Tell Me A Secret

by Samantha Hayes

  ‘Oh, that’s so thoughtful, Lorna, but I think you’re the one in need of help right now. And I’m thinking very straight. I’ve been practising,’ she says, pulling her shoulders up to her ears in an ingratiating way, flashing me a smile.

  I hear her step out of the bath, feel the waft of air as she dries herself, drops the towel on the floor and goes into my bedroom again.

  ‘But you can’t just…’ I want to scream at her but have to stay calm. I follow her through. ‘How did you get in, for God’s sake? This is not normal behaviour, Nikki.’

  ‘Which one do you think?’ she says, holding up two of my dresses against her.

  ‘What…? Nikki, Listen to me. Put your own clothes back on and—’

  ‘I like this one best,’ she says, looking at the burgundy dress, throwing the other back down on the bed. ‘It’s more of a forgiving colour, don’t you think?’

  She goes to my underwear drawer then and pulls out a pair of black knickers, stepping into them. I stand there, watching her, my mouth hanging open, hating that I don’t know what to do to stop this.

  ‘Do you mind?’ she asks, coming up close and turning around, holding her bra straps for me. Unbelievably, I find myself hooking her up.

  ‘Nikki, you need to—’

  ‘I used to have a dress quite like this,’ she says, ignoring me, sliding it over her head, wiggling it down her body. ‘He bought it for me. Did he buy this one for you?’

  I shake my head, not knowing what to say. ‘No, Mark bought it,’ I reply quietly, lowering my head, terrified of angering her. I just need to get her out. Then decide what to do.

  Nikki zips up the side and slips on her ankle boots, giving me a twirl. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘It… it looks nice,’ I say quietly, indulging her, wondering if I should have a weapon to hand. But all I can think of are my nail scissors in the bathroom, and they’re not going to do much. I stare at her, wondering if I could actually stab another human being if it came down to it. I cover my face at the thought, hating everything that’s happened, including that the dress looks way better on her than it ever did on me.

  I take a breath, composing myself, as Nikki grabs my brush from the dressing table, using it on her hair, working it into dark, tousled spikes with some spray. It doesn’t look as though it’s been properly styled in a long time. But she’s still undeniably attractive, though different to how I imagined. Andrew’s paintings were abstract, and the faces were never designed to be recognised.

  ‘Won’t be a moment,’ she says brightly, taking a make-up bag from her handbag and quickly touching up her cheeks. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I borrowed a few things when I was here last week—’

  ‘Last week?’ I say, almost screaming, coming up to her and swiping back my compact. ‘I wondered where this had gone.’

  ‘But I did leave my lipstick here by mistake. You’re welcome to borrow it.’

  ‘The one that Freya used…’ I whisper, trailing off as the realisation hits me.

  ‘Ah, little Freya. How is she?’

  ‘What?’ I touch my forehead, feeling faint again.

  ‘And Jack, of course?’ She rolls her lips together, looking at herself in the mirror, satisfied she’s done a good job. ‘Right, I’m starving,’ she says, taking my hand and leading me downstairs. ‘Aren’t you?’

  Chapter Sixty

  Nikki

  ‘Nikki, I really think we need to talk about Andrew,’ Lorna says when we’re in the kitchen. She’s shaking, looks very pale, very fragile, as though she might pass out at any moment. That would be annoying. ‘We should talk about what you know, what you’re intending on doing.’

  ‘If you like,’ I say, smiling.

  ‘Perhaps get a few things straight,’ she adds. ‘Clear up any misunderstandings. But first, I need to get my phone from the car. Why don’t you put the kettle on, eh? We can have some tea.’

  She slides her hand from mine, making to leave the room.

  ‘Oh, I agree. There are definitely things we need to get straight. But no, you won’t be needing your phone,’ I say, grabbing her wrist. ‘Really. Don’t go outside.’ She hesitates, the look in her eyes showing me just how scared she is, that she knows I’m serious, the damage I could do with one phone call. ‘Sit down, Lorna. I was thinking we should have something stronger than tea.’ I open a few cupboards, eventually finding a bottle of cheap brandy in the cupboard next to the cooker.

  ‘Glasses are over there,’ she says, resigned, dropping down onto a stool at the kitchen island, not taking her eyes off my phone on the worktop.

