Our Little Secret: The most gripping debut psychological thriller you’ll read this year

by Darren O’Sullivan

  ‘Sorry, I just wondered, is this your wallet?’

  Chris could see his months of planning, months of meticulous attention to detail over time, location, and date unravel in a second. Everything had been premeditated, but he had no contingency for anyone else being there.

  ‘Hello?’ she said softly, gently, barely at a loud whisper.

  ‘Yes, it’s mine,’ was all Chris could say as he stepped towards her and took the wallet, his thumb touching the back of her hand as he did. Her delicate wrist exposed from the cardigan sleeve. Goose bumps raising the fine light hairs on her forearm. Staring at her for a moment he put the wallet in his pocket before turning back to the track. He had planned everything to ensure no one would be hurt by his suicide. But this.

  Two minutes.

  Staring ahead Chris wondered what would happen to her if he did what he intended. Would he ruin her life? He knew it probably would but the idea of him having to orchestrate it all again and wait was too unbearable to comprehend. It had to be as he’d planned. He didn’t feel strong enough to have it any other way. So he had to work out a way to get rid of her. He turned around to look back at this dark-haired thin woman and she was staring straight at him, as if waiting for a response. Had she asked him a question?

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘I asked if you were waiting for the London train?’ she asked again taking a puff on her cigarette.

  ‘No.’

  ‘So the Cambridge one, like me?’

  He knew, from the months of research, that the Cambridge train wasn’t for another hour. His train was imminent, then a slow London train with usually six carriages rattled through, then the Cambridge train. He wanted to shout at her for being so early.

  ‘You do know the Cambridge train isn’t for another hour?’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘There’s a pub on the corner. You look cold. Why don’t you sit in there?’

  ‘Well they kind of want you to buy a drink,’ she said, followed by an honest and embarrassed: ‘Payday next week.’

  There was his opportunity; if he could get her to go for a coffee he could be alone.

  ‘Let me buy you one?’ he said, his voice a little softer than before. ‘I mean, let me pay for you to have a drink.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Let me buy you a drink.’

  ‘What? No, thank you.’

  ‘I don’t want to come with you. It’s not like that. It’s just, I can see that you’re cold. I don’t mind paying for one, saves you waiting here for so long.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s a really kind offer.’ She said it slowly, clearly weighing up whether to take him up on the offer. Holding his eye to try and work out what the catch was. Breaking eye contact, he looked at her cigarette burning in her hand.

  ‘They’ll kill you,’ he said, noting the irony, watching her put it out under her shoe.

  ‘I can’t accept your offer, but thank you.’

  ‘It’s just a fiver.’

  ‘N-not many people would be so generous.’

  ‘Please. Take it and go get warm. It’s cold tonight.’

  ‘It is. Are you not cold?’

  ‘A little.’

  ‘Why don’t you have a coat?’

  ‘Why don’t you?’

  ‘Long story.’

  She looked at his feet, clearly wanting to ask but not wanting to embarrass him.

  ‘To be connected,’ was all he said by way of explanation, regretting the words as they fell from his mouth.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Nothing, it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Are you all right?’

  Chris opened his mouth to reply. But caught the words before they left. A pause she noticed. Telling her that he was far from it.

  ‘Wanna talk?’

  ‘No, and you shouldn’t want to either. I could be anyone. I could be a mugger or worse.’

  ‘I did think that. But somehow I know you’re not.’

  ‘How could you possibly know what kind of man I am?’

  ‘I don’t know – instinct.’

  She watched as the tension from his shoulders lifted momentarily. Her kind words having the impact she wanted them to have. Chris kept eye contact with her for a second. Trying to process what was happening. There was something in the way she looked at him that was unnerving. It reminded him of the way he used to see the world. Hopeful, kind. He pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing his tear ducts. His words slipped out of his mouth again before he could catch them.

  ‘It’s been a rough day.’

  He glanced past her to the clock.

  90 seconds.

  ‘I’ve had a rough day too. My boyfriend, I mean ex … You know how it is.’

  As he turned back to look at the track the girl’s voice faded away. Chris’s mind raced, as if he was drowning. This was supposed to be a peaceful time for him. He was supposed to be alone with his thoughts so he could reflect upon his short thirty-four-year existence up till the point where he watched Julia die – and the long ten long months after.

  He wanted to be seeing it all in a series of flashbacks, pausing on the highs and lows of his time. He wanted to be thinking of his first bike ride, and the long summers he enjoyed as a child and the way his father smiled when he spoke of his mother, and that night when he took him into the garden to show Chris the night sky and the terrible day he died and his funeral that was on a beautiful summer’s morning as well as his first kiss as an awkward teenager, and then how years later he met and fell in love with Julia, the way she snored and how she would tease him about his slowly greying hair before kissing him and telling him she liked a silver fox. Their holidays and adventures, their kindness to one another. Their plans for a future.

  He wanted to, as painful as it was, think of that night.

