Keep My Secrets

by Elena Wilkes

  So she joined the family, standing in a pair of borrowed wellies watching Peter as he turned the compost heap, and Jack, incongruous in his anorak, pulling weeds as the four of them chatted about unimportant things. None of them mentioned Charlotte. Vanessa was right: it was as though the horror of it hadn’t happened.

  Vanessa made dinner that first night, a meal that no one really ate, but their family rituals were there: the sharing of food, the passing of plates, including Frankie into their family as easily as if she’d been around that table all her life. For one second, one split second, she wondered if it was Charlotte’s seat she was sitting in, and in that same split second, she realised it didn’t feel wrong; she felt accepted in a way she’d never felt before. Part of her wished she could stay here forever, but part of her knew she should run.

  * * *

  ‘By the way, I’ve lied for you. I’ve told Jude I’ve seen you at school.’

  She nearly fell over Nat who was sitting on the turn of the stairs.

  ‘Jesus! You nearly killed me!’

  ‘I’ve said you’re in some of my classes, but I know where you’re really going every day.’ Nat glanced at Jude’s office door, like any minute she was thinking of grassing Frankie up.

  Frankie glared sullenly down at her hunched figure, wondering where this conversation was going: some kind of blackmail, probably. She waited to hear how much she’d have to shell out.

  ‘I geddit.’ Nat eased her legs from under her. ‘I know why you’re doing it. You’re in the same shit as me.’ She glanced pointedly at her belly. Frankie instinctively drew her forearm across her waistline.

  ‘I dunno what you’re on about.’

  ‘Yeah you do.’ Nat nodded and lowered her voice. ‘I’ve bin in your room, r’member? Your boxes of tampons haven’t moved, an’ I found the tests you tried to hide in the outside bin.’

  Frankie looked at her, incredulous. ‘You’ve been through the bin?’

  Nat looked smug. ‘See? I should be a detective. If they weren’t yours you wouldn’t have reacted like that.’ She saw the expression on Frankie’s face. ‘S’alright. No one else knows, ’specially not Jude… But you are, aren’t you?’

  ‘You need to mind your own business.’

  Nat only glanced into the hallway. ‘I’m just tryin’ to help,’ she twitched huffily. ‘I’m telling you, once they find out, you know they’ll never let you keep it. They say they will, ’cos they have to, but then they come up with all kinds of reasons why you can’t. They’ll take it off you and you won’t have a scooby where it’s gone. You’ll never see it again.’

  Frankie looked into her face.

  ‘You don’t believe me, do you?’ She gave a sad little smile and put the flat of her hand on her stomach. ‘This is my second. I fought for the first when I was fourteen, but they took him off me.’ She glanced around her. ‘I’ve told them they can have this one for adoption, but that’s only to get them off my back. What I’m really gonna do, is look for my mum… I’m gonna see if I can find her. They want babies to be in families, see? If I can persuade her and her boyfriend to take me back, then they’ll have to let me keep it.’

  * * *

  She looks up at the windows of Vanessa’s house, scared of seeing, and at the same time, scared of not seeing movement there – but the pane stays disappointingly blank. That’s Jack’s room at the front. She remembers the hours and hours they spent sitting playing The Tomb Raider Legend. It was the closest she’d ever come to having a brother; there they were, two seventeen-year-old kids messing about playing video games. She often thought about Jack: what it must have been like for him back then, how hard it all was, yet he was always there for her: always had her back. He was always her rock even when things got really bad.

  Once, mid Tomb Raider game, she realised he was watching her.

  ‘Do you feel as weird about this situation as I do?’ He said it so matter-of-factly it shocked her, but then she saw he was smiling.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Good. That means we’re being dead honest with each other.’ He was still smiling. ‘We shouldn’t though.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Feel weird – It’s like Vanessa said, you’re a victim just like we are.’

  She couldn’t answer.

  He shrugged. ‘It’s messed-up. Like, life is messed-up. I’m so sick of hating and fighting. Why would I hate you? You haven’t done anything wrong.’

