Her Last Secret

by P L Kane

  The police may well have had a look in there, moved some of the shoes around, but Jake had to wonder …

  He cleared a space, parting the shoes like Moses with the red sea. Yes, he was right … slats. Screwed down, but slats nevertheless. He rapped on one of them. It was hollow. For the first time since he’d received that phone call the other morning, Jake smiled.

  And hadn’t he just seen … He rushed back to the drawers again, rummaging through them. There it was, a screwdriver. He’d thought it strange at the time, but his eyes had glossed over it because that wasn’t what he’d come here to find; the hidden thing, the secret thing. But it had been important nonetheless, a means by which to reach whatever was in that wardrobe.

  Quickly, he went back and pulled out the shoes, got down on his knees and began unscrewing the slats, then levering them up. Jake sat back, panting with the effort of it all. Not daring to look inside the blackness there, in case he’d been totally wrong about this. In fact, even when he did summon up the courage, he couldn’t see anything in there, and an initial sweep of his hand inside yielded nothing.

  Then his fingers brushed something. The edge of a box in there, shoved up against the back on the far corner. Jake reached in, hooked it with his fingers, and began to drag it free. It took a few attempts, because of the awkward position he’d had to adopt – Jordan’s arms being longer and thinner than his – but he finally tugged it free.

  It was some kind of keepsake box, appropriately about the size of a shoebox, which opened with a latch at the front (thankfully not locked). After all of his efforts, Jake now hesitated to open it. Whatever was inside was not just secret, it was private. But, he had to remind himself, it might help. No one other than him – and Jordan – knew it was even here.

  Gritting his teeth, he undid the clasp.

  There were all kinds of things inside: shells; keyrings, foreign coins, a snow-globe, stones of various colours … Each one obviously had a particular, and special meaning for Jordan; and most were connected to her life as a child. Objects from holidays, a ribbon Jake remembered she’d wanted to keep from a birthday cake many moons ago. And some of those toys he’d been thinking about, the smaller ones like a stuffed mouse that looked like it would fall to bits if you picked it up; a penguin she’d been bought when they took her to the zoo, its colours – black, white and orange – faded with time. Tears were welling in Jake’s eyes. Inside this box was his daughter. She was here, in every single object she’d saved all these years.

  But there was also something else. Another book. It was only small, and leather-bound, but it was thick. Maybe even thicker than those books on the shelves not far away. Jake’s hand was shaking as he reached for it, as scared as he had been to touch the door handle.

  ‘Jake?’ The voice wafted up the stairs. Julie’s, full of concern, though he didn’t really deserve it. He knew his wife … ex-wife; she’d given him some time up here, but now she wanted to know if he was okay. Even if he said he was, it would only be a matter of time before she came up here and saw for herself.

  He had to make a split-second decision. Jake couldn’t let Jules know about this, not yet. Had to keep it secret, just like Jordan had done. So he closed the box and shoved it back where he’d found it, tossing the screwdriver in there as well and replacing the slats as best he could, before bundling those shoes back inside the wardrobe to cover the base up again.

  ‘Jake, what are you doing up there? What’s all that noise?’

  She was coming, he could hear her – up the creaking stairs. Then suddenly she was in the doorway just as he was scrambling to his feet. Her eyes were much redder than before; she’d been crying too. ‘Jules,’ he said.

  ‘What’s going …’ She looked beyond him to the open wardrobe, the mess he’d created. ‘What are you doing, exactly?’

  ‘I …’ He wiped his eyes with the back of one hand. ‘I was …’

  ‘And what’s that you’ve got behind your back?’ she asked, eyebrows narrowing.

  ‘Behind my …’

  ‘Yes, there! In your other hand – I can see it. Show me.’

  ‘Jules, I …’

  He was stalling for time and she knew it. ‘Jake, show me your hand.’