  Instead he was panicking and his mind grabbed for something he couldn’t quite reach. For the first time since he knew what he must do he didn’t know how things would play out. It had all been clear up to this point: wait for the 5th of May, their wedding anniversary, a date that mattered to her. Find a discreet place that would cause little damage. Leave this earth quietly. Be with his wife again.

  It didn’t matter if it hurt; it didn’t matter it was quick or slow. It just had to not cause harm to another person and it just had to be now, and therefore the girl had to leave. He turned around to look at her once more and she was looking straight back at him. Had she said something again?

  ‘Hmmm?’ muttered Chris.

  ‘I was just telling you why I’m here.’ She waited for him to respond, but he didn’t. ‘Anyway, so he’s been using me, and if I’m honest, I’ve known for longer than I let on. I guess that sometimes things are rough. You know?’ Again she waited for him to reply, but he said nothing, only lowered his head. ‘I saw you kiss that picture.’

  ‘That’s none of your business,’ he said, his guard back up.

  ‘Sorry, you’re right, I shouldn’t pry.’

  He watched her pull her scarf up over her chin to shelter herself from the cold wind that was sweeping though the station.

  60 seconds.

  Chris had forgotten it was cold, but he did notice that her gestures reminded him a little of the way Julia used to hide her face when she was embarrassed or shy. Another memory began to swirl into focus among the million that were circling his mind, unable to fully settle, like a flock of birds feeding at sea. He grabbed the one that was closest and as it fell into place he could see it was one of his favourite moments.

  He was in bed lying with Julia next to him, facing him, lit only by a small lamp that cast shadows over her delicate features. The memory was of their first night together. The night that had begun at this station. They were both nervous and tipsy after a dinner party her mother had hosted. He still couldn’t believe he’d summoned the courage to go, but he guessed that’s what she was to him: personified courage.

  They were both in his bed i
n their underwear and between gazing at one another and giggling due to their nerves they kissed passionately, her gentle moans and heavy breathing in his ear making his whole body tingle as if suddenly exposed to intense summer heat. His pulse moving at such a rate that for a second he thought his heart would burst and he would die right then in that moment.

  He remembered the way he entered her without looking anywhere but deep into her eyes and how it was over quickly, both climaxing together in such a way that Chris didn’t know where his began and hers ended. He thought about how she giggled after and hid her face, embarrassed about how loud she had been with only her smiling eyes showing above the covers. He remembered thinking that nothing else mattered.

  The woman in the cardigan was looking at him still. Had she spoken again? Why was she bothering?

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘I just wondered why you would want to get me a drink, that’s all.’

  ‘I’ve said – you look cold.’

  ‘I mean, why would you care?’

  ‘Because I can.’

  ***

  Taking a deep breath Sarah felt something she didn’t understand, something in her stomach, a kind of ache.

  ‘I didn’t think there was anyone nice left in the world.’

  ‘There probably isn’t.’

  ‘And yet a complete stranger offers to buy me a drink so I can stay warm. I mean, who does that?’

  ‘Don’t read into it; it’s not a big deal. I’ve only offered because, as I’ve said, I want to be alone.’

  ‘Clearly.’ She took a breath. She needed to keep him talking. Despite him wanting to be alone she knew she couldn’t leave him. ‘Did she leave you?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The girl in the picture?’

  ‘Just take the money, please.’

  Sarah chose to ignore him. She had never met a man who clearly treasured love. Despite him not wanting to talk about it, she knew she needed to. He offered hope for her future.

  ‘Is there any chance she will come back?’

  ***

  Chris thought about the moment Julia stopped fighting whilst he could do nothing but look on. Her chest rising with her last breath. An expression of fear left on her face after she was dead.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You clearly love her.’

  ‘Yes.’

  He didn’t know why but the stranger’s persistence had somehow found a way through his walls. Just a small crack that she managed to squeeze in through.

  ‘I wish I had someone love me like that.’

  Chris looked at her. He could see in that moment she was hurting in a way similar to him. But on a smaller scale. He knew he would never love anyone like he did Julia. And in return he wouldn’t be loved back. But this girl, the train girl, she still had a future.

  ‘You will.’

  She broke eye contact, a small smile on her lips. He felt as though in a different time they might have had a good conversation. But the clock was ticking. He needed her gone. He closed the gap she had broken through. His wall solid once more.

  ‘She was a lucky lady.’

  ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to be alone. Will you please go for that coffee. I insist.’

  He glanced from her to the clock and back again, her expression startled by his sudden forcefulness.

  45 seconds.

  ‘Sorry,’ he repeated a little softer. ‘I want to be on my own and I don’t really want to talk to anyone. It’s sweet of you to care; it really is. But I need you to leave, okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ she replied. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Go for that drink.’ Holding out the five-pound note Chris looked up.

  35 seconds.

  ‘Please.’

  ***

  Sarah stood up and walked towards him, standing a little too close as she took the money. Her hand unintentionally stroking against his, for the second time, as she did. She felt it again. There was something, although she didn’t know what it was, that drew her to him, to this stranger. As she looked at him she could see fear in his eyes and she wanted to know what he was frightened of. What she did know though, was that if she left something terrible would happen. But not knowing what else to do she started to back away.

