Her Deadly Secret

by Chris Curran

  Loretta resisted the temptation to push her hand off the dashboard. ‘Go on then, talk.’

  ‘Dad thinks it might be good for Dex to stay with him for a bit. Give him some space.’

  She was suddenly hot. ‘When was this decided?’

  ‘We was just talking when you were in the toilet.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Don’t get mad, Mum, it makes sense. Your job doesn’t help.’

  ‘What does that mean? Dad works too.’

  Pearl sighed and leaned back in her seat, satisfied with the caterwauling she’d got on the radio. ‘Yeah, but he’s back every night and, if not, Sandra’s there. Besides he’s not—’

  ‘Not police, you mean.’

  ‘Yeah, well, it isn’t easy, I’ve told you. I’m all right now, don’t care what people say, but it’s different for Dex. He has a hell of a time.’

  ‘I knew there was some bullying a while ago, but I thought it was all sorted.’

  Pearl sighed. ‘It’s never gonna be sorted till he gets a tougher skin. Like me.’

  Will was back first and stayed sitting in the car when Dexter got out. Loretta went over, her jaw so tight she could hardly speak. ‘Coming in, Will?’

  ‘No, I’d better not. Has Pearl mentioned the idea of Dex staying with me for a bit?’

  ‘Yes but—’ Dex’s thunderous look made her stop.

  Pearl grabbed Dex’s arm. ‘Come on you. Bet you’ve got homework to do. I know I have.’ He went with her, but continued to stare back at Loretta and his dad. Daring them to make decisions without him.

  Loretta leaned closer to Will’s window and spoke as softly as she could. ‘How could you discuss this without me?’

  ‘I didn’t. Dex asked if he could move in with me and Pearl seemed to think it was a good idea. I just said I’d talk to you about it, but it might be worth trying. Only temporarily, of course. Pearl says you’re involved in a big case.’

  She crossed her arms, trying to keep her voice low. ‘I’m not happy about this, Will.’

  ‘Just think about it. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. They’re both meant to be with me this weekend, so he could stay on after that.’

  She shook her head, but could find no words. There was no reason for her to feel so hurt and so angry. But she did. Will looked at her for a moment, his head to one side. ‘All right?’ She gave a half nod and a shrug and, with a wave and a cheery hoot, he was gone. Leaving Loretta standing there, mute with fury.

  Rosie

  Oliver had texted Rosie to say he’d be home early, suggesting they eat at Fay’s favourite place – the Chinese buffet. Rosie was running a bath when she heard the door open and Fay charging down to him. ‘Daddy, look, Mum said I could wear my new jeans.’

  Rosie watched them from the top of the stairs as Fay twirled in front of Oliver. He stood back, smiling. ‘You’re so cool. I’m going to have to fight off those boys.’ But when Fay flew at him, screaming and punching in mock anger, he looked up and it was obvious he’d had a bad day.

  ‘I’ve just run a bath. Do you want it?’ Rosie said.

  He pushed his hair back, his eyes crinkling into a web of tiny lines. ‘No, I’m OK.’

  ‘Well, have a drink then. I’ll drive.’

  She lay in the bath trying to relax. It would be best to wait till Fay was in bed before talking to Oliver about the letters and everything. He’d need a chance to wind down. As she pulled a towel round her and opened the bathroom door, she heard him laughing and Fay letting out little squeals of delight. ‘Mummy. Muuum, come and look.’

  They were downstairs in the office. Fay was on Oliver’s lap and they were both smiling at the computer screen. ‘Dad says we can go and live here. Please, Mum, can we? I love it.’ She was pointing at a picture of a large house surrounded by trees. ‘It’s in France and there’s a swimming pool.’

  Rosie looked at Oliver. They’d agreed to do a bit more research before mentioning the possible move to Fay.

  He mouthed a ‘sorry’, raising his glass of vodka. ‘I needed something to cheer me up. It’s been a pig of a day.’

  At the restaurant, she sat at the table as Oliver shepherded Fay round to choose from the buffet, but the glow she normally felt from looking at them together wasn’t there tonight. Oliver had polished off a beer straight away, then ordered a bottle of wine. ‘Go on, you can have one glass,’ he said, even though he knew Rosie never drank when she was driving. He’d be out of it by bedtime and it would be too late to talk properly.

