Love Is a Secret

by Sophie King

  ‘Sounds a bit far-fetched to me.’

  ‘Maybe. Anyway, she suggested, and I agree, that we ignore our blackmailer’s messages and see if they’re a one-off. If they continue, we’ll have to do something about it.’

  ‘Like what?’

  Mark was rubbing his nose against hers. The action seemed so natural – childlike yet grown-up. ‘Not sure. Get expert advice, that sort of thing. God, Caroline, what do you do to me? I’ve never felt like this before.’

  ‘Nor me. But I can tell you that when Annabel was missing, nothing else seemed important.’ She sat up and a chill went through him. ‘I’ve got to put the kids first, Mark. I can’t do anything stupid.’

  ‘I’m not asking you to.’

  ‘And I don’t do meaningless affairs either.’ Her eyes were serious. ‘For me, it’s all or nothing.’

  ‘I’m the same.’ He spoke so quietly that he could barely hear himself.

  ‘Then what are we going to do?’

  Suddenly, all his excitement at being with her left him. ‘I don’t know.’ He looked away. ‘There’s something else. Something I need to tell you. They want Hilary to come home next weekend to see how she copes.’

  ‘But the children think she’s in America.’

  ‘I know. We – that’s my mother-in-law and I – have concocted some story about her coming back for a visit.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Don’t be like that.’ He took her hand. ‘I don’t want her back, but what else can I do? If you could see that place, you’d realise how awful it is for her.’

  She squeezed his knee. ‘Awful for you, too. And what about the knife business? Aren’t they scared she’ll do it again if she’s at home?’

  ‘Exactly what I asked. But they think it was a reaction to being away.’ Mark scratched his chin. ‘God, it’s too much sometimes. I’ve got to get Freddy to this educational psychologist tomorrow – we’ve had to wait ages for the appointment. In the meantime, I’ve kept him off school and he’s with Daphne. A cop-out, I know, but he was scared of going back after I complained. This kid who bullied him . . . From what the head said, he’s very mixed-up and it reminded me of my own experiences.’

  She brushed his lips with hers. Just feeling her body against his dispelled all the pain and angst over Freddy. Suddenly he was filled with a childish desire to grasp her round the waist, lift her into the air, and twirl her round like a 1950s starlet.

  ‘Mark!’

  Gently, he lowered her to the ground.

  She was panting, eyes shining, laughing breathlessly. ‘Do you always take people by surprise like that?’

  ‘No.’ He smiled down at her. ‘Only very special ones.’

  ‘And am I?’

  ‘You know you are.’

  ‘I don’t remember the last time I laughed like that.’

  ‘Me neither.’ He felt young, light-headed – despite the worry over that awful message. Like a grown-up Freddy. So this was what love was like. And to think it had taken him more than forty years to find it . . .

  The educational psychologist was a short, squat man who rocked back and forth in his chair and charged a monstrous £350 for a two-hour session and a written report. For his part Freddy had to fill in a chart and answer several questions while Mark sat outside. He was brought in while Freddy had squash and biscuits in reception.

  ‘In my opinion, Mr Summers, your son kicks other children because he misses his mother and is being bullied.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘So, what are you going to do about it?’

  ‘I thought that was what you were here to tell me.’

  ‘Mr Summers, we can only advise. You say you’ve been to see the head and he’s failed to resolve the situation, even though this bullying has been going on for several months. On top of this, you tell me Freddy and his sister think their mother is in America while in fact she’s in prison. No, don’t worry. Your son cannot hear me. Do you know what I’d do, if I were you?’

  This had better be worth £350.

  ‘First I’d consider a change of school. Clearly the new one isn’t working for Freddy. And I’d tell the children the truth about their mother because they’re picking up vibes that indicate you’re hiding something. Children are often stronger than you think but they feel insecure if they suspect they’re being lied to.’

  ‘That’s what Caroline said,’ murmured Mark.

  ‘Well, I don’t know who Caroline is but she’s obviously thinking along the same lines. One more thing, Mr Summers.’ He leaned towards Mark. ‘I know we’re here about your son but here’s a bit of psychological advice for you. When your wife is finally released, don’t feel you have to be a martyr for the rest of your life. People change. And sometimes you have to do things you didn’t think you were capable of.’

