Tell Me A Secret

by Samantha Hayes

  He pulls me closer, reaching into his pocket for his phone, waving it at Nikki… Maria… whoever she is. ‘I should report you to the police, you… you lunatic. What you’ve done is nothing short of fraudulent and—’

  ‘Fine,’ Nikki says, pointing at his phone with the tip of the knife. ‘Go right ahead and call them. Call whoever you want. You can’t control me any more, Mark. I may have been dead to you for the last eleven years but—’

  ‘Eleven years?’ I say, shocked, thinking, working it out. ‘You said Maria had been dead for fourteen years, that she died when Jack was only three, several years before we met?’ I look at him, willing him to explain, to do something, anything, but he just stands there looking torn, his face twisted.

  ‘Oh, he’s good, Lorna. He’s very good. Get used to everything he’s ever said to you being a lie. He started seeing you while he was still married to me. While I was very much alive and living here. Wake up, woman.’

  ‘What?’ I look up at him.

  ‘He kept us both in the dark. Neither of us knew to start with, but when I found out, he began trying to get rid of me, trying to make out I was crazy and have me locked up in a psychiatric hospital. Anything to get shot of me,’ she continues. ‘By that time, he wanted to be with you, not me. I was devalued, discarded, thrown away like a piece of trash.’

  ‘None of that is true!’ Mark yells. ‘You can see how unstable she is, Lorn.’ He gives me a squeeze.

  ‘Then came our sailing holiday in Scotland,’ Nikki goes on, ignoring him.

  ‘Yes… yes, I remember you going on a sailing holiday, Mark,’ I say, trying to think back to exactly when that was. It was when he sent me that picture of him and Jack, the one I keep on my phone. ‘But you’re wrong. He went with some mates. He took Jack too. It was a dads’ and sons’ trip.’ She’s lying. She has to be.

  ‘No, Lorna. He went with me.’ Nikki taps the knife on the chopping board. ‘Mark told me it was suitable for Jack, a gentle trip for his first sailing holiday, but we should never have taken him. He was far too young for the treacherous waters Mark took us out in. It was terrifying.’ She pauses, watching my reaction. ‘Has he suggested a nice holiday alone with you lately? A quiet romantic break by the sea? If so, I wouldn’t go if I were you. Just saying.’ She laughs then, glancing over at the holiday brochures lying on the side.

  I can’t take it in, what it all means. My mind searches way back, to when Mark and I first met. We didn’t live together for a while, of course. It was three years before that happened, during which time we took it slowly, mostly meeting at my place. It’s possible he could have had a separate life, I suppose, with Maria still living here.

  I glare at Nikki, watching her every move. ‘No, you’re wrong!’ I yell, huddling closer to Mark. ‘You’re just jealous. Mark, tell me this isn’t your Maria? Tell me that it’s someone else, that she’s messing with us, or it’s some kind of crazy mix-up, a practical joke even?’ I choke out a desperate, hysterical laugh as I study her, unable to accept any of this. Her hair’s completely different, but her face… her cheekbones, her eyes. There could be some similarity, though she doesn’t look anything like the photos I’ve seen. But then they would have been taken at least fifteen years ago, maybe more. Was this why I felt a flash of recognition at the clinic?

  ‘Mark, but you said she died. I… I don’t understand. Just tell me this isn’t her!’ I grab hold of him, searching his eyes with mine.

  ‘Shut up a minute, Lorna. Let me think,’ he says. I can smell the sweat breaking out on him – not the usual healthy smell, but fear oozing from his body.

  ‘You have to listen to me, Lorna. I am Maria, Mark’s not-so-dead wife. I would shake your hand but…’ She trails off, glancing at the knife, shrugging. ‘Anyway, it seems a bit late for pleasantries.’

  ‘But… but Mark, why would you tell me she’s dead when she’s not?’ I try to pull away from him, but his arm is clamped around my shoulder.

  ‘She was dead!’ he yells, tearing at his hair with his free hand.

  ‘In truth, I was dead to him a long time before I actually died, Lorna. Why don’t you tell her what happened, Mark?’

  My mind races all over the place, partly wondering, of course, what Nikki… Maria, whoever she is, knows about Andrew, about Andy_jag. Then it occurs to me – I was looking for a man the other day at the park, when really I should have been looking for a woman. I cover my mouth as it hits me.

