Her Last Secret

by P L Kane

  Julie would be lying if she said she’d understood all of it, and of course she’d been as worried as Jake about some of it. While he acted like he was the only one in the world who was concerned, acted sometimes like it was all Julie’s fault (and sometimes had her believing it; so much so she thought she was going mad). Just because Julie didn’t want to close off the lines of communication, didn’t want to alienate her like she could see her husband doing. She’d seen that happen in other families with their children (seen it with her own dad, until they’d made up), watched how people had become estranged – moved to the other side of the world in some cases just to get away. Julie never wanted to lose her relationship with Jordan, even if they weren’t quite as close as they used to be. She wanted to look forward to grandkids and family days out … once all the dust had settled. Once Jordan and Jake had made things up again.

  But he’d kept on pushing and pushing, hadn’t he? Didn’t know when to stop and that last blow-up had been the final nail in the …

  The tears were pricking the corners of her eyes, demanding to be free.

  There would be no reconciliation now, no days out with the grandkids. Because her daughter was dead, brutally murdered by one of the guys Jake always said he was trying to protect her from – like she was still 10 or something. And Julie hadn’t seen it coming. She. Hadn’t. Seen. It …

  Maybe if Jake had been here, and still talking to Jordan – really talking, not just the pleasantries on the phone that never really sounded very pleasant to Julie – maybe all this wouldn’t have happened. Then again, maybe it would have anyway; who knew?

  The point was, their marriage had collapsed not long after that. Jake had left and Jordan had spent more and more time out with her mates, with guys. It had just made everything worse. Had even led to Julie losing her job because the focus just wasn’t there anymore. Believe it or not – and Jake would probably refuse to – Greg coming along had actually made things better, given them all a bit of stability that they hadn’t experienced in years. At first.

  She’d met Greg completely by accident, through a friend of a friend. Introduced on a much-needed night out at the pub, he was a widower and had a kid around Jordan’s age; a young lad. Here was someone who’d been through similar things to her, having to cope on his own; she’d felt relaxed chatting to him … though she had to wonder now whether that was more the glasses of wine he’d been buying her. At the end of the evening, he’d asked if he could see her again – maybe coffee sometime. It was amazing how close they’d become after that, and so quickly.

  It was so nice to have someone to share things with again, who actually understood her. Someone to help shoulder the load now that Jake was gone, now he didn’t seem to give a damn about either of them (and she’d cried back then as well, night after night – often thinking about picking up the phone but too stubborn to actually do it after the way Jake had hurt her).

  She hadn’t needed a man, it hadn’t been that at all – far from it. But it had been nice, it had been really nice. People weren’t meant to be on their own, were they? And it surprised her more than anyone that the relationship moved so quickly, going from strength to strength; so fast in fact that Greg had moved in before the year was out, and they’d got married the following May. Registry office job, no need for anything fancy as they’d both been there before.

  Jordan had got on with Greg, though it had to be said she wasn’t around much to see him all that often, and she got on with Greg’s boy, William – and why not, he was a nice, polite young man. They’d been a family once more, for a little while.

  Naturally, once he’d moved in with them, Greg had had a few things to say about their daughter – usually when she needed to borrow money. But things had ticked along … until they hadn’t.

  Julie didn’t keep tabs on who her daughter was seeing or wasn’t seeing, but she had met Bobby a couple of times when he called for Jordan at the house. Seemed a decent sort, although obviously she didn’t know him that well. What could have happened between them that caused him to … to do that?

  Crime of passion, the paper had said …

  Crime of passion.

  Jealousy? She could understand that, sort of. Just look at the way Greg was more of a dick now that Jake was around; the taunts and snipes designed to cause maximum pain. Not that Greg had any need to feel jealous … did he?

  Julie shook her head, to persuade herself more than anyone. She did still have feelings for Jake, how could she not? He was the father of their …

  But all that was in the past; had been in the past. And then she’d seen him again, even under these circumstances, but she’d seen him – turned to him, fell into his arms so easily when she’d seen their little girl like that. Then been mad at him all over again when he started up with his bullshit. Even though she knew it wasn’t his fault. She believed him when he said he hadn’t talked to reporters or known the photo was being taken. Got angry with him because the media made it sound like there was only one person grieving over Jordan. The one person who’d not been there for her, who’d walked away.

  Was it possible to love and hate someone in equal measure? she wondered again. Two sides of the same coin, hardly anything separating the two when you thought about it; both extreme emotions, provoked by actions, feelings.

  She could hear him now upstairs, the floorboards creaking above as he moved around Jordan’s room. He did have every right to be in there, as she’d said to Greg. But even that hurt after the way he’d behaved, the way he’d stayed away, cut himself off from Jordan … from her. Hell, he’d crashed back into their lives the morning she’d found out about the murder, only to piss off again for two days without a word. What had he been doing? Wallowing like he always used to when he didn’t get his own way? If she knew Jake, and she did, he’d probably got pissed to numb himself from the pain. It had crossed her mind as well, but someone had to be sober, to think clearly … hence the tea. So much tea.

