Secrets and Lies: A Collection of Heart-stopping Psychological Thrillers

by M K Farrar

  This weekend was Stephen’s turn to have Ollie, but it was getting late. Stephen should have been here over an hour ago, but there was still no sign of him.

  These weekends should be times she’d be looking forward to a chance to have a break, to take a long bath, or have a lie in, or just read a good book, but instead she found herself dreading them. Ollie’s behaviour tended to get worse when he was building up to a weekend with his dad. She understood why. He built himself up into such a nervous, over-excited state that he wasn’t able to control himself. He tore around the house at a million miles an hour, shouting at invisible monsters he was fighting, and throwing his toys down the stairs, despite Kristen telling him to stop it. Dealing with him like this was exhausting, and by the time they’d been back from school for an hour, she could already tell she was short-tempered and snappish. She didn’t like herself when she was in this kind of mood, and Ollie seemed to know how to press all her buttons. They were normally so close, but it was like the prospect of missing each other made them push each other away instead of enjoying the last couple of hours together. Perhaps it was a self-preservation thing.

  Kristen paced anxiously, peering out of the window for any sign of her ex-husband’s car. Ollie was getting tired now, his chin dropping onto his narrow chest as he watched Paw Patrol on television. She didn’t normally like him watching television in the evenings, but she’d been getting desperate.

  She picked up the phone and dialled Stephen’s number for the fifth time that evening. It went straight through to answer phone.

  “Where the hell are you?” she hissed, trying to keep her voice down so Ollie didn’t hear. “You need to call me right away!”

  The agreement was that he came to pick Ollie up as soon as he finished work at five-thirty. Ollie went to bed by seven, so much later and it wouldn’t be worth him going. She had a sinking in her stomach that this was just going to be a repeat of the previous weekend Stephen had been supposed to have him. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Ollie at home—he was her entire life and she loved having him with her—but she hated to see her son’s disappointment, and she hated being the one who had to make up lies about how much his father was missing him and how he couldn’t help it. The truth burned like acid inside her, eating her up, but she knew telling her son would only be making herself feel better and hurting him, and she’d never do that.

  The phone buzzed, and she snatched it up. “Where the hell are you?”

  “I’m sorry. Something came up at work. I’m still here. It’s going to be a late one.”

  She was sure she could hear the low chatter of a busy place in the background, more akin to a bar than an office. “Yeah, right.”

  “Don’t be like that, Kristen. I’ll pick him up first thing in the morning, right after Lyla has done her swimming lesson.”

  Lyla was the new wife’s six-year-old daughter from a previous relationship.

  “So that won’t be first thing, will it?” she snapped. “You’re putting taking Lyla ahead of Ollie again.”

  “I have to. I promised I’d take her.”

  Her voice lifted in anger. “You promised you’d be here to take Ollie for the weekend. Lyla gets you every day, but Ollie never gets to see you. How do you think that’s fair?”

  “This isn’t about what’s fair.”

  “No, apparently not, because Lyla isn’t even your flesh and blood, and yet you treat her more like your child than you do Ollie!”

  She felt horrible bringing up his relationship to Lyla, like some bitter and twisted witch—the epitome of an evil ex-wife. The little girl was lucky to have a father figure in her life. It was something Kristen had never had herself, and she remembered wishing so badly for her mysterious father to just show up at the door one day and whisk her and Violet away from the madness that was her mother. Of course, that never happened, and now she was begrudging a little girl of the same dream she’d had as a child.

  “Lyla might not be my flesh and blood, but she’s still my daughter. I’ve been raising her since she was three.” He exhaled a long, frustrated sigh and then continued. “Families are complicated. Sometimes you have to be a little bit flexible, Kristen.”

  She was steaming with anger. “Flexible? I’m always flexible. I have to be, but only to accommodate you!”

  The kitchen door opened, and big, sad eyes blinked back at her. “He’s not coming, is he?”

  Kristen pressed her lips together, trying to hold back her emotion. “Your son wants to speak to you. I suggest you explain to him what’s happened this time.” She pressed the phone to Ollie’s ear.

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  Kristen struggled with tears of frustration and anger and disappointment, but she gave Ollie a smile of encouragement. She knew what it was like to grow up without a father in her life, and she didn’t want him to have to do the same. So even though it half killed her, she did her best to smooth things over.

  Her heart broke as she overheard his side of the conversation. “That’s okay. I understand... I know you’re really busy.... Yes, okay. See you tomorrow.”

  If Stephen didn’t turn up in the morning, she knew she’d struggle to hold herself back. She felt as though she was constantly wearing a mask to deal with her ex-husband, knowing remaining as civil as possible was only good for Ollie. It was so fucking hard, though, and there were times where she genuinely found herself close to physical violence. Lisa, the new wife, probably thought she was a complete psycho, and though Stephen kept the two of them apart, she daydreamed conversations where she’d tell Lisa that the only reason she might act crazy at times was because Stephen had made her that way.

  Except that wasn’t completely true, was it? There had always been a little craziness in her family, and though she tended to think Violet had gotten more of her mother’s genes than she had, who knew what she was capable of deep down?