  They were sitting close to the array of desserts, so they let Fay go up on her own. She’d be ages.

  Rosie took a breath.

  But before she could speak, Oliver covered her hand. His blue eyes, misty from drink, looked almost silver in the light. ‘Sorry, baby, I shouldn’t have told Fay about France. She just came in while I was looking at that house and I blurted it out.’

  ‘I know. I just don’t want to rush it.’

  He didn’t seem to be listening. ‘I could try a change of careers in France, too. Do up our own place and then buy something else to sell to other Brits, maybe.’

  ‘It’s a thought.’ She hoped this was the drink talking because she couldn’t see him as a property developer.

  He leaned forward. ‘My parents would definitely be glad to see the back of us.’

  This was her opening. ‘Oh, Oliver, don’t say that. They do love you and, although your mum won’t admit it, she’s very fond of Fay.’

  ‘On the odd occasions when she deigns to see her.’ His voice was a bit slurred, but Rosie was determined to get it said.

  ‘That’s because she doesn’t want to be mixed up with my family.’

  ‘And there’s nothing we can do about that.’

  ‘Maybe not, but I’m wondering if we should try to find out more about why my mum has changed her mind about Dad. I mean, if there’s the remotest possibility he might be innocent—’

  ‘Are you joking?’

  ‘It can’t do any harm to dig around a bit, and I would feel so much better about moving away and cutting all ties with them if I was absolutely certain.’

  ‘I thought you had been certain all these years.’ He looked around. A waitress was delivering a birthday cake flaring with candles to a nearby table and Fay was dithering over the jellies. Still, he leaned forward, his voice low. ‘And what about the abuse?’

  ‘That was never actually proved, was it?’

  ‘Didn’t some of those kids he took for piano and violin lessons claim he’d had a go?’

  ‘The thing is there’s no one I can speak to who actually heard what Alice said about that, or had any experiences themselves.’

  Fay was back, her bowl brimming with brightly coloured jelly and cake. Oliver pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head, but looking at Rosie. ‘Let it go, Rosie. Here’s the only person who should matter to us.’ He grabbed a spoon and pushed it into a vivid mound of sponge. ‘You’ll be sick if you eat that lot.’

  ‘Hey, Dad, get your own.’

  Oliver passed Rosie a spoon, pulling a face as he swallowed a syrupy mouthful and Fay was soon giggling as their spoons clashed and plunged together into the bowl.

  In bed Rosie lay awake. It didn’t help that Oliver’s sleep was disturbed, and when he turned and flung a heavy arm over her, a waft of boozy fumes gusted into her face. She felt a bit sick again. She’d eaten too much. She shivered and rubbed her stomach, or maybe she was pregnant.

  Slipping out of bed, she walked slowly downstairs, pulling her dressing gown round her. She couldn’t leave it, but it wasn’t fair to involve Oliver until she found out something definite. In the kitchen, she switched on her laptop. She had thought of someone who might be able to help.

  Joe

  It had to be him, Joe was sure of it. A boy he’d never seen before, but the right age, looking up at the house, holding a bunch of white flowers. Joe hurtled out the front door, only realising when it was too late that he should have checked for report
ers. But the street was empty apart from the boy. ‘Hey, you, Samuel.’

  The boy froze, clutching the bouquet to his chest. ‘Mr Marsden, I brought these for Lily.’ His voice wobbled.

  Joe’s head felt like it might burst. He stared into the lad’s eyes. They were grey, large as a baby’s, long lashes fluttering. ‘It is Samuel Barnes, isn’t it?’ A nod, the eyes flinching away. ‘What did you do to my daughter?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, I’ve got to go.’ He tried to pull away, his cheeks glowing red.

  Joe grabbed a puny arm. ‘Oh no you don’t. I suppose you think you’ve got away with it?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean. I told them: I was in Lancashire.’ His eyes darted up and down the street.

  What the hell did Lily see in this little shite?

  Joe pulled him close, the flowers crunching between them. ‘You’re coming inside with me. We need a talk.’ A flicker from next door’s window caught his eye – the neighbour, Mrs Sillitoe. ‘It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you.’ He faked a laugh, patting the boy on the back, keeping his arm tight round him. ‘Let’s go in.’