  She was there – Nikki. At the burger van. Then came the two messages from Andy_jag – one while I was there at the park, and another chasing it up when I was at Mum’s later that afternoon.

  I hope you enjoyed your coffee this morning.

  Her. It was Nikki. Maria.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Lorna

  ‘Oh God, no, Andrew…’ I say, my face crumpling, my hand covering my mouth as I say his name out loud. Mark is beside me, his breathing fast and laboured.

  ‘I’d not feel too guilty about him,’ Nikki says, unfazed. ‘Mark won’t have been faithful to you for more than five minutes anyway. Isn’t that right, Mark?’

  ‘But… but you hated me being with Andrew,’ I say to Nikki, trying to make sense of everything even though it’s too late for hiding behind lies. I barely know what’s real or not any more. ‘And oh, God, you must really hate me. I’ve been the other woman twice in your life now.’ Nikki is still holding the knife, so I edge behind Mark, hoping he’ll provide some kind of protection. The tears flow then, hot and heavy, when I realise what I’ve done.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Nikki says, her face blank for a moment, her eyes twitching until something registers. ‘You think… you think this Andrew person and me… that we were…?’ She makes a face – a glimmer of a smile – rolling her eyes, shaking her head as if she’s way ahead of me.

  I nod, sniffing, waiting for her to continue. Bracing myself for Mark’s reaction.

  Nikki laughs. ‘I’ve never met Andrew whoever-he-is in my life before,’ she says. ‘He means nothing to me. I’ve seen you two hooking up, though. Been with you on enough of your dirty liaisons to know what you got up to. Frankly, I applaud you, Lorna. I wish I’d done the same.’ She walks around from behind the island unit, waving the knife at us as she approaches.

  ‘What?’ Mark says, turning and shoving me away. The look of hatred in his eyes nearly kills me. ‘You’re a dirty fucking whore. And you think I didn’t know anyway?’ he says. ‘I found one of your pathetic journals a few weeks ago, when I was checking for a leaky heating pipe in Freya’s room. I’ve read all of it. I know what you got up to last year, and I know what you’ve been doing recently. You dirty bitch.’

  ‘No, Mark, it’s not like that. You don’t understand. Really, you have no idea what it’s been about, why I…’ I reach out to him, begging, even though I can’t possibly tell him. I hate myself even more.

  ‘Oh, I can assure you, I know exactly what it’s about. And I know all about you on that bloody dating site too. You must think I’m fucking stupid. I saw you on Cath’s profile, flaunting yourself. And you’re glued to your phone all the time.’

  It’s as though I’ve been punched in the guts. ‘The dating site? I… no, Mark, you don’t understand that either. I need to explain—’

  ‘Why don’t you explain it to Andy_jag, then?’ He slaps me across the face, making me stumble backwards, stunning me. Then he jabs at his phone, bringing up a familiar screen.

  Double Take.

  ‘You stupid thick bitch,’ he spits out, forcing me to look at an account, a profile – a profile that he’s logged into. The screen name makes my heart split in two.

  Andy_jag.

  ‘No…’ I whisper, tears pouring down my face.

  ‘Yes, Lorna.’

  ‘You’re Andy—’

  ‘I knew you’d take the bait when you saw his picture,’ he says, a smug look on his face. ‘I knew you were always on it at Cath’s and wouldn’t be able to resist if you saw your
bastard lover on there. Photos of him were easy to find online, and I knew enough from your journal and those articles to choose a screen name that would fit, to write something plausible. Plus, it was easy to recognise you when you messaged him as Abbi. Lucky for me you were too stupid not to delete the cookies on your laptop. Your username wouldn’t have shown up on the login screen that night if you had. You weren’t quite quick enough getting rid of it.’ He laughs then, his fists balled by his sides.

  I grab on to the worktop, feeling sick at what it means, what I’ve been doing all this time. What I’ve done.

  ‘Anyway, when you said “ditto”, I knew it was you,’ he goes on, his voice filled with hate. ‘And here’s me thinking it was our special word.’

