by Tom Bale
Jen was intensely concerned about the psychological impact of the ordeal, but Charlie seemed remarkably unaffected. After two or three sessions with a counsellor, arranged in conjunction with the police interviews, Jen was told to trust her judgment as a mother. If Charlie was behaving normally and seemed fine, then he probably was.
It turned out that Dean had treated Charlie reasonably well, though the boy had never truly believed his claim to be close to Jen. ‘But he knew lots of stuff about you, so I thought I must be wrong.’
There was one blatant lie that Dean had told Jen. On Tuesday evening, before they drove north, Charlie hadn’t stayed with Dean’s mother – the woman had died when Dean was a child. In fact, Charlie had almost certainly been given a sleeping tablet, crushed up and added to a bottle of juice, and left to sleep in the back of the van while Dean met up with Jen. By then he’d guessed they would be hunting for him, so it wasn’t safe to stay at the flat he rented in Uxbridge.
Jen was horrified that Charlie had spent hours lying beside what he himself suspected was a dead body, though fortunately he’d woken the next morning in the front seat of the van, feeling sick and disorientated. It was possible that he hadn’t been fully aware of his surroundings during the night, and Jen prayed that the memory was lost forever.
The body of Russell Pearce had been recovered from the lake two days after the fire. Cause of death was a single stab wound to the neck, consistent with the blood spatter found in the hall. The detectives now believed that Kelly Pearce had gone for a walk on Sunday evening, at which point Dean had entered the house and murdered Russell, then cleaned up and waited for her return. The frenzied manner of her killing was nothing more than an attempt to create the impression of domestic rage.
‘Everything suggests that Dean was very cool, very sly and deliberate in his acts,’ DI Booth had told her. ‘Even if we find no evidence of it, I’m convinced he’ll have committed similar crimes in the past.’
Despite this, the police were still initially dubious about Jen’s claim that the kidnap was linked to a conspiracy. On the morning after the fire, Alex Wilson had given a statement retracting his earlier allegations against Jen, apparently muddying the waters just enough to avoid prosecution for wasting police time. At that stage she was still in Cumbria, receiving treatment for smoke inhalation and shock.
By the time she spoke to the Sussex detectives, Wilson had disappeared. Subsequent enquiries revealed that he and Sam Dhillon had used false identities, leading to a dead end which DS Howard agreed was regrettable. ‘But surely the important thing is that the charges are being dropped, and you and Charlie are okay.’
True enough, Jen couldn’t really deny that. But then there was Gerard.
‘You’re frowning.’
Jen took what she thought might be her final swim of the season on the second Tuesday of October. Charlie was at school, which made her feel a bit guilty about going to the beach, but the sea had taken on a sudden chill, so she had to make the most of it.
‘I was thinking about Gerard,’ she said. ‘And I don’t like thinking about Gerard.’
She was lying on her back, eyes shut, towel wrapped tightly around her. It was a day of slate-grey skies and almost no wind: pleasantly warm until you plunged into cold water.
Recalling the jump into the lake, she shivered. It still haunted her, all the not-quite tragedies of that terrible day. Like finding Freddie, and moving him only a couple of minutes before a section of the roof came crashing down on the spot where he’d been lying.
‘Don’t blame you,’ he said now. ‘I’m thinking about him less and less each day.’
She opened her eyes and watched him towelling off, briskly rubbing his head but avoiding the area above his left ear. The hair was growing back nicely where he’d had stitches, but that part of his skull was still tender. He’d regained consciousness in the ambulance, and spent a week in hospital, undergoing a battery of tests before the doctors concluded, tentatively, that there should be no permanent damage.
Jen hoped they were right. Freddie had struggled a little with his balance and coordination for a few weeks, and there were times when his choice of a particular word seemed to take him by surprise, as if it had sprung from some disordered part of his mind.
‘Have you heard anything more from him?’ she asked.
‘Not since last week. He was talking up the villa, but I don’t think he likes it there. He didn’t have a single good thing to say about the Greeks.’
‘And did you see that article in the Sun?’
‘Yeah. If Trump wins next month, he’s gonna move to the US.’ Freddie snorted. ‘Well, good riddance.’
‘Except it would mean Trump wins.’
‘Shit. Yeah.’
They lay together in silence for a couple of minutes. They were just down from Hove Lawns, and had the entire beach to themselves – if you didn’t count a few disgruntled seagulls, prowling over the stones and squawking their displeasure.
Jen’s first statement to the police had included everything she could give them about Gerard’s part in the plot to send her to prison. At that point Freddie was incapacitated, but when interviewed later in the week he was able to confirm much of her account.
As a result, Gerard was arrested and questioned at length. Ignoring the advice of his expensive lawyer to say nothing, he stridently denied every one of the allegations against him, and left the investigating officers in no doubt that he would raise hell if they brought what he termed ‘a wrongful prosecution’.
At the same time, he must have called in any number of favours, because apart from a nervous little dig in the Guardian, the entire news media failed to report on his arrest. ‘Straight out of the Jimmy Savile playbook,’ was how Freddie described it.