  The message was waiting when he returned.

  From Beware to Mimi: If you don’t stop seeing Caroline now, I’ll tell her husband and your wife.

  He rang her mobile immediately.

  ‘I’ve got one too.’ Caroline sounded choked. ‘Can’t we do something?’

  He tried to think. ‘I don’t want to bring the police into this. Leave it with me. I’ll think of something.’

  ‘I’m going to tell Roger.’ Her voice was scared, uncertain. ‘I can’t stand the deceit anyway.’

  ‘Wait. Don’t do anything until we’ve talked about this a bit more.’

  ‘Cooeee! It’s only me.’

  ‘Caroline, I’ve got to go – Daphne’s arrived. I’ll call. Soon.’

  ‘Hello, dear.’ His mother-in-law didn’t normally come into his study. He closed down his pc as she puffed her way past the files on the floor.

  ‘Daphne, this computer class you’ve been going to, have you got the tutor’s number?’

  ‘Somewhere.’ She fished in her handbag. ‘Ah, here’s the brochure. That’s him at the bottom. Peter Greaves. Thinking of doing one yourself, dear?’

  ‘No. I want to ask him something.’

  ‘Everything ready for Hilary?’

  ‘Sort of. I’m collecting her tomorrow afternoon. Listen, Daphne, we should tell the kids. They’re not stupid – if we don’t they’ll want to see her off at the airport.’

  Daphne frowned. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. Let’s see how the weekend goes, shall we?’

  Peter Greaves was very helpful even though he was too busy to come round in person. ‘You'd need to find out the internet service provider that this Beware person is with. Each pc is issued with a personal number and they have ways of tracing them. It’s worth a bash.’

  And it might be if he knew where to start. He could pass on the information to Earth Mother, but Mark had to go or he’d be late for collecting the kids.

  He picked up Hilary on Friday afternoon. It seemed weird, taking her away with him, instead of saying goodbye in the visitors’ centre. She said nothing all the way home, just stared out of the window as though she had never seen streets and shops before.

  Her eyes were huge, the pupils black. In his jacket pocket, he had her pills with instructions on what to give her and when.

  ‘Mum! When did you get back? We wanted to meet you at the airport but Dad wouldn’t let us.’ Florrie flew into her arms. Freddy hung back until Hilary, her face white, stretched out a hand to him.

  ‘Mum’s really tired, dears. Let her sit down. Would you like a nice cup of tea?’

  Hilary disentangled herself from her daughter’s embrace. ‘Thank you.’ Her eyes never left the children as they moved away from her and sat at the table.

  ‘Go on, then,’ said Daphne, producing a plate of teacakes. ‘Tell your mum what’s been happening.’

  ‘I’m going to a party next weekend,’ said Florrie, excitedly. ‘Yes, I am, Freddy. Dad said I could as long as there was an adult there. And Freddy’s still pushing other kids around because he’s being bullied.’

  ‘Why is he being bullied?’ Hilary’s voice sounded different: thin,
wobbly and permanently alarmed.

  ‘Nothing in particular.’ Mark forced himself to lay a hand reassuringly on hers. ‘You know what kids are like.’

  ‘It’s because he’s black, isn’t it, Freddy?’

  ‘Of course it’s not, dear,’ butted in Daphne. ‘Now, you’re not to worry about any of this, Hilary. Mark’s sorting it out with the head, aren’t you?’

  Later, they spent the evening trying to watch television like a normal family. Hilary was glued to the screen as though she hadn’t seen it before and, perhaps because he’d given her one of the tablets, was almost oblivious to the children. He’d been dreading bedtime but, to his relief, when she came out of the bathroom she was already in her pyjamas – a shapeless grey pair he hadn’t seen before. He took care to take his own into the bathroom with him, and when he finally clambered into bed she was asleep.

  What was it that the educational psychologist had said? Don’t be a martyr. But weren’t there times when you had to be?

