Sworn Secret

by Amanda Jennings

  ‘Look, please, just leave me alone,’ Rebecca pleaded. ‘I have to get to my piano lesson. I’m late.’

  Kate let go of her arm and Rebecca sprang away.

  ‘I want to help you,’ Kate said. ‘I promise. That’s all I want to do.’

  Rebecca turned away from her and hurried off, huddled and timid.

  Kate wondered if Rachel knew what her daughter was going through, how scared she was, how strained she seemed. Had she confided in her mum? Rachel needed to know. If Kate had known more truth about Anna and what she was experiencing, perhaps she could have intervened, stopped the relationship with Stephen, reined Anna in. Maybe that would have been enough to save her life. Kate stared after Rebecca long after she’d disappeared from view. Even though she was tingling with nerves at the thought of facing Rachel, she had to see her; if something happened to Rebecca, if she got into serious trouble, or tried to hurt herself, and Kate hadn’t told her mother, she could never live with herself. It had been such a long time since they’d spoken. And lots had happened in that time. Kate shuddered as she recalled the memorial.

  You have to, she said to herself. You have to make sure Rachel knows what’s going on. You owe it to Rebecca.

  As Kate stood outside Rachel’s front door her pulse began to race, and when she lifted her hand to ring the doorbell she was shocked to see how much she was shaking. There was no answer for a bit, and she was about to turn away but then Rachel opened the door. She wore a clean white T-shirt and khaki shorts with a pair of gardening gloves tucked into the waistband. Her hair was brushed into a neat ponytail and her face was touched red by the day’s sun. Rachel was clearly taken aback to see her, which didn’t surprise Kate at all; this was the first time they’d been alone in each other’s company since Anna died.

  Rachel gestured awkwardly over her shoulder. ‘I was in the garden.’

  ‘I need to talk to you.’

  Rachel didn’t step aside to allow her in, but crossed her arms and looked over Kate’s head to the street beyond. ‘I really don’t think we have anything to say to each other. In fact, I think—’ But she stopped herself finishing the sentence. ‘You know, it doesn’t matter what I think. I’ve nothing to say to you.’

  She stepped back from the door to close it, not allowing her eyes to catch Kate’s.

  ‘It’s about Rebecca.’

  Rachel stopped and shook her head bitterly. ‘I can’t believe you’ve got the balls to show your face here, Kate. What you did was indefensible; don’t you dare try and excuse it.’

  ‘I’m not going to. I’ll regret what I did for the rest of my life and I wouldn’t insult you by trying to excuse it.’ She paused as Rachel’s façade weakened a shade. ‘But I’ve just seen her outside school and that’s the reason I’m here. I think you need to talk to her.’ She hesitated. ‘You need to ask her about Dr Howe.’

  ‘Dr Howe? Why?’

  Kate breathed heavily out. ‘God, look, this is such a mess.’ She looked at the floor for a few seconds to ready herself. ‘After the memorial she told me something about Anna and Stephen Howe. It’s bad. Really bad, and it seems to me that there’s more she knows, more she’s keeping quiet about.’

  ‘Kate, this is crazy. Just leave it. She’s been through so much already. What happened at the memorial really got to her. She’s so upset still.’

  Kate nodded. ‘She was upset before, as well. During the service she was crying and shouting, before I . . . did what I did. She made such a scene. There was something wrong with her then. I—’

  Rachel held up her hand to stop Kate speaking. ‘I know. I heard the whole story. Not from her, from others. She’s not been right since Anna died. Not in any way.’ Rachel sighed heavily and shook her head.

  ‘Rebecca knows things.’ Kate hesitated and looked over her shoulder. ‘I don’t want to talk on the doorstep. Can I come in? Just for a few minutes.’

  Rachel checked her watch. ‘Rebecca’s at her piano lesson. She’ll be home in an hour or so. You need to be gone by then.’

  Rachel stood to the side to allow Kate to come into the hall, then closed the door.

  Stepping into Rachel’s living room was like stepping back in time to the glory days, halcyon times of happy simplicity. Perhaps her viewpoint was tinted rose, but Kate could only recall good memories in that room. She looked at the leather sofa that sat along the back wall and remembered the day Rachel and Rob had it delivered. It was from Laura Ashley, in the sale, massively reduced because of a tear that nobody could see.

