Her Deadly Secret

by Chris Curran

  But there had been. And those nightmares she always had where someone was watching her from outside the house. Sometimes the watcher was in darkness, but more often lately in the bright sunshine? Were they a garbled memory? Had she disturbed the killer? Seen him or her in the garden when she got home just after they’d killed Alice?

  As she approached Rye there was a tinge of colour on the horizon and she found herself thinking it was going to be a lovely sunset. As if that mattered. She parked at the moorings and ran down towards the river. There was the boat, Marsh Lady. She breathed again and slowed to a walk when she saw Oliver and Fay on deck. There was nothing wrong with them, at least, but nor was there any sign of her mum.

  Fay waved at her and said something she couldn’t hear because Oliver had started the engine. He helped her on board. ‘Guess what?’ Fay shouted. ‘Nana’s here. She’s coming with us.’

  Oliver leaned closer. ‘A bit the worse for wear, I’m afraid. I gave her some coffee, but it didn’t help. She said she wanted to sleep it off in the cabin.’

  Rosie sat down, relief flooding in. ‘Oh, thank goodness. I’ll ring Dad.’ She turned away, so Fay wouldn’t hear. Bernard didn’t answer, asleep no doubt, but she left a message. They could deliver her mother home later on; give her a chance to sober up.

  As they chugged down to the sea, the breeze cooled her skin and the seabirds sounded almost tuneful. Oliver had already put out the food and Fay was chewing on a cake. ‘It’s all right,’ he called, ‘she’s had some savoury stuff too.’

  Fay’s eyes wrinkled at her. ‘Not much, though. Dad says this is a special occasion.’ She gulped at her cherryade; her mouth already stained with red, then gave an enormous yawn and lay back on the padded bench.

  Rosie smiled. ‘Tired?’

  Fay nodded and rubbed her eyes. Not like her, she usually denied being sleepy to the bitter end.

  ‘What have you put in that cherryade, Oliver?’ Rosie asked.

  He laughed, concentrating on getting them down river and out into the sea.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Joe

  As they approached Hastings, Joe pulled into the side of the road and looked at Hannah. ‘What now?’

  She stared ahead. ‘I need to see Oliver.’

  ‘You think he killed Alice, don’t you? Went back, found her alive, and she threatened him like she did you.’

  Her head dipped in what could have been a nod. ‘His parents would have hated it if they knew he was seeing me, let alone getting me pregnant. If he thought Alice would tell everyone, he might have panicked.’

  ‘We should ring Loretta and talk it through with her,’ he said.

  She turned to him, tears shining in her eyes. ‘He helped me afterwards. Said I should get away. He knew The Children were in Brighton that weekend and he gave me the money to go there. Said I need never come back.’

  He took her thin hands in his. ‘Let’s go home, Hannah. The police can deal with it.’

  She shook her head. ‘Not yet. I’ve got to see him first. I have to know about Lily. And I’ll only be sure if I see him face to face.’

  When they got to the Weatheralls’ house, he followed her to the door. He had no idea what she was planning, but he had to be with her. She rang again and again, but there was no answer. As they walked back towards the car, she told him to wait and headed for next door. When the woman answered, he heard Hannah tell her they were making a surprise visit to their friends, Oliver and Rosemary.

  Back in the car, Hannah said: ‘She thinks they’re on their boat at Rye Harbour, but they weren’t going till the little girl finished school for the day, so they could still be moored up. We might just catch them.’

  He tried once more. ‘Let’s leave it now, Hannah, it can’t do any good. He’s not going to admit anything to you. And if I see him I won’t be able to keep my hands off the bastard.’

  But she shook her head. ‘Please, Joe. I need to see the way he is now: with his family. He’s got another daughter. If he knew Lily was his, how could he kill her?’

  According to the neighbour the boat was called Marsh Lady, but there was no sign of it at the moorings on the river. Hannah called to a man just clambering aboard a small cabin cruiser and he told them Marsh Lady had left just minutes ago.

