The Secret

by Debbie Howells

  By the time they come inside, DS May and Sergeant Collins look as though they’ve been standing in the rain for hours. I feel my insides twisting as they take off their coats, accepting my mother’s offer of tea before sitting at the kitchen table.

  DS May gets out her electronic notebook. ‘Thank you for talking to us again, Niamh. It’s just that you’re one of a very small number of people Hollie was close to and we need to make sure we haven’t missed something.’

  Coming over, my mother places mugs on the table, then pulls out the chair next to mine.

  DS May goes on. ‘We’re trying to establish if there might be someone out there who wished to harm Hollie. Did she ever mention anyone she was frightened of? Or had she met anyone new recently?’

  Gazing at her, I bite my lip. She doesn’t understand. There are things I can’t repeat, as well as so much I don’t know. The only person who knows what happened is Hollie.

  ‘I can’t tell you anything,’ I say at last, looking between them.

  ‘Niamh.’ There’s a warning tone in my mother’s voice.

  I turn to her. ‘It’s true. Hollie and I used to watch movies. Sometimes we went for a walk.’ I shrug. ‘She mentioned there was stuff wrong at home, but she never actually said what it was.’

  DS May’s frowning at me. ‘Was this recent, Niamh? Hollie telling you something was wrong?’

  I nod.

  ‘And you’ve no idea what it was?’

  I try to remember Hollie’s exact words. ‘It was something like she couldn’t trust the one person she should have been able to depend on.’ I stare at DS May.

  ‘Who was it? A close friend? Family?’

  I shake my head. ‘She didn’t tell me who – or why. I don’t know anything else.’ I wonder if she believes me. Then, suddenly, it gets to be too much. Pushing back my chair, I get up and go upstairs.

  In my room, I lie on my bed the way Hollie used to – on my back, hands clasped behind my head, staring at the ceiling – before rolling over and pushing myself up with my elbows, so that I can see the window. I’m still lying like that, watching the trees blowing in the wind, when my mother comes in.

  ‘Niamh, you really shouldn’t have walked off like that. The police need your help.’

  I shake my head. She still doesn’t understand. ‘I can’t tell them anything.’

  My mother comes over and sits next to me on the bed. ‘Look, I know this is upsetting. But surely you want to help the police find whoever did this to Hollie?’

  Sliding off the bed, I get up and walk over to the window. It’s almost dark, the rain still beating on the glass. I turn to face my mother. ‘She made me promise.’

  There’s a moment of silence before my mother reacts. This time, she doesn’t hide her irritation with me. ‘She’s dead, Niamh. Don’t you think this is more important than a promise?’

  I stare at her. I’m not the only one who’s holding something back. Then I say it. ‘Have you told them everything?’

  Watching my mother’s face pale, I know she hasn’t. But I’d known that before I asked the question. When she goes downstairs, I know it’s the last time she’ll try to push me to talk. She’s worried what will happen if she does.

  *

  From the top of the stairs, I listen as she talks to the policewomen in the kitchen, fobbing them off. ‘I’m sorry. Niamh isn’t feeling well. She’s finding this incredibly traumatic – we all are. Maybe it would be better to come back another day. But I will talk to her. And I’ll let you know if I find anything out.’

  ‘Of course. It’s a difficult time. I understand that.’ DS May’s voice carries up the stairs. ‘You have my number. If Niamh changes her mind and wants to talk to us, give me a call.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Even from my room, I can hear the obvious relief in my mother’s voice. There’s a further murmur of voices before the back door opens and closes, followed by the sound of a car starting and then driving away. I hear my mother’s footsteps as she comes back upstairs.

  Pushing my door open, her face is anxious as she pauses in the doorway. ‘Are you OK, Niamh?’

  I nod.

  ‘I know how difficult this must be.’ She hesitates. ‘It’s difficult for all of us. All that matters is that the police find out what happened to Hollie.’

  Silently, I gaze behind her through the window at the top of the stairs as a pair of headlights swing into the drive.

  ‘Your father’s back.’ My mother’s eyes shift anxiously. ‘I’ll tell him the police have been here, but it’s up to you if you want to tell him about them questioning you.’