  ‘I know,’ I say, getting a couple out. ‘This is nice, isn’t it?’ I pour two large measures. ‘Now, drink up.’

  ‘What is it you want from me, Nikki? Is this something to do with our therapy sessions? How can I help you?’

  ‘Cheers,’ I say, ignoring her questions.

  ‘Look, about Andrew. I don’t know what it is you think you know about me and him, but you’re wrong.’

  She takes a large slug of brandy then, wincing as it goes down.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think I am,’ I say. ‘I’ve been watching you for a while now. I know everything about you, and him. And all about your family too.’ My turn to wince then, and not just from the alcohol. ‘Everything,’ I add in a whisper.

  ‘You’ve been watching me?’ she says, incredulous. ‘Watching me do what?’ She has tears in her eyes, making me feel sorry for her. Almost.

  ‘So,’ I say, leaning on the worktop across the island unit from her. ‘You’re the other woman…’ I give her a long, hard look. ‘I always knew there was one. Right from when it started, actually. But I was too stupid to notice. Too wrapped up in everything, too invested in making a life for myself, making things work between me and him. Believing what I wanted to believe, only hearing what he told me, rather than what was actually happening right under my nose.’ I take a deep breath, allowing the feelings I’ve been suppressing for so long to flow through me, absorbing the shock of them. ‘Did you ever fuck him in our house? In my bed?’

  ‘No!’ she says, turning away. ‘Look, for what it’s worth, it’s over now,’ she says. ‘Obviously.’

  ‘What? Don’t play me for a fool, Lorna.’ I say, smiling sweetly. I go to the fridge, taking out the eggs, a packet of prosciutto slices, an avocado, a lemon, a jar of Hollandaise and a bunch of fresh parsley, placing them on the worktop one by one. ‘Why don’t you put some toast on? Cut it thickly. It’s nicer that way.’

  ‘I… I’m not hungry,’ she says. ‘What the fuck are you playing at, Nikki? Cooking in my kitchen…’ She gestures to the food, her voice wavering, on the brink of tears. ‘I’ve told you, it’s over between me and him so why don’t—’

  ‘Such a cliché, isn’t it?’ I say, glancing at her as I gather utensils. ‘The other woman. The bitch-battle, the catfight. But don’t worry, I’m not about to pull your hair or scratch out your eyes. See? I’m cooking you a nice brunch.’ I instinctively scoot around the kitchen, slugging some oil in a frying pan, putting some water on to boil for the eggs, placing the parsley on the chopping board. ‘The toast?’ I say, waving my phone at her, pretending I’m about to dial someone, spurring her into action. This time, she does as she’s told.

  ‘If it’s any consolation, I’m sorry,’ Lorna says, sitting down again. ‘He was always vague about you. I didn’t know.’

  ‘Honesty was never his strong point,’ I say, laughing drily. ‘Whatever he did say about me, I’m sure it was unpleasant. Nothing short of vicious, I would imagine.’ I stare at her, trying to read her as if I’m the therapist now. ‘You’d have ended up the same as me in the long run – put down, belittled, controlled, lied to, cheated on, deceived. I’m actually doing you a favour. You’ll realise one day.’

  ‘What?’ she says, looking confused.

  ‘I bet you were made to feel like the most cherished woman in the world, as if you were the only one? Trust me, it wouldn’t have been long befor
e you felt crazy, suspicious, spying on him, driven to extremes to get proof, as though it’s you who’s been unreasonable, not him.’

  I recognise the look in her eye; can see she’s in denial.

  ‘But not this time. I’ve seen to that,’ I say, taking a large cook’s knife from the block. Lorna’s wide eyes track my every move, watching as the blade glints in the sunlight streaming through the window. I grab the parsley with one hand, scrunching it up, bringing the knife down through it in satisfying hacks.

  ‘It was his charm that drew me to him in the first place, how he could beguile the pants off anyone,’ I say, fighting back the tears. ‘But when I found out about you, it tipped me over the edge, made me hate him. Hate you. Made me do something reckless. He always denied your existence. Said I was crazy.’

  ‘And that’s why you’re here?’ Lorna says, knocking back more brandy, looking fearful. ‘Because you want revenge or something?’ Her eyes flick down to the knife.

