Her Deadly Secret

by Chris Curran

  ‘Shall I come back?’

  ‘No need. He doesn’t want a fuss. So leave it to me, will you?’

  ‘OK, but please call if he asks for me and tell him I’ll be back soon.’

  The drizzle was turning to rain again, but she was glad to feel the threads of water dripping down and seeping under her collar. She deserved to be uncomfortable. What kind of a mother was she? Will would look after Dex, she knew that, but poor Pearl had dealt with the worst of it. And Dex had come home rather than go to Willard’s, because he wanted his mum, even if he was embarrassed to admit it. As a little boy, he always ran to her when he was hurt. And if he was feeling poorly all he ever wanted was to cuddle up on her knee while she sang to him or read him a story.

  Even as she thought this, she was walking back through the hospital entrance shaking the raindrops from her hair. She looked into the coffee shop as she passed. Joe was gone.

  Up in the ward Hannah was still sleeping, so maybe there would be time to go home for an hour or so. She asked a nurse how long it would be before the sedation wore off. The nurse shook her head. ‘It probably has already. She just doesn’t want to open her eyes.’

  Loretta pulled up a chair, and the flicker of Hannah’s lashes showed she’d heard. ‘Hi, Hannah. It’s Loretta. How are you?’ Another tiny flicker. ‘I need to talk to you about something important.’ No response this time.

  Loretta waited, her heart beating hard. Don’t mess this up. She leaned closer to the bed. ‘I need to talk to you about Natalie.’ Hannah’s eyes flew open. ‘You are Natalie, aren’t you?’

  Hannah was looking at her, but still saying nothing. Wait, don’t rush it. Loretta smiled and gave a slow nod and another and another, all the time looking into Hannah’s eyes. As she did so, Hannah began to nod her own head. ‘When you were young, in Hastings, you were called Natalie. Is that right?’ A proper nod this time, the bandaged arms moving back and forth on the covers.

  Careful now. ‘So can you tell me why you had to change your name?’ A fast head shake. ‘No, OK. But what about the murder? Can you tell me anything about that?’

  ‘No.’ The voice was hoarse.

  ‘All right. But you do realize, don’t you, Hannah, that this man, Bernard Pritchard, will be out of prison by now. He’s free.’

  Hannah’s eyes slid away, watching her own restless hands on the bed cover. ‘Yes.’ It was a whisper.

  ‘And you knew him in Hastings, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Loretta swallowed. One hand was on her own diaphragm, to steady her racing heart, the other on Hannah’s shoulder, stroking, soothing. ‘Was he Lily’s father, Hannah?’

  Hannah closed her eyes. A muscle jumping at the side of her jaw.

  ‘OK, you don’t want to say. I can understand that. But think about Lily, my love.’ Hannah’s head moved back and forth on the pillow, as if trying to shake the words away. ‘He’s a killer. He killed his own daughter fifteen years ago.’

  Was that the same movement back and forth, or was it a head shake? Go on. ‘Lily’s boyfriend, Samuel, says she contacted her biological father. So, you must see that he could have murdered your little girl, just like he murdered his own daughter.’

  ‘No.’ Hannah’s eyes were wide again, but she was looking into the distance, into her own memories, maybe. She took a shuddering breath. ‘It was me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It was me who killed her.’ It sounded almost like a question, the voice barely there.

  Oh my god. A deep breath. Take it easy. ‘Hannah, love, are you telling me you killed Lily? You killed your daughter?’

  A sound, halfway between a sob and a laugh, and a fierce head shake. ‘Not Lily. Not my baby.’ A teardrop fell from her lashes.

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’

  Hannah seemed to be talking to herself now. ‘Mr Pritchard didn’t kill anyone. I did. I killed Alice.’ She turned her head on the pillow to look hard at Loretta, her grey eyes glittering, her voice clear and slow. ‘I killed Alice Pritchard, fifteen years ago. OK?’ She closed her eyes again. ‘Now, leave me alone,’ she said, as silent tears trickled from under her lids.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Loretta

  Loretta tried to get Hannah to tell her more, but the silent tears turned to sobs and, when she started tearing at her bandages and trying to get out of bed, the nurse came and told Loretta to leave.