  ‘Go on,’ Rachel urged with a giggle. ‘Find the tear. Bet you can’t!’

  And Jon and Kate had set on it, crawling around searching the leather. Eventually, Rachel couldn’t bear it any longer. She pulled one of the back cushions out and there was the mark, a livid slash with yellow foam padding poking mischievously through.

  ‘But it’s totally hidden!’ exclaimed Kate.

  ‘I know!’ cried Rachel. ‘Seventy per cent off!’

  And then Kate laughed and congratulated her on the spectacular bargain as she collapsed on to the sofa, hands behind her head, feet up.

  ‘It’s comfy, too!’

  ‘I know!’

  Then Jon had climbed on beside her, moving her over with a hefty shove. Kate smacked his shoulder playfully.

  ‘At least it was comfy before some big oaf got on and ruined it. I suggest we make a sign for it, Rach: girls only. What do you think?’

  And then she pretended to try and push him off before giving up and rolling in for a hug.

  Kate followed Rachel through the kitchen and into the garden. It had changed beyond recognition, with a decking area where the old concrete paving had been, and lots of pots of green and purple grasses, a Japanese-style water feature and various mirrored balls on a new patch of lawn that reflected the rainbow of flowers in the borders.

  ‘This looks great,’ Kate said. ‘What a difference.’

  Rachel put her hands on her hips. ‘Well, I’ve a bit more time on my hands now I’m not picking up after a lazy husband and don’t have a best friend to waste time with.’

  There was an embarrassed silence.

  Rachel cleared her throat. ‘You said Bec told you something.’

  Kate’s stomach turned over.

  The only way is to say it straight, she thought.

  ‘Yes,’ she said after a hesitation. ‘She told me Stephen Howe was having sex with Anna.’

  Rachel inhaled in shock. ‘Oh my God! Surely not?’ Kate tried not to cry as she nodded. Rachel’s face broke in sympathy and her look of genuine concern twisted Kate’s gut. Rachel reached out for her, and instinctively they fell into a hug she could have done with every single day of the last year. She began to cry. She held Rachel tightly. Her body felt so familiar, long lost, and it was such a relief to be close to her again.

  ‘It’s been awful without you,’ she whispered between sobs. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’

  Rachel laid quiet shushes in her hair, and didn’t move until her sobbing had calmed.

  ‘So much misplaced anger, it covered it up. Covered up how much I missed you.’

  ‘I don’t believe it, about Stephen and Anna,’ Rachel said.

  ‘I know, it’s been so horrible. The whole thing. Such a fucking mess.’

  ‘And you’re sure Bec wasn’t mistaken?’ she asked gently. ‘Maybe even making it up? Though why she would, I can’t imagine.’

  Kate sniffed and shook her head. ‘No, it’s definitely true. I didn’t believe her at first, and, oh God, I was so awful to her, Rach. I shouted at her and said she was lying. But she had a film of them, Anna and Stephen, having sex. It was on her mobile phone.’

  ‘Oh Jesus,’ Rachel murmured.

  ‘She seems so damaged. I’m worried about her. She was scared just now, and I know she has every right to be scared of me, but . . . I don’t know, it seemed . . . I don’t know . . .’

  ‘Why did Rebecca have a film of them?’ Rachel asked quietly.

>   Kate pulled away from her and shook her head. ‘I don’t know. She said she just did it because. No reason. But I’m not sure. Maybe you could talk to her?’

  Rachel nodded. ‘Though she doesn’t really speak to me any more. She’s blank most of the time. And, honestly, in and out of trouble at school like you wouldn’t believe.’

  ‘Maybe to do with this.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Rachel paused and looked down, rubbing the fingers of the gardening gloves between her thumb and forefinger. ‘Kate, you know . . .’ She swallowed and turned her head up to the sky, closing her eyes and screwing up her face. ‘You know, I didn’t hear her leave. I was watching the news—’

  ‘Don’t,’ said Kate. ‘Please don’t. I know—’

  ‘I have to.’ Rachel paused. ‘I’d had two glasses of wine and the TV must have been too loud, because . . . I didn’t . . . hear anything at all. Not even the front door, and—’

  Kate reached out her hand and touched the backs of her fingers to Rachel’s cheek. ‘Please, don’t. It doesn’t matter—’

  Rachel pursed her lips as her eyes filled with tears. ‘When . . .’ She breathed a deep breath. ‘When the news finished I went upstairs and listened at Bec’s door. I didn’t hear anything. I just assumed they were asleep. Anna told me she wasn’t well . . . so . . . I thought she was asleep. I went to bed.’ Rachel looked over at the water feature, which gurgled happily. ‘I thought she was sleeping.’

