Tell Me No Secrets

by Lynda Stacey

  An hour later Ben stood up, bid her goodbye and left.

  Kate spent the next hour looking at a book she’d found on spinal injury. It covered most of Eve’s problems, but a T4 Incomplete was different for Eve than most other sufferers. There were so many things that Eve could do that were described as impossible, and Kate found it difficult to understand why; her mind drifted.

  The monotony of the day caught up with her.

  ‘Have you finished with these?’ The sound of Bellandini’s Italian accent made her jump. He’d disturbed her thoughts and Kate saw his hand land on the pile of books that she’d already dug through.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ she said politely. She’d hoped for the whole day that he’d make conversation or do something that might incriminate himself, but now that he stood before her, she had no idea what to say to him.

  ‘You’re studying medicine?’ he queried.

  Kate watched him leaf through the books that were all piled up in size order. Large books at the bottom, smaller books to the top; a perfect tower, all perfectly stacked.

  ‘Oh, err, yes, my sister, she has a spinal injury. I’d like to help her.’ She stumbled over the words, wondering what to say next. ‘She was in an accident, you see.’

  ‘Have you tried Spinal Cord Medicine by … Wait a minute.’ He suddenly disappeared.

  Bellandini returned with a large book. ‘Ah yes, Vernon Lin. It’s got loads of information about spinal problems in it, covers everything from surgical procedures to rehabilitation.’ His Italian accent was strong and Kate enjoyed listening to the rhythmic tone.

  He stood back and Kate suddenly felt guilty. She knew it was her job to spy, but Luca was nice. And she suddenly wondered what a drug dealer would really look like or how he would act. All he’d done all day was run around, clearing up after people and helping them. His knowledge of the library was extensive, which to her meant that he’d worked here for years, honing his craft.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said sincerely as she accepted the book from him and laid it on the table before her. ‘I’m Kate,’ she announced, holding her hand out toward him.

  ‘Luca.’ He shook her hand and smiled. ‘Just shout if you need any more help. I’ll be over there.’ He pointed to the reception, smiled again and walked away.

  The last hour passed quickly and Kate shuffled in her seat as the lights flashed on and off in the library. It was the normal signal to all in there that it was five thirty and that the library was about to close. Kate gathered up all her pens and pads, carefully putting the pens neatly into the rucksack where she’d kept them for the past four years. The pads were all closed and placed in size order.

  If everything had a place, you always knew where to find it.

  She took a final look at the book she’d been studying, before returning it to the reception desk. She then walked down to the foyer where the large coffee shop tempted her to sit down for a moment, buy a drink and sip at the liquid served in the Styrofoam cup. She hated the cups, they tainted the coffee with the taste of plastic, but the warmth of the drink was at least a little comforting.

  She watched as people filed past her. They were leaving the building, going home for the night and she wanted to go too, but what was there to go home to? Rob wouldn’t be there; he’d said so on the text. She finished her coffee and walked towards the door. The sky had turned dull and the air chilly. It was as though the weather was about to change and the rain would pour. But right now she had to call Ben and give him an update on the day. She grabbed her phone out of her rucksack, just as it began to ring.

  ‘Darling, is that you?’ The sound of her mother’s voice cut deep, as her mind went into overdrive.

  ‘Mother,’ she cringed. ‘Are you okay?’

  Her mother only called when she wanted something. Kate always dreaded speaking to her on the phone, knowing that something nasty or cruel was about to be said. Her mother was practically the world record holder for backhanded compliments and even though she’d probably be mortified if she thought she’d offended anyone, the words seemed to fall out of her mouth at a constant rate.

  ‘I’m fine, darling. Where are you?’ The words and tone of her mother’s voice hit her like a thunderbolt. Her mother asking where she was could only mean one thing. Kate sat on the stairs. She put her head in her hands and pulled frantically at her long auburn hair.

  ‘I’m at work,’ Kate responded. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m outside your house, darling.’

