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

by Darren O’Sullivan

  Mum’s funeral was last week. A small but nice service, if you can call burying someone you love nice. She had a few friends there. Rita, who I called aunty even though there was no blood relation. I’d not seen her in years. Maureen from her old job and June who Mum met at church. They knew it was going to be a quiet service so they brought along their husbands who were polite and kind but not emotionally connected.

  A few of my work colleagues – Susan, Helen, and James – said they would be there if I needed them but I told them it wasn’t necessary. It was nice of them to offer though. I am lucky that I’ve got a good bunch of work friends. Especially James, my boss. He’s been really understanding with my workload, ensuring I’m supported and not taking on too much. Throughout this time he’s become a friend when I’ve needed one. An ear to bend. He even picks me up and drops me off so I don’t have to get the bus. With everything that has been going on recently and how busy life is, sometimes he feels like the only friend I have, besides Chris, of course.

  Chris came with me and I held his hand tight when the pallbearers – six professionals who were not family – carried my mum into the crematorium. She had always said she didn’t want to be buried, just in case. I cried into Chris’s shoulder when they played her last musical request: Canon in D.

  As people left I was so sad she was gone and even sadder that she only had a handful of people come and say goodbye. The only thing I could take solace in was the fact that at least she knew I was going to be married.

  We told her when she was in hospital. She had been there for a week and she was bad. Morphine given throughout the day to help manage her pain as her body began shutting down. It meant most of the time when we visited she wasn’t really with us but off in a pain-free dementia dream. But the day we told her we were going to get married I could see in her eyes she was there. And she was happy. I know remembering that will help me walk down the aisle on the day. My mum, smiling because I was going to be a bride.

  On the night she died I told her how Chris proposed to me on the River Nene. We go there often. It’s close to home but far enough away that you feel like you’re somewhere else. We walked along the river, over the small stone bridges that line it, watching the birds fly. There is this one bridge – it’s about a mile away from the city centre so the parkway traffic is barely a hum. It had been raining, but the clouds were still thick and laden, like it might start again at any moment.

  I love the rain. Mum and I used to sit in the back doorway during storms in the summer. She told me her and Dad used to do it all the time when they were young. I like to think Chris waited for a wet day. I like to think he knows it meant a lot to me.

  Anyway, we were on the bridge watching fat droplets run from the branches of trees and drip into the river when I pointed out a grey heron tiptoeing from the banks. He told me there was a nest there every spring. He then told me about their feeding and mating and migration habits. A keen ornithologist. Even after two years he still manages to surprise me.

  I watched him as he observed the giant grey birds, seeing the same expression I saw with the seagull on the beach from when we were first dating, and he turned to me and told me that recently he had reconsidered time, and how it’s something to not take for granted. And then he got on one knee and asked me to be his wife.

  I like to think that knowing I was going to be a bride helped Mum feel at peace and ended her own suffering.

  I miss her. I miss her so much and I’m so glad I don’t have to face this alone. I’m so glad he is with me, waiting in the car. I’m not sure how I would cope without him …

  Chapter 28

  5 days left

  10.33 a.m. – St Luke’s Street, Cambridge

  I really thought after our night together he would message. And stupidly when he didn’t I messaged him. Just to say thank you for a nice night. He hadn’t replied and that usually meant they weren’t interested. But I didn’t get that feeling with him. I felt like he wanted me there. Even needed me there with him. And he had said I could return the cup next time we saw each other.

  I was starting to worry something had happened and had looked at the obituaries in the back of local papers again, just once. I stopped. Telling myself I was being silly. Jane, who sits opposite me and eats too loudly, caught me reading the pages and I could see she thought someone I cared for had passed. She smiled meekly and gave me a wide birth after. People don’t know how to be around others who are going through grief. It’s treated like a disease that should be avoided.

  I had thought of paying Chris another visit but it felt too invasive. Still, I needed to know if he was okay. So, sat at my desk with a mountain of work and no motivation, I googled his name. Nothing came up.

  Making sure I wasn’t being watched by one of the bosses I might someday be, I logged onto Facebook and typed in Chris Hayes. There were several hits and as I scrolled down I recognized his picture. It was the same one I saw in his living room. It made me feel sad for him. His profile was secret so I couldn’t look at any pictures or wall posts. But as I hovered my cursor over the picture it showed that the other man was tagged. Steve Patterson.

  I clicked on his page and it wasn’t hidden. I could see his photos. I could read his posts. I didn’t delve too deep into this stranger’s online world but from what I could see he and Chris were close. There were also two women: first the blond. She only popped up in a few of his pictures, always with Chris and Steve together. Then a beautiful Mediterranean lady who made me feel a twinge of jealousy. Her smile perfect in every picture. Her gaze one of someone who didn’t have a care in the world. She and Steve were married. The wedding picture he had used as his profile was stunning.

  I clicked on the wedding photo album. I could see Chris wearing a top hat and tails. Looking healthy. Looking strong. Attractive. I zoomed in on one of them and looked at his smile. The blond was also in a few of them. They were dancing together, drunk and happy. I couldn’t look any more.

