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

by Darren O’Sullivan

  After a few moments it lowered its legs but Chris could see it was still very alert to him and what he would do next. It remained still until Chris grabbed one of its legs. It began fighting for freedom and as it did Chris pulled. Tearing it away from the arachnid’s body. It fitted and tried to escape but Chris didn’t let it; he watched it squirm. Watched it fight as he pulled another leg, then another, until all eight sat in his hand like fine dark hairs. Its black body no longer fighting.

  Chapter 32

  4 days left

  10.15 a.m. – London Road, Peterborough

  Steve kept his car in third gear to keep the revs low and the engine quiet as he slowed down past Chris’s house, he and Kristy trying to get a look inside as he did. They couldn’t see anything; the curtains were closed. Whatever he was doing, he was doing it in the dark.

  ‘Steve, why are we curb crawling past this house?’

  ‘I just want to see if he’s okay. His curtains are still shut.’

  ‘Why don’t you just go and knock on his door?’

  ‘Because I don’t just turn up at his house; he knows that. Besides, if I do he’ll know I’m on to him and that will make it even harder.’

  ‘On to him?’

  ‘He’s acting really strange, Kristy.’

  ‘His wife left him. You said he’s depressed; that’s understandable.’

  ‘It’s not that.’

  ‘Of course it is. Julia up and left him and he’s not had closure from it.’

  ‘It’s not that.’

  ‘Well what is it then?’

  Checking his rear-view mirror to make sure he was far enough down the road to not been seen, Steve parked his car and turned off the engine. As he spoke with Kristy he kept his eyes on the mirror and behind. From where they were he could just about see the bay window of Chris’s lounge.

  ‘A few nights ago I came and parked behind his house.’

  ‘Oh God, Steve, why?’

  ‘To watch him. I’m telling you something’s going on.’

  ‘Steve, you’re reading too much into this.’

  ‘He was acting like he was hiding something.’

  ‘What could he be possibly hiding?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Have you tried talking to him?’

  ‘Of course I have. And the work thing? Him lying about it?’

  ‘He just doesn’t want to worry anyone and maybe he’s embarrassed by it.’

  Steve looked away from the mirror and into his wife’s eyes. He could tell she was humouring his little secret spy moment.

  ‘I don’t know. It’s weird. He’s not been there since Julia left. Have you really thought about it? Julia, Chris’s Julia, just leaving with no indication if she would come back? Not even saying goodbye to anyone before she went? She never struck me as the sort to be so cold.’

  ‘Her mum’s death hit her pretty hard.’

  ‘I know, but still. Don’t you think it’s a little weird?’

  ‘Of course I do, who wouldn’t?’

  ‘Something isn’t making sense.’

  ‘Sometimes you just don’t really know a person.’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘As for Chris, give him a little more time. He’ll come around and then be mortified he hit you.’

  ‘I’m not so sure. He’s reminding me more and more of the twenty-two-year-old version – getting into trouble.’

  Kristy reached over and rubbed the back of Steve’s head, trying to knead out the tension she could see in his muscles.

  ‘And if he does get himself into trouble, you’ll be there to sort him out again, because you’re a good friend.’

  ‘Okay, honey, you’re right. It’s just … I’ve known him for most of our lives. I’ve always been able to read him. Now I can’t. These past few months he’s become a different man.’

  Steve knew in his gut something was not quite right. Something was amiss. And although he couldn’t say anything to his exasperated wife, he couldn’t shake off the idea it had something to do with Julia.

  He looked once more in his rear-view mirror. He saw the curtains in the living room twitch, and it felt like Chris had been watching. For the first time in their friendship Steve questioned whether or not Chris could be trusted. If he could lie about his work commitments, what else was he lying about?

  ‘Can we go shopping now, Steve?’

  ‘Of course, love, sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay. What are you going to do?’

  ‘About Chris? I don’t know.’

  He did know what he was going to do. He didn’t want to tell Kristy as she would be mad. He was going try to find Julia. Starting with ringing the number he had for her, and if he couldn’t reach her there he was going to ring her work, see if they had a number in Australia for her. Something was telling him he might not have the whole story about what went on between them.

  Chapter 33

  3 days left

  7.09 p.m. – London Road, Peterborough

  Using my phone’s camera as a mirror I made sure I looked all right one final time before getting out of my car. I looked anxious. I’d been to his front door a few times now but this one time was different. I was no longer turning up unannounced. He had invited me to come.

  Before leaving, Natalie said I wasn’t looking well, that I was washed out. Great. Just when I needed to feel sexy I was being told I looked like I might collapse. Stupidly I told Natalie I was just nervous and she looked at me questioningly. Nervous about seeing John? I could hear her think. I didn’t wait for her to say it out loud and went to my room to grab my bag. When I came back downstairs Natalie was stood, arms crossed, watching me.

  ‘Sarah, what’s going on?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean this: look at you; you’re a wreck. Are you and John okay?’

  ‘We’re fine.’

  ‘You know I’m not happy about this, right?’