  It was what she’d come in here to do, make herself a brew – and yet all she’d done was gape at the kettle for … how long? Julie looked at the clock; Jesus. Trying not to cry, though as she touched her cheeks now she realised she’d failed. They were sodden with tears.

  More footsteps upstairs, followed by banging noises. What the devil was he doing up there? Was he all right?

  Was she? Julie began crying again, sobbing in fact. Rushed to grab the kitchen roll and ripped off a couple of sheets to dab at her cheeks.

  Just leave him to it, she told herself – like he left you. Leave him alone now, he had to work things through on his own, just like Jordan had been trying to do.

  But the banging … She hated him even being in there; loved him for wanting to be in there. Hate, love. Love and hate.

  With Jake planted firmly in the middle.

  ***

  It seemed to take him forever to scale those stairs.

  He’d spent ages at the bottom, just looking up – willing himself to put his foot on the first step. Then ascending, as if he was heading for another plane of existence or something. Jake swallowed dryly as he reached the landing, not sure, now he was here, whether he wanted to go through with this at all. Did he really need to be confronted with a room full of his dead daughter’s stuff? A room where she’d laughed, cried, lived … A room that would still be filled with her presence.

  As he stepped onto the landing though, his mind was on other things. Like the door across from him, ajar and allowing him to see into the main bedroom. Throwing back a picture of the bed courtesy of a mirror in the far corner.

  The marital bed.

  The one he’d once shared with Julie, but she now shared with …

  No, it was a different bed, he could see that. The wooden posts at each end a different shape to the curved ones he’d come to know so well over the years. It made sense, Julie trying to wipe him out of her life. She certainly wouldn’t have wanted to share that with another man.

  And thoughts now invaded
his mind, images of Greg and Julie. Together. Scenes of them on that bed, the wood creaking, the springs protesting as they—

  No. Stop this! You’re just torturing yourself.

  His eyes flicked over to what had once been the spare room, located right next door to the bathroom. An office of sorts where he’d first cut his teeth playing around with film, editing bits of video together he’d shot. Now he could see that also had a bed in it, the room where Greg’s son – Julie’s stepson – William Allaway stayed when he wasn’t at university. It explained why he wasn’t around at the moment, the autumn term having started a few weeks ago. Jake had never met the lad (when would he have had the opportunity?) but figured if he was anything like his old man then that was probably a good thing.

  But he couldn’t put off why he was here any longer, and his feet took him to that door. This one was closed, the only room up here which was. Making his job harder, to reach out and grab hold of the handle, turn it, open the door and walk inside.

  He let go as soon as he’d gained access, like the handle was red-hot, and the door swung open of its own volition. And maybe it was his imagination, but it did feel very much like this was a different realm he was entering. Felt very much like Jordan was here, in this room – more so than it had back at that stall. How could it not, when it contained so many elements of her life?

  Jake realised he hadn’t taken a breath in a few moments, and suddenly felt light-headed. He sucked in oxygen so he didn’t pass out – the last thing he wanted was for Julie to come rushing up here when she heard him slump to the floor, unconscious. He didn’t want her up here with him, especially after seeing those images in his mind of her and Greg.

  Jake shook his head; somehow those thoughts seemed disrespectful in here. Because it was almost like a religious experience. If he’d been looking for a connection, then it was most definitely here. A bridge between the living and the deceased. He wondered briefly if Julie would keep it this way forever, a shrine to their daughter – as some do when they lose a loved one. It hadn’t really changed that much since the last time he’d seen it, or since Jordan had been a little girl really.

  The posters on the walls, which used to be things like My Little Pony or Teletubbies back in the day, had been replaced with the most popular bands and film stars of the day as she grew up (he recalled a phase of her obsessing over the fellas from one particular generic boy band, and that guy from the Lord of the Rings and Pirates of the Caribbean movies; innocent crushes, nothing more).

  Now those had been replaced with posters from more indie bands he’d never even heard of, music that was on the fringe and which if it ever became popular would suddenly lose its appeal for kids like Jordan and so many others. There were still movie posters, he was pleased to see – but instead of the more popular blockbusters, these were of classic black-and-white films or even foreign art house fare. He cocked his head, impressed.

  Similarly, there was a bookcase not far away which revealed an eclectic taste in literature: Dickens rubbed shoulders with Ben Elton, Bronte with Niffenegger. Nowadays, it was quite something to see people of her age reading books at all – but they’d always done their best to encourage this. And it seemed it had paid off, the titles on the shelf wide-ranging and stimulating. Not just fiction, but non-fiction; history books and biographies.

  Jake hadn’t been aware of moving into the room, but now suddenly he was inside it. The bed on his right was covered in a white duvet with little circular patterns on it; might have been her choice, might have been Julie’s. He wondered if Jordan had ever had any guys back here, snuck them in through the window or something like she was in a madcap American comedy? Hadn’t happened on his watch, that was for damned sure, but once he was gone … Nah, he concluded; Julie wouldn’t have been okay with that either. They were a bit old-fashioned that way.