  Eventually Mark fell into an uneasy sleep with thoughts of Hilary and Beware whirling around in his mind.

  During the night, he woke. He could feel Hilary’s breath on his face. ‘Mark?’ She sounded more coherent than she had last night.

  ‘Yes?’

  He could feel her hand stroking his pyjamas.

  ‘Mark, make love to me.’

  Every bone in his body recoiled. Forcing himself, he put his arm round her shoulders, drawing her to him, feeling her hand creeping downwards. This was awful.

  When she reached him, he heard her sigh. ‘You don’t want me.’

  ‘It’s not that. I’m tired.’

  ‘You’re soft,’ she spat accusingly, just as she had before she’d gone away.

  Why pretend any more? ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Which means you don’t want me.’

  She rolled away from him.

  ‘Let’s just give it time, Hilary, shall we?’

  A low, ironic, empty laugh. ‘Exactly what I have been doing. Good night, Mark.’

  When he woke the following morning, she wasn’t next to him. His first reaction was relief, the second panic.

  It was early and still dark outside so he padded barefoot along the landing looking for her, not wanting to disturb the children, who were still asleep.

  There were sounds coming from his study. Heck, she was on his computer! Her face was grim and set as she started at the screen. To his horror, he saw she was logged on to the message board of What Mums Know.

  ‘What on earth possessed you to join this?’ she asked, in the disdainful manner he had become used to before she had gone to prison.

  ‘I haven’t.’

  ‘Then why are your password and username on the noticeboard?’ She glanced up at the cork squares he had pinned behind his computer to display vital information like his computer helpline number.

  ‘Mimi,’ she sneered. ‘Quite a memorable username. I suppose you chat up other women to get your thrills while I’m away.’

  ‘No.’ Mark wanted to lunge forwards and drag her away. ‘It’s not like that at all. I needed some advice about the children.’

  ‘And these women like Part Time Mum and Rainbow have been holding your hand.’ She stood up, pushing the computer screen so it fell over. ‘Nice to know you’re missing me, Mark.’ She looked at him nastily, eyes narrowing. ‘Did you ever wonder why Florrie is so much lighter-skinned than Freddy?’

  ‘Because she takes after my father,’ he said unsteadily.

  Hilary threw back her head and laughed. ‘Poor Mark. You always were gullible, weren’t you?’

  Bile rose into his throat. ‘What the fuck do you mean?’

  She threw him a look of pure hate, pushed back her chair and stumbled to her feet.

  ‘Wait. Hilary, wait!’

  He ran after her into the corridor but she had dived into the bathroom, locking the door. Seconds later, he heard the shower.

  Furiously, he hammered on the door. ‘Open this door! Open it at once and explain exactly what you meant!’

  The shower continued to hum. Bitch! Tears pricked his eyes and he sank to the ground, his head between his knees. Of course Florrie was his. She had to be. She simply had to be.

  Lunch was a terse affair, during which Hilary, who’d perked up enough to put on some makeup and a pair of smart black trousers, picked at the spaghetti Bolognese Mark had made. There had been no time to tackle her on the Florrie question since she’d stayed locked in the bathroom until lunchtime. Now the children were around and it was impossible to say anything. He’d have to wait until they were alone.

  ‘I’m impressed,’ said Hilary, acidly. ‘Before I went, you didn’t even know where the spaghetti was kept, let alone how to cook it.’

  The effects of the morning’s medication, thought Mark, were clearly wearing off or she wouldn’t be so acidly lucid. But he didn’t dare give her any more until this evening; the prescribed time.

  Florrie’s face crumpled. ‘Don’t row, you two. I hate it when you and Dad argue.’

  Hilary smiled, unkindly. ‘Your father,’ she said, tilting her head at Mark provocatively, ‘isn’t the argumentative type. In fact, he’s a perfect gentleman.’