  ‘I know. You’ve made it quite clear. Don’t worry.’

  ‘Just … be careful.’

  She gave me a kiss on the cheek and disappeared into the lounge to join George. As I left he shouted for me to have a good time. She still hadn’t said anything to him.

  Getting out of my car I adjusted my jeans, smoothed down my top and, faking confidence, I walked to his front door. Hesitating before knocking. This is it, I thought. Although I still wasn’t sure what ‘it’ was.

  ***

  He heard three gentle taps on his front door. The first being quieter than the other two, it told him she was nervous. Perfect. A nervous woman was a woman who couldn’t think clearly – exactly what he needed her to be. He waited. Wondering how long she would wait before she knocked again. Counting in his head, he made it to thirty-eight before she did, more hesitantly.

  He heard her call his name and for a second he felt sorry for her. She wasn’t supposed to end up in his mess. But she had forced herself into his world. He had no choice but to use her, knowing it would hurt her once everything was done.

  She called his name again, quieter this time, more unsure. Chris unlocked the door, smiling warmly at her.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t hear the door.’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘You look lovely.’ He saw her cheeks redden slightly as the blood rushed around her face.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Come in.’

  As Sarah stepped past Chris, she touched him on his shoulder, too close to his scar for Chris’s liking. It made him flinch, but not enough for her to notice. Checking the street to make sure they weren’t being watched, he closed and locked the door behind them.

  ***

  He told me to make myself at home as he disappeared into the kitchen. So I sat on the edge of the sofa and looked around. My eye was drawn to the photo beside me. It was clear now who the girl in the picture was. It was the wife who had left him. She was the one who had made him feel so low. Part of me understood. But part of me thought it was also a cry for help. Mayb
e he had been to the station several times hoping someone would turn up and I eventually did. Maybe he wanted to meet someone like me. Maybe we were fated to know one another.

  He came into the lounge with a bottle of red wine and two glasses and poured. He then raised his and I joined him. He didn’t speak. It made me wonder what he was raising the glass to. Could it be us? I hoped so but it didn’t matter really; his silence excited me.

  We sat and drank quietly and it wasn’t awkward to sit with him in silence. Not like with John where our silence usually meant he was thinking of another woman. This was safe. Nice. It felt good to be able to not force conversation. As we were close to finishing our first glass he said it was a nice evening and would I like to go for a walk.

  ‘Yes, of course, a walk would be lovely.’

  I thought he was going to go straight for the sex. I was expecting it. That was how it usually worked. I didn’t mind that either. I’d been picturing it all day. But, a walk was romantic and wonderfully unexpected.

  As we left his hands were in his pockets. I wanted to link arms with him but hesitated. I noticed how this one small act seemed a bigger deal than when we had sex. After a few minutes we came to a bridge with a small walkway leading down to the river and we left the city behind. The concrete and noise of passing cars was replaced with a calmer, more natural setting. A place where lovers would walk.

  The path was lined with blue LED lighting that gave it a soft, safe feel. A couple passed us in the opposite direction and because the path was narrow I had to step closer to Chris, using it as an opportunity to link my arm in his. He didn’t acknowledge it, but for a second I thought I saw him smiling out of the corner of my eye.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind us walking here. It seemed like a waste of a nice evening if we didn’t.’

  ‘No, no of course not.’

  We walked for about twenty minutes before crossing a small bridge over the river and heading back, pausing on it for a second as he pointed out a grey heron nest on the bank.

  ‘They nest here every spring.’

  ‘Do you know a lot about that sort of thing?’

  ‘Not really.’

  I felt silly for asking, but then I realized, besides knowing that he had tried to kill himself, I knew little else about him. I watched him looking out over the river, lost in his own thoughts, and wondered what was going on inside his head.

  I wanted to ask him about his childhood, his family. I wanted to know about his first kiss and what he wanted to be growing up. I wanted to know what he did with his days now. I didn’t even know what he did for a living. And equally, he knew just as little about me. But asking felt unnatural and the evening carried an air of magic that coexisted with his air of mystery. I wanted to know, but it was exciting not knowing also. So we walked back in silence. Our strides in unison, my arm now comfortable in the space between his and his torso.

  Halfway along the path I spotted what looked like a homeless man on the other side, the side we had just walked on. I was so wrapped up in him. I hadn’t seen him until now. He was watching us, intently. At first I felt uncomfortable but then thought to myself, he was alone, probably sad. Seeing a young couple arm in arm would be what I would want to see if I were him.

  I gave him a smile and he turned away from me, camouflaging himself in the reeds and trees that lined the river before getting up and walking away quickly. I stopped. Everything about what that man had just done reminded me of the man the other night outside my house.

  ‘Did you see that man?’

  ‘What man?’

  ‘On the other side of the river, watching us. It’s funny, I think I saw him near my house the other night.’

  Chris unlinked from my arm and walked closer to the river edge, looking intently, almost in a panic at the other side.

  ‘Where was he?’