  ‘I know, and I don’t blame you,’ Kate said. ‘I mean that.’ She paused. ‘And for Rebecca . . . I’m sorry. I know you won’t forget what I did and I don’t want you to try . . . but I am so, so sorry.’

  Rachel smiled weakly. ‘So many sorries.’ She cleared her throat and blew out a heavy sigh. ‘I haven’t even offered you a cup of tea. Would you like one? Or there’s a bottle of white in the fridge?’

  ‘I can’t stay,’ Kate said. Rachel looked disappointed and Kate reached for her arm. ‘Another time, though.’

  They put their arms around each other and hugged tightly.

  ‘I’m glad I came,’ Kate said as she let go of Rachel.

  ‘Yes,’ said Rachel. ‘I’m glad you came too.’

  Kate sat in the car outside Rachel’s house for a while. From nowhere a smile came. She had that feeling again, that need to be with Lizzie, and Jon too. She knew what she wanted to do – she was going to cook for them, a proper meal from scratch, and then they could all sit down for it together. She turned the ignition on and the car sparked into action. She was going to cook Lizzie’s favourite. Shepherd’s pie. With an extra-thick layer of mashed potatoes. And she was going to put Anna’s chair in the garage so they could sit down without distraction. Jon could lay the table and they could sit and eat and chat about this and that and nothing. And she wouldn’t go to her studio, even though she could already feel the pull. If she needed to paint, she could paint in the morning, just for an hour or so, but not this evening. This evening was all about her and Jon and Lizzie. She thought of Lizzie then: happy and smiling, striding out, flicking her hair as she laughed with her friends, forging onwards, surviving.

  Kate was buoyed by her determination. She went to the greengrocer and took her time, chose the straightest carrots and a heavy head of celery. She smelt the melons and picked out the sweetest for pudding. She tested avocados for ripeness, squeezing them gently between her thumb and forefinger. Took a couple for a salad. She loved to cook and it wasn’t until now, wandering around the wooden crates of fruit and vegetables, with the strong smell of earth and herbs and strawberries around her, that she realized how much she’d missed it.

  By the time she got home it was well after six. She was still feeling good. Rachel would be able to help Rebecca, and she was so excited about seeing Jon and Lizzie, which was why it was even more of a shock to find Stephen Howe in the kitchen when she pushed through the door with her two bags of shopping.

  Love and Kisses

  Jon watched Kate’s face fall as she saw Stephen standing in their kitchen. He wished he had been able to get rid of him before she got home, but the man had been insistent. Jon was thrown completely off guard when he answered the door. In retrospect he should have punched him then shut the door. Instead, he said a polite hello and stepped aside to allow him into his house like a welcomed vampire. He even offered him a cup of tea. Stephen thankfully declined, and then asked if Kate was in. He said he needed to speak to them both. Jon said she wasn’t home and that he had no idea where she was or when she would be back. Then Stephen said he would wait. The silence they had fallen into was remarkably easy despite the time ticking by. Jon sat at the kitchen table. Stephen stood. Every now and then he was aware of the man shifting his weight or clearing his throat. He sneezed once, and Jon bit his tongue to stop himself saying bless you.

  ‘What’s he doing here?’ Kate asked Jon as she heaved two large carrier bags on to the table.

  ‘I need to talk to you both,’ said Stephen.

  ‘I didn’t ask you.’

  ‘I’ve been suspended,’ Stephen said. ‘It appears the police are investigating me for child abuse.’

  The word ‘abuse’ eddied around them for a while. Jon was surprised at the almost nonexistent reaction he had to hearing the man had been suspended and that the investigation was under way, that somewhere in the police station there was a file with Anna’s name on it, with their statement and the name and address of Dr Howe, his age, his profession, his CV, the date they showed them the film. It all seemed irrelevant. They were at the epicentre of the whole thing and yet he felt completely detached.