  I nod. We both know he won’t ask. He never asks me anything, but I don’t mind that. It means I don’t have to cobble together satisfying answers to his pointless questions. Silence makes everything so much easier.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Elise

  ‘Don’t bother cooking. I have to go out at seven.’ Andrew’s voice is abrupt as he comes into the kitchen, dropping his bag by the table before putting the kettle on. ‘I won’t have time to eat.’

  I don’t usually ask him what he’s doing, but I’ve had enough of walking on eggshells around him, and this is my home, too. ‘Where to?’ I make no attempt to hide the sarcasm in my voice.

  ‘What’s this?’ he mocks, getting a mug out of the cupboard. He doesn’t ask me if I’d like a cup of anything. ‘Have you suddenly decided you care?’

  ‘Let me see.’ I stare him in the eyes, deliberately taunting him. ‘Is it the golf club, Andrew? Or the pub? Oh, silly Elise. It’s Friday, isn’t it. Everyone knows where Andrew goes on Fridays – everyone except his stupid wife. But do you know what, Andrew? She isn’t as stupid as you—’

  But before I finish speaking, he comes over, stopping inches in front of me. ‘Bitch,’ he mutters through gritted teeth. Then he raises his arm and slaps me. Above the sound of his hand on my cheek, I hear a gasp of breath. Through the kitchen door, at the top of the stairs, I see Niamh watching.

  Anger courses through me, followed by humiliation, my face throbbing painfully. It’s months since he’s done anything like this. ‘You need to watch it, Andrew,’ I mutter under my breath as I walk away from him. Near the door, I stop. ‘Emotional distance and infidelity are one thing. But I’m not sure how physical abuse would sit with your practice manager.’

  ‘Prove it.’ His eyes are like lasers boring into me. It seems he’s forgotten that we have a witness. ‘But I’m warning you. One mention, Elise, and I’ll dredge up those notes from two years ago. I bet your airline would love to read them. Not to mention the police.’

  His words hit me harder than any blow delivered by his hand. He’s talking about the circumstances that, in my desperate state, triggered me to start drinking heavily in an attempt to numb my pain. Andrew had it all documented by the time I stopped, and he held it over me for months afterwards, reminding me constantly that if I’d been thinking of Niamh, I would have asked for help, but instead, I’d been utterly selfish.

  Desperately unhappy at the time, I told him I wanted us to separate. I can still remember his look of contempt, his cruel smile as he told me that I could leave, but it would be alone. No-one in their right mind would give me custody of a child – he’d make sure of that. I knew he’d stop at nothing, not caring what it did to me, or to Niamh. I remember how my blood had run cold as I’d realised he didn’t care even slightly about either of us. All he was interested in was controlling us.

  I tried to talk to him several times, each time getting progressively more upset; only affirming in Andrew’s mind the hold he had over me. The only way of staying sane became to stop fighting him. Tell myself I’d ride it out. Stay until I could find a way past him. What was most important was that Niamh had both parents, rather than just him.

  ‘Fuck you.’ I turn away so that he can’t see my face. However it looks to anyone else, I’m trapped, married to a monster.

  At the top of the stairs, I hesitate outside
Niamh’s closed door, trying to think what to say to her. He didn’t mean to hurt me. It was an argument that got a little too heated. It looks worse than it is. It’s nothing to worry about.

  But there’s nothing I can say to make it right. Closing the door to my bedroom, I gaze at my reflection. In the mirror, my eyes are huge, the side of my face an ugly red. Going to the bathroom, I splash cold water on my cheeks, then dry them before I start applying makeup.

  *

  Three days later, on a morning when I’m alone, Stephanie turns up unexpectedly, clearly distraught, her tears blending with the rain on her face as she stands on the doorstep.

  Her eyes are desperate as she looks at me. ‘I’m so sorry, Elise … After what you said, I didn’t know who else to turn to.’

  ‘Come in. You’re soaked.’ Only when I close the door and she starts to sob does the extent of her distress become clear. ‘What’s happened? Let me hang up your coat.’

