Love Is a Secret

by Sophie King

  ‘Just directions. Nothing embarrassing.’

  ‘You’ll ask if they’re going to be in, won’t you?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘God, Dad, you’re so embarrassing! No wonder Freddy doesn’t tell you everything.’

  ‘Such as?’ He was hoping to find something out.

  ‘Nothing.’

  She flounced out and he could hear her running up the stairs, then slamming her bedroom door. Seconds later, loud music hurtled down to him in competition with the sound of – yes! – Freddy’s trumpet. He might refuse to play at the concert but at least he was practising. Win some, lose some, he thought wryly. ‘Leave her,’ he said to Daphne. ‘She’ll come round.’

  ‘But what about their tea? It’s ready and it won’t keep.’ Daphne was hot and flustered. ‘I don’t approve of these young girls going out so much. You don’t know what they get up to.’

  ‘Daphne,’ he patted her shoulder, ‘it’s what they do. It’s when they get to the out all night stage you have to worry.’

  Daphne shuddered. ‘Don’t.’

  ‘Look, I don’t want to be rude but I really need to finish off some work. You’re welcome to sit down if you want but—’

  ‘Don’t mind me.’ Daphne took off her apron sulkily. ‘I was just off to my computer class anyway.’

  He saw her out and bolted back to the sanctity of his study. Such a relief. Much as he hated to admit it, Hilary had been partly right when she’d complained in the old days about him hiding in his work. Computers didn’t answer back. They didn’t need nagging about teeth-cleaning. And they didn’t need collecting from friends’ houses when he would rather be in bed.

  Mark waited in the car outside the house as instructed.

  ‘Don’t come in,’ Florrie had said firmly. ‘I’ll be out by midnight.’

  But something wasn’t right. The house, a rather nice detached place at the far end of Woodstock Road, was ablaze with colour and music. A girl in a short skirt – very short – came down the path, draped round a boy who looked as though he was barely out of year nine. ‘Hi, Mr Summers.’ She giggled.

  He did a double-take as he recognised Emma, Florrie’s friend. What were her parents thinking of to let her wear that skirt or be so intimate with that boy? Mark got out of the car. Florrie had said Jemma was having a few girls over. She hadn’t said anything about boys.

  The door was open and, amid the smoke-filled crowd of teenagers, Mark couldn’t see one adult. This was a party, not the small gathering Florrie had implied it would be. A boy was lying across the foot of the stairs, moaning.

  ‘You all right?’ asked Mark, kneeling down.

  ‘He’s been sick,’ said another boy, who was mopping something off the floor. ‘He’ll be OK in a minute.’

  ‘Have you seen Florrie Summers?’

  ‘Are you joking? Do you know how many kids are here?’

  Mark strode into another room. It was dark, but he could make out shapes lying on the sofa. ‘Florrie? Are you there?’

  It was impossible to make himself heard above the music. He fumbled by the door for the light switch.

  ‘Oy! Who fucking did that?’

  Mark stood, his arms folded. ‘I did, young man. I’m looking for my daughter.’

  ‘Dad!’ A tousled Florrie emerged from a pile of bodies on the sofa. ‘You’re meant to be waiting outside,’ she slurred.

  She was squinting in the light and he could smell the drink she’d had from where he was standing.

  ‘Get into the car, Florrie,’ he said.

  She lurched towards him, pushing him against the wall. ‘Don’t talk to me like that.’

  ‘Now, come on . . .’

  ‘What’s going on?’ An older blonde girl came out of the kitchen.

  ‘Are you in charge here?’ asked Mark icily.

  She stared at him coolly. ‘Well, it’s my party.’

  ‘I was told that Jemma was having a few friends over.’

  The girl lit a cigarette and blew smoke at him. ‘Actually, it’s my eighteenth but Mum said Jemma could ask a couple of mates.’

  ‘Well, don’t you think someone ought to be in control? These kids are drinking and some are smoking.’

  Her eyebrows rose in amusement. ‘So?’

  Florrie clutched her stomach. ‘I feel sick. That vodka jelly was weird.’