  I pointed to where he was sat, but he was gone. I walked to Chris and took him by the arm. I could feel his muscles, tensed to the point he shook a little.

  ‘It’s okay, Chris, it’s just a coincidence. I’m just being silly.’

  ‘Are you sure it was the same man?’

  ‘No, of course it wasn’t. It’s just been a long week and I’m being over imaginative.’

  I relinked arms with him and we continued to walk, quicker than we had previously. The rest of the journey back I could feel his heightened tension on my arm, his senses engaged. I would almost go as far to say he was jumpy.

  Once back in his house Chris told me to make myself at home as he dashed upstairs. I walked into his kitchen and poured us both another glass of wine. Above me I could hear him opening and closing windows. It was obvious he was making sure the place was secure. Although I didn’t know why. I also didn’t know why he was so jumpy. When he came back down I handed him the glass of wine and we both had a sip. He was calmer, although not entirely.

  ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Yes, sorry, I’m fine. I suffer from anxiety from time to time.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Hey, don’t be.’ I put down my glass and wrapped my arms around him. ‘You feel so tense.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m embarrassed now.’

  ‘Don’t be embarrassed. Come with me.’ I led him into the living room and sat him on the sofa. I climbed over the arm and sat on the backrest, so his head was between my legs. Pressing firmly I massaged his shoulders.

  ‘That feels nice.’

  ‘Good, I’m glad.’

  I could feel a fresh wave of anticipation begin to build, knowing once I had calmed him I would kiss him and he would kiss me and we would go upstairs to have sex. Then, afterwards, we would wrap in each other’s arms, and make each other feel safe.

  Chapter 34

  11.43 p.m. – London Road, Peterborough

  Standing over his bed Chris watched the shape under his covers twitch and then roll over. Her breathing deep and slow. In, out, in, out. He tried to mirror her calm rhythm. To ease his pounding heart from his dream that had startled him awake. This time he was the one sinking into the wet soil, his eyes forced open, a sharp pain as mud and water blurred his vision. The only thing he could see was the man, hunched and panting hard, like he was that night.

  In, out, in, out.

  It worked. His heart rate dropped to a level at which his hands didn’t shake any more. Still, he watched her for a few more seconds. She slept in the same way Julia used to. It made him feel a longing for the past and hate for the woman in front of him.

  She mumbled something in her sleep, obviously dreaming. In the low light her dark hair that invaded his pillow reminded him of the spider’s legs that had lain snapped off and fragile in his hands. She turned again, this time facing towards him, her jaw flexing a little. Her neck exposed once more. He didn’t know why he had taken her for a walk to his place with Julia. That place wasn’t for her; that place was for him and his wife.

  He focused on her neck, on the vein that pumped blood away from her brain and again pictured pressing on it. Pressing until she woke and fought and in doing so invited him to press on her entire throat until the whites of her eyes were dyed red with burst blood vessels. He forced the image out. One that was there because of a year of remembering how his wife died.

  Reaching forward he touched her and felt her pulse thump through the vein, before quietly walking backwards out of his room and heading for the shed. Outside he noticed something was different. Lowering himself he waited patiently for his eyes to fully adjust. Once they had grown accustomed to the darkness he could see the grass was flattened in an area he didn’t walk. He scanned the garden and could see a new pathway leading from the back fence towards his shed. Straightening up, he looked around. There was no one there, but someone definitely had been.

  He tried to remember exactly when he had last been out. Was it two days ago? Three maybe? The shed was still locked, and there was no sign of forced entry. Maybe it was just an opportunist burglar trying to
get a bike or lawn mower. But he doubted it. Someone had been there, trying to check up on Chris, probably after that moment at the river.

  The tool box would have to be hidden somewhere else, somewhere in the house. He’d intended to come and read his wife’s diary again, to feel that closeness he couldn’t feel anywhere else, but it had turned into a precaution mission instead. Unlocking the door he leaned over and picked up the tool box, then carried it back to his house. Locking the door behind him he looked out into his garden and jumped at his own reflection.

  ‘Take a deep breath, Chris; get yourself under control!’

  After setting the tool box on the dining table, he opened it, counted the items. They were all there. That much hadn’t changed. That much was still the same as it was before May. He picked up her diary and fanned the pages; it still smelt of her. He wanted to read it but knew it wasn’t safe. Not yet. Taking her phone out he tried to turn it on but her battery was flat, so getting her charger from a drawer he plugged it in and waited.

  He had turned that phone on once a month on average, just to make sure, and every time there were no messages. No voicemails. After a few minutes the screen lit up, catching his eye. His heartbeat doubled as it notified him there was a new voice message.

  ‘Hi, Jules. It’s Steve, Chris’s friend. Look. I know I shouldn’t be bothering you; you had your reasons for leaving. But I was wondering if you could call me when you get this. I need to talk to you. Just between you and me, Chris has been acting odd lately. He doesn’t know I’ve called. So, please, give me a ring. He won’t know we’ve talked. It would be nice to hear your voice.’

  He listened to the message again, before turning it off and putting it back in the tool box.