  She called Philips and he said she should come in right away. He’d send Raj Mistry to keep an eye on Hannah.

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ he said after he’d looked through the contents of the envelope and heard her out. ‘She’s confessing to a murder from fifteen years ago, but denying she had anything to do with the death of her daughter?’

  Loretta nodded. ‘That’s right.’ She ignored the snort from Davis sitting beside her. ‘She admits she is, or was, this Natalie Grant and knew Bernard Pritchard.’

  ‘Who was convicted, served his time and confessed his guilt.’ Philips said. ‘I can’t see East Sussex police being too happy if we come to them with this.’

  Davis shuffled forward so that his chair creaked. ‘And all this came from the husband. Where did you say he got it?’

  ‘He was told about it by Lily’s boyfriend, Samuel Barnes. But the envelope was apparently hidden in his own garage.’

  ‘I can’t believe that. We searched the whole place,’ Davis said.

  She turned to face him, keeping her voice neutral. ‘Apparently, it was hidden in an old toy.’

  Davis flushed and was about to answer when Philips spoke.

  ‘OK, so we may have ballsed up there, but we’ve only got the husband’s word for it at the moment. We need to talk to the boyfriend again and the rest of them at The Children of Light, including this woman who was Hannah’s friend. First though, Davis, you’d better have a look at the details of the old murder. We need more than this before we talk to East Sussex.’

  He looked at Loretta. ‘Where’s the husband now?’

  ‘He wasn’t around when I left the hospital, and Raj hasn’t rung to say he’s turned up, so he’s probably gone home. He looked done in earlier on and she was refusing to see him.’

  ‘Good. Keep him out of it for a bit if you can. Let Davis do the business first.’

  Davis turned to her as they left the room. His face was flushed. ‘You look tired yourself, Peterson. Should take the chance to get some shut-eye, too.’ She ignored him and was walking away when she heard him closing Philips’s door and calling after her. ‘They say lack of sleep can cause hallucinations, you know. Better not be sending me off on a wild goose chase.’

  She didn’t turn or slow her pace.

  Back in her car she rested her head on the steering wheel. He was right about one thing: she was so tired she could hardly think straight. And she needed to see Dex. Neither Joe nor Raj had rung her so she could probably go home for a bit.

  She was surprised to see Dex sitting with his dad at the kitchen table, a half-eaten pizza in its carton between them. His eye looked very swollen and she felt a huge surge of anger at the thought of the little bastard who’d hurt him. And she couldn’t supress the urge to wrap her arms around him, as she used to when he was little, to see his big brown eyes with their long lashes smile up at her as she dried his tears. In those days, it had been so easy to make it all better, but his expression today warned her not to get too close. He must have seen her looking at his battered knuckles, because he dropped the piece of pizza he’d been tearing at and put his hands under the table.

  She sat next to him, opposite Willard, who patted Dex’s arm then smiled at her: a warning smile, don’t make a fuss. ‘Dex and I have had a good chat.’ He turned to their son. ‘Do you want to tell your mum what happened?’

  Dex shook his head and Loretta bit the inside of her mouth. How dare Willard behave as if he was some kind of protector and she the big bad wolf. God, he must infuriate some of the people he dealt with as
a social worker.

  She looked at Dex. ‘You need to tell me. Otherwise, I can’t help.’

  Another head shake. ‘You can’t do nothin’.’

  ‘Of course I can. If you just explain it to me.’

  Willard touched her arm, his other hand still on Dex as if they were at a séance. She wanted to brush him off, but knew Dex would notice. ‘Dexter, love, let’s talk,’ she said. ‘I’m on your side. You must know that. Just tell me what happened.’

  She reached up to touch his hair, but he pushed his chair back and towered over her, his fists clenching and unclenching. ‘I had a fight, that’s all.’

  Willard’s hand tightened on her arm. ‘Leave it for now. He’s tired.’ He stood and patted Dexter’s shoulder. ‘I’ll tell Mum the rest. You get up to bed.’