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Stephen turned up on time, and Kristen was able to kiss her son goodbye and finally take a breath. She missed Ollie horribly when he wasn’t there, but she’d been terrified Stephen was going to let him down once again, and then she’d have yet another fight on her hands.

  She’d slept badly the previous night, too stressed out from her fight with Stephen to relax and worrying about how things would play out that morning. She’d promised herself she’d go back to bed if and when Stephen did show up, but now Ollie was gone, and curling up back in bed, all on her own, felt depressing. Instead, she made herself a cup of tea and thought she might go for a walk down by the river instead, get some endorphins going. If she was still tired after that, perhaps she would take a little nap on the sofa.

  Her phone rang, and she checked the screen to see a number she didn’t recognise. For a moment, she considered not answering it, but then decided it would bug her all day if she didn’t answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Is that Kristen Scott?”

  “Yes, speaking?”

  “Hi, my name’s Jess York and I’m calling from the university housing.”

  She immediately perked up. “Oh, yes, hello. What can I do for you?”

  “We’ve had a last-minute change of circumstances with one of our other host families and need a replacement. It’s all a bit last minute, I’m afraid, but the students are already on their way here, and one of them doesn’t have anywhere to stay.”

  “Already on their way here? When do they arrive?”

  “This afternoon, by coach. I’d need you to pick him up at three p.m., if at all possible?”

  “Oh, right. Umm...” Her mind was racing. She’d need to get extra food in, as providing meals was part of the agreement. Did she have time to get everything ready? It would mean an extra two hundred pounds going into the pot for next week. “That would be fine. Three o’clock, you said?”

  “That’s right. At the bus station in town.”

  “Great. I’ll be there.”

  She hung up and suddenly realised she hadn’t asked a single question a
bout the person who would be staying in her home.

  Kristen spent the next few hours in a whirlwind of panic, worried she was making a huge mistake by letting a complete stranger into her home. She told herself the person would barely be past childhood, and they’d be more interested in their studies than anything else, but still she worried. She tidied up the room again and made sure everything was in place. She provided clean towels, and then worried if she should have provided toiletries as well, or if they’d bring them with them, then she went down to the shops and picked up another loaf of bread, some pasta, and potatoes to do jacket spuds with. Teenage boys ate a lot, she knew that much, so whatever was cheap and in bulk was what she’d be feeding him. Next week, when the first week’s payment came through, she’d be able to afford to be a little more luxurious with the meals, but for this week they’d simply have to make do. She hoped he wasn’t going to say anything about the food. She’d be embarrassed if he felt it wasn’t good enough, but then youngsters preferred simple things, didn’t they? She knew when she tried to feed Ollie anything out of the ordinary, he always turned his nose up.

  Finally, the time rolled around for her to leave. She felt wired and anxious about picking up the student, but she tried to quash the emotions. This was a perfectly normal thing to do. Plenty of families took in foreign students. She almost wished Ollie was with her. At least he’d be able to act as a bit of a buffer and a distraction. But no, she was being a big baby. She couldn’t rely on a five-year-old to ward off her anxiety.

  Kristen got in the car and drove the twenty minutes into the middle of town to the bus station. She had arrived early, but that was better than being late, even if it meant she now had even more time to worry. She hoped Ollie wasn’t going to be shocked when he came home to find someone else living in their house. They’d talked about it happening, but talking was very different from the reality of waking up every day to have someone else sitting across from you at the kitchen table.

  A small group of people were already waiting. One of them was wearing a t-shirt with the university emblem on the front and held a clipboard. Kristen had been hoping to see Nancy McFadden again, but she guessed the woman was allowed a day off.

  Kristen smiled nervously as she approached.

  “Umm, hi.” She waited until she was noticed, which she was, and the woman holding the clipboard smiled in return. “I’m Kristen Scott. I’m filling in as a last-minute host family. I’m sorry, I forgot to ask who I was going to be picking up.”

  “Ah, yes.” The woman scanned the clipboard and stabbed her pen down on a line. “You’re picking up a Swedish student, Haiden Lindgren. He’s here studying for a semester for his master’s degree in Business.”

  “Master’s degree?” She tried not to sound surprised and failed. Wasn’t that what they did after they’d already completed a full degree? That would make whoever she was picking up in at least their early twenties.

  “Yes, that’s right.” She frowned down at the clipboard. “You did want a mature student, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, yes. Absolutely. I guess I thought they’d all be in their late teens.”

  “Oh, most of them are.”

  “Right.”

  Her nerves increased. She had the sudden feeling that everything was out of her control and she’d been plunged into a situation that she’d had no choice in. Of course, that was rubbish. She’d actively tried to get to this point. She needed to focus on the money and the benefit that was going to bring to their lives, and not the small amount of discomfort she’d experience having some strange man living in her house. Besides, she needed to make Ollie comfortable with this, and she wouldn’t be able to do that if she was freaking out.

  Taking a deep breath, she looked around at everyone else waiting. Some of them seemed to know each other and stood around chatting, while others appeared bored, staring at their phones.

  “Ah, here they come,” the woman with the clipboard announced.