  Joe drove beside the river for a mile or so, but there were no boats travelling down. About half a mile from the sea, the road stopped and a footpath followed the river to the beach. Joe parked the car and Hannah was out and heading along it, before he locked up. He called to her, ‘It’s too late, they’re gone,’ but she continued, half-walking, half-running. The path was edged with shingle, sea cabbages, and the kind of tough wild flowers that thrive in salty air. The place had a Technicolor glow in the dazzling sunset. It felt unreal.

  Rosie

  Fay was sleeping so soundly that Rosie suggested they take her down to the cabin with Marion.

  ‘She’s all right where she is.’ Oliver handed her a glass of champagne. ‘Come on, relax.’

  She took a sip, although her stomach was still churning. Oliver dipped a breadstick into some salsa and tried to feed her. ‘Not just now. I’m not hungry. I’m so worried about Mum. Did she tell you the police have been to see her?’

  ‘Yes. Apparently, they found out she went to look for Natalie Grant in Swindon.’

  She twisted to look at him properly. ‘What?’

  ‘She said it was just after your dad told her about the letters. She wanted to find out exactly what Natalie knew about Alice’s death.’

  Rosie pressed her fingers to her mouth. ‘And did she see her?’

  ‘No. She traced her to that commune, but couldn’t get any further. They wouldn’t help her, so she had to give up.’

  ‘And do you believe that?’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  She looked into his clear eyes and smiled. ‘Thank you.’

  A little laugh. ‘What for?’

  ‘For taking Mum’s side and for looking after her when you have so much to be upset about yourself.’

  He took her face in his warm hands. ‘I was shocked when the police turned up this morning and told me, but it doesn’t really affect us, does it? What happened to that girl in Swindon is sad and, of course, I feel sorry for her parents but, whatever the DNA might say, she wasn’t my daughter.’ He looked over towards Fay, fast asleep opposite them. ‘There’s my daughter, the only daughter I want, and she’s perfect.’ Rosie could hear the smile in his voice.

  She rested her head on his shoulder and he tapped her glass with his own. ‘Now, stop worrying and drink up,’ he whispered.

  Another sip. ‘I’ll check on Mum.’

  ‘I’ll do it.’ He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. ‘You stay here with Fay.’

  The champagne was good and it was beginning to take the edge off things. The evening sky was streaked with mauve, orange, and red. She looked across at Fay. She loved her so much.

  Oliver came out of the cabin. ‘Your mum’s fine.’

  Drowsy from the heat and the wine Rosie leaned back and closed her eyes, but her thoughts were still nagging. ‘Do you think Dad might be proved innocent after all? That this Natalie might really have killed Alice? I know she didn’t like Alice, but surely she couldn’t have hated her that much.’

  When he didn’t answer she sat up and looked at him, but he was gazing out to sea. After a while he sighed and said: ‘She didn’t hate her. It was an accident. Alice pushed her and Natalie pushed back that’s all.’

  ‘Is that what the police told you?’ she said.

  ‘Alice overbalanced and hit her head on the mantelpiece. But that wasn’t what killed her.’

  Fay twisted in her sleep and gave a little cry and Rosie moved to sit beside her. If she was having another nightmare, Rosie wanted to be there when she woke. She put her hand on Fay’s forehead. It was warm, but not enough to be worrying and she was starting to feel really tired herself.

  Oliver was still talking. And R
osie forced herself to focus. ‘Natalie thought she had killed Alice and she called me and begged me to check on her. Told me to go in through the garden. I saw Alice. She was sitting on the sofa holding her head and looking a bit shaky, but that was all.’

  He moved to take Rosie’s hands and kneel on the deck in front of her. His bright blue eyes looked into hers. It was a long, long look and Rosie’s mouth went dry, her heart drumming hard and fast in her ears.

  ‘I was still in the garden when I heard someone banging on the front door,’ he said.

  She managed to gasp out, ‘Me. It was me.’

  He nodded. ‘But Alice just sat there. She was dazed, I suppose, and the music was so loud.’

  A strangled whisper was all she could manage. ‘You were in the garden when I got home?’

  His eyes were glassy and Rosie could only stare into them. He said: ‘You can’t imagine how often I’ve told myself I should just have walked away then, but I didn’t dare move, in case you or Alice heard me.’