  Dexter slouched away, but at the door he turned back, his face twisted. ‘And I’ve been suspended. That bitch Taylor suspended me even though they started it.’ His voice wobbled between little-boy tenor and sore-sounding male baritone.

  She was too tired for this and, when she stood to face him, a chill ran through her. His expression was just like the faces of kids she’d seen being dragged into the nick. ‘Don’t let me hear you using that word about any woman again, Dexter. And if you’re the innocent party, why have you been suspended?’

  For a frozen moment, they both knew he wanted to hit her. Then Will’s chair scraped and his voice came, so sharp it made them jump. ‘Dex. Bed.’

  Her son turned, but stopped halfway up the stairs, looking at her with tearful scorn. ‘I mighta known you’d be on their side. And it’s all your fault anyway. You and your fuckin job.’ Then he thundered to his room.

  His door slammed and she stood staring after him. Did she want to run up and tell him she was sorry – hold him till he felt better – or did she want to burst through his door and scream at him for being a rude, selfish little bastard? She didn’t know.

  Will was behind her. Go away, go away. ‘He’s upset. And you’re tired. Let it be for now. He didn’t mean it.’

  Oh yes, he did. She stayed facing away from him. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Seems this bullying connected with your job has been going on for quite a while and it blew up today. And boys, no matter how tough they pretend to be, can’t bear to have their mums ridiculed. The others know that, of course.’

  Oh, God, poor Dex. ‘I should have guessed, but he seemed fine until recently.’

  ‘Don’t beat yourself up about it. He was hiding it from both of us. I didn’t spot anything either and it took a while for the school to notice the problems he was having. Mrs Taylor wants to see us on Monday, so we’ll get the whole story then. I explained it might be difficult for you. I can go on my own if needs be. It just looks better if we’re both there.’

  Loretta’s jaw clenched. ‘I know that and I’ll be there, don’t worry.’ His warm hand on her shoulder tempted her to lean on him, even though she was so angry.

  ‘I should get some sleep, but I’ll have to go out again later. Will you stay the night?’ she said.

  A squeeze and the chuckle that could still give her a tiny thrill. ‘I take it you mean on the sofa?’ She looked at him and he laughed. ‘OK, don’t answer that, but, Loretta …’ His fingers brushed her cheek. ‘You know how I feel about your job, but I am on your side. We all are. And the kids love you. You need to remember that.’

  Halfway up the stairs she looked back and forced a smile. ‘I’ll try.’

  Rosie

  Rosie hadn’t slept well for what seemed like forever. And the sleep she did have was disturbed by dreams. The old one where she was exposed under a blistering light, knowing that someone was out there in the blackness staring in at her, had changed. Now she was mostly in the dark, watching a figure so brilliantly lit by a blazing sun that Rosie’s eyes were dazzled. What hadn’t changed was the sickening terror she felt, or the way she would wake with her heart pounding in her throat.

  Once or twice she disturbed Oliver who said she had cried out. Then he held her until he fell asleep. After that she moved away to lie wide-eyed, dreading the sleep that threatened to take her back to the nightmare.

  In bed on Saturday morning, Oliver suggested a pub lunch. ‘And I’ll take Fay swimming first so you can relax and have a snooze.’

  It had been a mistake to blurt out everything on the boat. Unfair, too, because it was her family: her problem. So she put him out of his misery, saying the nightmares were about her worries that things wouldn’t work if they moved abroad.

  She hadn’t intended to tell him about the phone call from his mother, but it was a good way to avoid talking more about the dreams. ‘I know I shouldn’t let her upset me, but she’s so keen to help with the move to France. Can’t wait to get rid of us. And I didn’t realize you’d told her.’

  He sighed and put his arms around her, kissing her forehead. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Rosie baby, but you know how difficult I find it to make conversation with her. I just blurted it out.’ Rosie guessed his mother had spent most of the time talking about his brother. How well he was doing in his wonderful job, the fantastic improvements he’d made to his house, his talented wife and darling baby, until Oliver felt he had to shut her up with something of his own. That was the usual pattern.

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘And I shouldn’t let her bother me, but she always seems to know which buttons to press.’

