The Perfect Father: the most gripping and twisty thriller you'll read in 2020

by Charlotte Duckworth

  He once said – actually said to my face – that he thought she was attractive! I lift my hand to my forehead again.

  I even had a fringe cut in, just like hers. And he never said.

  He never said.

  I squeeze my eyes closed, try to calm myself down. I have to hear this. I have to confront this. No more pushing it away.

  ‘Oh, it was more than dating,’ she says, and I wonder if there’s a hint of glee as she breaks this to me, or if it’s just my paranoia. ‘Apparently they were together for years. Writing partners. Love’s young dream. And then . . . she dumped him. Upgraded for Dean West.’

  Kim pauses gazing off into the middle distance.

  ‘I mean, to be fair . . .’ she says. ‘I would too.’

  She gives a short laugh that turns into another cough.

  ‘Anyway, he was blathering on and on for ages, full of self-pity. He started annoying me, to be honest. So his ex suddenly became uber-famous? So what? That’s the industry for you. You have to just suck it up. It was about 4am by then. I gave him some more coffee and kicked him out. I didn’t want him still there when Sean and Viv came back the next day.’

  ‘He didn’t get home until 5am that night,’ I say. ‘I remember because I laid awake all night waiting for him. I thought . . . I really thought he might just never come back.’

  ‘It’s hard,’ Kim says. ‘Because probably it would have been for the best if we had never slept together. But Riley . . . Riley is everything.’

  I stare up at her. She notices my surprise.

  ‘Don’t worry, I know you love her,’ she says. ‘I know what a good mother you are. I’ll be honest, Esther. I always thought you were a bit stuck-up. I never understood what Viv saw in you. Viv’s so fun, so outgoing. And you were always there in the background, looking like you’d sucked on a lemon. Judging us all. One-drink-Esther. Never wearing bloody fancy dress. Never making any effort to join in.’

  ‘I . . .’ I start, ‘I . . . I’m just not like that, that’s all. I’m not a performer . . . I just . . .’

  ‘Think you’re better than us?’

  ‘No!’ I reply. ‘Not at all. I just didn’t know how to fit in. I was so intimidated by you all. You all seemed to be so good at having fun. I don’t know how to have fun. I never have . . .’

  I think back to my teenage years, the way I’d sleep with anyone who smiled at me the right way. Pretending I enjoyed it.

  Kim frowns at me.

  ‘You do know that no one feels like they fucking fit in, don’t you?’ she says.

  I sit back.

  ‘I don’t understand . . .’ I say. I can’t read her. I don’t know what she wants from me. ‘It still doesn’t explain . . . if Robin never gave you the money, then why did you give Riley up? If you wanted her . . . it doesn’t make any sense.’

  ‘I’m dying,’ she replies, then gives a long, dramatic laugh.

  I frown.

  ‘I mean, we all are, but I’m on a faster course than everyone else.’

  I stare at her, unsure whether what she’s saying is a joke or not. But then I look at her again, and suddenly, like the sun coming up and shining a light on the world, everything about her makes sense.

  ‘Breast cancer,’ she replies, taking in the expression on my face. ‘I’ve got the gene. I first had it at twenty-three; it was treated, double mastectomy. Hence the good boobs – I got a new pair on the NHS and asked for an upgrade. I went into remission. But the day your charming husband came round was the day I found out it had metastasised. It’s in my bones, my liver, and as of last week, apparently, my lungs. Hence my forty-a-day cough.’

  I stare at her.

  ‘Don’t believe me?’ she says, and then with one swift yank she pulls off her hair. Except it’s not her hair. It’s a wig. Underneath, her head is covered in a fine down.

  ‘We gave up chemotherapy a while ago,’ she says, stroking her head. ‘But it’s taking ages to grow back this time. I’m gonna be a nearly bald corpse – every girl’s dream.’ She laughs croakily again.