  ‘Does the suspension include Anna’s name?’ Kate asked.

  ‘No. They’re apparently following an anonymous allegation.’ He paused. ‘I assume you went to them with your film.’

  ‘It’s not our film,’ said Kate, her contempt undisguised.

  ‘You obviously heard about my house being targeted.’

  ‘Oh? And now you’re here to accuse us of vandalism?’

  ‘I’m not here to—’

  ‘Why the hell are you here?’ she shrieked.

  Jon placed his hands on the table, palms down, and splayed his fingers as wide as they would go. The table felt cool and smooth, like the surface of a mirror.

  ‘I don’t want you here, not tonight,’ she said, her voice faltering. ‘I just . . . I just want to be with my family . . . I don’t want you here. Why have you come? None of this is our fault. It’s right you’ve been suspended . . . it’s right that the police know what you did. For God’s sake why are you here?’

  Jon glanced up and saw the panic in her eyes. She put her hand on her forehead and turned away, jittery, anxious. He closed his eyes.

  ‘I came to tell you I’m not a paedophile.’ Stephen spoke quietly, steadily, as if he were reading from a book. ‘The graffiti . . . it said . . . well, I’m not a paedophile.’

  ‘You had sex with an underage child. That makes you a paedophile.’

  ‘No . . . no.’ Stephen was hesitant. ‘It wasn’t,’ he paused, ‘like that.’

  Then from somewhere outside Jon’s tangled head he heard Stephen clear his throat, and say: ‘I loved her. I loved Anna more than I’ve ever loved anyone.’

  The words were so soft, so unexpected, they might have been carried in on the wind from a thousand miles away. Jon lifted his head. Stephen was looking at Kate.

  ‘I promise you I did everything I could to avoid it,’ Stephen said. His words trickled out like dribble. ‘But she kept on and on. She told me how much she loved me. I said no.’ Stephen looked at Jon then. His eyes were wet with tears. ‘She was so beautiful.’

  Jon felt as if he’d been stabbed in the stomach.

  ‘She came to me, day after day, for weeks. I tried to resist her. I couldn’t. I was besotted. She would come and sit on my desk. Put her hand on me. Between my legs and stroke me. How could I say no? I was powerless. It was beyond my control. She made it impossible to do anything else. I was bewitched by her.’


  Hearing him talk filled Jon with repulsion and desperate sadness. He was battered with unwelcome images of Anna dredged from the sordid memories of this man. Torturous images of an Anna he didn’t recognize that made him squirm. He wanted to put his hands over his ears to stop the words reaching him.

  ‘Are you trying to say that what you did was OK?’ Kate’s voice was so thin it was hardly there.

  ‘No, I’m—’

  ‘Because it’s not OK.’

  ‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you.’ He started to cry then. His body heaved with pathetic sobs. ‘It wasn’t something I did. We had something. She and I . . . we loved each other.’

  ‘And this means what, exactly? That your actions are justified? Is that what you mean?’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know . . . I—’

  ‘You should have left her alone.’

  Stephen didn’t say anything.

  ‘You should have left her bloody alone,’ Kate said again.

  ‘I tried . . . I just couldn’t . . . Anna was . . . she was a breath of fresh air. She made me feel good,’ he said. ‘Angela and I have . . . problems. It was strained . . . and . . . I don’t know . . . at the time, I knew it was wrong . . . but, I couldn’t stop.’ He rubbed his face hard with his hands.

  ‘You know,’ whispered Kate, ‘I think you killed her.’

  Stephen furrowed his brow and shook his head as if he hadn’t heard her properly.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that. I’m not speaking Chinese. I think you killed my daughter.’

  And then his face drained of colour; his eyes grew wide. He looked scared. ‘What? Why would I kill her? I just told you how much I loved her.’

  ‘But you were there, weren’t you? When she died. It’s too much of a coincidence. And why was she with your son if you two were so very much in love? Maybe you knew they were up there together, and you got angry, jealous. Maybe you didn’t mean to, but—’ Kate stopped talking suddenly, interrupted by something in Stephen’s manner, something about the way he was staring at her, like a trapped animal trying to think of the best escape.

  ‘My God,’ breathed Jon. ‘Did you?’