  I knew I had to message Steve. I also knew it would make me look like a crazy lady who after a one-night stand had fallen for Chris. But, knowing what I knew about him, I also believed I needed to, however it would appear. I rationalized that messaging his friend through Facebook was less stalker-ish than turning up at his house uninvited. I knew I’d done it three times already. But now we’d had sex, it felt different.

  So I drafted a message. Telling him I was a new friend of Chris’s and I couldn’t get hold of him. Asking if he knew whether Chris was okay. I hovered the cursor over the send button, wondering if sending it was a stupid, childish thing to do. But I had to know. So I closed my eyes and clicked the mouse. Then I tried to get on with my work. Less than an hour later a reply popped into my inbox.

  Chapter 29

  1.11 p.m. – Somewhere along the A605

  As he made the eighteen-mile drive from his house towards March station, Chris remained silent. It was the same drive he had made in the pouring rain eleven months before. He knew he wasn’t going to stop. He was just going to slow a little as he passed, get to the next roundabout, turn, and drive past again on his way home. Drawing no attention to himself.

  Fifteen minutes into the drive he saw the tree he came to see. He was moving towards it on the other side of the road. It was magnificent and tall, leaves in full display, casting shadows over the road. As he drew level with the tree he looked behind. There were no cars following so he slowed to a crawl. The grass was long, untouched. The wild flowers showing beautiful soft colours. It seemed the flowers near to the tree were brighter than others that lined the road. For a second he wondered if any of their colour was because of her and that memory of them underneath it. Him holding her head in his hands, stroking her hair. Neither speaking. Neither needing to.

  Passing the tree he drove a mile to the next roundabout and turned back on himself to see the tree again before heading back home. His mind once again drifted to the memory of that moment and as it was about to take hold he shook it off. He wa
sn’t strong enough for that one. Not yet. He did it just in time to swerve and miss an oncoming lorry, its horn blaring and the driver shouting obscenities.

  He tried to mouth a sorry but it had already passed. Looking in his rear-view mirror he watched it drive away. Then he caught himself in the mirror, just his left eye. Easing off of the accelerator he leaned forward to see himself fully. His hair was cleaner this time but messy. His beard longer. He looked cornered, defensive. Focusing back on the road with his heart racing, he continued on his drive home. His only thoughts on the tarmac in front of him, mile after mile, until it was interrupted by his phone buzzing in his pocket. Pulling it out he looked at the screen. He was shocked to see it was a message from Steve.

  ‘I don’t want to call, because quite frankly I don’t know how to talk to you at the moment. But your lady friend Sarah messaged me. I don’t think you shagging another woman is a good idea.’

  Chris messaged back five short sharp words.

  ‘What have you talked about?’

  The reply was instant.

  ‘Nothing …’

  ***

  That was a lie. Steve had told Sarah about Chris’s wife and how she had left nearly a year ago. So she shouldn’t be offended if Chris didn’t message quickly. Or if he backed away. When she probed a little deeper he told her his wife’s mum had died and she couldn’t cope so left one day. The simple note she’d left contained no apology, no warning. She just left.

  He’d told her that he was worried about his best friend’s mental health and that he was a little worried about others being around him, people like her. Chris was unpredictable, even before their fight. She insisted she had it under control and he asked that if she did see Chris, would she keep him in the loop. Something that she had agreed to.

  ***

  Steve messaged Chris again.

  ‘Are you going to see her again?’

  Chris’s initial reaction was no, she was just a one-night stand; but she had found an unlocked back door into his world and it limited his options. He could cut Steve out of his life and with Steve she would go. But then questions would be asked. He could tell her to leave him alone, but somehow he knew she wouldn’t, and questions would still be asked. He could get Steve to tell her to go, but then, again, questions would follow.

  Questions meant having to give answers, which could expose the gaps in his progressively delicate plans. He couldn’t let that slip now. There was only one thing he could do to make sure he was in charge.

  He had to keep her close to keep both her and Steve quiet.

  ‘Yes.’

  Chris felt as if he was about to pass out so stopped the car. He needed air badly and getting out he took deep, measured breaths, trying to calm his heart rate, to get it back down to a normal level. It took him ten minutes to feel like he could drive again and he did so in silence, trying to figure out what he was going to do.

  Once home he stepped into his quiet house, grabbed a beer, and sat by the back door. He thought about going to the tool box. He hesitated. Now was not the time to be lost in his past. He needed to focus on the immediate future. Avoid detection, at any cost. It saddened him to know that for the final few days he might not have chance to hear his wife’s voice.

  Taking a sip of his beer, Chris closed his eyes. He tilted his head back and felt the summer sun warm on his skin through the kitchen window. He tried to calm his chaotic mind. Knowing that after he sent the text he had to send, everything would become so much more complicated. ‘Okay, Chris, what the fuck are you going to do?’

  He sat and thought about the facts. Julia had been killed; Steve didn’t know and believed she was in Australia, but Chris knew he was getting suspicious. If he found out Julia had died he would also know what Chris was planning. And Sarah knew he wanted to kill himself but probably believed she was changing that. If the dots were connected there was every chance his plan would fail and they would end up in danger. Steve and the train girl therefore couldn’t speak to each other again and he had to find a way to make sure this didn’t happen.