  Kate screamed silently. The cottage would be like a bomb site. Rob would have been home for lunch, there would be dirty dishes all over the kitchen, and he would have showered, used the toilet and changed out of numerous sets of sweaty jogging pants, leaving his dirty ones all over the floor. Not to mention the red wine stain that still marred her bedroom carpet.

  Why? Why? Why was her mother standing outside River Cottage? Kate knew that she’d be checking how dirty the windowsills were. They were probably filthy and covered in dust that would have blown across from the fields. They certainly hadn’t been cleaned for at least a week or two, which would give her mother a whole raft of ammunition to use against her.

  ‘Mother, I’m working. I’m at the library in Bedale. I’m sure I mentioned my new job.’ Kate made a huge attempt to sound calm and cheerful, as deep down she began to suck in deep breaths of air to stop her heart from pounding so quickly. It hammered in her chest in an attempt to escape as she stood up from the stairs and grabbed at the bannister.

  ‘Darling, I’ve been standing outside this tiny little cottage for the last twenty minutes. I thought you’d be here.’ The words were said in a cold, insulting and patronising tone. Kate’s worst nightmare was true. Elizabeth Duggan was here, in Caldwick, outside her home, calling it ‘tiny’.

  Kate mentally worked out it would take ten, maybe fifteen minutes to get back to the cottage, if she hurried and left immediately. The roads should be quieter now as it was almost six o’clock.

  One more deep breath and Kate looked back over her shoulder and waved a goodbye to Luca Bellandini, who was just walking down the stairs and toward the door.

  Her eyes closed involuntarily. If only her mother hadn’t phoned. She’d have had a great opportunity to thank him for finding the book. But instead she had to watch Luca disappear out the door, while she rushed off to entertain her mother. Who was, no doubt, huffing and puffing with her finger hovering over the windowsills, which would have already been tutted at and now she’d be sneering at the hanging baskets or pulling the dead heads off the rhododendrons.

  ‘Mother, had … had you said you were coming to visit?’ she said as politely as she could, while racing toward her car at a million miles an hour. She was positive that her mother hadn’t mentioned it. And she’d have definitely remembered an event so big and so very unbearable.

  ‘Coooooey.’ The voice of Mrs Winters came like a blessing from God and Kate heard a muffled sound as her mother momentarily put a hand over the phone, ‘Isn’t it Kate’s mum? Oh, it’s lovely to see you again. How are you, dear?’

  Mrs Winters was Kate’s eighty-five-year-old neighbour and the exchange of words told Kate that her mother was being hugged and hounded into her house for coffee and cake. No one ever emerged from Mrs Winters’ within an hour; sometimes it took two before they escaped. This would give Kate ample time to get home and sort out the mess. She might even get time to wipe the windowsills in the hope that they hadn’t already been finger swiped. But not before she stopped off at the village shop and bought some much needed wine that she would be desperate for later.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘You can’t drink this one you know.’ The shop assistant laughed as he held up the bottle of bleach. He punched the prices into the vintage till and put the bleach in the carrier bag, along with the two bottles of red wine that had been in Kate’s basket.

  ‘Well, no shit Sherlock,’ Kate snapped, unsure if he’d been serious or joking. She was tired and grumpy. Mother w
as waiting and the ‘I’m not coming home’ text from Rob had been niggling in the back of her mind all day. She needed to phone Ben, it would have been expected that she’d update him on what had happened after he’d left. She glanced down at her watch.

  Looking up at the cute shop assistant, she immediately felt sorry. She really shouldn’t have snapped. She’d used this shop for years, and she felt a wave of embarrassment take over her as she noticed the look of shock and dismay on his face.

  Kate watched as he looked back toward the cash register, hurriedly tapped in the last of her purchases and shuffled back and forth from one foot to the other behind his counter. He paused, looked up, pushed back his unkempt hair and hitched his glasses up higher on his nose. The black plastic rims were far too big for his narrow face and slipped down his nose again and again as he spoke. He reminded her of Clark Kent, with his glasses, dark hair and thick black eyebrows. He was a similar age to her, a little geeky, and she suspected that one good hair cut would leave him fresh faced and really quite gorgeous underneath.