  She went to get up. ‘I think I should go—’

  His eyes followed her. ‘I mean, I wasn’t sure at first – like, why Vanessa would ask you here? And then I was even more surprised when you said yes.’ His cool gaze searched her face.

  She stood. ‘I really should go.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing. It’s just…’ She waved a hand. ‘You’re right, this is weird.’

  ‘But you keep coming round… I mean, I like it, I just wondered why, though?’

  ‘You’re right, it’s probably best—’ She bent to pick up her jacket.

  ‘I remember you that night at the party.’

  She froze.

  ‘It took me a while to think where I knew you from.’ He started to rush. ‘I-I saw you. Later on. When you were totally out of it – I didn’t know what you’d taken, but you were in a state. I’m really sorry for you, you know?’ He looked at her, concerned. ‘I realised you’d got caught up in something without knowing it.’

  ‘Vanessa thinks I know stuff about Martin – I don’t.’

  ‘Vanessa’s always trying to make connections that aren’t there – ignore her,’ he said bitterly.

  ‘That’s why she wanted to talk to me in the first place. She thinks I can tell her something that’ll help her understand what happened with Charlotte, but I can’t! I don’t remember a thing. Honestly!’

  ‘Shh…’ Jack grabbed her hand. ‘It’s okay, you don’t have to feel bad, Frankie, seriously. It’s not you, it’s her. Vanessa feels as guilty as hell about Charlotte; she thinks her control-freakery drove Charlotte away. Maybe it did and maybe it didn’t. But I do know once she gets her claws in you, she doesn’t let go. You become a possession. My dad’s her possession.’

  There was something about the way he said it that sounded off: strangely angry.

  ‘She was very kind to me though, that day at the court.’ Frankie almost felt like she needed to defend her. ‘She made me feel…’ She shrugged but it felt like a flinch.

  ‘Yeah, I know how she makes people feel.’

  There it was again.

  ‘She made me feel like she was listening to me. Not judging me, y’know? Girls like me are judged all the time. They shove us in a box as though being brought up in care means you’ve been branded, here.’ She made a stripe across her forehead. ‘It’s invisible but everyone can see it.’

  ‘You would’ve liked her, y’know.’

  Something shunted inside her.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Charlotte. You would’ve got on. I know you had that row, but—’

  She lurched.

  ‘You saw us arguing?’

  He nodded. ‘Dunno who else did. No one I know has said anything – but they wouldn’t. All my kind of tribe leave the police alone and they leave us alone… Yeah, I think you would’ve liked her. Some people said she thought a lot of herself, but she didn’t: quite the opposite. She always wanted people to like her – and if they didn’t, it cut her deep. A bit like you, really.’ He smiled. ‘You stay away from people so they can’t hurt you. I know that. I think you recognised something in her, too. Not just the way you both looked. I think she fascinated you.’

  Frankie felt herself falter.

  ‘You were staring at her that night at the party, weren’t you? Yeah, I remember now.’

  She swallowed involuntarily.

  ‘And I’ve seen the way you are in this house. That’s why you and Vanessa have this weird connection: it’s like you’re both haunted by her. I see the w
ay Vanessa looks – it’s like Charlotte’s come back. And then I see you, your eyes flitting everywhere as though you’re scared her ghost will suddenly appear. Is it because you feel guilty?’

  Her neck jerked back.

  ‘About the row you had? You shouldn’t. People have rucks all the time. Oh I’m sorry, – that was a crappy thing to say – I just wanted you to understand that I get how you feel, and I don’t want you to feel bad.’

  ‘I have to go. I told Jude I’d be back by nine.’

  ‘Frankie—’

  She heard him saying something else but she had pulled the bedroom door closed behind her. The sound of her feet on the stairs drummed out all his calls for her to stop. The TV was booming in the living room. She was aware of Peter’s head swivelling round at the sound of the front door opening.