  ‘Oh my God, no, no, no…’ I can’t stand it. The tears come hot and fast, the sobs rising up from my broken heart. ‘Those messages you sent,’ I say, looking at Mark through swollen eyes. ‘The things you said… you have no idea what you’ve done.’ Then I turn to Nikki, clawing at my face. ‘You’re not Andrew’s lodger?’ I say. ‘Not his lover?’ My voice is weak, thick with snot, not wanting to believe the truth.

  ‘No. Sorry, Lorna,’ Nikki says, almost sympathetically, edging closer to Mark with the knife. He moves further away. ‘My landlord is a dirty old letch in his sixties called Ken. But this isn’t news to you, surely? I already told you this story. I was left with no choice but to degrade myself, to service the dirty old fucker so I could survive.’ She jabs the knife towards Mark, making him jump back. ‘It’s what I’m used to, after all, being treated like shit. But last weekend, he… he…’ she trails off, closing her eyes for a beat. ‘He crossed the line, he forced me to… It was disgusting. I had to get out. I’m staying with a friend now. I just wanted to be near Jack, so I could see him. That’s how it all started, me wanting to be close to my son again. I missed him so much.’ She fights back the tears.

  ‘But how could you leave Jack in the first place?’ I hear myself saying, dropping down onto the stool again fearing I’ll pass out. ‘I don’t understand. Why would a mother do that?’ I pick up my brandy glass and swirl the liquid round, knocking it back. I pour out another large measure, the heat of the candle hot under my wrist, warming the glass.

  ‘You think I wanted to leave him?’ Nikki says, pointing the knife at each of us. ‘When the boom swung across the deck on that fucking boat, knocking me into the water, I thought I was going to die. Do you know what that’s like, Lorna, to literally have everything you love and cherish flash through your mind, knowing you’re never going to see your son again? That sailing holiday was the most horrific, isolating and terrifying experience of my life. Apart from Jack, I was alone with him. We should never have gone out in that rough sea.’ She jabs the knife towards Mark. ‘The trip was meant to fix our marriage, but I felt helpless, abused, ridiculed, and was forced to have sex with a man I felt nothing for – and all with our little boy within earshot. I was stuck at sea with him, terrified for Jack and no idea how to get away, let alone sail or use the radio. He was trying to break me.’

  Tears roll down my cheeks as I sip more brandy, swirling it round in the glass, conscious of the candle flame. ‘Nikki…’ I say, wanting to listen to her, sit with her, hear her story. The therapist in me coming out even now.

  ‘This is all total bullshit,’ Mark yells, taking a step towards her, but she raises the knife, forcing him back.

  ‘That sudden tack was no accident either. Mark timed it perfectly without warning me, sending the boom across the deck, hurling me into the freezing water. Jack’s face in the cockpit, where he was strapped in, was the last thing I saw as I went over. He witnessed everything. He probably still remembers it. I was wearing a life jacket, but the weather was bad, the swell big, pulling me under time and time again. I couldn’t breathe. And Mark knew that I wouldn’t survive long in those temperatures. I screamed out to him for help, watching as the boat sailed further away. Mark was standing at the helm, staring back at me, holding a steady course in the opposite direction. He made no attempt to swing round or rescue me. He knew the drill, could have at least tried to turn back or throw in a lifebuoy, but he left me for dead. Jack was crying out for me. He was six.’

  ‘Christ, Nikki, oh Nikki,’ I say. I might be caught up in this whole mess, but her story is horrific. One of the worst cases of abuse I’ve ever heard as a therapist. I think of the trauma Jack must be harbouring, how it’s been coming out, him doubting his memories, upsetting Freya. The lies his father told him are unforgivable.

  ‘You need to get out now, you crazy fucking bitch,’ Mark shouts, suddenly lunging towards Nikki. She jabs the knife at him, darting back behind the island unit. ‘I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing but just get out of my house!’ He’s red-faced, sweating, his fists clenched by his sides, shoulders hunched.

  ‘It’s strange, but a kind of peace came over me after a while,’ Nikki continues, ignoring him. ‘As though I was resigned to my fate. That was when I decided to die, to never come back. It was an escape. All I could think about was Jack, how I’d never get to see him grow up. But then I realised that no child wants to see their mum crazy all the time, depressed, drinking too much, in and out of psychiatric hospitals. I knew Mark loved him dearly, saw him as a mini version of himself, and I had no doubt he would look after him. In those terrifying, freezing moments, I convinced myself my son was better off without me. Convinced myself I was actually crazy. That I hadn’t even been worth fishing out of the water.’