  But maybe she’d had friends over, staying in here? Had Bobby ever been? he wondered. Jake pushed the thoughts away that were souring the moment, and took in more of the room.

  The dresser ahead of him, which had space for a chair in the middle and a high mirror forming its back, still had all of her make-up scattered across its desk. Was this where she’d got ready before going out that evening? Jake thought. He hadn’t noticed any make-up on her when he’d been at the hospital, but then maybe the staff there had cleaned her up before they were allowed to see her?

  How plastered in the stuff had she been when she’d gone out to see Bobby, off out all geared up for a night on the tiles? He liked to think she’d toned it all down since her teenage years, when at certain points there wasn’t a bit of her face that wasn’t covered in crap. How often had he told her that she didn’t need it, that she was a pretty girl without all that stuff – but it had been the trend at the time, still was from the looks of those clubbers he’d seen the previous evening. Eyebrows plucked to within an inch of their lives, then drawn on again as if with marker pen; cheeks shiny, sometimes covered in glittery blusher; and lips that looked like a bee had stung them, coated in a shade of red that any pillar box would have been proud of.

  If he’d ever wanted her to act on one piece of advice, it would have been not to be a sheep. Not to do shit just because your friends did it. Her taste in films, books and music reflected the kind of brain she had, so why she insisted on hiding that so much he had absolutely no idea.

  Why did you do the same? a little voice asked him then.

  He’d had a good head on his shoulders back when he was young and yet chose to hang out with those gangs, getting into all kinds of trouble. He’d learned eventually. It just made Jake sad that Jordan would never have that opportunity, to grow and develop. Who knows what she might have accomplished given more time?

  Time … Jake was conscious now he’d spent a lot of that already up here just taking everything in, when he should be looking deeper. Searching for something, anything that might explain what had happened a few nights ago. Give him more options, leads to follow. Of course, Julie had no idea that’s what he was doing up here, so he had to get a move on. Get this done.

  Jordan was clever, she hid things. Always had done, especially when something was wrong. She’d done it literally when she was small, hiding away her favourite toys if there was any mention she might be too old for them (Jake would have given her all the toys in the world right now, if she’d wanted them … if she’d been around to accept them), or comics, or even sweets – which she would stash about the place so she’d be able to eat them when she wanted to rather than just as a treat.

  The police had taken her laptop, already had her mobile from the night of the attack (which she obviously hadn’t had a chance to use). In any event, they’d find nothing on either of those, Jake was certain of that. Her social media messages would just be full of inane chatter, nothing of substance. Maybe exchanges between her and Bobby, but even then she would have been wary of someone seeing these at some point. Somebody hacking in or whatever …

  Someone getting in there after her death?

  Had she known that was coming? Jake thought then. Had she been worried about being threatened maybe, but frightened to tell anyone – hiding things yet again? He thought back to those marks on her arms again, the self-harming. Nobody did that unless they were in an agitated state of mind. Hadn’t he read somewhere that it was a form of control? That when other things were spiralling out of control in your life, it was the one thing you could keep a handle on yourself?

  Thinking about that wouldn’t help him find anything, so Jake started to search. The bookcases first, and then the drawers were another obvious one, pulling those out of the dresser and searching through. But he only found the usual: underwear, socks, jewellery in boxes; earrings, necklaces and such. Jake pulled the drawers out completely next, checking underneath them, at the back of them. The police had probably done all this already – or at least a decent forensics team should have – but he had to be sure.

  Hiding places … hiding places …

 
Jake looked back over his shoulder at the bed, then bent to look underneath. He got on his hands and knees, checked under it – and felt around to see if anything was attached to the underside of the bed, or between the mattress and the frame. Nothing. But then he remembered she would never go under there when she was little. Too scared of monsters, she used to tell him.

  Instead, she would lock herself away in …

  Jake looked across at the old wooden wardrobe she’d had since she was about 7. Back then it would have towered above her (not so much these days), but she felt safe inside there. Always had done.

  He pulled on both doors, expecting them to be locked but they tugged open easily. Inside, he found a range of clothes – some designed for a night out, some just for lounging around in like big, baggy sweatshirts, T-shirts or hoodies. And good God, there were so many shoes covering the bottom of the wardrobe. Seemingly one for every single occasion known to man … So many heels, so many flats. Trainers galore, some he suspected were only bought because they were the latest thing. Absently, he wondered how she had afforded them all – and the make-up, come to that! Probably the bits and bobs of part-time work she’d had over the years, though the last time he’d spoken to her she’d been between jobs again.

  The one thing he didn’t find was what he’d been searching for all along, some hint of what had been going on.

  Something hidden, just like Jordan used to hide herself.

  Jake rubbed his chin, trying to think. Stepping back and glancing around the room again before coming back to the wardrobe. Looking it up and down, pausing again where Jordan kept her shoes. The base of the old wardrobe was two or three inches, and solid he’d always assumed. But he also remembered there being slats in the bottom of it, a couple of them that reached back, and that were at the moment covered up with the sea of footwear.