  Images from those horrible dreams flashed into her mind. Someone watching her, looking in from outside the house. From the garden. Had she seen Oliver from her bedroom all those years ago and blanked it out? She wanted to scream at him to stop. Not to say anymore; to pretend he’d never started telling her.

  But he was still speaking and she heard the words, although they made no sense. ‘I waited until I thought you had gone upstairs, but when I moved Alice saw me so I had to go in and talk to her. She said she knew Natalie was pregnant and that I was the baby’s father. She was going to tell everyone. Even my parents. And I couldn’t let her do that.’

  Rosie pulled her hands away. What was he saying?

  His voice went on. Soft and steady. ‘You know what my parents are like. And Alice wouldn’t stop laughing at me for getting mixed up with someone like Natalie. Wouldn’t stop talking about what my parents would say. So, I hit her with the poker until she did stop.’

  She jerked away from him. ‘For God’s sake, Oliver. Are you telling me you murdered Alice?’

  He stood and looked down at her, still talking in his familiar soft voice. Still making no sense. ‘I told Natalie that Alice was dead when I got to the house. Then I helped Natalie to get away to Brighton.’

  The unbelievable words went on. ‘The police will know everything soon. You don’t remember my old mate, Stephen Bayles, do you? He was my friend, but he also knew Alice. It was him who persuaded me to come to your house on the day I met Natalie. When she ran away she changed her name, but she must have kept some stuff all these years. Apparently, the girl, Lily, found a reference to Stephen and traced him through his firm’s website. Didn’t tell him who she was. Just said she was looking for old friends of Natalie. And the idiot told her my name and blurted out that I was Natalie’s boyfriend back then.’

  Even as she tried to make sense of what she was hearing, Rosie realized that Fay’s breathing sounded wrong. She lifted the heavy head onto her lap. But it felt too heavy and Rosie shook her gently. ‘Wake up, baby.’

  Oliver smiled, pushing a strand of fair hair away from his forehead, and squeezed onto the seat beside them, his arm enclosing her. ‘She’s just tired out.’

  Keep calm. Think about Fay. ‘No. There’s something wrong.’ Rosie’s heart thumped faster, as Fay groaned and moved in her arms but showed no sign of waking. ‘We’ve got to go home, Oliver, please. Fay needs help.’

  When he spoke, the smile was in his voice again. ‘There’s nothing wrong with her. I put a sleeping pill in her cherryade, that’s all.’

  A huge flare of panic. ‘Why, why would you do that?’ She pulled Fay up by her shoulders, shaking her, talking to her. ‘Fay, baby, wake up. Please, please wake up for Mummy.’

  His hand stroked her hair. He wasn’t listening. ‘Stephen always had a big mouth. He gave her my mobile and my work numbers. She didn’t tell him why she wanted to contact me, so he still doesn’t realize what he’s done but, if the police take my DNA, they’ll soon connect the dots.’

  Rosie looked over to the shore. It seemed very far away and they were the only boat out here as the midsummer sun began to sink. She still couldn’t understand. This was Oliver. What was wrong with him? ‘Oliver, please, we need to get Fay home.’

  He stared out to sea, his fingers pressing into her scalp. ‘When she called I was shocked, but I thought it would be all right. She said she loved her adoptive dad, and only wanted to meet me once. Just to see what I was like. Promised she wouldn’t make things difficult for me. No one else would know. I picked her up at a railway station, making sure no one saw us together. I was going to take her for tea somewhere so we could talk. That was all. But in the car, she started on about Alice’s murder. She’d been reading all about it. That’s when I knew she would try to rake it all up. She was clever, you see, and I realized she was the kind of kid who wouldn’t stop until she understood everything.’

  She held Fay over her shoulder like a baby, shaking her; thankful, at least, for the sleepy moan of protest and the warm breath she could feel on her cheek.

  He threw himself next to her again and she swallowed; the fizz of champagne still in her mouth making her stomach churn. This felt like a sick joke. And he looked sick, a greenish tinge under his tan; his face changed to that of a horrible stranger.

  Rosie flinched and clutched Fay tighter. This couldn’t be happening.

