My Husband's Lie: A page turning and emotional family drama

by Emma Davies

  ‘Do you mind if I carry on?’ she says as she leads me into the room. ‘Only I thought I had more time than I have.’

  I wave a hand to show that she should, but I’m hesitant now. ‘I can come back another time,’ I volunteer, not quite sure where I should position myself.

  But Anna ignores my comment. ‘Have your friends gone now?’ she asks, taking eggs from a dish.

  She’s busy, I can see that, but Anna’s the curate’s wife and a master at making small talk. Her remark seems thoughtless somehow; of course they’ve gone, it’s almost lunchtime.

  ‘Oh yes, ages ago. I’ve been trying to work since they left but I’ve ground to a bit of halt… Actually I’ve got one or two things on my mind, and I wondered if I might talk to you about them.’

  Her back is to me but her movements stall as she hears my words and she pauses for a moment before turning around. Almost as if she’s trying to compose herself.

  ‘Yes of course,’ she says. ‘Is everything okay?’

  I take a deep breath, thinking carefully about how to start. ‘Can I ask you something?’ I begin, not waiting for a reply. ‘Only the first time we met you mentioned the couple who lived at Pevensey before us. I just wondered how much you knew about them. How long they’d lived there?’

  She looks almost relieved at my question and I can’t help but wonder what she thought I was about to ask. ‘Who, the Campbells? Oh goodness, well not much, I’m afraid. Like I said, I didn’t really have much to do with them and—’

  ‘Yes, well that’s kind of why I’m asking really. I got the impression you didn’t particularly like them, the man especially?’

  Her eyes narrow slightly. ‘I found him a bit odd, that’s all.’

  ‘You said you thought he was creepy.’

  Anna looks startled. ‘Did I? Well, yes, I suppose… in a way.’ She stops for a second. ‘He just had a way of looking at you, for slightly too long… Does that make any sense? It was off-putting. Or sometimes when I was talking to Miriam – that was his wife – I’d find he was watching me, really quite intently.’

  I nod. ‘And do you know if other people thought the same way?’

  ‘I’ve really got no idea.’ She looks at me curiously. ‘It wasn’t as if I made a habit of talking to people about him,’ she says. ‘It was just a personal observation. But that doesn’t mean there was anything to it. Why do you want to know?’

  But I don’t want to reveal why just yet. ‘I wondered if they’d lived here a long time,’ I say. ‘Because the house is still really quite dated in parts. As if someone older had been there for years and seen no reason to introduce anything more modern.’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’ She strokes her top lip with a finger. ‘I got the sense it was a few years, not for any specific reason, just things that were mentioned from time to time. I know he worked locally – he was a civil servant – and then retired from that job maybe ten or twelve years ago, something like that. Whether they lived at Pevensey the whole time though, I’m afraid I don’t know.’ She stops to think, but then shakes her head. ‘No, I can’t think they ever said anything more specific. You’re going to have to tell me why you want to know though, Thea.’

  ‘I found something, hidden in the house,’ I reply. ‘I just wondered who had put it there, that’s all.’

  She smiles. ‘Sounds intriguing…’

  ‘Not really,’ I say, lightly. ‘It’s of some age, I’m just curious to know when it dates from.’

  ‘Well, whatever it is that has made you think it might be the Campbells has also made you think about them in certain way.’ She tilts her head and studies me. ‘And I suspect not in a good way, otherwise you wouldn’t be asking me these questions.’

  I smile. ‘Probably not,’ I reply. ‘So do you have any idea when they moved in?’

  But Anna refuses to let me change tack. ‘I bet it was behind the panelling in the hall, wasn’t it? I’ve always wondered if there were any secret compartments in there… What was it, a blood-encrusted dagger?’

  ‘Blimey, Anna, how old do you think the house is? Besides, it’s hardly big enough to have a secret compartment – although I must admit I’ve never looked. But don’t worry, it’s nothing quite so dramatic.’ Except that as soon as I say it I realise that it might as well be.

  Her face falls. ‘So what was it then?’

  And I realise I’m going to have to tell her just at the same moment I’m wondering why I don’t want to. ‘It was a newspaper article actually, but there’s no date on it. I’ve a rough idea but that’s why I was wondering about the previous owners of the house.’