  Wiping her face, she awkwardly shrugs off her coat and passes it to me. Underneath, her sweater is also soaked. ‘Come and stand by the radiator. I’ll go and get you something to change into.’

  Upstairs, I find a lamb’s wool sweater in a dull shade of blue and take it down to her. ‘The cloakroom’s through there.’ I indicate a door just beyond the kitchen. While she goes to change, I put the kettle on.

  When she comes back, she’s slightly more composed, but as her eyes flit around, it’s clear she needs to talk about something. As she sits down, I get out two mugs. ‘I’ve made a pot of coffee. But if you’d prefer tea, it’s no trouble.’

  She shakes her head. ‘Coffee would be good.’ She hesitates. ‘Thank you, Elise. I’m so sorry to turn up here like this.’

  ‘It really isn’t a problem. Let me finish making this; then we’ll talk.’

  Taking the coffee pot and milk over to the small table by the sofa under the window, she sits down. There’s a wood burner, which I hadn’t bothered to light earlier, but even without it, the sofa is soft and it’s the cosiest corner of this house. I pour the coffee and pass her a mug before sitting next to her with mine. ‘Now, tell me what’s happened.’

  As she starts to talk, what little composure she’s managed to muster evaporates. ‘James will kill me if he knows I’ve talked to you.’ Her voice cracks.

  ‘James doesn’t need to find out,’ I tell her firmly.

  Mopping her face, she sighs shakily. ‘We’re in trouble, Elise. I mean James is, but it affects both of us. He’s massively in debt. The mortgage is in arrears – I only found out yesterday. Unless a miracle happens, I think we’re going to lose the house.’

  I listen, horrified, as the words pour out of her, thinking how desperately unfair it seems that after losing Hollie, they’re now faced with this. ‘Have you spoken to the bank? They might give you some time – especially if they know you’ve just lost Hollie. They can’t repossess it overnight.’

  She shakes her head, blinking away her tears. ‘It’s hardly overnight. This has been going on for a year. You know how I said I thought James was hiding something from me? I should have listened to my instincts. But I’m never there when the post arrives and emails always go straight to him … It was irresponsible of me, but I’ve never thought anything of it. Now, of course, I feel completely stupid for trusting him, but I’ve never had any reason not to. Anyway, it’s too late. I’ve no idea what we’re going to do.’ There’s despair in her voice as she wipes her face again. ‘We’re going to lose everything.’

  I’m puzzled. ‘But you have your salon … And what about the books he’s written? Surely they must make some money?’

  ‘They do. It used to be enough.’ Her voice shakes. ‘But not now.’

  Something in her voice makes me frown. ‘What’s changed?’ I watch her closely, convinced there’s something she isn’t saying.

  For a moment, she doesn’t speak. Then she sighs heavily. ‘James invested in a business and he owes them money.’

  I frown at her. ‘So why doesn’t he sell?’

  ‘It seems he can’t.’ She doesn’t look at me. ‘He’s up to his neck in something. It took me ages to get anything out of him and he still hasn’t told me the details.’ Instead of sympathetic, she sounds bitter. ‘The only thing I can say in his defence is that he didn’t know what he was getting into. There was supposed to be a contract. And he was led to believe he’d make a lot of money … but he was conned.’

  I stare at her. ‘There has to be something he can do. Have you had legal advice?’

  Stephanie shakes her head. ‘It’s not that simple. James was desperate, Elise. His last book was rejected by his publisher.’ She pauses, as though she’s trying to work out whether to tell me more, before raising her eyes to meet mine again. ‘It was a massive blow to him. Then he met someone who told him about a sure-fire way to make a lot of money. What the man didn’t tell him was how, exactly …’ She breaks off, then sighs. ‘I may as well tell you.’ Her eyes rest on mine before glancing away. ‘It’s a porn site. Whoever got James into this, conned him by telling him they were looking for investors in an app they’re developing. Only, once someone’s looked up the website on their laptop, they’re immediately on a list – and the website is in their search history. You can imagine, can’t you?’ Her voice is shaky. ‘Finding out what you’ve got yourself involved in, but if you want your investment back – like James does – you end up being blackmailed.’