  ‘Vodka jelly?’ repeated Mark, appalled.

  ‘Don’t you dare be sick here,’ said the girl, firmly, pushing her out of the room. ‘Go to the loo – in there.’

  Mark made to follow her and almost fell over the boy who was mopping up. The kid’s eyes narrowed. ‘Hey, I recognise you, don’t I?’

  Mark felt a cold tremor pass through him. ‘I don’t think so.’

  The boy was sitting back now. ‘Yeah, I do. You used to live in Highbury, didn’t you? Off Canonbury Road.’

  Apprehension gripped him.

  ‘What a coincidence!’ The boy spoke in a slightly camp tone. ‘We lived opposite you until we moved here. Your wife went to prison, didn’t she? I remember my mum talking about it. What did she do again? Stealing, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Piss off,’ said Mark, furiously. The door opened and a green-looking Florrie appeared. ‘Come on.’ Mark grabbed his daughter’s arm. ‘Time to go.’

  ‘Poor you,’ called the boy. ‘It must be hard for you.’

  He marched Florrie down the path and into the car. ‘What’s he going on about, Dad?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He started up the engine. ‘But I do know that you are never, ever to drink again like that. And if you insist on groping with boys at your age, you are not – I repeat not – to go below the waist until you are at least sixteen.’

  ‘Dad! I’m not like that.’

  He set his eyes firmly on the road ahead. ‘We all do things we don’t mean to.’

  ‘Does that include you? And Mum?’

  ‘Yes, if you really want to know.’

  They drove in silence for a few minutes.

  ‘I’m sorry, Dad.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘But it’s hard without Mum.’

  He could sense her tears in the darkness. ‘I understand that, but I’m doing my best.’

  ‘I know.’

  A small hand stole on to his as he changed gear, just as it had when she was little. The gesture was almost enough to negate the pain.

  ‘If someone told you a secret, Dad, and you promised to keep it, do you think you should break it?’

  ‘That depends.’ He couldn’t think straight. All he could see was his daughter struggling out from beneath that pile of bodies on the sofa. She was too young, far too young, for that kind of thing. ‘Why?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She yawned. ‘I’ll tell you in the morning, when you’re not so mad at me.’

  The following morning, Florrie was back to her usual aloof self over breakfast.

  ‘Dad made such a fuss at Jemma’s sleepover. It was really embarrassing.’

  Daphne, who had stayed over, put a croissant on her plate. ‘I heard it was quite a party, young lady.’

  ‘I still don’t understand why that boy said it must be hard for you. What did you say to him?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Mark busied himself with the marmalade.

  ‘You can’t stop me going to parties when I’m older, you know.’

  ‘Or me,’ added Freddy. ‘Anyway, I’m going to live in Huntingdon Beach. You can bum around all day there and not go to school.’

  ‘You’d get caught,’ said Florrie.

  ‘Wouldn’t.’

  That reminded Mark. ‘Weren’t you going to ask me something, Florrie? Something you mentioned in the car last night?’

  ‘Was I? Can’t remember. Ow, Freddy – shut up. That hurt.’

  ‘Freddy, stop kicking her,’ said Mark wearily. He desperately needed some peace to chase up unpaid fees. As a freelance, he had discovered that this could take as long as it did to earn the money.

  Sometimes phone calls wo
rked better than emails.

  ‘Jenny, it’s Mark Summers PR. Sorry to bother you but I’ve just been going through my invoices and realised you hadn’t paid the last one. Can you tell me how far it’s got in the system? Yes, I can hold.’

  If he didn’t, they might not phone him back and then he’d have to ring them again. When he’d been a staffer, dealing with freelancers, he had often instructed them to hold on, oblivious to the fact that their own phone bill was mounting as they chased money. If he ever worked for someone else again, he’d remember that.

  ‘Next month? But you usually pay within twenty-eight days. Can you check again? Yes, I’ll still hold.’

  Cradling the phone between neck and shoulder, he logged on to What Mums Know. Might as well check his messages while he waited.

  Direct message.

  What?

  From Beware to Mimi: I know what you’ve been doing. I know about your affair. So stop right now – before anyone else finds out.