  ‘Again, why do you think it was them that left it there?’

  I’m beginning to squirm. I can’t say why without mentioning what the article was about. And I really don’t want to have to admit it. I sigh with frustration. I’m going to have to tell her.

  ‘Because it seems an odd thing to have hidden,’ I begin. ‘And finding it in our house has made me feel uneasy. It gives me the creeps actually, and I remembered that’s exactly what you said about the man who lived here before us.’

  Her look intensifies. ‘Go on,’ she says.

  I swallow. ‘It was about that girl who was attacked, from years ago.’ I give a weak smile. ‘Of course that could be nothing to do with it. There was an advert on the back for a Butlin’s holiday camp, but somehow I don’t think the desire to take a trip to Skegness is a secret worthy of hiding.’

  There is a sudden stillness in the room. Anna’s face freezes and, although she recovers herself, the split second it takes her to do so sends a shiver of unease rippling through me.

  ‘How long ago did it happen, Anna?’

  She attempts a nonchalant expression but doesn’t quite manage it. ‘Oh, crikey. I don’t exactly know. Fifteen years ago, maybe, a bit longer… possibly twenty.’

  ‘And you don’t know how long the Campbells lived at our house?’ I ask. ‘Could they have been here then?’

  ‘Well it’s possible of course, but—’

  ‘So who would know?’ I ask.

  Anna’s eyes are wide. ‘What are you trying to say, Thea? You can’t go around suggesting that he was responsible. Me saying he gave me the creeps was just my opinion, and not based on anything concrete. It certainly wasn’t intended as damning evidence.’

  ‘But it’s a bit of a coincidence, you have to admit?’

  She stares at me, a look of horror on her face. ‘No… No, I don’t think it’s that at all. Because you’re making a huge assumption here and besides—’

  The silence between us blooms.

  ‘Besides what, Anna?’

  She shakes her head. ‘No, I’m sorry, I’m not having this kind of discussion. It’s quite wrong. And just the way these sorts of horrible rumours start. People say all kinds of things and then before you know it everybody’s talking and the whole thing gets completely out of hand…’ She comes to a halt.

  I try to hold her look but she drops her gaze. ‘But a crime was committed,’ I reply. ‘One where the guilty party was never found. Maybe it’s just as wrong to ignore it,’ I say, mildly. ‘However, I wasn’t thinking of accusing anyone, Anna. Just trying to think logically about what I found.’

  She shakes her head again and, as she looks away, it suddenly strikes me that we’re now talking about two different things, and it’s Anna who is concerned about rumours, not me.

  I lean forward slightly. ‘The other day, when we spoke about Tilly being bullied, you said that I should wait until I was on the receiving end of the village gossip. You meant it to sound like a throwaway comment, but because you’re far too honest to lie, it didn’t quite have the conviction it should have had. So you tried to cover up your slip by saying that all villages are rife with gossip. That may well be the case, but now I’m wondering what you meant by it. Were you talking about yourself, Anna? Or was it me?’

  She slides me a nervous look.

  ‘Only I’m not daft,’ I continue. ‘
The hush that falls when I walk past people, the curious looks that linger just that little bit too long, even you look uncomfortable today… Or am I just imagining it?’

  Her breath stills as she looks at me, the seconds ticking by, before her shoulders suddenly slump. ‘No…’ she says, eventually. ‘No, I’m sorry, you’re not.’

  ‘Then would you at least do me the courtesy of telling me why everyone seems to be talking about me? I’ve only just arrived in the village for goodness’ sake; I haven’t done anything and yet the welcome mat isn’t exactly being rolled out.’

  I didn’t actually mean by her, but Anna’s guilt speaks for her. ‘That’s hardly fair,’ she says. ‘You’ve no idea how difficult…’ She trails off.

  ‘Look, all I want to know is what people are saying,’ I reply. ‘Forget anything else for a minute. Don’t you think it’s only fair that I do?’

  Anna glances at me, but her gaze drops to the floor and stays there. ‘I’ve heard some things, that’s all,’ she says.