  The double-entendre was intentional; she was trying to make him believe she was referring to a different man as being Florrie’s father. But Mark, who would have loved to say something, bit his tongue for the kids’ sake. Christ, he almost preferred the dopey, drugged-up Hilary instead of this tight-lipped unpleasant woman who was criticising everything he did, just as she had before she’d gone away. Worse, there was more than a nugget of truth in what she’d said about the spaghetti, even though it meant nothing in the scheme of things. He had been hopeless at finding things and helping generally. But the insinuations she was making about Florrie’s parentage . . . Mark felt sick. She had to be his, didn’t she? Surely this was one of Hilary’s little games.

  ‘Did I tell you,’ interrupted Daphne brightly, clearly keen to restore order to the table, ‘that my computer tutor has suggested I entered Silver Surfer of the Year? It’s an award for anyone over fifty who’s learned to use a computer recently.’

  ‘Really, Mother?’ said Hilary, sharply. ‘Fascinating.’ She pushed back her chair so it scraped on the tiles. ‘I’m going shopping. Just me and the children.’

  He almost laughed. ‘You are joking, aren’t you?’

  She stared back, Florrie-style. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I want to go shopping with Mum,’ said Freddy. ‘Why can’t we?’

  Because it had been stipulated that she wasn’t allowed out of the house unaccompanied by an adult during the weekend visit.

  ‘I just thought it would be nice if I came with you,’ said Mark, quickly, ‘but I’ve got to finish a press release first. It will only take me half an hour. But first I’d like a word in private.’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Hilary, lying back on the sofa and kicking off her shoes. ‘You go and do your work. We’ll wait or maybe go for a walk with Mum.’

  He would have liked to insist but he couldn’t in front of the children.

  ‘And don’t be too long,’ added Hilary. ‘I know what your half-hours are like once you’re on that computer.’

  It was true. Once he’d started working, it was easy to get carried away, despite the clock in the bottom right corner of his screen. But it was such a relief to blank everything else out. Oh, no. Not again.

  From Beware to Mimi: I told you to end your affair. Or you’ll be sorry.

  Who was this person and did they really know how to tell Roger or Hilary? Was it possible they had somehow tracked down their addresses? This was awful.

  ‘Cooee! Only me.’

  This really had to stop. Grudgingly, Mark went downstairs to meet her. The house was very quiet.

  ‘Had a nice walk?’ he asked.

  Daphne frowned. ‘No. I went back home for a bit. Hilary said you were taking them out when you finished work.’

 
; ‘Well, I was but no one’s here.’

  ‘Do you think they went shopping after all?’

  Mark reached for his car keys. ‘I don’t know. But their jackets aren’t on the peg. And my keys have gone.’

  59

  She had to admit it. Whatever Simon had downloaded on to her computer had made it work a lot faster so it was easier to cope with the overwhelming response from the local paper’s article. All kinds of people wrote to the centre offering support and Susan, Joy and the other mums spent hours photocopying the letters and sending them on to their local MP and Downing Street. Susan doubted that they would get as far as the prime minister’s bifocals but, as Joy said, it was worth a bash.

  Slowly, over the next few nights, she stopped jumping every time she heard a crack or a creak in the dark, telling herself that even if Simon did come back from Cape Town, her house was secure.

  Josh wasn’t so happy. Susan’s father had taken it upon himself to tell him what had happened. ‘I don’t like the idea of you being there on your own,’ he said quietly, when he and Steff came to pick up Tabitha. It was the Christmas holidays and they were taking her to the zoo.

  What a nerve! ‘You should have thought of that when you left us.’

  Josh twisted his hands. ‘We weren’t right for each other, Susan. It wasn’t just Tabitha. You know that.’

  It was true. Had she been unfair to him? Maybe. It wasn’t a good feeling.

  ‘What you need, love, is a man to care for you,’ Steff said, as they followed Josh and Tabitha out to the car. ‘No, don’t look cross. I know it’s none of my business and I also know you can’t have many opportunities. Why don’t you go out with one of your girlfriends when we have Tabs?’

  Was there no limit to the woman’s persistence?

  ‘We’ve got a great day centre near us,’ continued Steff, fringe bobbing. ‘I rang them up and they said we could bring Tabitha as her dad’s in catchment. They’ve got all kinds of things there, lessons as well as physio and the internet too.’