  I look at her face, and then I look at her eyes, and I realise that the eyebrows she painted on were just that – paint, and nothing more. And her fake eyelashes, so ridiculously long and thick, were that way because there was nothing else there.

  She replaces her wig, adjusting it so deftly that it’s hard to believe it’s not her real hair.

  ‘I don’t . . .’ I say, scrambling to find some words to make sense of this situation. ‘But when you had Riley . . . you . . .’

  ‘I was about to start treatment, and then I found out I was pregnant. It might have been stupid, but I thought it was some kind of gift from God . . . I knew it was my last – my only – chance at becoming a mum. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘Robin stepped right in. The knight in shining armour. He said you guys could look after her for a bit once she was born . . . then when I got better, then . . .’

  ‘You could have her back?’

  ‘Exactly,’ she says. ‘We would have a shared custody arrangement. That was the plan. But as you can probably see, he’s not kept his side of the deal at all.’

  The enormity of Robin’s lies suddenly dawns on me.

  ‘Why didn’t he tell me?’ I say, pathetically.

  ‘He said you knew. That you were fine with it. I always wondered . . . well, I thought you were a better person than me to agree to be a stepmother in this situation . . . but if I’m honest, I didn’t have any choice. My mum died years ago, my dad’s getting on – and anyway he smokes like a fucking chimney. I could never have left my baby with him. I had nothing, no support. Just mates who said they’d do their best for me, but there’s helping out and then there’s looking after a newborn while their mum is sick as a dog being treated for cancer. I was worried social services would take her away . . . but then Robin offered and . . .’

  ‘I can’t . . .’ I said. ‘I can’t believe it.’

  ‘He’s her dad, after all. It seemed the best decision. No, the only decision. But it was never meant to turn out like this. Two years down the line, and I’ve only seen her a handful of times. Every time I contacted him he’d make an excuse – some pathetic reason why we couldn’t meet up. And then . . . six months ago they told me that there was nothing more they could do for me. It’s all come to shit. My time’s nearly run out. It’s kind of impossible to believe, you know? Impossible to accept that this is it.’

  She starts to cry. I can’t bear it.

  ‘I wanted that baby, I wanted to hold my little girl . . . I’ve been trying so desperately hard to get well again so that I could have her back. But fighting your husband . . . I’m worn out.’

  ‘I love her,’ I say.

  ‘I know you do,’ Kim replies, pulling her bottom lip inwards. ‘You’ve done a far better job than I could have done, considering. But I love her too. I’m still her mum.’

  She purses her lips together, and I notice the skin around them is dry and cracked, as though she’s been out in the cold for too long. It reminds me of my mouth, by week ten of my pregnancy. When it was so sore I could barely part my lips.

  ‘She’s my baby. Mine. He was nice as pie to begin with, telling me he looked forward to me getting better so we could sort out the arrangements properly. But then he started cutting me out. He stopped replying. Then he blocked me on Facebook . . . he said it was upsetting for you! I just wanted to see my daughter!’

  ‘He told me you were away on a cruise ship,’ I say.

  ‘Did he? He fucking wishes. Ever since I was diagnosed I’ve mostly been staying with my dad in Stratford. He knew that. I’ve not been able to work, but on the days I wasn’t seeing my consultant or being treated I’ve been talking to lawyers, trying to work out my rights. But they weren’t optimistic. He’s her dad, he’s on her birth certific
ate, he’s been looking after her since she was born. And now I’m dying. Game over.’

  She pauses, her mouth set in a line.

  ‘It wasn’t exactly a fair fight.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say, reaching over the table and taking her hand. ‘I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with this.’

  I stare at Kim. I thought of her as tough, carefree, selfish. But she’s the opposite. She’s done the most unselfish thing of all – given up her child, because she wanted Riley to be loved and cared for while she was sick.

  I have hated this woman for so long, and now I find myself wanting to reach out and hug her, to thank her for putting Riley first.

