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

by Charlotte Duckworth

  I think I got away with it – I think Esther bought my story about the money. But there’s no guarantee. And now I feel like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff that’s slowly but steadily crumbling away beneath me.

  I look down at Riley, who’s sitting in her high chair at the island unit. She’s scribbling on a piece of paper with a black crayon. Her scribbles are so hard that she’s almost pushed the crayon through the paper.

  ‘Steady on there,’ I say, moving the paper upwards slightly. ‘Why don’t you do a different colour? Pink? Orange? Daddy’s favourite colour is purple. Or mauve. Funny word, isn’t it? Mauuuuvvvve.’

  She shakes her head and picks up the black crayon again. I laugh.

  ‘No, Daddy, black my favourite.’

  ‘All right then, goth child. Black it is.’

  I think back to the last time I saw Kim. Just before Christmas. She’d bought Riley loads of presents. I wasn’t kind. We met at a soft play centre down the road. She was having a break from her treatment and had been pestering me for days.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, as she walked up to us. She leant down and stroked Riley’s face. ‘Hello, my little princess.’

  ‘I not a princess,’ Riley replied. ‘I Riley Madison Morgan.’

  Kim smiled, but her eyes were watery.

  ‘You’re right, princesses are rubbish. Riley Madison Morgans are much better.’

  ‘Come on, let’s get a coffee or something,’ I said.

  I didn’t have the patience for her. For the situation. I just wanted her to leave us alone.

  We sat in one corner of the cafe sipping weak tea while Riley was penned in the under-threes area.

  ‘We need to sort this out, man,’ Kim said. ‘It’s not . . . you can’t keep pushing me away like this.’

  ‘I’m just doing what’s best for her,’ I said. ‘It’s confusing. She’s only two – she doesn’t know who you are.’

  ‘Well, whose fucking fault is that?’ Kim said, slamming down her polystyrene cup.

  ‘Language! It’s no one’s fault,’ I replied. ‘It’s just the way it is. You’ve been ill, you’ve got nowhere to live, no job . . . you can’t be what she needs right now. You can’t just turn up whenever you feel like it and shower her with presents. That’s not parenting. She needs a mother who has the energy to cope with her. Plus she’s too young. She doesn’t understand.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean I can’t see her! You don’t have to try to explain . . . just let me spend some time with her, so that when the time comes she’ll at least know who the fuck I am.’

  I glanced at Kim, my fingers twitching. Was she going to cause a scene here? This was why I should never have met her. She was too unpredictable.

  ‘She knows who you are,’ I said, smiling as Riley came back over to me and rummaged in my backpack for her drink. ‘You know who this is, don’t you, Riley?’

  ‘Auntie Kim,’ Riley replied, flicking the straw of her drink back into the bottle and speeding off.

  I knew it was cruel at the time. I couldn’t bring myself to look Kim in the eyes.

  ‘Auntie . . .’

  Her voice was a whisper.

  ‘It’s just easier this way,’ I said, swallowing. ‘We’ll explain everything when she’s older.’

  I glanced up. Kim’s eyes were red-rimmed.

  ‘But there might not be . . . I might not be here when she’s older,’ she said, and I could see she was struggling to get a grip. She wasn’t one for tears, this wasn’t part of her persona, and it was obvious how uncomfortable she was feeling.

  ‘Well then, if you think about it, it’s probably better for Riley that she doesn’t get to know you,’ I said. My tone of voice reminded me of my father. I felt a little sick. But this had to be done. Sometimes the right things to do are the most difficult. ‘Don’t you think? You don’t miss what you’ve never had, after all.’

  ‘How can you . . .’ Kim began, but then she stopped, sniffed. ‘Fuck this. You can’t get away with this. You can’t keep my daughter from me! I’ve got rights, you know, you absolute fucktard. She’s mine!’

  ‘She’s ours. And you should have thought of that before you gave her up,’ I replied, stunned again by how easy it was to slip into my father’s rhetoric. He would be proud, if he could hear me.