  ‘Look, I’m so very sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I’m having a really bad day.’

  ‘No, no, it’s me that should be sorry,’ he said ironically, looking down at a Sherlock Holmes book that was next to the till. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just trying to be amusing. You know, funny ha ha. It always tends to backfire with me.’ He rambled on nervously without stopping. ‘Some people can get away with it, you know, telling jokes, being funny, they always get everyone laughing, but I can’t. People always take me the wrong way. I can’t ever tell jokes. I always mess them up, or forget the punchline before I get there.’ He stopped abruptly, realising that he’d spoken without taking a breath, and began to shuffle newspapers into neat and tidy piles.

  ‘Okay, let’s both be sorry! My day has been rubbish. Nothing’s gone right, and now my mother has turned up to visit,’ she tried to explain as she flicked open her black leather purse. The lack of cash meant that once again she had no choice but to pay with her already maxed out credit card.

  ‘Are you reading that book?’ She indicated the Sherlock Holmes novel as she pulled the card from her purse.

  ‘Yes. I like mysteries. I read lots of crime fiction. I’ve joined a book club and this is the one they’ve chosen to read this time, although I must say, I’ve read it before, but for the sake of the group, I’m reading it again. I like to try and solve the mystery before the author reveals it.’

  Kate smirked.

  ‘The author always tries to lead you down a different trail, lets you think it’s someone else. It always ends up being the person that’s the most hidden in the words, and then they bring him or her out at the last minute. When you know what to look for, it becomes so obvious.’ He smiled with pride.

  Kate thought back to the Sherlock Holmes book that she’d read in English literature at least fifteen years before. It hadn’t been her favourite subject and it occurred to her that she really hadn’t been very good at literature back then, and she was positive that she wouldn’t like it any better now.

  ‘Wow, super sleuth,’ Kate mocked and immediately wished she hadn’t. She was supposedly well educated, but really did manage to open her mouth at the most inopportune moments. Once again she’d managed to offend the young man before her.

  His defensive wall sprang up and he hitched up his glasses, took a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. For the second time he rearranged the newspapers. He was obviously irritated and looked impatiently up and down as though waiting for another customer to enter the shop.

  ‘I am so sorry,’ Kate said as sincerely as she could. She looked down at her feet, waiting for a response that didn’t come. ‘I’m a private investigator,’ she suddenly announced, in the hope that he’d be impressed. ‘It’s a new job and I started yesterday. You see, I love crime too.’ She looked at him directly, hoping that he’d smile. When he didn’t, she continued, ‘Could I ask your name?’

  He shook his head. ‘You’re not a very good investigator, are you?’ he said quite firmly. He wagged his finger at her before turning away from her and tidying up the tins of beans. Each tin was faced forward. All in neat, tidy rows. Kate smiled in approval.

  ‘You see, I know all about you.’ He concentrated on the beans. ‘You’re Kate Duggan, you’re twenty-eight and you live in River Cottage on Clover Lane. You live with your fiancé, who’s never home, you don’t have pets and you began working at Parker and Son yesterday morning,’ he concluded as Kate stepped back.

  ‘Oh my goodness. How do you know all of that?’ she asked nervously, her hands twisting the handles of the carrier bag until one broke.

  Handing her another carrier bag, he laughed with amusement and waited while she re-packed the shopping. The wine was placed in one bag, the bleach in another.

  Kate shuffled nervously. How did he know so much about her? Could he have followed her, stalked her? Was he one of those people who’d have hundreds of secret photos of someone pinned all over their wall?

  ‘That’s easy,’ he said with a laugh.

  He’d obviously unnerved her and he liked it. She shouldn’t have been so unkind to him in the first place. It was now his turn to be the clever one, the one with the answers.

  ‘Well,’ he began, ‘you’ve just paid by card, and your name is on the card. It says here that you have your Sunday paper delivered to River Cottage on Clover Lane. You wear an engagement ring, but have only bought wine. You looked at the pet treats and smiled, but didn’t buy any.’ He paused and smiled. ‘And you bumped into me in the corridor at Parker and Son yesterday morning. I opened the door to William’s office for you. I work there too.’ Again, he looked over his shoulder. ‘And I work here to help my parents out, when Ben doesn’t need me.’ He smiled smugly.