  That was it. No demand for money. And a crazy sender name. Beware? He reread the message, panic gripping him.

  I know about your affair. The words thundered round his head. But how in the world did this Beware know anything about his life?

  NEWS HEADLINES

  Bodies still being recovered from Australian train crash.

  52

  ‘If she’d been on the train, the Foreign Office would have her name.’

  Caroline could have shaken her husband if he hadn’t been at the other end of the line. How could he go to work, for pity’s sake?

  ‘Because I can’t do anything sitting at home. Look, I know it’s a bit worrying but Australia’s a big place. It’s like someone assuming that we were in the Paddington crash because we live nearby.’

  ‘But her friend thought she was on the train.’

  ‘She wasn’t certain. And I keep telling you, the Foreign Office still isn’t certain they’ve got all the names.’

  ‘Janie says that some of the bodies were thrown so far that it’s difficult to identify them.’

  ‘Caro, you’re getting hysterical.’

  ‘And you’re so bloody calm.’

  ‘That’s because it wouldn’t help if I was hysterical too. She’s bound to ring soon.’

  ‘And if she doesn’t?’

  ‘We’ll go out there.’

  ‘How do you know we can get a flight?’

  ‘Because,’ said Roger, ‘as I’ve said before, I’ve already looked into it.’

  She trembled violently. ‘Then you do think something’s happened.’

  ‘That’s not what I said. I’m just formulating Plan B.’

  Plan B? She could have screamed. For crying out loud, this was their daughter they were talking about! What kind of man was she married to? Even more chilling, had she ever really known him?

  53

  On her way to work after her driving lesson, which had gone remarkably well, she opened the local paper on the bus and saw a picture of Joy staring out at her. The caption read, ‘DISABLED MUMS GO TO DOWNING STREET’. She scanned the article. Yes, her name and Tabitha’s were there too. Hopefully it might help the campaign but she did wish journalists could get it right sometimes. ‘Disabled mums’ made it sound as though the mothers were handicapped – although, in an ironic way, that was true.

  ‘You didn’t say you were going to be in the paper,’ said Fiona, settling at her desk and kicking off her shoes. ‘I didn’t realise you had a daughter who was, er . . .’

  ‘Disabled,’ said Susan. Sometimes people needed helping out. In her view, ‘special needs’ was beating around the bush. ‘No, well, we just try to get on with life.’

  ‘I can understand that. My little cousin has cerebral palsy and my aunt’s always moaning that people treat them differently. She has a job too – says it’s a life-saver.’

  Susan nodded.

  ‘By the way, did you hear about Simon? He’s been sacked already from his new job for fiddling expenses and for making a move on one of the girls in the office.’

  Susan’s mouth went dry. ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘South Africa, can you believe? One of the boys in the office knew someone who flat-shared with him and he did a moonlight flit without paying his rent. Then he rang from Cape Town and said he’d send the money on. It’s not the first time, you know. He was almost done for sexual harassment by the woman who was here before you.’

  Susan took a gulp of coffee. ‘Actually, he did the same to me.’

  ‘You?’ Her expression showed that Fiona clearly considered Susan an unlikely candidate.

  ‘Yes, I know. Crazy, isn’t it?’

  ‘I didn’t mean that. What happened?’

  She told her. Fiona was suitably horrified. ‘That’s awful. Your dad’s right. You ought to complain.’

  ‘I don’t want any more fuss. Besides, if he’s that far away, I don’t need to worry any more, do I?’

  NEWS HEADLINES

  Gap-year student from London among Australian fatalities.

  54

  From Earth Mother to Expectent Mum: How are you doing, dear? Let us know as soon as you get back from hospital. We’re all here for you if you need some advice. Good luck!

  It was all so embarrassing. She hadn’t started labour at all. She’d had to email Earth Mother and explain that the pains had suddenly stopped and after that there’d been nothing. Probably Braxton Hicks, like Kiki said. After all, it was only the end of November and she still had some time to go, didn’t she?