  ‘I didn’t give her up!’ she said. ‘I allowed her father to look after her while I was being treated for breast cancer.’

  I paused, sipped my tea.

  ‘Listen,’ I replied. I had to do the right thing for my daughter. ‘I’m sorry, I know this is difficult. But I think for now, it’s best if you concentrate on yourself. On your . . . treatment. And finding somewhere to live. A job. All that stuff. And then we can talk about Riley. What’s best for her, going forward. I’m just protecting her. Doing my job as a father. You have to see that.’

  She stared at me.

  I couldn’t decipher my own feelings. Was it triumph, that I had her exactly where I wanted her? Or disgust that I had ever had anything to do with her? Or was I genuinely trying to do the right thing? I didn’t know. It was a mixture of all three. All I knew for sure was that Riley was happy, safe and secure with me and Esther. And that Kim didn’t fit into this picture. Not at all.

  I decided to change tack.

  ‘I’m sorry that you haven’t managed to get well as quickly as you’d hoped,’ I said, laying a hand on hers. She glared down at it and I pulled it away again. ‘I really am. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be knowing that you can’t be with your daughter.’ I made it sound like she didn’t have a choice. ‘But you must know that Esther and I just want the best for her. We’re looking after her – you can see how happy and healthy she is.’

  Kim didn’t speak, she just stared over to where Riley was carefully balancing huge foam blocks one on top of another.

  ‘You’ve done the right thing,’ I said, all the while wondering if I was doing the right thing. ‘I know it must be incredibly difficult, but you’ve put Riley first. Like any good mother would have done. You should be proud of yourself for that. Leaving her with us while you . . . while you weren’t in a position to be able to care for her properly. That was the right thing to do. That was what any decent mother would do.’

  I paused, trying to examine her face for any sign of emotion. But it was a blank slate. Then, a single tear ran down her cheek. She brushed it away with the side of her hand, stood up and walked out.

  I thought I’d done it. I sat back in relief. It sounded – although she hadn’t been specific – as though Kim was going to die soon. Soon enough, anyway. As heartless as it was, there was no benefit in letting Riley get attached to her, only to have to explain why her Auntie Kim suddenly disappeared from her life.

  It was horrible. It was fucking sad, of course it was.

  I didn’t want Kim to die.

  But anyone could see that it would be for the best.

  Esther

  I leave the hotel, get home and slip back into the role I have played for years. Robin is in a mood, barely speaking to me. Once I would have worried, endlessly obsessed about what might be on his mind, what bad news he might have had that day, but now I’m relieved. It means he’s too distracted to notice that I am behaving differently.

  After dinner, I leave him sitting in front of the television and go upstairs. He’s drinking more than normal – on his sixth bottle of beer already – but I don’t care. Let him drink himself to death. In our new en-suite I clean my teeth.

  As I leave the bathroom, I spot Robin’s phone, lit up beside the bed. A text message. I read it.

  It’s from a number not stored in his phone.

  I’ll remind you that what you did today was a breach of the restraining order. Don’t come near me again. Sarah.

  Sarah.

  What has he done? Don’t come near me? Where has he bee
n today? The theatre, he said. But I don’t know what show. He didn’t answer me when I asked.

  Sarah Harrison. His ex. It’s mind-blowing.

  And then it comes back to me. I Googled her earlier – she’s performing in Dragons and Dinosaurs at the moment. That’s where he’s been today. He took Riley to see his ex-girlfriend. But why? And what did he do to end up with a restraining order?

  Kim’s words echo in my mind: There’s something about his relationship with this Sarah woman that he’s hiding.

  I leave the phone by his side of the bed and tiptoe down the hallway to Riley’s bedroom. I have never been scared of Robin before, but now, suddenly, it’s all-consuming. My heart is pounding in my chest – it feels as though I’m free-falling through my own life. Everything I know and trust has been turned on its head.