  ‘What should I do?’ I say.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she says. ‘It’s why I wanted to talk to you. I just want to make sure Riley is safe. That’s all that matters to me now. For the last two years, Rob’s made my life hell. And now I’m dying and I just want to make sure . . . fuck, I just want to make sure she has someone decent looking after her. Someone who really cares about her, not just themselves.’

  ‘I do,’ I say. ‘I love Riley like she’s my own.’

  ‘I know you do. That’s why I wanted to get this all out in the open. There’s something about his relationship with this Sarah woman that he’s hiding. I want to know what it is. He lies about everything. Like I said, he texted me, he was furious that I spoke to you. He said you’re not well, that your mental health is shot.’

  The rage bubbles inside me.

  ‘I’m fine but . . . how can I stay with him now? And if I leave him . . .’ I say, my brain feeling as though it might explode. ‘If I leave him . . . I’m not Riley’s legal guardian. I haven’t officially adopted her. I’ll have no right to see her . . .’

  ‘I know,’ she replies, suddenly quiet.

  ‘He has looked after her since she was born. He was so desperate to be a stay-at-home dad.’

  The penny drops, but it’s not just a penny, it’s a great iron boulder, the size of a warship, crushing me completely.

  ‘I’ve got parental responsibility but nothing else . . .’ I say, my words tumbling out like sand. ‘He promised me that I could adopt her, but he blamed you for holding it up. He said you were impossible to get hold of . . . You’re both on the birth certificate, so you both have to agree to it.’

  ‘He never even asked me.’

  I sink back down, mired by my own absolute stupidity. He has been playing us both off against one another the whole time.

  Robin, the perfect father.

  Is it really possible that he has planned this all along?

  Esther

  Kim has to go back to the hospital, and I sit for a while in the cafe after she leaves. In utter shock.

  I think of all the times Robin told me that he couldn’t get hold of Kim, of all the lies he has told me. The hundreds of lies.

  She’s so unreliable.

  I have no idea where she is. Somewhere on a cruise ship. Somewhere in the Caribbean.

  I just can’t get hold of her. She’s not answering my emails.

  Don’t worry, it will all get sorted.

  Meanwhile, Kim had been pleading, desperate to see Riley. To find out how her daughter was, to make the most of the pitiful time she had left. She had even turned up at our old flat, only to find out we had moved. And when she called him, Robin had refused to tell her our new address. How could anyone be so cruel?

  For years Vivienne has told me that Robin is abusive. I’ve shrugged her off, telling her that he was the opposite – that he loved me. That he had never been violent to me, not once. That he had never said anything cruel to me. That everything he did, he believed was for the best.

  But Viv, she had always been like a dog with a bone.

  ‘He doesn’t let you breathe,’ she used to say. ‘It’s weird. He’s there all the time, telling you what to think.’

  ‘No,’ I would reply. ‘It’s not like that. He’s loving me, looking after me. He means well. It all comes from a place of love.’

  I thought she was jealous. That Sean wasn’t as attentive, that he didn’t care what she did. I thought the only type of love that mattered was the one that was all-encompassing. I thought the rest of the world was wrong.

  I leave the cafe as it closes, and walk for what seems like miles, until I find myself standing on London Bridge. Robin hasn’t texted me to find out how I am, which is strange. I wonder if he’d even care if I didn’t come home. It strikes me that if I died, he’d truly have it all. The house, the life insurance I’d meticulously organised, the child all to himself.

  Is he capable of killing me? Is that part of his plan too?

  I realise part of me is waiting for him to call, to ask me if I am OK, what time I will be home. Some stupid, conditioned part of me still hopes that if I speak to him, it will take me back to my old way of thinking. That just hearing his certainty about things will convince me that everything Kim has just told me is a lie. But he doesn’t ring. And I don’t ring him. Stalemate.

  I stand on the bridge for a long time, watching the boats passing under me, and the people rushing past. They all have somewhere to be, but I have nowhere to go. I am rootless. I have no parents. Robin is my only legal family. I have responsibility for Riley, but no rights. Robin is everything.