  It was black outside and the rain was coming down in rods. She’d only got her little denim jacket with her. Pulling it over her head she started to run down the road, her feet splashing through puddles soaking her thick tights and skirt, making her skirt stick like a sheet of wet rubber against her thighs. She didn’t know where she was going or how she planned to get back to the home – Shit! As she trod on a loose paving slab, a tidal gush of rainwater flew up. Whatever bit of her hadn’t been wet before, was now soaked. Running was pointless. Dragging her jacket from her head, she looked up and down the street. The main road was just up ahead. She’d find a bus shelter or a doorway and wait it out. She didn’t have enough money for a cab and the indignity of phoning Jude and asking if she could come and get her was more than she could stand. Plus there’d be questions – and she didn’t want questions.

  Frankie!

  She thought she heard someone say her name. She took a look round.

  Frankie! Over here!

  Glancing across the road, she saw the black shape of a car, headlights flashing through the needling rain.

  The window was wound down and Jack’s face was bobbing in the gap. ‘Hang on, my dad’ll turn round.’

  The lights swung across the road, illuminating just how sopping wet she really was, and then the car pulled up alongside her; the back door opened.

  ‘Come on – hop in!’ Peter was blinking up at her. ‘You can’t be out here in this. Get in, you silly girl!’

  ‘I’m too wet!’ she shouted back. ‘I’m fine, honestly. I need to get back. I’ll get the bus. Really. It’s very kind of you but—’

  ‘There aren’t any buses. There’s been an accident on the main road, nothing’s getting through either way. Will you just get in this car, Frankie? I’m getting as wet as you are!’ He was laughing and she suddenly felt a bit stupid standing there arguing in the pouring rain. She got in, squashing herself into as small a space as possible on the back seat and tried not to drip everywhere.

  ‘I’d already rung Jude.’

  She shot a look up at Peter who was watching her in the rear-view mirror.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I’d heard the local news so I gave her a quick ring to tell her you were safe at our house. I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t want to disturb Tomb Raider at a vital moment.’

  She felt her mouth fall open.

  ‘It’s okay, I said you were a friend of my son’s. Well, that’s true, isn’t it?’

  She was aware of him peering at her reflection. ‘I couldn’t see the point of complicating things that don’t need to be complicated.’

  She sat very still, her knees pressed together, feeling the water running from her hair down her cheeks and neck.

  ‘And she didn’t ask anything?’

  ‘I think she assumed I must be talking about someone at school. She sounded quite pleased, actually.’ Peter smiled at her and she managed a smile back.

  ‘So what did you tell her?’

  ‘I said, given the circumstances, we were quite happy to give you a bed for the night. Which we are, of course.’ He peered up again. ‘More than happy. And so was Jude actually. I think she likes the idea of you being around a family. She said it was ‘encouraging’ that you were making friends. Yes, that’s the word she used.’ He grinned at her in the mirror.

  God, if only she knew.

  Jack twisted round in the seat, hanging onto the safety belt. ‘That’s okay, isn’t it, Frankie? You’re okay with all that?’

  She knew what he was asking: he was asking if he’d upset her earlier? Had he said too much? Was she totally weirded-out? She could feel Peter’s eyes on her, waiting for her response. What else could she say? What alternative was there?

  ‘Thank you very much,’ she nodded. ‘This is all very kind of you. I don’t deserve it.’

  ‘Don’t be daft.’ Peter pulled a face. In the odd light his eyes became black pits full of shadows. ‘You deserve all of this and more.’

  Frankie stared out at the road tunnelling away in front of her. She had no idea what she felt. There was Vanessa, and Charlotte, and Jude, and Martin… and now a baby… So many things were whirling around in her head that she couldn’t think straight. She stared out into the night not able to say anything. The blackness beyond the street lights pressed in on either side, the headlights only going so far as though the car might be heading into the darkness towards a cliff edge – as if they might be driving off the end and into nothing.

  * * *

  ‘My God, look at the state of you!’

  Vanessa was standing in the doorway as Frankie got out of the car.

  ‘I said to Peter “that child’s never gone out in this, has she?” What on earth were you thinking?’

  She enveloped Frankie in a warm bath sheet, soaking clothes and all, as soon as she stepped into the hallway.

  ‘Keep this wrapped round you, get those shoes and socks off and get yourself upstairs. I’m just running you a hot bath.’