  ***

  Breathing a sigh of relief he looked up once more.

  25 seconds.

  Turning and stepping closer to the platform edge he once again curled his toes over the lip. Not noticing she had stopped. His thoughts were back with Julia.

  ***

  With the money in my hand and my back still turned I thought of all the times in my life I didn’t act. I didn’t act when my parents split up. I didn’t act the first time John cheated on me. I didn’t act when my bank account read so little so often. I still don’t know why but I knew that in that moment I would do something. Turning I looked towards the man in the wet shirt and bare feet. The man who reminded me of the old films. His gaze focused on the rail line floor three feet below.

  ‘Look, I don’t know you and you don’t know me,’ I said with all of the courage I could summon, shocked that the words were coming out of my mouth. ‘But I think we both could do with something new; I know I could. I think we could both do with some help. So why don’t you come join me? Why don’t you and I get a coffee … together?’

  ***

  Chris wanted to scream at her. He wanted to shake this stupid girl who had misread his intentions. He was not being polite. He was not being kind. He was not showing empathy, or chivalry. He just wanted some fucking peace before ending it all, but she wasn’t giving up.

  ‘I’ve never met a man who would offer to buy me a drink like that without expecting or trying anything on. Never. That makes you someone good in a world full of arseholes and I can see you are struggling with something and so am I. I’m asking you to join me because we both need someone nice. We both need a good person to talk to, even just for a short while.’ Her breathing was shallow, panicked, rising in pitch as she struggled to get enough air in her lungs to speak her words without spilling her fear. A fear of what she hadn’t yet learnt.

  ‘You don’t know me,’ he replied looking once again to the clock. ‘And I’m not a good person. Can’t you please just understand that and go for that coffee?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘What do you mean no?’

  10 seconds.

  Ten months flashed through his mind. He thought about the pain, the suffering. The routines he developed to cope against his great adversary that was now time. He thought of Steve’s attempted interventions as he spiralled into a downward depression. How his best friend wouldn’t give up on him despite Chris backing away completely.

  He thought about his father, how much stronger he was. He thought about how sad his friends would be at his funeral, wearing black with tears in their eyes unable to hold their grief. Although none of them shocked.

  Then he heard it, the voice he had been waiting to hear for so long, calling out to him. He had longed to hear it say these words, now he was desperate to not hear them yet. He needed more time but the announcer continued to talk, despite his silent begging.

  ‘The next train to arrive does not stop. Please stand back from the platform edge.’

  The rattle of steel on steel with over three thousand five hundred tonnes of moving machine started to build. The screeching of the friction caused by the immense weight became so loud it penetrated deep into his inner ears. The train girl instinctively turned her body away from the direction of where the noise was coming from, as if she would be protected from the monster approaching.

  He didn’t move. He didn’t even blink as he stared out towards the track, it’s rumbling almost inviting. It was as if the tracks had hands and they would surely pull him down. He looked to his right and could see the eyes of the train approaching. He wanted to step out, but she was there, she would see, and he would damage her as a result. Reluctantly he knew it wasn’t going to happen as he had planned and hoped. He
turned to look at her, the girl who’d stopped him being with his wife.

  ***

  Sarah knew that he was too near to the edge, but didn’t have time to say anything before the deafening noise of the train strangled her voice as it passed. Its driver desperate to deliver his payload and return home; his mind was on other things.

  Sarah turned away further, the whipping wind generated by its passing caused her to grip on to her cardigan as her hair was jostled by the monster’s phenomenal force.

  ***

  Chris, however, didn’t blink; he just stood there looking at her as the train sped past. She shouted something to him. He couldn’t hear. He didn’t care. To his right he could see the solid mass speed past broken only by the gaps between the carriages, which moved so fast they seemed to be only millimetres wide, but still wide enough for him to slip under. He would only need an arm to get caught, or a leg, and the amount of downforce created would suck the rest of him under before he could register the pain of his limb being hit. All he had to do was take one step back. Just one. But he couldn’t. She was watching him. And he hated her for it.

  As it passed he looked to his left and longingly watched the red tail lights of the train disappear into the night.

  He had failed to do the one thing that may have redeemed his fractured soul. Unable to think of how to fix it Chris looked towards the exit. Still facing the train girl, he crouched down to grab his shoes. He looked up at her; her eyes fixed on him. For a while neither moved.

  ‘Please, can you stay?’

  He was unable to form any words. His ears unable to hear what she had said. But she didn’t matter; all that mattered was searching through his thoughts for a solution. It was either find one or fail his wife.

  ‘Please?’

  He picked up his shoes and then without putting them on he walked towards the entrance, up the stairs and away from the station, leaving the girl noticeably alone.

  ***

  I watched him leave and for a moment couldn’t move. Like a rabbit caught in headlights. I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure, but it felt like the man who had just left was there to do something terrible. My instincts told me that’s why I couldn’t leave the platform when he insisted. It was in the way he kissed that picture, the way he stood too close to the edge. The fact he had taken his shoes off ‘to be connected’. On their own, they were oddities; together they told something else.