  ‘James actually bought into a porn site?’ I’m not easily shocked but the thought of someone I thought I knew getting into something like that is utterly abhorrent.

  ‘I know.’ Stephanie covers her face with her hands. ‘It’s completely vile, Elise. He can’t sell, and now he’s being forced to pay huge amounts – more than we can afford – just to remain anonymous. It’s a nightmare.’

  But as she speaks, I’m thinking of the exchange I saw between James and the man in the woods that day. Maybe it was connected to this. It would explain why James looked so desperate. ‘The man who’s conning him, do you know who he is?’

  ‘James won’t tell me his name, but I know he got swept into this circle out of pride – and vanity. James likes to impress people. I think he thought this man was a doorway into a circle of wealthy, powerful men – which he was, of course – but they are the worst kind of people, wealthy for the worst possible reasons.’

  I stare at her in disbelief. ‘James should go to the police.’

  She looks up sharply. ‘You won’t tell them, will you?’

  ‘No, but you or James have to.’ I pause, frowning again. ‘Why on earth hasn’t he?’

  ‘Because he’ll be arrested,’ Stephanie whispers. ‘They produce images – of young girls. Some of the photos … they’re of children, Elise.’

  ‘God.’ Suddenly I feel sick. How could he get involved in child porn? ‘That’s even more reason to get the police involved. You can’t protect him, Stephanie. There’s no excuse for something like this.’

  ‘I know.’ As her eyes meet mine, she looks old, prematurely aged by worry and shame. ‘But he swears he didn’t know there were children involved when he invested. It will be the end of his writing career …’

  It will be far more than that, but it doesn’t mean she should protect him. ‘That’s his problem. He should have thought of that before he got involved.’

  She shakes her head sadly. ‘The irony is, he’s just finished a new book. He was about to send it to his agent, but then Hollie went missing.’

  Suddenly, I shiver. I’m thinking of how Hollie was in the days before she disappeared. She’d seemed more erratic, more distracted than usual, even for her. ‘What if Hollie had found out?’ There’s a look of horror in Stephanie’s eyes as I go on. ‘She definitely seemed upset about something. What if her death is connected in some way? I don’t see how you can rule it out.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Her voice is low but she doesn’t meet my eyes. Then, as I watch her, I feel myself shiver again, realising she’s
thought of this already and she still hasn’t told the police. Her voice shakes. ‘I need to ask you one favour.’

  While I sympathise with Stephanie and James over Hollie’s loss, I can’t feel anything other than disgust about what she’s told me today. ‘What?’

  She hesitates. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask …’ Her eyes fill with tears. ‘But can you wait a few days before telling the police? If we could just have Hollie’s funeral … I don’t want her memory tainted by whatever mess her stupid father is caught up in. For that one last day, I want everyone to be thinking about her. After that, the police can arrest James, for all I care. I won’t be around to see it.’

  Her words surprise me. ‘Where are you going? What about the salon?’

  ‘I’ve given notice on the lease.’ Her voice is emotionless. ‘As for where I’ll go … I don’t know yet. There’s nothing for me here. I need a clean break. To somehow start again, somewhere – anywhere – far away from here.’

  If the police question me directly about what I know, I’m not prepared to lie. They need to know what James is involved in, just as I need to tell them I saw him arguing with someone. But putting myself in her shoes, I can understand why she’s asked me. ‘I won’t tell them unless they ask. But after the funeral … If you don’t tell them, I’ll have to, Stephanie. For Hollie’s sake.’

  If she was hoping for more from me, she doesn’t say. She stays long enough to finish her coffee, putting her mug down now and then, as if she wants to say more, before thinking better of it. As she leaves, cowed by grief and shame, she seems smaller somehow, and I think about how desperation drives people to extremes. First James and his investment, and now Stephanie, prepared to lie to the police; each with motives they’ve somehow justified to themselves.

  I think of the headline I read on the flight before all of this started. The more I talk to my neighbours, the harder it becomes to find anyone at all good in this village.