  ‘What things? I know if anyone’s privy to what goes on around here, it’s you.’

  She looks up then. ‘Yes, and do you know what that’s like?’ she retaliates. ‘Being the keeper of everyone’s secrets because of who I am. It’s exhausting. I don’t know how Rob does it, but even though everyone seems to think it’s okay to wash their dirty linen in my presence, I don’t then go around airing it elsewhere. Whatever is being said, it didn’t come from me.’

  ‘Anna, I never said it did, but please, I just want to know what it is.’

  She folds her arms across her chest and it’s clear she isn’t going to tell me. I get to my feet. ‘Fine,’ I say. ‘I reckon I know who started all these whispers so I’ll go and ask Stacey… that’s right, isn’t it?’

  Anna doesn’t reply, which is all the confirmation I need.

  ‘Thea, wait!’

  But I’m already walking out the door.

  Fifteen

  It would have been too easy to simply find Stacey in the shop. Too easy and wholly inappropriate, considering what I want to say. Jackie isn’t in there either. Instead it’s a much older woman I don’t recognise and my mention of Stacey’s name elicits no sign of recognition. But I know roughly where she lives and that will have to be enough.

  The estate is two roads of modern houses that must have been built about ten or so years ago. They certainly weren’t here when I was a child; back then it was all just fields. They’re right at the other end of the village but, even so, a five-minute walk is all it takes to find myself staring at the rows of near identical houses which pretty much all look like they’re occupied by families. I walk down the road a little way and pick a house at random on my left. A bright-red scooter lies on its side near the front path.

  My knock brings a harassed-looking woman to the door with a toddler on her hip. When I explain who I’m looking for, my carefully rehearsed and very plausible lie as to why tripping off my lips, I’m rewarded with a pointing finger and the words ‘Number eighteen.’ The door closes seconds later.

  I have no real idea what I’m going to say should Stacey actually answer the door, but the look on her face as she finds me on her doorstep would seem to be a pretty good indicator of how the conversation is going to go.

  ‘You’d best come in,’ she says, flicking a glance down the street. She stands back to let me enter the narrow hallway before openly looking me up and down.

  ‘I’m sorry for coming unannounced, only I had no other way of contacting you.’

  She peers at me suspiciously. ‘Yeah well, you’re lucky I’m in. I should be at work but my boss rang early to swap my shift.’

  I smile graciously.

  ‘What do you want anyway? I haven’t got time to stand here talking about the good old days.’ There’s a sneer in her voice that sets my teeth on edge.

  ‘Do you know I still can’t place you,’ I reply. ‘And yet you obviously know me…’

  I’m subjected to further scrutiny. ‘I know of you,’ she clarifies. ‘My older sister, Claire, was in your class at school.’

  We’re still standing in the hallway. There’s not much light but enough to see the open disdain on Stacey’s face. I struggle to think. I can’t remember the names of half the girls in my class at school. But then a memory stirs. ‘Claire… Sunderland?’ I ask. ‘Is that your last name?’

  ‘It was. I’m Brooks now.’

  I nod. ‘Yes, I do remember. Claire used to be really good at netball, didn’t she?’

  ‘She still is. She played on the county side for a few years.’

  ‘Oh…’ I trail off. I’m still not sure where this is all going and Stacey clearly isn’t going to help me out. But then again, why would she, when she’s hardly made a secret of her dislike for me? And I’m beginning to find it very irritating.

  I move further down the hallway and through the first door I come to, a sitting room. I’m aware it’s rude but I don’t want to say what I need to cramped in the hallway with Stacey, I need some space between us.

  ‘Right, what’s this all about then?’ I begin, as she marches after me. ‘Cause I’m getting fed up of all the sly looks and silences. You, Jackie, and the rest…’

  She gives me a stony look.

  ‘Okay… well you obviously have something you feel the need to talk about, something that involves me. And since we’ve only just moved here and I don’t know any of you, I’d like to know what all the whispering is about.’

  ‘Yeah, well what do you expect when you go around calling my son a thug? Just because I’m on my own and don’t live in a big posh house. Doesn’t mean you can go spreading lies.’