  ‘Why don’t you pop the prosciutto on to fry? Get it nice and crispy,’ I say, cutting the avocado in half. I scoop it out into a bowl, adding a squeeze of lemon juice before mashing it up ready to spread on the toast. ‘Isn’t this nice?’ I turn to her, reaching out and touching her shoulder. ‘Us cooking together. Like mates. We have so much in common, Lorna.’

  ‘Yes, yes, it is,’ she says, swallowing, frowning, half smiling all at the same time. She gives a quick glance to my phone lying on the worktop. I slide it closer to me, out of her reach. ‘Nikki, I don’t know what it is you want from me, or how I can help you, but…’ Her face contorts, looking agonised, as she moves away from the sizzling pan, leaning on the counter beside me. The candle flickers between us in the breeze, the jasmine fragrance mingling with the scent of lemon and brandy. ‘But if it’s money you want, then I can help. We can sort something out. Just tell me how much you need. But please…’

  ‘Please?’ I say, raising my eyebrows, looking up at her, the knife in my hand.

  ‘Yes. Please. And I mean it, Nikki. I really mean it. I had no idea about you and And—’

  ‘You think after everything that’s happened, everything I’ve been through, that I’m going to listen to your fucking pathetic please?’ Spit flies from my mouth as she jumps at my raised voice.

  ‘Then tell me. I’ll listen. I know you’ve been through a lot, Nikki. You mentioned about someone dying, about it being your fault. I’m still your therapist. I can help you work through it.’

  She’s humouring me, I know. Trying to appease me until she can get rid of me, have me locked up. But that look on her face, the same look when she gave me her full attention at the clinic, when she listened to me like no one ever has – it does something to me. I can’t help myself. ‘It was my father,’ I say, a couple of sharp, involuntary breaths making me shudder. ‘I was the first one to get to him after he died, the first to see his body. I was only a kid. The horror of seeing him like that has never left me.’

  ‘Oh, Nikki,’ she says, her hand reaching out slowly towards my phone. I know she’s trying to distract me, upset me, grab it when she gets the chance. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that.’ I think she means it.

  ‘We were in the car and it was raining hard. I was only little and chattering incessantly in the back, pestering my dad, begging him to look round at my broken toy. He did, quickly, but suddenly veered off course, swerving, trying to avoid the truck we were about to hit head-on. We went straight into the ditch, slamming into a tree. He hadn’t got his seatbelt on and flew through the windscreen. I was bruised and battered but managed to crawl out of the car. I found his body ten feet away, barely recognisable.’ I bow my head, covering my face at the memory. I’ve tried so hard to block it out.’

  ‘That’s horrific,’ she says, shuddering.

  When I look up, her hand is on my phone.

  ‘No!’ I scream, swiping it away from her, hating that I opened up to her. ‘Don’t fucking play games with me!’ I’m panting, breathless and upset from the memory of the crash. But I need to stay focused on the now. ‘You have not one clue about the shit I’ve been through because of him. Because of you. But not any more. Not any fucking more, Lorna Wright, oh-so-fucking-entitled to help herself to another woman’s—’

  ‘But I didn’t know for certain what was going on between you. He was always so vague,’ she says, getting up close, her expression pleading. Her fingers bend as they grip the worktop, her arms shaking. There are tears in her eyes as she hiccups back her sobs. I raise the knife, looking at the blade as it glints between us. I take a deep breath and start chopping the parsley again.

  ‘I know you didn’t, Lorna,’ I say calmly, pouting at her, tilting my head. ‘I know you didn’t. And it’s OK. It’s not your fucking money I want.’

  ‘Then what do you want?’ she says, sniffing. ‘Are you going to tell Mark about…’ She hesitates, so I look at her, making an encouraging face. ‘Are you going to tell Mark about me and… him?’

  ‘Why would I care about…’ I say, but trail off. We both whip round at the same time, each of us frozen.

  A noise.

  From the front door.

  A key in the lock.

  Fuck. This wasn’t in the plan. If, indeed, I had one.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Lorna

  The noise again. It’s definitely the front door. I wipe my hand across my cheek in an attempt to hide the tears. Trying to compose myself, trying to look normal.

  I’m here, in my kitchen. With a friend. Cooking.