  Slowly, he brought out the hand from behind his back. Jules let out an audible gasp. Because there, resting in his palm, was the toy penguin from the zoo. ‘Oh … oh my God. I remember that!’ And suddenly she was smiling, laughing even. ‘Where did you even find …’

  ‘It was … it was in the wardrobe,’ he told her. Wasn’t a lie; not really. That was where he’d found it. ‘Hidden, right at the back.’ Again, not a lie.

  ‘I … I thought she’d thrown that thing away ages ago,’ said Julie, the tears coming again, prompting more from him as well.

  ‘I guess not,’ said Jake. ‘There was a part of her, you know, that was still our little girl. No matter what.’ Julie nodded. She covered the distance between them, picking up the penguin and examining it like it was a priceless artefact. He supposed it was, in its own way – its value to both of them was priceless. He thought about asking if he could keep it, but then felt incredibly mean. Julie needed it more than he did. ‘Tell you what, why don’t you hold on to that.’

  She looked up at him, confused. ‘But I thought … You wanted a keepsake, didn’t you?’

  He shrugged. ‘You should have it, Jules.’

  His ex-wife smiled again, and he thought then he’d never seen anything as beautiful as that in his life. Jake missed that smile more than anything. Greg certainly didn’t deserve to see it every day.

  ‘I’ll tell you what, though,’ said Jake, drying his eyes again. ‘If you’re still offering tea, I wouldn’t say no to a cup.’ Julie couldn’t help letting out a small laugh, and he laughed too. It felt good.

  Julie kissed him on the cheek and turned to walk off to the landing. He followed, trying to ignore that open door to their bedroom, as he trailed her down the stairs and to the kitchen.

  ***

  It had actually been quite pleasant, like having a cup of tea with an old friend.

  His best friend for so many years, even superseding Matt – it was a different kind of friendship, which the guy probably understood now he was married himself.

  They talked about the past, recounted happy memories. Passed the time, until Jake told her that he really should be going. He decided to leave the car where it was after all, too much hassle with the press there, and rang for a taxi to pick him up in the street behind them and left the same way he came in – like a thief in the night.

  Felt appropriate really. Because as he got into the vehicle (different driver, one who wouldn’t shut up this time – but about some government bill or other, not that Jake was listening to him), he’d pulled the book out from where he’d tucked it into the back of his jeans, his jacket covering the top.

  ‘But I thought … You wanted a keepsake, didn’t you?’

  He’d held it in his hands, another piece of ancient treasure, but still hadn’t opened it. Not yet. Felt disrespectful in that car. So he’d waited until he was alone, heading back to his room at the hotel again.

  Then, and only then, had he turned to the first page.

  Chapter 9

  November 10th

  I don’t even know why I’m starting this. That’s not true, I do know. I need someone … something to talk to. Something that won’t judge me. I need a way to get all these thoughts rolling around in my head out of there, if only for a little while.

  It’s something that can be just mine. That no one has to know about, and that they won’t find out about because I’m going to put it somewhere only I …

  I’m going to keep it safe, hidden. That way I can be honest. I need to be honest, if only with myself. I can’t talk to anyone else about all this stuff, because they just wouldn’t understand. Things at home have been …

  I know Mum and Dad row about me, because I’m not the daughter they thought I’d turn out to be. Eve
n though I’m only really just getting started in life, y’know? I just … It’s hard. I want them to understand but I know they never will. They were young once, but the world’s changed so much since then. They’ve been adults for so long, it makes them …

  I wonder if one day I’ll look back on all this, maybe when I have kids of my own, and laugh about it? Probably not. But maybe I’ll have been an adult too long then to make sense of all these scribblings I did when I was a teenager. Perhaps none of it’ll be important then, but it is now.

  It’s not about fitting in. Not really. That’s what they don’t get. It’s about feeling good about yourself, having some kind of identity that’s not just about being at home, being their kid and all those expectations. Though there are other expectations that come with being a good friend, of being … Of being wanted, needed by someone.