  Riley’s bedroom door is open and one of her legs is sticking out from under the duvet. I pad across to her, avoiding the toys and books that she’s scattered across the floor, and gently reposition her in bed, so that she’s completely covered by the duvet again. I stroke her soft blonde hair away from her head and lean down to kiss her, pausing for a few seconds to listen to the soothing sound of her rhythmic breathing. She is such a peaceful child when she’s asleep.

  ‘I love you,’ I say and then I straighten up and tidy away some of the toys, thankful for the pink rabbit nightlight.

  I try not to cry as I tiptoe out of the room. I am terrified.

  I barely sleep, aware all night of the sound of Robin’s breathing beside me. But by the time the sun comes up, I feel more positive. I’m lucky. One of my oldest friends is a lawyer. Jeremy. An expert in his field. I will sort this out, the fair and legal way.

  I ask him to meet me before work but he’s tied up with his own children, so instead he agrees to meet me at a cafe by my office at lunchtime.

  He sits patiently as I work up the courage to speak.

  ‘I need to leave my husband,’ I say, because right now that feels like the only thing I know.

  Viv’s words when I told her about Kim and our plan for the baby ring in my mind.

  ‘What are you trying to prove by staying with that arsehole?’ she said. ‘You don’t have to be ashamed to admit you’ve failed. You can walk away, you know. Sometimes walking away is the stronger thing to do.’

  But it was her I had walked away from. I thought the stronger thing to do was to stay, to try to sort out our issues. But more selfishly than that, I wanted the baby. I wanted Riley, desperately.

  Added to that, I took my marriage vows seriously. What Robin had done was a mistake, but it was a one-off. Extenuating circumstances. We had to make the best of it. For better or worse.

  I was loyal. I was stubborn. I was an idiot.

  ‘It hasn’t been right for ages,’ I say, noticing Jeremy’s surprise. ‘It’s complicated.’

  Jeremy nods, waits for me to continue.

  ‘Riley is not my biological daughter,’ I say, and the starkness of the words spoken aloud stings more than I expect. I have never said it before. Not aloud. I have whispered it to myself, when I have felt guilty for not being there, to punish myself for not being the mum I thought I should have been. But I have never told anyone. Not like this. ‘I was pregnant once, but I had a condition that made me very sick.’

  I shake my head. He doesn’t know anything about my pregnancy. Not many of my friends do.

  ‘Anyway, I had a miscarriage at ten weeks. Robin was devastated. He didn’t cope . . .’ I say, then take a deep breath. ‘After I lost the baby, he didn’t cope well. He slept with this other woman – a friend of a friend. She got pregnant and . . . I know any sane woman would have left him after what he did. But . . .’

  I pause again, searching Jeremy’s face for any sign of what he’s thinking, but it’s professionally blank.

  ‘We ended up taking on the baby. I know it sounds insane. It was insane. But . . . it was complicated, and I was so desperate to become a mother. I was in such a dark place after my miscarriage. And I thought she didn’t want the baby. Robin told me she would have an abortion if we didn’t agree to take the child. But . . .’ I stop, breathless. I need to simplify this horrific situation somehow, to get across to Jeremy what really matters. ‘We took Riley home when she was just two days old. But I’ve never officially adopted her. I wanted to, but my husband said she had to agree too – the mother – and he told me he couldn’t get hold of her, that she was away with work and ignoring his attempts to get in touch. Robin’s her biological father; he’s on the birth certificate. I’ve only got parental responsibility for her, like a normal stepmum. We applied for that straight after she was born, so I could take her to the doctor, things like that. We did everything legally, bar adoption. So technically I’m not her parent, or legal guardian. Just her stepmum. So if my husband and I break up, what happens to her?’

  I start to sob. I so didn’t want to cry. Jeremy reaches forward and squeezes my hand.

  ‘I love her so much,’ I say. ‘My marriage is over, but I can’t cope with losing her . . . I can’t . . . please tell me there’s something we can do?’

  I frantically wipe at my eyes and nose with a paper napkin from the table. I need to stay strong.