  I have built my whole world around him, but I know nothing about him. It’s all based on lies.

  What has he spent the money on? Will I ever find out?

  I carry on walking, unsure where to go, when I see the green neon light of a budget hotel on the other side of the bridge. Unthinking, I ask them if they have a room. They are pretty busy, the woman behind the reception desk tells me. But there is one twin room available.

  I buy a bottle of water from the vending machine in the reception and take the lift to the room. It’s on the fifth floor, the views across the Thames partially obscured by another giant tower block, the one shaped like a walkie-talkie. But it’s quiet, and I am alone. I have to get my head straight somehow. It’s only 4pm, but I am exhausted. I lie down on the bed and try to sleep.

  I suppose I must do, because a few seconds later, according to the red lights of the alarm clock radio by my bed, it’s now 6.30pm and my eyes feel as though someone has tried to cement them together.

  My phone is out of battery, so I can’t check it to see if anyone has rung me. For a second I feel an amazing sense of freedom. I imagine disappearing from my life. Just taking Riley and getting on a train and going somewhere else. Anywhere else. Where no one would ever find us.

  But even as I am thinking these things, I know it’s not possible. I am tied to Robin, because he is Riley’s father. For the past three years I have been desperately trying to persuade myself that our relationship was OK, that it wasn’t toxic inside. That we could be a family, a good family, and bring up a child in a healthy, happy environment.

  The way I felt when I first held Riley, that tiny little button of a baby, was indescribable. We weren’t related by blood, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was her, and her happiness. This tiny little baby I had thought was unwanted by her birth mother – how could I refuse to take her on?

  But all the while I’ve been unknowingly keeping her from her birth mother.

  And the guilt still lingers at the back of my mind. That I had thought I wanted to kill my own baby.

  It was the ultimate rod to beat myself with. And oh, how Robin had let me do it. How he had manipulated and needled until my insides were mush.

  In this moment of clarity, I feel sure that I actually hate him. In a way I have never hated anyone before.

  I suppose he hates me too. But why keep me around at all? Just for the money? The house? The security?

  What is the point of me?

  I climb out of bed and go to the tiny bathroom, splashing water on my face. I hav
e to gather my strength and resolve, and make sure that I am ready for what lies ahead.

  Riley. Kim and Riley. They’re all that matter now.

  Back in the bedroom, I switch on the small kettle. My throat is burning in the same way it did after a particularly bad day of vomiting.

  I remember the way Robin had looked at me when I was being sick – I interpreted it at the time as pity but it was actually more like disgust.

  ‘You’ve never looked hotter,’ he had said as he handed me a tissue to wipe my mouth. And I had smiled weakly along with him, my stupid confused brain telling me he was trying to cheer me up. Always compensating for him, when the cerebral part of me knew that this was all his way of lording it over me, of belittling me, of reminding me that I was dependent on him.

  I thought because he didn’t hit me, that made him a good husband. How utterly low my standards have been.

  I make a cup of tea and drink it while it’s still scalding hot, looking out across the Thames. And then I find a packet of chewing gum in my handbag, and I sit at the tiny dressing table and I chew and I make some notes. Just the bare facts. I will keep them hidden in my handbag, to be re-read whenever I feel my resolve weakening.

  Once that’s done, I brush my hair through with my fingers and head for home. I know what I have to do. And I know how I’m going to do it.

  Robin

  Fuck Sarah then. I have bigger fish to fry.

  Still no reply from Kim. I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.

  I log on to Facebook, unblock Kim’s account and try to work out what might have happened to her. It occurs to me that if she died, no one would let me know. We have no mutual Facebook ‘friends’ – other than Viv, of course. Kim’s father knows that I’ve got Riley, though. So I suppose I’d hear about it eventually.

  But still, it might be days later.

  Then again, she’s not going to die, is she? She’s not going to just go away like that, and solve all my problems for me. That would be too easy, and nothing ever goes my way.