  A large, expensive looking coach pulled into the bus station. Kristen’s heart pattered, her mouth running dry with nerves. She pulled anxiously on the strap of her handbag and opened and closed her fists.

  The coach pulled in beside them, and something beneath the vehicle hissed as it lowered to the ground. The doors opened, and another adult with a clipboard stood just inside the door, checking off students as they filed off the coach. Kristen scanned each boy as they piled off, wondering which one would be coming home with her.

  Long legs appeared from the steps of the coach, followed by a lean torso and broad shoulders. She could already tell he was a lot older than the other students. Stupidly, her heart beat faster, and heat flooded to her face. She’d been expecting some spotty teenager, not a grown man.

  The person with the clipboard looked over, craning his neck, and the woman she’d spoken to when she’d first arrived pointed her out.

  Jesus, how tall was he? She guessed at least six feet two, and he dwarfed her five feet five frame. He was definitely young, that was for sure, but he also wasn’t a teenager. She guessed early to mid-twenties. Considering she was going to be living with this tall blond stranger, she figured she’d learn plenty about him over the next few weeks and months.

  Awkwardly, she lifted a hand in a wave and gave a half smile.

  The man, Haiden Lindgren, caught her eye, and the woman with the clipboard nodded. He grabbed a case from underneath the coach then headed over to her.

  “Hello.” He offered her a wide smile filled with white teeth. “I believe you’re to be my host for the next three months.”

  “That’s right.” She stuck out her hand, wondering if the Swedes greeted people like the Spanish and French, and he was expecting a kiss instead. She hoped not. She didn’t want to get that close to him. He seemed happy with the handshake and placed his large palm around hers.

  “Kristen Scott,” she said. “Please, just call me Kristen.”

  “It’s very good to meet you, Kristen. I’m Haiden.”

  “It’s good to meet you, too. I hope you’ll be comfortable in my home. This is the first time I’ve taken in a foreign student.”

  “Did you and your husband decide to make use of an empty room?”

  “Oh, there’s no husband, but I do have a son. He’s called Ollie, and he’s five. I have a cat, too, called Lemmy. I’ll make sure I keep them both out of your way.” She was babbling, and the realisation made her shrink inside.

  “No need at all,” he replied. “I’ve always liked cats, and I used to be a boy, so I don’t mind them either.”

  She gave a small laugh. “Of course. Well, my car is just over here.” She checked behind him. “Are there any more bags? I can help carry one.”

  “Nope, this is it.” Just the case and a backpack slung over his shoulder.

  His English was already almost perfect. If it wasn’t for the slight accent—the sharper ‘t’s’ and the more clipped words—she might not have even guessed he wasn’t from here. He did have that typical Nordic look, though, with the blond hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin. He radiated youth and good health, and Kristen felt even older, chubbier, and paler than usual.

  She led him towards where she’d parked the car. It was an old model, but it had always been reliable in the five years since she’d bought it, just after Ollie was born. It was a good thing, too. She wouldn’t have been able to afford a vehicle that kept breaking down on her. But other than its MOTs and a couple of minor problems, the car had been a good workhorse.

  She opened the boot for Haiden to throw his case inside, and then went to the driver’s side while he went to the passenger door.

  “Do you drive?” she asked him.

  “Yes, I do back home, but it’s not worth me hiring a car while I’m here. I’m told you have a good public transport system which will allow me to get around.”

  “Yes, that’s right. The bus is pretty regular. The housing people checked all of that before they approved me as a host.”

  �
��That’s good.”

  She started the car and pulled it out of the bus station and into traffic. It felt strange driving around with this handsome young man in the passenger seat. She’d been a single mother for several years now—there hadn’t been anyone since Stephen left—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate the company of a handsome male. She was only just thirty-one; it wasn’t as though she had one foot in the grave.

  “How far from here do you live?” he asked.

  She glanced over to him as she drove. “Not too far. About twenty minutes in the traffic, but it’s really only a couple of miles out of town. The bus will get you there quicker since they can use the bus lanes.”

  “You know,” he said, watching her, “you’re not exactly what I expected.”

  She felt the intensity of his gaze and was relieved to be able to concentrate on the road, so she didn’t have to meet his blue eyes. “You’re not exactly what I was expecting either.”

  “No? What were you expecting?”

  “Umm... someone younger, I guess.”

  He chuckled. “And I was expecting someone older. Someone more... motherly.”

  “I’m motherly!” she exclaimed in surprise.

  “Not as far as I can see.”

  Heat rose in a flush up her chest and into her cheeks. She wished Ollie was here so she could wave the boy under this attractive man’s nose like a defence mechanism. But she shook the thought out of her head. She was being ridiculous. This gorgeous twenty-something was not interested in someone like her. She was probably ten years his senior and was still carrying baby-weight, despite Ollie being five years old now. He’d be used to tall blonde Swedish girls, not short, slightly dumpy brunette English women—and a mother, at that. She was projecting, that was all. Just because she’d been instantly hit by her attraction to him didn’t mean it was the slightest bit reciprocated. He was being polite and nice to her because he was staying in her home for the next twelve weeks. She had to pull herself together or she’d end up making a fool out of herself.