But I’m not due at work today and I can’t stand the thought of being stuck here, with Alison mooching around the place, punishing me with her silence, just as lost as I am, but in a different way. She’s been staying with her parents for most of the holiday but now she’s back and I don’t know what’s worse.
So I make a decision: today will be the day I go home. Not to see her of course, but I miss Kieren, and I know he must miss me too. He won’t understand why I moved so far away, why I had to get away from her. She might try to poison him against me, but she shouldn’t estimate how strong-willed Kieren is, even for a five-year-old. He’s just like me – she’ll love that.
The train journey to Brighton passes too quickly and I’m stepping onto the platform sooner than I’m prepared for, into the city I will never be able to think of as home. Yet, until a few months ago, it was the only place I’d ever lived, the only place I’d ever been.
Somehow she has friends here: too many of them, scattered all over the estate, watching out for her. I shudder to think just how many people she’s turned against me, so I need to be on guard, ready to defend myself and my actions. But I can hold my head up high because I did the only thing I could do: I did the right thing.
There is only one person who hasn’t turned their back on me since it happened: Sinead next door. Despite being around Liv’s age and a mother of two herself, she’s never found anything in common with Liv, has never liked her, so I wasn’t surprised when she approached me in a shop one day and told me she believed my side of events. ‘I know you wouldn’t lie, Josie. That Liv, though… Sorry, I know she’s your mum, but my God, what a nasty piece of work.’
Since that day, Sinead has texted and called with regular updates on Kieren – it’s the only way I can know how he’s doing. I think about knocking on her door before I go to Liv’s, but I quickly decide against it. I don’t want anyone to see me there; that will only cause problems for Sinead and her family.
Liv’s house – not mine, it never was – is only a short bus ride from the beach, so I head to the pier first, just to buy myself some time. It’s deserted at this time of year, the atmosphere nothing like the bustle of the summer months, but that suits me fine – I can be invisible.
This is the time when I could really do with a drink, just something to take the edge off, because I’m actually afraid of what she’s capable of. But I’ve stayed away too long already. Four months is a hell of a long time for a kid, and I want Kieren to know I haven’t forgotten him; that I never will.
If there was a way I could get him away from her now then I’d do it, whatever it took, but there isn’t; I’ve already looked into it. I don’t know what Kieren’s life is like now, but I pray it’s not as bad as it was for me. He’s a boy, so she won’t be jealous of him, but she still doesn’t know how to be a mother – it’s not in her nature. To her, kids are just mistakes, things that get in the way and stop her living her life. Things that drive all the men she’s interested in away.
After staring at the waves for too long, I can’t put it off any longer. I came here to see Kieren and to do that I’ll need to deal with her. Right, I’m ready. Bring on whatever you’ve got for me. I can handle anything.
The house is just as shabby as it’s always been, forcing home the fact that nothing has changed. I press my finger on the bell and hear it ring out inside, taking a deep breath, bracing myself as it slowly opens.
‘JoJo!’ Kieren shrieks my name and runs into me, gripping me in a tight hug.
I lean down to his level. ‘Where’s Mum? She is in, isn’t she?’ Because it would be just like her to think he can be left on his own at five years old.
He nods, and his smile vanishes. ‘She’s in the bath.’ He turns and looks up the stairs. ‘She said we’re never to let you in,’ he says. ‘Why is she so horrible to you?’
One day I’ll tell you, when you’re old enough to understand what she did to me.
I look past him into the hallway, take in the rubbish bags – dumped there with their contents overflowing because she can’t be bothered to walk the extra few metres to put them in the bins outside – and the shoes and coats piled everywhere. ‘Kieren?’ I lean down to his level. ‘When did she get in the bath?’
My brother shrugs. ‘Just now. She told me to watch TV, I’m not supposed to answer the door.’
That will be in case it’s me. She knows I won’t be able to stay away from Kieren for too long. She always takes her time in the bath, so I relax a little and tell him to grab his coat and join me on the doorstep. I’m not setting foot in that place, not unless I have to.