  The boy didn’t resist; he was nearly as tall as Joe, but so thin he must have realized there was no point. Hannah was sleeping upstairs, so Joe didn’t speak, just pointed to the lounge. They stood in front of the sofa, the boy still clutching the battered flowers. He swallowed over and over. Probably guessed Joe was struggling to keep a lid on his anger.

  Best try and relax things a bit. Joe sat on the armchair gesturing to the sofa opposite. The boy sat on the edge. He looked pathetic. Dirty blond hair sticking out at all angles, scuffed trainers and tatty jeans frayed at the hem.

  But his voice was firm enough now. ‘I told the police the truth.’ He rested the flowers on the floor and leaned forward, meeting Joe’s eye for the first time.

  ‘Yeah, with your precious pastor there to hold your hand, check you didn’t make any mistakes. I want everything. The stuff you missed out.’

  ‘I saw Lily that morning, outside her school. We hugged and kissed because I was going away. That’s how my DNA got on her. The Children were sending me on a spiritual retreat and I knew I might not be back.’ It was obvious he had said all this before.

  ‘Why? Why were you going away?’

  ‘Cos we shouldn’t have been meeting like we did, on our own. It was wrong.’

  ‘This retreat was a punishment?’ The boy looked towards the door, swallowing again. ‘What about Lily? What was her punishment?’

  ‘Nothing. It wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t a proper member and she was only a girl.’ He sat up taller, sticking out his thin chest.

  Joe almost laughed, wanting to say, Lily could have eaten you for breakfast. But it wasn’t funny.

  And the lad was shaking his head. ‘I didn’t hurt her, honestly, Mr Marsden. I couldn’t hurt Lily. I loved her.’ He pulled at a loose thread on the sofa. ‘She was really unhappy. I tried to help, but I couldn’t.’ His voice was so quiet Joe had to shift towards him to hear. ‘It was something to do with her mum.’ He tried to push the thread down between the cushions, his face very pink. ‘They had a big fight.’

  Joe was on the edge of the armchair, hardly daring to breathe, wanting to shake it all out of the little creep. ‘What about?’

  A quick glance at the door. ‘She wouldn’t tell me.’

  Don’t frighten him, keep it cool. ‘Was it about her real dad?’ The boy was twisting the damned thread round his finger, his chin quivering. ‘Come on, I know it was.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He looked up. ‘Honest, Mr Marsden, I don’t.’

  Joe sighed, maybe the kid was genuine. Better get him out of here before Hannah came down. ‘All right.’ He stood and the lad followed suit, picking up his flowers. One stem was broken, flopping over the edge of the cellophane wrapping. He tried to push it back in and the flower head fell off.

  ‘Sorry, sorry.’ As he looked down at the carpet a harsh sob seemed to force its way from deep in his chest.

  Joe picked up the flower, handed it back to him and headed for the door. All he could think was that Hannah mustn’t hear.

  At the gate, he waited while the boy leaned his flowers against the wall and stood staring down at them. ‘She was mad at me. Didn’t want me to go, but I had to,’ he muttered. Joe turned away. There was nothing more to say.

  But Samuel was still talking. ‘She was looking for her real dad.’

  ‘I know.’

  The boy didn’t move. ‘And she thought she’d found someone who could tell her where to find him.’

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Hang on a minute.’ Joe grabbed the boy’s arm as he turned to walk away. ‘What else did Lily tell you?’

  ‘Nothing. Only that she’d found someone who knew him. After that I wasn’t allowed to meet her for a few weeks; but they were sending me away, so I had to say goodbye, and that’s the only reason I went to her school that morning.’ He rubbed at his nose and eyes. ‘I never saw her again.’

  Joe looked back at the house, at the bedroom where Hannah was sleeping. Mrs Sillitoe was staring down from next door, not bothering to hide her interest. He gave her a look and she moved away from the window. Sod her. He had to find out everything the lad knew. ‘So, on that last day? Did Lily say whether she’d found this man, her biological father?’ The phrase sent a spike of pain through him every time he had to use it. He forced himself on. ‘Do you know if she’d spoken to him, or seen him, since you last met?’

