curled himself into a ball.

  She poured him a mug of tea and laid his breakfast on the table.

  ‘Perfect. Now, is there anything you need doing before I start the serious business of painting walls?’

  ‘Actually, there are a couple of things.’

  He scoffed down his breakfast and wiped the plate with toast.

  ‘Do you mind?’ He pushed his plate away and waggled a packet of Rothmans.

  She shook her head.

  He lit one and tipped his head back, blowing smoke up to the ceiling which was already tar-stained.

  ‘Mum’s furniture needs dumping – bed, mattress, armchair. I’m sorry, I don’t really have anyone close by to ask.’

  ‘I offered, didn’t I?’ He hooked his arm round the back of his chair. She had no clue how naturally beautiful and damn sexy she was. He liked that.

  Her face reddened again as though she’d read his mind. He winked at her and couldn’t help but smile; he was falling completely under her spell and he liked it a lot.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Maddy: Early October 2019

  On Saturday morning, Emily falls asleep as they approach Huntingdon. It’s been a clear run of an hour and a half from Uxbridge. Maddy couldn’t sleep all night, thinking over what she should do. She thought about writing a letter, but it would be too easy for him to ignore it or she could be waiting for weeks. She needs to know now. She drinks a mouthful of coffee from a flask. In a folder tucked in the footwell are Adam Hawkins’s bank statements. What if he won’t answer her questions? She’ll have to come right out and ask him what dealings he’s had with Max. She decides it’s best to watch the house for a while and gauge the situation before she makes a move.

  Maddy pulls into the quiet village. Number twenty-nine, Lawn End. Ivy hangs over an upstairs window like a patch covering a lazy eye. The front door is at the side, with the driveway running the whole length of the house to the garage. A blue Nissan is parked outside. She spots the number plate. That’s Max’s old car he sold two years ago. Who is this man?

  She sits watching the house, sipping the last of her coffee. After thirty minutes, a woman with blonde hair scraped back into a ponytail comes out with a boy of about eight. A springer spaniel runs out and cocks its leg up against a lilac tree in the front garden. The grass is as tall as the top of its legs and the kitchen window could do with a clean. In contrast, the woman is immaculate, wearing large sunglasses, high heels and a mid-length A-line coat. Could she be the same woman in the photo, about ten years older? Perhaps she’s Adam Hawkins’s wife, or is it possible Max had a sister he never told her about? The dog runs back inside. The woman locks the front door, helps the boy into the back seat, jumps in her car and drives off.

  Maddy is shaking, but she has to speak to Adam even though it’s possible he could have pushed Max off that bridge. What if Max owed him money? He’s always coming to her when he’s run out. He used to know some unsavoury people, loan sharks that broke people’s hands if they didn’t pay up on time. Is Adam Hawkins one of them? She needs to be careful.

  Maddy checks in the mirror; Emily is still asleep. She grabs the bag of papers and climbs out of the car as quietly as she can. There’s only the hum of a lawn mower in the distance. She dashes up the drive and taps on the door before she loses her nerve. The dog starts barking. She looks around, not wanting to draw attention to herself, but there’s no one there. She remembers Max selling the car because he was so pleased to get rid of it. They’d been after a people carrier for ages, so it made sense to sell the Nissan. She hadn’t minded paying for it because she was going to be the one using it the most. He used his work van all the time unless they were going out as a family. Five thousand pounds he said he got for it. But she hadn’t noticed any deposit for that amount on his bank statement.

  She knocks again, louder this time. The dog goes crazy. Adam Hawkins is clearly not in. He’s probably at work. Perhaps it would be better to try earlier in the day.

  Maddy climbs back in her car. There’s no doubt he must know Max. He transferred all that money to him, bought his old car. Emily begins to stir in the back seat.

  ‘Where are we, Mum?’

  ‘Cambridgeshire.’ She starts the car and drives away. ‘Do you fancy a quick trip to the beach?’

  ‘In October?’ Emily giggles.

  ‘It’ll be fun.’

  ‘Can I have an ice cream?’

  * * *

  They last went to Hunstanton when Chloe was a baby. There are photos of her sitting on the sand in a cream frilly dress and matching sun hat with Emily surrounding her in sandcastles. Max drifted out so far in his inflatable dinghy, she lost sight of him and had to call the coastguard. He isn’t a strong swimmer, which makes her fear for him falling off that bridge.