  Just cooking. Cooking brunch with a mate. Perfectly normal.

  ‘Mark?’ I say, catching sight of him in the hall before Nikki does. She draws in a sharp breath, as though she hadn’t expected this either, but there’s no time to beg her, no time to plead with her to act like my friend.

  Please, dear God, don’t mention Andrew…

  ‘Lorna?’ Mark shouts, banging the front door closed. Nikki starts chopping again – chop, chop, chop – while humming a little tune. I glance at her, wondering if she’s decided to play along. ‘I got your message saying you’d come home poorly. I have a couple of hours free so wanted to see if you were OK.’

  Footsteps in the hallway, getting closer… closer.

  And then he’s in the doorway, filling the gap with his broad body, his legs apart, his shoulders back. At first, he looks at me, but then his eyes flick across to Nikki.

  She looks up at just the same moment.

  There’s silence – just the sizzling in the pan behind me and the sound of my heart thumping in my ears. They stare at each other for what seems like an age, no one moving. Then Mark’s mouth opens but nothing comes out. He takes a step closer. I’ve never seen his face look so blank, so shocked, so confused. It’s as if a mask has fallen off him and he doesn’t know who to be. Exposing a man I don’t recognise.

  ‘Hello, Mark,’ Nikki says, almost brightly. ‘I didn’t expect you home until later. We’re just making eggs Benedict. There’s plenty, if you’d like some.’ She keeps on chopping, beaming a smile, glancing up a couple of times as though everything is completely normal.

  Mark stares back hard, his eyes narrowing, deep furrows forming as he frowns. His head shakes from side to side as if his brain is telling him one thing, but his eyes are telling him quite another. He edges forward, approaching her as if she’s a feral animal, drawing up close the other side of the island unit, studying her. Beads of sweat glisten on his top lip, the muscles in his jaw are clenched and tight. His dilated pupils make his eyes turn black.

  He looks like he’s seen a ghost.

  ‘How have you been?’ Nikki says brightly, staring him out. ‘Fancy a drink? We’ve been really naughty and got the brandy out, haven’t we, Lorna? But what the heck, eh?’ she says, laughing. ‘You only live once. Right, Mark?’

  I look from one of them to the other – back and forth, back and forth – until Mark crushes me with one word.

  ‘Maria?’

  Nikki stands dead st
ill, holding the knife. ‘So,’ she replies, her voice not so bright now. ‘How have you been?’

  ‘What?’ I say. ‘What do you mean – Maria?’ I stagger back, catching on to the worktop behind me. ‘Tell me!’ In my head, I’m screaming it out, but in reality, my voice is weak, nothing more than a pathetic squeak. They both ignore me.

  I watch Mark’s expression change, recognising the telltale signs – his colour draining away, his shoulders tensing, his teeth clenching together. I haven’t seen him look like this in ages.

  And then everything Nikki – Maria – said works its way through my mind again. It takes me a few moments to work it out, but when I do, it makes me feel sick.

  Belittled… controlled…

  She was talking about Mark, not Andrew.

  Mark’s breathing is shallow and fast, his whole body seething with anger. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ he roars. His fists are clenched down by his sides. ‘How the hell… what the…’ He paces about the kitchen – two steps one way, three back the other – tearing at his hair. He’s barely able to spit out the words.

  ‘I’d have thought “Oh thank God, Maria, you’re alive!” would be more appropriate, don’t you?’ Nikki swings round to me, pulling a silly face. ‘Some men can be so fucking rude.’ Then her face turns venomous, making me want to back away, get away from the pair of them. I don’t know who to believe, who to trust.

  ‘I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect things to play out like this today,’ Nikki continues. ‘But I always try to look on the positive side now, especially after having such good therapy.’ She turns to me again. ‘And after only a couple of sessions too.’

  ‘What? You’ve been seeing Lorna for therapy?’ Mark spits out, his eyes burning between the pair of us. ‘Lorna, how long has this been going on, you gullible idiot? You have no idea what you’re dealing with here or what she’s capable of. This woman is mental, as you’ve no doubt found out.’ He comes over to me, his demeanour suddenly changing when he sees me reeling from the insult. ‘I’m sorry… sorry, love. I’m just shocked. Naturally.’ He wraps an arm around me. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from her. She needs locking up.’