We sit down and snuggle close, keeping each other warm. ‘I thought you’d gone away,’ he says, pulling back so he can see my face. ‘Mum said you were never coming back.’
‘Well, here I am,’ I say. It would be too easy to explain what an evil, lying bitch that woman is, but I could never do that to Kieren. As long as she is feeding him, not abusing him, and keeping him in clean clothes then I don’t need to speak badly of her to him. He’s at that age when parents mean everything, and he doesn’t need his world shattered. And looking at him now, the apparently new and spotless Mickey Mouse sweatshirt and jeans he has on, everything appears to be okay.
The abuse and neglect were just for you, then, Josie. Does that make you feel better or worse?
‘Have you had lunch?’ I ask Kieren. I’m already reaching into my bag for the uneaten tuna and sweetcorn sandwich I bought at the station.
‘No.’ He eyes my sandwich.
‘Here, take this.’ I hand it to him but he doesn’t reach for it.
He glances back at the stairs and shakes his head. ‘No, I’ll get in trouble. Richard is taking us to McDonald’s later.’
I’ve never heard this name before but I don’t need to ask who he is. Mum’s new boyfriend, no doubt. Well, it didn’t take her long to get over Johnny. Just thinking his name makes my stomach heave.
‘Is Richard nice to you?’ I ask. Because if he isn’t, I’ll take Kieren with me right now, and sod the consequences.
Kieren shrugs. ‘He’s okay, I don’t know.’ He buries his head in the crook of my arm. ‘I miss you, JoJo.’
I ruffle his hair. ‘Me too.’
‘I can ask if you can come back… then we can be together again.’
It breaks my heart to tell him that can’t happen. I try to explain I’m at university now, and I have to live away from home, but I’ll come and visit him as much as I can.
‘It’s not fair!’ he protests. ‘Why does Mum hate you?’
‘Because your sister is a nasty, filthy liar and she doesn’t deserve to be alive.’
My heart almost stops when I hear Liv’s gravelly voice. I barely take in what she’s said because I’m too stunned that she’s standing there and neither Kieren nor I heard her come downstairs. She’s wearing a long, fluffy green dressing gown, stained with make-up, and her hair is wrapped in a pink towel. What did she just say? All I know is it was something along the lines of wishing me dead.
Kieren releases his hold on me but is frozen to the spot, just as I am. It would have been different if she’d answered the door and I’d been ready for her – I’m not good at being taken by surprise.
‘Get out of my house,’ she says, spitting her words at me.
‘Actually, I’m not in your house.’ It’s a feeble attempt to stand my ground, but I won’t be intimidated by this monster. How is it we share the same genes?
She lurches forward and grabs Kieren. ‘Get upstairs, now.’
He doesn’t protest but runs off, thudding up the stairs without even a glance in my direction. Fear, that’s what that is. But when he reaches the top he stands and blows me a kiss that only I can see.
‘You’ve got some balls coming here,’ says Liv. ‘D’you know how many people wanna see you hung, drawn and quartered for what you did?’
‘And what exactly did I do, Mother?’ The irony I lace this word with will be lost on her. T
o me she is, and always has been, Liv Carpenter.
‘Really? You wanna play that game, do you? You put an innocent man in prison and walked away as if nothing happened!’ She edges towards me, her eyes stone cold. ‘He’s suicidal, y’know. And if he tops himself then God help you, because there’ll be a lynch mob after you. He’s got loads of family, loads of friends. And every one of us wants justice.’
It is all I can do to stop myself vomiting across her cracked doorstep.
I lift up my arms. ‘There’s nobody around, Liv. No one listening. Why don’t you just tell the truth? Because you know what he did. You saw him, I know you did, so cut this phoney act. You’re as guilty as he is and what goes around comes around, Liv.’
I turn quickly and walk away – I can’t listen to any more of this.
Her shouts follow me down the street. ‘Don’t show your face again, you dirty whore. D’you hear me? Just shrivel up and die in a corner somewhere, that’s what you deserve.’