  ‘It’s not as uncommon a situation as you might think,’ Jeremy says, once I’ve pulled myself together a bit. His eyes are kind, and they give me some hope. ‘There are loads of stepchildren out there. Quite often people marry and take on the children from their partner’s previous relationship. Not realising that if they then break up, they don’t have any legal right to see the child. The best thing you can do is come to some sort of agreement with him, Est. Surely he will see that it’s in Riley’s best interest to continue seeing you?’

  I shake my head. He doesn’t understand.

  ‘You don’t know Rob,’ I say. ‘I wish I could believe that he would, but . . .’

  I’m about to repeat the words, but I realise that I don’t know him either.

  ‘If I left him he would hate me; he would use Riley against me. I just know it . . . And there’s more to it. He lied to me. He lied to me about her biological mother. He told me she didn’t want the baby, but it wasn’t true. She’s been sick. She’s got cancer, and now she’s dying. She was too ill to look after Riley when she was born, so she agreed to let Robin and me look after her until she was better. He didn’t tell me any of this. And there’s more . . .’

  I can barely believe that this life I’m describing is mine.

  ‘He said she was going to have an abortion. Unless we gave her twenty thousand pounds to keep it.’

  I swallow.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I know, I know, it was wrong,’ I say. ‘We didn’t do it the right way – it wasn’t an official surrogacy. I know you’re only allowed to give surrogates money for expenses in the UK. I was just so desperate. But anyway, he never gave her the money. It was all lies – the whole story. She wanted the baby, she was just sick. And he never gave her a penny. He kept it. He kept it all. It was . . . it was my money, my life savings. I gave it to him to give to her and he kept it. I don’t know what for – he doesn’t have paper bank statements, so I can’t find out where the money has gone. And there’s something else. He has an ex. I don’t know much about her, but she texted him yesterday. To remind Robin of a restraining order against him. I don’t know what it means. He has so many secrets; he’s kept so much from me. I can’t trust anything he says anymore. I can’t stand being around him.’

  ‘God, Esther. I’m . . .’

  ‘I know.’ I laugh, through tears. ‘It’s fucked up. Completely. And now I don’t know what to do. I literally don’t know. I can’t talk to him; I can’t trust him not to lie to me again.’

  ‘Are you scared of him?’ Jeremy says, and he suddenly looks so concerned that it makes me want to cry.

  I imagine Robin, what he wo
uld do, what he would say, if I came home and told him what I knew. I picture him on the stairs the other night, cradling his foot with a bloody towel. What kind of person kicks a television screen? What kind of person ends up with a restraining order against them? I don’t know what he is capable of. I don’t know anything about him anymore.

  ‘Yes,’ I say, my voice as fragile as a bubble. I nod, staring down at my lap. ‘Yes, I am.’

  What I always loved about Robin – his unpredictability, his reluctance to conform – they are the things that now frighten me the most.

  Now

  Esther

  We have just closed the door to the Bad News Room on our way to Riley’s ward when a doctor approaches us and gestures for us to stop. Viv squeezes my hand.

  I know what he’s going to tell me. His head is bowed, as though at a funeral. He’s coming to tell me that Rob is dead. How will I cope? What will I say?

  ‘I’m very sorry, Mrs Morgan,’ he says. ‘But I’m afraid your husband’s condition has deteriorated. He sustained a serious head injury, and the swelling in his brain is not going down. We’re doing all we can, but he’s currently on a life support machine, and the next few hours will be critical.’ He pauses, his eyes briefly flicking over to DS Tyler.

  ‘I’m very sorry.’

  I stare at him, unable to muster up any sort of feeling whatsoever for this news. I thought it would be worse news. I thought it would be the worst.

  I realise, with a shock, that I am disappointed.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see DS Tyler staring at me, waiting for my reaction. I take a sharp intake of breath, try to work out what I should say, how I should feel. I think of Riley. I just want to see her.

  ‘I . . .’ I say, my eyes falling down to the floor. ‘Is he in pain?’

  ‘No. He hasn’t regained consciousness since we brought him in,’ the doctor replies. ‘So he won’t be aware of a thing.’