  Earth Mother had told her to get herself checked out by her GP in the morning, but there was no way she was doing that. Doctors hadn’t helped her before. She was far better off going through this pregnancy on her own. But it had all made her feel pretty low.

  When she got to work the next day, Daisy wasn’t much better either, even when she tried to cheer her up by making Christmas decorations. ‘What do you want Santa to bring you?’ she asked, after Daisy had screwed up yet another paper chain.

  The little girl shook her head.

  ‘Nothing at all?’

  ‘I want him to take something away.’

  No prizes for guessing what that was.

  ‘Now, Daisy, you know he can’t do that. Why don’t we make your sister a Christmas card? No, don’t do that. Oh, Daisy, now look what you’ve done.’

  The crash sent Mrs Perkins running in. ‘Not again! If that child doesn’t start to behave, we’ll have to ban her.’

  The woman had no patience! ‘You can’t do that. She needs time, that’s all.’

  Mrs Perkins sent Daisy a filthy look. ‘I’ll have to talk to your mother, this afternoon, young lady. Now, go and play in the sandpit. Lisa, you can see that Joel needs some help with his writing and we’ve got the storybook group waiting.’

  Nag, nag, nag. Jealous, that was what she was. Just because Lisa had the knack. Everyone said so, even Mrs Perkins. ‘You’re a natural, Lisa,’ the mothers were always saying. ‘You’ll be a brilliant mum.’ And she would. She really would.

  Daisy’s mother was late. Lisa could hear her apologising to Mrs Perkins. Meanwhile, she and Daisy were making dough shapes with red plastic cutters. It was so nice sitting down together, being so close. She could pretend Daisy was Hayley and that they were doing normal mother-and-daughter stuff.

  Then Daisy’s baby sister began to cry. Little whimpers at first, which got louder. No one else seemed to notice and Lisa tried to ignore her, for Daisy’s sake, but the noise reverberated in her head.

  She kept remembering what that baby book had said, about babies crying in the womb. Did Hayley and Sky cry before their lives had ended so suddenly?

  She couldn’t take it any longer. ‘Just going to look at your sister.’ Daisy didn’t glance up from the dough shapes. As she rocked the pram, Lisa could hear voices rising from Mrs Perkins’s office. Sounded like they were having a bit of an argument; they certainly weren’t paying this poor baby any attention.

  The baby’s cheek was a
s soft as it had been when she’d touched it last week. Her hands tightened on the handle. The brake release was easy to find. All she had to do was swing the pram down the ramp, push it through the car park and she’d be away.

  DECEMBER

  ORDER CONFIRMATION TO LISA SMTIH:

  We confirm that The Book of Luck has been dispatched and should be with you within three to four working days.

  LETTER TO MRS SUSAN THOMAS

  Dear Mrs Thomas,

  Thank you for your request for a house alarm system. We regret that the housing authority does not have a budget for installing the above.

  VOICEMAIL TO ANNABEL

  ‘Annabel, are you out there? Phone home now if you pick up this message. Mum and Georgie are hysterical and even Dad’s worried although he’s not letting on. Shift yourself.’

  MESSAGE TO FREDDY SUMMERS

  Who didn’t get into the rugby team? Loser, loser . . . Everyone else at school thinks you’re a waste of space. That’s why no one wants to sit next to you. My dad thinks people like you should go back to their own country.

  PRIVATE. Dad, There’s something you ought to know but which I promised not to tell you. So I’m writing you this note with Freddy’s Hotmail password and then you can say you found it yourself.

  WHAT MUMS KNOW

  JOIN OUR ONLINE DISCUSSIONS ON:

  Bullying. Tactics to teach your child.

  Confidence. If you don’t have it in yourself, no one else will.

  TIP FROM SCUMMY MUMMY

  Hide the computer power lead if your kids won’t log off.

  THOUGHT TO KEEP YOU SANE FROM JULIE OF EASTBOURNE

  If you buy next year’s Christmas presents in the January sales, you’ll save LOADS of money.

  CHUCKLE CORNER FROM ALI OF SLOUGH

  You know your kid is verbal when they can whine in words.

  PARENTING NEWS

  New survey shows that over-forties have become too complacent over contraception.