  It was Kate’s turn to laugh now. He really was quite the detective, which in contrast to being a psycho stalker, was quite a relief. He’d also completely outsmarted her and she knew it.

  ‘Of course, that was you? I thought you looked familiar, but didn’t recognise you, and I’m so sorry. So, you’re right, I’m not a very good investigator, am I?’ She laughed again and sighed at the same time. ‘I have a lot to learn and do you know what? You still didn’t tell me your name.’

  Kate watched as his hand went up to his chest, tapping on a large white plastic badge that hung from his shirt, the word ‘Eric’ clearly marked upon it.

  Eric winked. ‘It’s true. You do still have a lot to learn. Don’t you?’

  Chapter Ten

  Kate drove home to River Cottage, walked to the back of the house and let herself in.

  It was half past six and she breathed in a deep sigh of relief that her mother wasn’t standing on the drive. She must be still in Mrs Winters’ house, with no chance of escape until she’d drunk at least three cups of tea.

  Kate’s stomach turned and her whole body began to tremble. The thought that her mother was in the house next door made her feel nauseous and she glanced around the house, summing up what needed to be done first, and began to tidy. As always, Rob had left the house in a mess after his lunchtime visit. Dirty dishes were quickly thrown in the dishwasher. The clothes that Rob had dropped all over the floor between showers were tossed in the washing machine and the bathroom was once again attacked with copious amounts of bleach and hot water.

  Kate felt a shiver go through her, and she walked into the lounge. The April nights could turn chilly and she decided to light the wood-burning stove, along with the scented candles that surrounded the room. She closed her eyes to take in the aroma. The cottage had a warm and homely feel, so why did she feel so cold inside with dread? Why since the accident did spending time with her mother fill her with an overwhelming sense of anxiety that had never been there before? Kate shook her head. She was sure that her mother blamed her for the accident, but then again, why would that be a surprise? No one could blame her more than she did herself.

  Kate walked up the stairs and into
the bedroom where the wine had been spilled and stared at the carpet, wishing she’d called someone in to clean it. She sighed. There was nothing she could do about it now and she dragged a rug in from the second bedroom, tossing it over the stain.

  ‘It’ll have to do,’ she announced to herself, ‘because like it or not, she’s here.’ She knew that her time was up as she heard her mother’s traditional three taps on the glass, followed by the sound of the back door opening and banging to a close.

  Swallowing hard, Kate attempted to stay calm. Her stomach still turned and she checked herself in the mirror to ensure the foundation still covered her scar, before walking down the stairs to be met by the sight of the ever perfect Elizabeth Duggan, who had turned away and was rubbing a finger along the hallway shelf, checking for dust.

  ‘Hello, Mother,’ Kate said as sincerely as she could, but not before taking note of the huge suitcase that stood at Elizabeth Duggan’s feet. Kate sighed. The suitcase could only mean one thing. She was staying and not only was she staying, but judging by the size of the case, she’d be staying for an awful long time.

  ‘Kate, only fish walk around with their mouths open,’ her mother said as she tapped her daughter under the chin. ‘Now give your mother a hug.’

  What Kate really wanted to do was correct her on the fact that fish would never walk but swim, but she decided against it knowing that the lecture that would follow really wouldn’t be worth the trouble. Instead, she bit her tongue, hugged her mother and apologised.

  ‘Sorry, Mother.’

  ‘Now then, dear, let me look at you.’

  Kate watched as her mother stood back, placed a hand on each of her hips and looked her up and down with a determined gaze.

  ‘Katie, darling, you’ve had your hair cut,’ her mother stated as Kate waited for the insult that would follow. She felt herself being spun around while her mother took a better look. ‘Never mind, darling, it will grow.’

  There it was. The insult. If nothing else, her mother was very predictable.