As I walk away, I think how strange it is that those words can hurt just as much as, or more than, what she’s already done to me.
* * *
The flat is silent when I get home, but that doesn’t mean I’m alone. Alison is always too quiet, creeping around the place undetected until she’s standing right there, staring at me. Creepy as hell.
After the day I’ve had, I could do with her being here; I want to have it out with her and force her to listen. She needs to know the truth. But that didn’t work with Liv today, did it? When will you learn that people like her and Alison only hear what they want to hear, and you’re wasting your breath trying to convince them otherwise?
There is only one thing I can do, other than drink myself into oblivion, and that’s prepare for my lectures tomorrow. I’ve got Zach’s first thing in the morning, and our next assignment’s due in, so I need to go through it one more time.
As I step into my room, I catch a waft of Alison’s sickly-sweet floral perfume. It’s bloody everywhere in this flat: the bathroom, the kitchen, and now it’s seeped into my bedroom, the only place I can get away from her. And since the incident with Aaron, she’s been wearing even more of it, probably just to annoy me.
Settling at my desk, I load up my laptop and hunt around for my USB. I usually leave it in my desk drawer, safely tucked out of the way, but it’s not here. It’s got all my uni work on it and I can’t afford to lose it. I only feel a mild flutter of panic – I’ve been known to find it in pockets or my bag – but after an increasingly frantic search, there’s no sign of it.
Swearing to myself, I scan my computer files, relieved that I back up my important work. But my assignment for Zach isn’t there, and a search of the hard drive finds nothing with the name of my assignment.
How could I have been so dumb? But as I search my memory, I remember saving it on here. I swear I did. I even remember wondering if Zach would be as complimentary about this one as I copied it to my USB, convincing myself he wouldn’t and that he’d realise he was wrong to think so highly of me.
I spend another half hour turning my room upside down, until it looks like I’ve been burgled, but the search is futile.
Alison – it has to be. She’s trying to screw with me in her passive-aggressive way, and she’s done the only thing she knows will get to me. I rush to her room and pound on the door, shouting her name just in case she’s hiding in there. But there is only silence.
Not even bothering to get my coat, I grab my keys and leave the flat, slamming the door behind me, ignoring the bitter wind as my feet pound the pavement. I have no idea where I’m going, but I need to get the hell out of that flat.
After a few minutes, my head feeling like it’s about to explode, I realise I’m running in the direction of the coffee shop. I’m drenched in sweat, despite the cold, and must look a mess, but it’s as good a place as any to go. I can dose up on caffeine, let my heart rate slow down and get my mind around the momentous task of rewriting this damn assignment before tomorrow.
I’ve still got the handwritten notes for it, but I know without trying that I’ll never be able to recreate the original story, that there’s no chance I can match it. Damn that bitch, she’s lost her head over a man – if Aaron can even be called that – and that’s why she’s done this. I’ve seen Liv behave like this too. I would never let a man drive me to that kind of psychotic behaviour.
There’s only one customer in the coffee shop when I walk in: an elderly man whose hand trembles as he lifts his cup to his mouth. Lucia is serving today and she asks if I want my usual.
‘No,’ I tell her. ‘A double espresso.’ I’ll be up late tonight and I need all the caffeine I can get.
She frowns and then laughs, almost simultaneously, and says something in Slovakian. ‘Sorry. Sit. I bring.’
The elderly man has gone now so I take his seat in the corner by the window, pulling out my notebook while I wait for my drink. I stare at my notes and beg inspiration to hit me. Something. Anything. But the words just blur into a black scribble. This is useless; I can’t do it.
‘Hey, this is a sight for sore eyes.’
I look up and Zach Hamilton is standing by my table, smiling down at me.
‘Hi, what are you doing here?’ I try not to show how pleased I am to see him.
He sits at my table. ‘I had to do some last-minute prep and thought I’d stop here before I head home. I did wonder if you were working.’ He eyes the notes scattered across my table. ‘But actually it doesn’t look like you are.’