  ‘You were in hospital because you were mad,’ Mark spits out. ‘And you drank because you… you were an alcoholic. So yes, you are crazy! What more proof do you need?’ He’s shuddering, filled with rage.

  ‘Shut up!’ I scream at him as something flicks inside me. ‘Let her speak!’ I’m shaking, watching Nikki, overlaying her story on my own. It feels as though I’m drowning too – choking on memories of Mark. I always get what I want, he’d told me.

  ‘I don’t know how long I was in the water or what happened because I must have passed out. But the next thing I knew, I was in a boat. A foreign fishing boat with a couple of men who didn’t speak English and who were warming the life back into me. I’ve no idea how long it was before we reached the shore, but I refused to let them take me to hospital. I convinced them I lived locally, insisted they leave me alone at the harbour. I never saw them again. Mark had to call the coastguard, of course, report me missing, no doubt telling them how he’d tried and tried to save me, to go back and locate me. But by the time he’d bothered to raise the alarm, the mayday signal would have given out a completely different GPS location for the search. They never found a body. As far as Mark and the rest of the world was concerned, I was dead. And seven years later, officially so.’

  ‘Oh, Nikki… Maria,’ I say, breathless from her story. ‘Why didn’t you tell the police, the doctors, anyone?’

  ‘I’d tried to get help in the past, but no one ever believed me. In the end, I knew there was no point. Besides, apart from not seeing my son, I’d never felt so free in my life. I had nothing, I was a nobody, but it was a chance to start again. Without him.’ She glares at Mark. ‘Over the years, I laid low in Scotland, got by with cash-in-hand, live-in jobs, recovering, getting my strength back – emotionally, you understand. In time, it became clear that there was nothing wrong with me. There never was. It was all him. I stayed in Scotland for years, knowing Mark would never look for me. He was too preoccupied with you, Lorna.’ She draws in a deep breath. ‘It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, yet the most liberating too. If I’d stayed, I’d have lived my life feeling dead inside anyway. It was always in my plan to come back for Jack. I was just never sure when. Or if he’d even want to know me. The only person I ever killed was me.’

  ‘What is it you want from me, Maria?’ Mark growls. ‘How much to get rid of you once and for all?’

  ‘I don’t want your fucking money,’ she says. ‘I just want my son back. Did you know he smokes
weed, hangs out with a bad crowd? I even saw him shoplift once.’

  I hang my head. I’ve tried to bring up Jack well, tried to be the mother he never had. I feel so bad for him that his memories were denied over and over by Mark, so he eventually believed the lies he was fed. But Jack’s unconscious mind has never quite allowed him to forget, never fully let go of the horror he saw, how his father left his mum for dead.

  Deep down, he knew.

  Then the horror of my own reality hits me again, making me want to retch.

  Denying, distorting…

  ‘Jack won’t want anything to do with you,’ Mark spits out.

  ‘That’s not true!’ I say, standing up. ‘Jack’s always loved his mum. I know this.’

  ‘You’re both crazy bitches,’ Mark shouts, lashing out with his arms at us. ‘And you, you cheating whore,’ he says to me. ‘You can go fucking hang yourself, for all I care!’

  That’s all it takes.

  His words echo around me, vibrating through every cell of my being, through the years. Waking me up.

  Again.

  For a second, the world goes quiet, all my senses numb, protecting me – perhaps like Maria’s moment of calm in the sea when she thought she was going to die.

  But then one quick tip of the glass is all that’s needed for the candle to ignite the warm brandy, sending blue swirling flames out of the top. Before he knows what’s happening, before I can stop myself, I chuck the whole lot in Mark’s face, dousing him in the flames. I’m fuelled by anger, driven by that rotting place deep inside.

  Mark screams, clutching at his face, his neck, his clothes as the burning alcohol seeps down, the flames spreading over his skin, scorching him more and more as his hands spread it around. He can’t put it out. It’s everywhere. He drops to his knees, yelling, shrieking for help, crying in agony. His clothes are alight, his hair on fire, the skin on his cheeks and neck blistering as the alcohol burns.