  I don’t think that’s making things any clearer, and definitely not to future me reading this back thinking ‘stupid fucking child!’ But that’s the thing, I’m not a child anymore. Not really. It’s like … I’m in this kind of grey area, right? I’m in-between, like that show that’s so popular.

  Oh Christ, all this sounds so bloody wanky.

  Maybe I’ll try again tomorrow.

  February 18th

  Another party this week, Kerry’s place. Her parents are at some resort in Spain all weekend, so she’s throwing this big bash. I like Kerry, she can be a bit dense sometimes but her heart’s in the right place. She wouldn’t let you down … I don’t think – her and her mates, that I’m slowly getting to know. Some of them are a bit older than us, but only a bit.

  I’ve kinda lost touch with some of my old friends since I’ve been hanging out with these guys, but hey-ho. I’m having fun! It’s been a while since life was fun, y’know? And not some big hassle or thinking about careers or what you’re going to do with your life like they keep banging on about at school. It’s all …

  Lot of pressure to look right, I know. The right clothes, make-up. I think Von said Adam was going to be there, and he seemed really nice when we were talking the other week, hanging out at the bus stop, just mucking about. I know I shouldn’t really smoke, that it’s bad for you etc, etc, but, well, I don’t want him or the others thinking I’m some kinda twat. Enough people think that already about me, and it’s …

  So, yeah, that’ll be nice, I think. This weekend.

  I’ll tell Mum and Dad I’m staying over at Georgina’s, studying. She’ll cover for me, she still owes me for not blabbing about the clinic I went to with her when she thought that guy she was seeing had given her something.

  Mum knows Georgie’s folks, they’ll buy it. I can’t tell them where I’m really going, they’d go apeshit.

  Just wouldn’t understand.

  March 25th

  Christ, what a mess!

  Adam’s been spreading it around that we’ve been hanging out these past few weeks, telling people all sorts. I wouldn’t mind but … actually I do mind, we haven’t been doing shit! Not really. Not compared to some people.

  Now Von’s not really speaking to me because she liked him as well, and apparently he’s been seeing a few girls at college as well as the two of us and …

  I just don’t understand it, why’d he have to be like that? We were having such a nice time, going to the pictures, he took me to a few clubs and that. Yeah, he could be a little … insistent, but nothing too heavy. Nothing I couldn’t handle.

  And now this. I’m trying my best to sort it out, and Kerry’s helping in her own way, but … Christ.

  If some of this gets anywhere online, I’m dead.

  I’m properly dead.

  ***

  Jake put the book down.

  That phrase got to him every time he read it, and Jordan used it a lot – usually within the context of them giving her a hard time, her parents. He let out a slow breath, glanced outside at the rain that was tracking down the window of his hotel room.

  He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, that it was a gross invasion of his daughter’s privacy, but he kept telling himself it was for a good cause. Okay, a cause that might uncover what had happened in the run-up to events a few nights ago. But wasn’t that what the police were supposed to be looking into? Surely he should be handing this over to them? However, the whole privacy thing worked both ways. These were his daughter’s words, and if anyone should be going through them it was a family member – someone close – not a bunch of strangers.

  Jake’s eyes flicked over at the clock on the bedside table now, which told him he’d been reading into the small hours of the morning. In that time, he’d gone through the entries twice, come back to some – couldn’t bring himself to look again at others, because it brought back memories of all this from the other side. Of being on the outside, looking in. How close was that, when you got right down to it?

  She’d started the diary entries when she was around 15, obviously when she was struggling the most with where she fitted into the world. She’d doodle in there as well as write, sometimes flowers or animals – dogs and cats – if she was happy, things like spiders or lightning strikes when she wasn’t. And what had seemed like fun at the time (though what was coming across to Jake was Jordan merely told herself that over and over to try and make it true) had quickly descended into round after round of the same old thing.