Without any solid evidence, the police had no option but to release him. The same was true of Hugo Hamilton, who was just as emphatic in denying his involvement. Contact between the two men could not be established – Freddie suspected Gerard had been using an anonymous mobile phone, which he would have ditched well before his arrest.
The only piece of worthwhile evidence was the recording that Dean had allegedly transferred to his laptop. But the computer, along with the recording device and several phones, had been vaporised by the fire.
Exactly as Gerard had planned it? That was what Jen suspected, but she would probably never know for sure.
Gerard’s only concession to his guilt was to declare that he was giving up his column to begin a life of semi-retirement at his new villa in Greece. That announcement was followed by the news that he and Deborah were divorcing.
Jen had made it clear to Freddie that she vehemently opposed contact between Gerard and his grandson, at least until Charlie was old enough to be told some of the background, whereupon he could decide for himself. In the meantime, her fears that Charlie might be hurt by the silence appeared to be unfounded. He hadn’t once asked to see his granddad.
Freddie’s attitude towards Gerard was, if anything, even more negative than hers. He was certain that his father had used his friends in high places to avoid what should have been a long prison sentence.
But the great advantage of Gerard’s absence meant that he was no longer interfering in their lives. That had enabled Jen and Freddie to work out a sensible arrangement for Charlie – one that gave him the stable routine he would need to do well at school while also allowing for plenty of leisure time with each of his parents. An agreement that had once seemed impossible had been reached in a matter of hours.
Jen’s own parents had been a great help in picking up the slack. Charlie had spent several weekends in Surrey, and on one occasion Jen and Freddie had both joined them for a Sunday lunch. Jen hadn’t said too much to her mum, despite her vow to strengthen the relationship, but there was talk of a spa weekend – just the two of them – in the near future.
When Jen sat up and checked the time, Freddie cleared his throat and said, ‘I, uh, I’ve got some news.’
‘I’ve met someone. Lauren. Early days, but. . .’ He was grinning broadly.
‘You think it could be serious?’
He nodded. ‘She’s a teacher – and she’s only suggested I should get into it, too. Teaching music.’ He seemed to flinch, perhaps expecting Jen to pour scorn on the idea. But she nodded with genuine enthusiasm.
‘I think that’s brilliant. You’re great at communicating your love of music – and you’re really good with kids.’
‘Am I?’ He blinked a few times. ‘Thank you.’
They hugged, a little awkwardly, and then he asked about her love life. Anything on the horizon?
‘No. And that’s fine with me just now.’ Since returning to work, Nick had made a few advances, all of which she had gently rebuffed. Having listened to her instincts, she’d decided that he wasn’t right for her.
‘So, er, about Lauren,’ Freddie said as he pulled on his jeans. ‘I’ll see her a couple more times, and then I wondered about introducing her to Charlie. You okay with that?’
Jen nodded. ‘Completely okay.’
There were one or two other bright spots. She’d recently had a message of thanks from Jonathan Oldroyd at SilverSquare. The police had investigated the material planted on their computer and confirmed that no charges would be brought against the creative director. The takeover deal was proceeding smoothly, and off the record Oldroyd had learned that the image of the mysterious female employee had been passed to MI5 for further investigation.
The road-rage incident at Brighton Marina had continued to worry her for a while, but she’d heard nothing more about it. On balance, she no longer felt it was connected to the wider conspiracy; as Freddie put it: ‘Just a couple of con artists who changed their minds when you went psycho on them.’
Far more significant mysteries remained unsolved. Despite his grisly record of murder and a host of other crimes, Jen knew that Dean had virtually sacrificed himself in order to save her and Charlie. If he’d simply fled the building at the first sign of a fire, he would no doubt have survived. Instead, he’d run back upstairs and unlocked the door, urging them to follow him out. His final act had been a selfless one, and perhaps, in a small way, that should count for how he was remembered. Certainly Jen preferred to focus on that rather than on whatever fate he’d planned for her, or how he might have reacted to her inevitable rejection.
But the issue that plagued her most was the identity of the man who had started the fire, and almost killed Freddie. That he’d been working for Gerard was beyond doubt – in her mind, and Freddie’s, too – but they knew they would never be able to prove it.
In a final confrontation before he left for Greece, Gerard had insisted to Freddie that he had no idea who the man was, and that on no account had he employed anybody to do them harm.
‘He nearly killed your grandson, and you don’t care that he’s going to get away with it,’ Freddie had said, to which Gerard merely shrugged.
‘A madman like Dean was bound to have enemies. Perhaps this arsonist had no idea anyone else was in there?’
Jen didn’t believe that. Neither did Freddie. What they had to hope, Freddie had told her, was that the man was merely a professional. As terrible as that sounded, at least it meant he had no further reason to intrude on their lives. ‘Better a hitman, or whatever he is, than a sociopath with a grudge.’
Jen agreed. She didn’t tell him about the nightmares, where this malevolent figure suddenly appeared to finish the job. She guessed it was a natural consequence of a near miss, and in time no doubt the fears would subside to a manageable level, even if they didn’t fade entirely.
‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I’ve got a request of my own.’
They’d bought coffees at the open-air cafe on the promenade, and were sharing a Kit Kat. Freddie was smirking at a text he’d just received: from Lauren, presumably.
‘Oh?’ he said.
‘Next summer, I’ve been wondering about escaping to Kenya for five or six weeks. I ran it past Nick and he’s okay with me taking the time off. A girl I used to work with is doing safaris out there. She said I’d be welcome to help out, and combine that with a bit of travelling, maybe get into the mountains.’
While he considered it, Freddie pouted. ‘And you’d be taking Charlie?’
‘If he wants to come.’ She swallowed nervously. ‘I hope he will.’
Freddie nodded, and his expression relaxed. ‘He’ll love it.’
‘You don’t mind?’
‘No way. It’ll be an amazing experience – just what he needs, after this.’ He leaned over and kissed her cheek. ‘Just what you need, too. An adventure.’
Jen smiled, raising her coffee in a toast. ‘An adventure,’ she agreed.
If you liked Each Little Lie, you will love See How They Run by Tom Bale.
Available Now!
A Letter from Tom
Firstly, if you’re reading this, I hope it means that you have read and enjoyed the novel. If you haven’t, please be aware that this letter contains references to the story that might be considered spoilers.
My previous book, ALL FALL DOWN, featured a large cast of characters and multiple viewpoints, so by contrast I wanted this one to focus on a smaller group of people. After mulling over several ideas, one in particular grabbed my attention – that of a law-abiding person doing something that appears to be risky or wrong, and then paying a heavy price. An image came into my head of a set of keys falling to the ground, and my protagonist picking them up and being faced with a decision: what to do with them?
It’s easy to forget that our attitudes to risk vary greatly from person to person, and I had a lot of fun placing my main character in a situation where her actions were likely to divide opinion. Some readers will no doubt be thinking, as she enters the house, ‘Why on earth are you doing this?’ while others will feel that it’s a perfectly reasonable choice to make. Only later does it become clear that Jen’s free will wasn’t quite so free, after all.
EACH LITTLE LIE is a story about manipulation, and deceit, and what seems to have become a horribly topical theme: the use of power and money to tilt, in secret, an apparently level playing field. An era where it has become acceptable and even celebrated for the rich to bully the poor, for the strong to bully the weak. Of course, I must stress that the character of Gerard Lynch isn’t based on any real person, but he is inspired by the many newspaper columnists and TV pundits of this type: men and women who enjoy a life of extraordinary wealth and privilege and yet seem to be consumed with fury that the world isn’t quite unfair or cruel enough. Sadly, such individuals rarely have to face the consequences of their words, a fact which is duly reflected in the ending of this book.
Thankfully, most of the novel is seen through the eyes of a much nicer and more decent human being. From the very beginning I knew that my main character would be a woman, my first female protagonist since Julia in SKIN AND BONES. With that book, I found it quite daunting at first (in my experience female writers capture the male psyche a little better than the other way round, perhaps because we men are such simple creatures!) but I’m glad to say that Jen sprang to life in an instant, and it was always a thrill to follow her quest for the truth.
I only hope that you felt the same – and if you did, I’d be very grateful if you would consider leaving a review at the site of your choice. I’d also love to hear from you via social media. You can contact me or find out more about my books via the links below, and receive news of my new releases by signing up to my email list:
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@t0mbale
tombalewriter
www.tombale.net
Also by Tom Bale
SEE HOW THEY RUN
ALL FALL DOWN
SINS OF THE FATHER by David Harrison
SKIN AND BONES
TERROR’S REACH
BLOOD FALLS
THE CATCH
See How They Run
The
Gripping Thriller that Everyone is Talking About…
How far would you go to save your family?
In the dead of night, new parents Alice and Harry French are plunged into their worst nightmare when they wake to find masked men in their bedroom. Men ruthless enough to threaten their baby daughter, Evie.
This is no burglary gone wrong. The intruders know who they’re looking for – a man called Edward Renshaw. And they are prepared to kill to get to him.
When the men leave empty handed, little do Alice and Harry realise that their nightmare is just beginning. Is it a case of mistaken identity? Who is Renshaw? And what is he hiding? One thing is clear – they already know too much.
As Alice and Harry are separated in the run for their lives, there is no time to breathe in their fight to be reunited. And with their attackers closing in, there is only one choice:
STAY ALIVE. OR DON’T.
Terrifying, unputdownable and full of twists and turns, this stunning thriller will have you on the edge of your seat right to the very last page.
Read what everyone is saying about See How They Run:
‘Tom Bale is one of the best British thriller writers around.’ Simon Kernick
‘Fast paced, shocking turns and thrilling scenes which make the reader focus purely on the characters’ plight within the pages. See How They Run is a fantastically thrilling whirlwind of a book. It is a tense, masterful lesson in putting ordinary characters into extraordinary circumstances and watching the story unfold. A highly entertaining 5 star read for me!’ Bibliophile Book Club