  He sat up. ‘All the more reason to get away from her.’ He reached down and gently pushed her hair back from her forehead. His eyes crinkled with the laughter lines she loved. ‘Now, you’ve had a hard week, so stay there. I’ll bring you some tea and toast and sort out Fay’s breakfast.’

  As she lay listening to him talking and laughing with Fay, she thought how much easier it would be if they could forget about both of their families.

  But as soon as Fay and Oliver called up to say goodbye, she put the untouched toast on the bedside table. The image of that figure hidden in the dazzle of light lurked behind her lids every time she closed her eyes. Although she couldn’t talk about it to Oliver, there was one more thing she could try in the hope that it would bring her some peace.

  The notebook with the contact numbers for her dad’s pupils was in the side pocket of her school bag. Huddled back in bed she used her mobile to try them. The first person answered with a curt, ‘I’m not interested in whatever it is,’ before she had said more than hello. The second number rang and rang; the third had never heard of a Mrs Marshall and told her not to call again, and the fourth number seemed no longer to exist. She threw the phone down on the bed and swallowed some of her cold tea. So that was it: a dead end. There was nothing more she could do.

  She showered and dried her hair, but it needed trimming and whatever she did it wouldn’t behave itself. It was just long enough for her to borrow one of Fay’s scrunchies and pull it back into a ponytail. Her exposed face looked very pale, with lines she’d never noticed before creasing her mouth and eyes. She put on a bit of make-up, but wasn’t sure if that helped or made things worse.

  Sitting in the kitchen with some fresh tea, looking out at the sunny garden, she was reminded of her dreams. Maybe they were her way of telling herself it was time to move on; to move away. But she dialled the second number again, in case someone was in now. Once she was sure she’d done all she could, she might be able to let it go. This time there was an answer. ‘Hello?’ A friendly voice

  ‘Oh yes, hello. I was hoping to speak to Mrs Gredecki.’

  ‘That’s me. What can I do for you?’

  As soon as she said her name, and that it used to be Pritchard, Mrs Gredecki’s voice warmed even more. ‘Oh, yes, I know your mother. Is she all right? Did she ever find poor Natalie?’

  A heavy heartbeat and a moment before she could think how to answer. ‘My mum’s fine, thank you, but she didn’t find Natalie. In fact, I was ringing to see if you could remember anything else that might help.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry, love. Like
I told your mum, my Janey and Natalie were best friends, but Janey’s never heard a thing from her since she went away.’

  ‘Did you know she was pregnant?’

  ‘Yes, poor girl, and I wish I’d been able to help her. When Jane told me about it, I said she should bring Nat over and I’d talk to her. We knew she wouldn’t get any sympathy from her mum. I can’t understand it, can you? Being a single mother is no excuse. I mean I was on my own too and we didn’t have much in the way of money, but I tried to do right by my Jane. Got her the music books and stuff. Got some for Nat, too, when her mum wouldn’t help.’

  ‘Jane was lucky to have you.’

  ‘Well, it’s only natural to want to make your kids happy. And Janey loved her violin.’

  Inside, Rosie was screaming at herself for allowing the conversation to get sidetracked, but she kept her voice casual. ‘Is she still playing?’

  ‘Oh yes and your mum was so pleased when I told her. Of course, Janey calls it fiddle now, not violin. Was in a band for years. Thought they were going to make it big, but they never did. Now she’s older and married with kids, but they still play when they can. Local pubs and the like. Says your dad made all the difference to her life, because she wasn’t clever, but she was musical. Not as good as Natalie though.’

  Finally, they were back where Rosie needed to be. ‘But that’s all you could tell Mum about Natalie?’

  ‘Yes, and I was surprised she didn’t know more herself. Natalie made Janey promise not to tell anyone about the baby. Didn’t know she’d already told me and, when Janey suggested she talk to me about it, Nat went mad. But apparently, she did say she might speak to your mum. I mean all the kids who went to your dad for lessons idolized him, but they loved your mum even more.’

  ‘But she didn’t go?’

  ‘Apparently not. She went away with that commune, or church or whatever they call themselves. Phoned Jane to tell her not to worry. They had promised to look after her and she said she would try to keep in touch with us. But that was the last we heard of her.’