  Faces and names interchangeable, especially where boys were concerned – and the ones who hurt her the most. She’d think she was in love with them, hope they were with her, only to find out time after time they were just using her. Then more often than not she’d end up on the outside herself of whatever social circle she was involved in at the time. Photos he’d seen himself crop up online, back when he was still looking, would only reveal half the story and in actual fact there were very few friends she could count on who wouldn’t just drop her if they thought their own position in the social rankings was in jeopardy.

  It built up a picture of a girl who was very lonely, had no confidence, was all raging hormones and worried about everything from her weight (which explained a lot of the meals she would skip) and appearance (the clothes and make-up basically like a uniform or mask, hiding her real self) to what was happening in the world. Someone who felt like she couldn’t even confide in her parents, and who’d been let down by everyone … including him. There were no specific entries about that time when they’d had the massive argument – in fact what he found was that she’d stopped writing in there for a while around then, probably too upset. But that in itself spoke volumes, didn’t it? He’d hurt her with his words, with his absence.

  ‘You might have found out, if you’d been around.’

  ‘You left her when she needed you the most.’

  Julie’s words now, but she was right – Jake hadn’t known how right until he’d taken this trip through Jordan’s psyche. Though all this was probably only scratching the surface, because the more upset she got – and the more heartbreaking it was for him to read – the more confused about everything her writing became. No one understood; Jake had to admit he certainly didn’t, but he had to wonder whether she included herself in that. What had originally been a tool for trying to order her thoughts became, at times, simply passages venting or reflections of some of the darker things she was thinking about, especially when guys cheated on her or slagged her off after they’d got what they wanted, leaving her nowhere to turn.

  Essentially, she was lost.

  And he’d let her down as spectacularly as he thought she’d done with him – the anger he was feeling at the time getting in the way of their bond. As she said herself, Christ what a mess!

  Towards the end of the diary, she started to mention ‘my new bloke Bobby’. Meeting him, how she thought he seemed nice … but wanted to be sure this time. Had been hurt on too many occasions. Then, in a series of quite worrying entries, she talked about mood swings:

  Sometimes BB scares me, he can be quite … intense. Yeah, he makes me laugh and we can get
on, then it’ll be like a switch being flipped. He’ll talk about how much I mean to him, how he just wants to protect me. How it isn’t right the way guys look at me. Like I can do anything about that! They’ll look all day and all night, I can’t help that. It’s kinda sweet in a way, protective, but at the same time a bit scary. I’m not really sure what to make of it. We haven’t known each other that long, for him to be … I dunno, I might be overreacting to the whole situation.

  BB … Robert ‘Bobby’ Bannister. A definite lightning strike! And no, Jake didn’t think she was overreacting at all. The way she talked about him, ‘Bobby was absolutely lovely today’ and then in the next entry ‘BB’s acting so weird and jealous’ … They were surely the first signs of an insecure control freak, someone maybe with a personality disorder who couldn’t stand any other man to be around. A good actor? Like he had been back in that cell when protesting his innocence? Jake didn’t know what to think.

  Was that what had led to the self-harm, which again he’d not been able to find any mention of in spite of the fact Jordan had said she’d be honest in this book? What had he been expecting to find, passages like, ‘I began cutting myself today. Think I’ll take it up as a hobby …’? Jake had been doing some checking and apparently instances of that sort of thing had increased massively in young girls, doubled in the last twenty years. Some people thought it was because more cases were being reported and treated (not in this instance it hadn’t been) but while the figures had gone up regarding his daughter’s contemporaries, they’d remained pretty much level for young boys. And as for abuse and attacks …

  How much I mean to him …

  How he just wants to protect me.

  How it isn’t right the way guys look at me.

  Crime of passion. Jealous. Stabbed in the chest; aiming for the heart.

  He’d wanted to find the reason for all this, and there it was in black and white, in his daughter’s own handwriting. Even if they hadn’t got all that other evidence, then there was enough stacked up in this diary to sink Bobby for good. Yet still something didn’t quite add up. Something was nagging at the back of his mind, almost as if Jordan were speaking to him directly, trying to get him to see something he’d missed