  The boy looked down, shaking his head. ‘No. We didn’t talk about it. I just asked if I could see her when I came back, but she wouldn’t say. She was angry with me and in a rush. Had to get in for registration.’

  ‘She didn’t tell you if she was going to meet him later on that day?’

  Another head shake and a muttered, ‘no.’

  ‘What have you told the police?’

  The lace of one of the lad’s trainers was loose and he dragged at it with the other foot. ‘I didn’t tell them about Lily looking for her father. Pastor Jerome said I should just answer the questions. Not say anything else. But I think Lily would want you to know. And, that’s all, Mr Marsden, honest.’ Joe let go of the boy’s arm and he rubbed at it, still looking at his shoes, his voice wobbling. ‘I’m ever so sorry about Lily. She was great.’

  Joe gave him an awkward pat. ‘OK, off you go.’ He watched for a moment as the boy walked away, shoulders hunched, one lace trailing behind him.

  The flowers had fallen over and Joe stood them against the wall again. What the hell was Hannah playing at? What could be so terrifying that she couldn’t tell even now? Surely the worst had happened already. He had to make her say who the real father was. But how the fuck was he going to do that?

  Inside the house he got himself a drink of water, standing looking out at the back garden, thinking about what to say. He loved Hannah so much, needed her so much, but why wasn’t she being honest with him? He tipped the water down the sink. Stop farting about, you tosser, and get on with it. There was no right way to go about this, and if Hannah rejected him that was how it had to be. Lily was all that mattered.

  He was halfway up the stairs when the banging on the front door started, fast and loud, obviously something urgent. His heart began pounding. It had to be the police with news. And, yes, two uniforms, both women, a big blonde and a smaller girl who looked nervous.

  The blonde had her hand to the radio at her shoulder. ‘Mr Marsden?’

  ‘Yes, is there news?’

  ‘About what, sir?’ She was giving him the once-over and glancing past his shoulder into the house.

  ‘Lily, my daughter.’

  ‘No, sir.’ She shook her head, looking pleased with herself. ‘We’ve had a report about a disturbance involving yourself and a young man.’

  Bloody Mrs Sillitoe. ‘No. Well, we did have words, but that’s all. It was just a lad bringing some flowers. He’s gone.’ He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t told her who the boy
was, but it was too late now.

  ‘You won’t mind if we have a quick look round inside then, just to reassure ourselves.’

  She pushed past, her big chest thrust out like a battering ram. The small girl slipped in behind with an apologetic smile and a, ‘Thank you, sir. Won’t take a moment.’

  The blonde was clearly enjoying herself, strolling round as if she owned the place. That’s why some of them joined up, he guessed. For the power trip. And all the time he was dying to get upstairs and talk to Hannah, cursing himself and Mrs Nosey Parker next door for the delay.

  Yet when they’d finally gone he had to force himself to go up there. She was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on her dressing gown.

  ‘Was that the police?’

  He sat beside her, taking her hand. ‘It was nothing. Old Mrs Next Door heard me talking to a kid bringing flowers. Told them I was beating him up. They’re gone now.’

  ‘Oh, Joe, I’m sorry.’

  ‘It was Lily’s boyfriend.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The boy outside. It was Lily’s boyfriend from The Children of Light. I brought him in. He told me something important.’ Silence. ‘Something he hadn’t told the police.’

  Still she didn’t speak, just stared ahead.

  ‘Don’t you want to know what it was?’ he said.

  ‘Yes. ’Course I do.’

  ‘You don’t sound too sure.’ He was doing it all wrong.

  ‘Joe, don’t do this, just tell me.’

  ‘He said Lily had traced her real father.’

  She lurched to her feet, tying the sash of her dressing gown with fast movements.

  ‘So, Hannah, it sounds like she was going to try and meet this man – her father.’

  She untied the sash, retied it very tightly then sat on the bed again, wrapping her arms round herself.

  He forced himself to go on, not even sure what he was saying. ‘And he said you and Lily had a big argument. It was about him, wasn’t it? So, don’t you think you should tell me now? I mean if you’re scared of him, I’ll help. And the police won’t let him near you.’