  Taking his phone out, he scrolled to her number.

  ‘Hi, sorry it’s been a few days. I’ve been swamped with work. I was wondering if you wanted to do something tomorrow. I hope you’re all good.’

  After hitting send he cursed himself and took another mouthful of beer, a large one. Half the bottle was already gone. He threw his head back to drink quicker. He saw a spider’s web neatly constructed between the outside wall of his house and the back porch light. Tucked up in the dark corner was a small black blob that was the spider quietly waiting for dusk to fall and the outside light to come on. Chris couldn’t help but marvel at the little arachnid’s ingenuity. Somehow it knew that small flying insects were attracted to the light created by his porch bulb and it had built its trap exactly where it would work.

  It made him think about how these tiny creatures were losing their natural habitat of forest and shrubbery as their worlds were being replaced with concrete, but still they managed to overcome and even thrive. He couldn’t help but raise his bottle to the black blob in awe of its strength before finishing his beer.

  Chapter 30

  3.03 p.m. – St Luke’s Street, Cambridge

  I was sat at my desk when my phone pinged, telling me I had a message. I hoped it was from him but assumed it was probably Nat. So when I opened it and it was from an unknown number my heart skipped a beat.

  It didn’t say much, or who it was from, but I knew it was him. I wanted to tell him I could come see him in a few hours, after work, but I needed to play it cool. Jane, who had been keeping an eagle eye on me recently, saw me smile.

  ‘It’s nice to see you happy,’ she said, meaning well.

  But it highlighted that perhaps for the past few weeks, perhaps even years, I’d not been. I thanked her and returned to my computer screen. Not being able to focus on anything other than how to respond, I felt like I was in secondary school again, all nervous about how to respond to a boy. I wasn’t good at this whole playing it cool thing. My heart was always on my sleeve. Every now and then I picked up my phone, rereading the message to see if there was anything in it that suggested he had feelings for me.

  I wrote a text message back. ‘I’d love to see you. Are you free later?’ But before pressing send I deleted it.

  You can’t say love in a text. It was too easy to read into. Keep it neutral, clean. I had no idea what to write. So wrapped up in how to construct one sentence I hadn’t noticed Jane, who had been watching me the whole time.

  ‘Sarah, you want my advice?’

  ‘Advice?’

  ‘About your man issues.’

  I laughed. She was good.

  ‘Make him sweat a little.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. What has he said?’

  ‘He’s asked when I’m free.’

  ‘When are you free?’

  ‘Now, today, this evening.’

  ‘Oh God no, that will make you appear desperate.’

  ‘Will it?’

  ‘Yes, Sarah – didn’t anyone teach you these things?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you like him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then make him wait. Make him the one desperate. Say you’re busy tomorrow, but maybe the day after.’

  ‘But what if he doesn’t become desperate?’

  ‘Oh, sweet, they all do. Men like to sweat a little, feel unsure. Like you’re a game he must win.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Of course. It’s that whole hunter-gatherer thing they all have. So give it a few days, make him feel like he’s honoured to have time with you.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘It’s always worked with me. How do you think I bagged a husband like mine?’

  I laughed out loud, causing a few in the office to turn and look at me.

  ‘Okay, I’m busy tomorrow but maybe the day after.’

  ‘Yep.’

  I
drafted it, word for word what Jane said, and hovered over the send button.

  ‘Do I put a kiss?’

  ‘If you must, but only one.’

  ‘Okay, one kiss – thanks, Jane.’

  I hit send; it was gone. A few minutes later he messaged back. The phone’s ping making me jump.

  ‘He’s messaged back already.’

  ‘Of course he has. He’s now in hunter mode. What’s he said?’

  ‘Just one word: great.’

  And it was. I couldn’t wait to see him again.

  Chapter 31

  3.09 p.m. – London Road, Peterborough

  Chris grabbed his beer and returned to his lonely chair in his garden. As he sat down his phone lit up, saying Sarah had replied. Putting his bare feet on the wall he thought of how he would play the next few days. He knew he needed to use her affections towards him against her. Keep her blinded. Keep control.

  He opened the message. She was playing it cool. Making him wait was a good thing. It meant she would start to be consumed by him. Think of little else. He replied. One word. But enough to keep the hooks in.

  Putting his phone down he looked at the spider again. It seemed so patient and calm. Waiting for the moment when there was a vibration on its web before it pounced with a viciousness humans couldn’t compete with. It was perfect. In control. He knew he needed to become more like the spider. He had spun his web, and was about to entrap. He would wrap her in him, binding her until the day he could climb off the delicate silk thread and under a cargo train. It would damage her worse this way than if he had just killed himself on the 5th, but that didn’t matter any more. It would keep her from harm.

  Standing, he flicked the edge of the web and the spider reacted, becoming poised and alert, but then it didn’t move. It knew it was being teased. Clever little thing. He grabbed it and pulled it off. Holding it in his hands, and keeping still, it remained passive. Assessing him and its situation. Processing its next move. Chris flicked it and it threw two of his legs in the air, warning him off. It was a brave little thing.