‘Not today, but I needed to get out of the flat. I’ve got a lot of uni work to do.’ He doesn’t even know the half of it.
He frowns. ‘Josie, is everything okay? You seem a bit… out of sorts? Oh, God, that’s a stupid expression, isn’t it? I must sound like I’m ninety.’
But I can’t laugh. There’s been no time in my life when anyone has ever asked if I’m okay, other than the police, so I forcefully blink back tears. ‘No, not really. Not at all. Nothing’s okay.’
Even as these words escape me, I know it will be a huge mistake to pull Zach Hamilton into my life.
Chapter Seven
Mia
* * *
Time stood still that night, when the police stood in my living room, telling me Zach was dead. Their mouths were moving but I only heard certain phrases: body… flat… dead… suicide. And then I was in a heap on the floor and sturdy arms were lifting me up, guiding me to the sofa, handing me a glass of water I didn’t want. Some time later, someone accidentally kicked it over and I watched water fan out, soaking a dark patch into the beige carpet. It’s funny how I remember this. I can barely recall the small details of Zach’s face unless I look at photos, or remember exactly how he sounded, yet I remember that pool of water.
The other thing I will never forget is Pam’s high-pitched wail, like a helpless animal being slaughtered, when, still numb and dazed, I made the call to his parents. The police offered to do it, but I couldn’t let Pam and Graham hear it from anyone else. I had to be the one to tell them. The sounds of Pam’s scream and Graham’s gasping were the sounds of their hearts breaking, just as mine had already done.
This is what I think of as I drive along the M4 to Reading, Freya singing along to the radio in her car seat.
Traffic is always lighter in the summer holidays so we make it in just under an hour, which means I won’t have to rush back. I don’t usually see clients at weekends, but I’ve made an exception for Carlo, who has recently lost his wife, and I need to make sure I’m back before 1 p.m.
But first, I need to speak to Pam, preferably alone – and getting her to open up won’t be easy or quick.
Pam and Graham are standing together at the front door as we pull up, and in the rear-view mirror I see Freya’s face light up, her little hand reaching up to wave to them.
Despite being in their seventies, they’re both fairly sprightly and Pam rushes to the car. I’ve barely switched off the engine before she pulls open Freya’s
door and begins helping her out of her car seat.
‘Grandma!’ Freya says, wrapping her arms around her.
‘Oh darling, it’s so good to see you! We’ve missed you so much.’
Graham blows her a kiss then opens my door for me. ‘Hello, Mia. It’s good to see you too, of course.’
I step out and hug him, but as usual it’s a short, uncomfortable hug. Although he is a loving man in his own way, Graham has never felt at ease with physical affection, even with his own son. It never bothered Zach, though, and he never doubted how much his father loved him.
Graham makes more effort with Freya, scooping up her bag and grabbing her hand. ‘Come on, Socks is waiting for you.’ As they head into the house, I can’t help thinking that, as old and frail as their cat is, he has somehow outlived Zach.
‘Are you okay, love?’ Pam asks, linking her arm in mine. ‘You look a bit pale.’
I assure her I’m fine, but her eyes narrow. ‘It’s hard for you coming here, isn’t it? All the memories.’
Although Pam and Graham only bought this bungalow when they retired, after I met Zach, we both lived here while we saved to get the deposit for our house, even though the daily commute into London was tough. So Pam is right; it’s difficult not to feel as though Zach will walk through the door at any moment, as if he somehow lingers on in this place. I can’t explain why it’s not like this at my house, given that it was our home together for years. Maybe it’s because Freya, older now, has brought something new to it, and I never got to see Zach interact with her as a little girl.
I smile at Pam. ‘Yes. But it’s nice to remember.’
Inside, Freya is already unpacking her colouring books, pencils and the Num Noms she insists on collecting, spreading everything out on the living-room floor. ‘I need to show you my new ones,’ she tells Pam, who of course humours her and kneels down to have a look.
Silent Lies: A gripping psychological thriller Page 6