  But he was still talking. ‘She was clever enough to find me, so I knew she would work it all out. I had to protect you and Fay.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I drove her to a little wood and we went for a walk. She was all hyped up. Didn’t think your dad was guilty and said whoever really did it had to be brought to justice, even if it was her own mother. And I knew she would never leave it alone. So, when she turned away, I hit her with a rock.’ He paused, rubbing his mouth, seeming lost in thought. ‘It was easier than Alice. Just one blow. But I’m stronger and taller now, of course. And she didn’t think she was in danger, because I was her father.’

  She struggled to stand, with Fay heavy in her arms, forcing herself to keep the hatred from her voice. ‘Let’s go home. We can talk about all this there.’

  He stood to face her, gripping her elbow, his eyes glittering in the glow of the sunset. ‘I couldn’t let you go through all that again. What you went through with your dad. This is the only way.’

  She scanned the deck, looking for something, anything, to smash into his face. Nothing. She looked up at him, keeping the loathing from her eyes, making herself speak gently. ‘Please, you don’t want to hurt Fay.’

  ‘She’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll hold on to her the whole time. And you know she loves the sea. This is the only way we can still be together. You must see that.’ He held out his hand. ‘Come on, Rosie, give her to me.’

  She lurched away from him, but he dragged Fay from her arms. She wanted to rip that smile from his face, tear at him till he let her baby go, but it was no good. She headed for the wheel trying to sound calm. ‘I’m taking us back. We can sort this out, somehow.’

  But he was behind her and his hand closed hard over her ankle as the deck rose up to meet her, smashing into her face. And the pain and dark came down on her.

  Joe

  Hannah was running and Joe had to sprint after her. There was a boat bobbing not far out to sea, but he couldn’t see the name from this distance. When he looked back along the path Hannah had disappeared over the rise of shingly beach. He was knackered and slowed to a walk.

  There was no one on the boat but, as he got closer, something looked odd. There was a lot of splashing nearby, although the sea was perfectly calm. Hannah was standing on a rough concrete pier, her hand shielding her eyes from the low sun. There was someone swimming near the boat and the churning water meant they were in trouble.

  But then he saw what Hannah was doing and realized what she was about to do.

  ‘Hannah, stay there, wait for me,’ he shouted, but she carried on t
aking off her shoes, jeans, and shirt. Then she was in the water, swimming like he’d never seen her swim before. The way Natalie could swim.

  His heart was beating hard, his breath rasping in his throat. The woman near the boat was thrashing about, obviously in trouble, and further out a man was hanging on to a child. There was something wrong with the kid too: her head was resting on the man’s shoulder as if she was unconscious. Holding her, he could only swim with one arm. Hannah was heading towards them, but why the hell was the guy moving in the wrong direction: away from the boat and further out to sea?

  Joe’s phone rang.

  Loretta

  Loretta tried Joe again when she got to Bexhill, knowing it was hopeless. But this time he answered with a breathless, ‘Loretta.’

  ‘Joe, where are you?’

  Footsteps on rough ground, seagulls, and Joe’s hurrying breath. ‘We’re on the beach at Rye Harbour and there’s people in the water. They’re in trouble. I’m going to swim out and help. Can you call the emergency services?’

  Loretta made the call, threw the phone onto the passenger seat and turned the car.

  Rosie

  The shock of the cold sea brought Rosie back to herself and she floundered, swallowing salt water, choking and gasping. Oliver must have thrown her overboard. Fay, oh God, Fay.

  She twisted round and round, sinking again, coughing, and struggling to hold back the rush of sickness as her movements made the sky spin in whirls of sunset colour. The boat bobbed in front of her and she struck out towards it, each stroke sending shocks of pain through her head, misting her eyes, turning her stomach. Somehow, she got herself round to the swim ladder, crying and shaking with the horror of it. Remembering what Oliver had said, how he’d looked. And Fay, where was Fay?

  She lifted her head clear of the water, took a huge breath and clung onto the ladder. Pain seared through her skull and water filled her mouth in a surge of cold saltiness. She tried to push herself up, but her body was as heavy as if she had half the Channel in her clothes and she fell back again.