  My mouth drops open. ‘Who told you that?’ I counter, fully prepared to brazen this out. ‘‘Cause I’ve done no such thing. I’m quite happy to admit that my daughter punched Leo but that’s because she doesn’t like seeing her best friend getting bullied. And while I’m furious that it happened in the first place, and that my daughter seems to be the one who’s ended up in trouble, what I haven’t done is shared any of that with anyone else. I certainly haven’t been gossiping about it.’ I glare at her. ‘And I don’t really give a stuff whether you have a problem admitting your son is a bully, but trying to throw up a smokescreen by making out I’m the one at fault here is just pathetic.’

  Stacey draws in a breath. ‘I can’t admit to it? Well, that’s bloody rich coming from you. When we all know why you’re bad-mouthing me.’

  ‘I’m doing what?’

  ‘Trying to make out I’m a bad lot when you’re literally the spawn of the devil.’

  A gobbet of spit lands on my face from the force of her words. I feel like I’ve been stung.

  I take a step backward, pulse beating hard against my neck. But Stacey hasn’t finished.

  ‘Surprised?’ she sneers. ‘And there’s you, looking and talking like butter wouldn’t melt. Well, living in a big house isn’t going to help you now, is it? What did you think, that it meant you were untouchable…? Oh dear.’ There’s a horrible gleam in her eye. She’s actually enjoying this.

  ‘Or maybe you didn’t think that there would still be people here who remember what happened. Well, there are, especially when it’s something like this, people have very long memories indeed.’ She looks me up and down again, her face contorted. ‘I don’t know how you have the nerve to show your face around here again, pretending like nothing happened. Not after what your dad did.’

  The breath catches in my throat as it constricts. ‘My dad? What on earth has any of this got to do with my dad?’ I can feel the first dark rumblings of dread gathering in the pit of my stomach.

  ‘So when I mentioned earlier that my sister Claire was in your year at school, I “forgot” to mention that I have another sister too, one who’s even older. Hayley was two years above you. And do you know who her best friend was…? Well I’ll tell you, shall I? It was Georgia. Georgia Thomas. Remember her, Thea?’

  ‘No. No I don’t…’ I shake my
head, fear pricking at my neck. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  But I do. Of course I do.

  Nausea washes over me at the mention of Georgia’s name, and I’d give anything to flee Stacey’s horribly hypnotic gaze, but I can’t. I’m rooted to the spot.

  ‘Well maybe this will help you to remember.’

  Stacey crosses to a small table set with chairs in one corner of the room and picks up a piece of paper left there. From its position I’d say it’s one she’s been looking at recently. She brandishes it in front of her, her face a distorted mask, and my stomach drops away in shock as I see what it is.

  She unfolds the newspaper in front of me, relishing her slow and deliberate movements until the full spread is revealed.

  ‘See…’

  Stacey jabs the paper towards me and I take the yellowed sheet, acid burning my throat as I begin to read.

  … a thirty-seven-year old local man is still being questioned, although an arrest has not yet been made. Meanwhile police are urgently appealing for anyone who may have any information relating to the case to come forward…

  ‘See that?’ she spits. ‘Where it says a local man is helping the police with their enquiries – that was your dad, Thea. Your dad.’ I can feel her gaze burning the side of my face, and then she laughs. ‘What… you didn’t know? Ask anyone, Thea. It’s the truth.’

  I swear in that moment my heart nearly stops. Its chaotic pounding in my chest is matched only by the way the thoughts are careering through my head. But the moment I manage to catch hold of one, it shatters like glass and sharp needles of pain from its splinters pierce my heart.

  I don’t remember leaving Stacey’s house. Nor do I remember my passage through the village, except that it must have been swift and uncaring because now my only reality is the solid wood of Pevensey’s front door and my race up the stairs.

  I only just make it to the bathroom. But even the spew of vomit which hits the toilet bowl can’t cleanse me of my thoughts or the images in my head. My father. Touching. Even the possibility makes me heave. The thought that he could, that anyone would… I’m thinking as a mother, about Lauren, about Chloe, but more than anything I’m thinking as a daughter, about my own childhood and the fact I have to acknowledge: that it was all a lie.