  They park in Old Hunstanton at lunchtime and carry their packed lunch in a wicker bag, holding a handle either side. On the beach, the droning whirr of a kite circles above. A man further up is pulling at two strings, making a colourful dragon dip and curve through the salt and pepper sky. She breathes in the salty air. They find a sheltered spot in front of a row of colourful beach huts and grassy sand dunes. Lunch consists of ham and pickle sandwiches and ready salted crisps followed by homemade fairy cakes and small bottles of sparkling water. After, Maddy lets Emily buy an ice cream from a shop along the front. The aroma of fresh fish and chips follows them as they stroll.

  A weak sun begins to break through a cloud, illuminating the ghostly white posts of the wind farm out at sea. Emily sits under a blanket, her head in Maddy’s lap. There’s a brush in her holdall somewhere, one of those fold out types. Once she’s found it, Emily sits up in front of her and she brushes her hair while telling her the story of The Little Mermaid. Maddy stops and looks at the brush. It’s choked with a surprising amount of dark wavy hair. Surely, she can’t be losing this much? Could it be stress? Her own hair loss probably is. She hides the brush away and passes Emily her wellies, bucket and spade. She runs down to the water while Maddy follows at a slower pace, through shadowed dips in dry sand, of people who have come and gone. Further on it’s wet and the sand is crusted with millions of broken shells, giving a satisfying crunch under her feet. The tide is so far out, the water reflects a silver edge next to the black streak of mudflats.

  Emily joins a boy of about ten who is digging a moat for his sandcastle. Bleached twigs and razor shells decorate the turrets. Emily digs down and soon reaches the bed of gluey mud underneath. Maddy leaves them to it and strolls on until she reaches a small pool of water. She crouches down and dips her fingers in. It’s warmer than she expected. Warm like blood. So much blood. She doubles over and tips onto her side, landing in a puddle. I need you here, Max, I can’t do this on my own. Emily calls to her but she doesn’t respond. She doesn’t want to move. She wants to stay here and lose herself in the vast sky.

  Chapter Fourteen

  On Monday morning, Maddy drives back to Lawn End. The roads are busy but she arrives at 8.30 a.m. The woman with blonde hair leaves with the boy at 8.35 a.m. At 8.45 a.m. a woman with chestnut-coloured hair and an empty laundry basket walks from her house across the cul-de-sac and lets herself in. Five minutes later she comes back out. The basket is so full, the woman can just about see over the top of it.

  At 11.30 a.m., the neighbour brings the clothes back on hangers and a neatly ironed pile. There is no sign of Adam Hawkins or any man come to that. Maddy checks her watch. The longest she dares stay today is midday because of getting back for the school run.

  She’s about to leave when the Nissan whizzes past her and parks on the drive. The blonde woman gets out, slams the car door and goes in the house. Is she Adam’s wife or girlfriend or maybe sister? Maddy’s been toying with the idea of putting a note through the door, explaining her situa
tion. But now she may as well go and speak to her in person.

  She stands on the doorstep for a moment thinking through what she’ll say. She taps lightly, but no one comes. She knocks louder. The dog starts barking and the door swings open causing another out the back to slam. The blonde woman is still wearing her coat. Maddy’s eye is drawn away from her to the flowery wallpaper, so similar to theirs at home. How odd. Her mind goes blank.

  ‘Yes?’ The woman scowls in a husky voice. She’s younger than her, fierce red lipstick perfectly fills her pouty lips. Maddy’s eyes are drawn away from the woman’s made-up elfin face, towards the carpet on the stairs and its crimson border running all the way up. Identical to the carpet in their house.

  ‘Erm… could I speak to Adam Hawkins, please?’ she manages to ask.

  ‘What do you want him for?’ The woman taps her long painted nails on the door frame.

  ‘I think he knows my husband.’ Maddy focuses back on the woman. ‘He’s gone missing.’

  ‘What’s his name?’ The woman is squinting, looking her up and down. The petrol blue smear of a badly drawn tattoo peeps out of her cleavage.

  ‘Max Saunders.’ Her eyes wander back to the wallpaper. She blinks at the large burgundy flowers which merge into the beige background.

  ‘Never heard of him, sorry love.’ The woman starts to close the door.

  ‘When will Mr Hawkins be back, please?’

  ‘God knows.’ She continues to close the door.

  ‘Thank you, anyway.’ But Maddy doesn’t think she heard her. She stands there in a trance for several moments.

  As she wanders back to her car, the woman comes out, bundles a bulging black bin liner into the Nissan and drives off.

  Maddy curls up on the back seat, staring at the folder of bank statements in the footwell. Nausea settles in her throat. The car, the wallpaper, the carpet, the money, all swirl around in her head like litter on a blustery day. What does it all mean? What if that woman does know Max and is something to do with his disappearance?