  She stood there, tutting, as Frankie picked apart the sodden laces on her trainers, struggling to get them off, and peeled her socks off, inside out.

  Peter and Jack bustled in behind her, shaking off the rain like a couple of over-excited dogs.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on, shall I? Actually, who fancies a hot chocolate? I bet Frankie does.’ Peter grinned round at them all before sloping off into the kitchen. He was over-jolly and bright. He’d left Jack standing in the doorway. Jack’s eyes were large and watchful as his father walked away. He gave Frankie a pointed look and then there was a tiny shake of the head.

  ‘Yes, she’d love one, I’m sure.’ Vanessa pulled the towel further around her. ‘You have to look after that baby of yours, you know. You can’t just go roaming about in all weathers. Now come on, let’s get you up those stairs.’

  Vanessa went ahead and Frankie glanced back. Jack’s face was stony.

  ‘Are you coming or are you going to stand there shivering?’ Vanessa paused, smiling, mid-step. She didn’t have much choice.

  Going into the bathroom, Vanessa bent to turn off the taps before bustling from the bathroom to one of the bedrooms, finding more towels and dry things to put on and a dressing gown and toothbrush.

  ‘These might be a bit big, you’re only a skinny thing and I’m probably a size bigger.’ Vanessa held out a pair of joggers. ‘But these have a tie waist so you should be okay.’

  She shouldn’t be here; she knew that. It allowed them to think all kinds of things about her – things she knew they’d hate if they ever found out the truth.

  ‘This way.’ Vanessa walked ahead past two tightly closed bedroom doors. ‘I’ve put you in here.’ She pushed open a door revealing a part guest room, part office.

  Frankie paused on the threshold, putting a protective hand on her stomach.

  ‘Are you okay?’ She looked at her, concerned.

  ‘Just a bit tired.’

  ‘And we’ve got another long day at court tomorrow.’

  The baby quickened again inside her, or was it her heart?

  ‘I hate going to that place.’

  ‘I understand completely.’ Vanessa’s eyes were kind an
d sad. ‘Some things are just too hard to listen to.’ She patted her arm. ‘Look, you need to lie in that bath, relax, and think about nothing but nice things for a while. I’ve put some bubbles in, that’ll have you sorted in no time.’

  ‘What shall I do with all this wet stuff?’

  Vanessa smiled. ‘No problem. While you’re soaking, I’ll put that lot in the washer dryer and we’ll leave these comfy clothes on the radiator. All you have to do is let me look after you, Frankie, if only for one night.’ She gave her a mock stern look.

  The thought was almost too tempting. She could easily have lain down right there on the floor and gone to sleep.

  ‘Okay,’ she said.

  ‘Good,’ smiled Vanessa. ‘That’s settled then.’

  * * *

  She lay in the bath watching the steam condensing into rivulets down the walls. The wind whistled around the side of the house and the window jiggled a little in the draught. She didn’t dare close her eyes. The draw of sleep dragged at her eyelids and she struggled to keep awake. Her eyes batted open as things began to dawn on her. Charlotte had lain here; she’d looked at the tiles on that wall, she’d seen that bit of a gap where the grout had missed. Her hands had touched the sides of this bath…

  She gingerly put the tips of her fingers over the edge. She felt a momentary out-of-body slide: she saw the walls and the door as though it was footage from an old film… someone else’s eyes… eyes that belonged to a dead girl. She blinked, and the room came tumbling back.

  She should’ve kept walking tonight. This was more than a mistake. This is wrong.

  A wave of guilt rose up again and bit her hard. She took a big, deep breath. So wrong. It would all come out and they would see her for what, and who, she really was.

  She’d been to see Martin.

  The shame of it twisted her insides.

  She knew as soon as the Prison Service envelope landed on the doormat at the home. She could have left it there or put it straight in the bin, but she didn’t. She picked it up, snaffling it away before anyone else could see it. She knew what it contained and what he wanted. The thump in her gut told her she hated him and loved him and neither was winning. If she went to see him then everyone would hate her. If she didn’t go, she knew she would always hate herself.