Sworn Secret (35 page)

‘You’re right, you don’t understand, you can’t, but you cannot be involved with that family, Lizzie, and that’s all there is to say.’

The car pulled up at the back gate, and she went with her dad as he led her along the overgrown path. She wasn’t going to fight him any more. If she ran after Haydn they’d only come after her, and this would happen all over again, but in front of Mrs Howe, which would be even more hideous on all sorts of levels.

Her mum got out of the driver’s seat and opened the back door, then climbed into the back seat and shuffled over to the far side. Then her dad put a hand on the top of Lizzie’s head and bent her into the car as if she were a criminal. All she needed was handcuffs to complete the scene.

‘I’ll just go and tell Mother we’re taking her home,’ her dad said to her mum across her. ‘I’ll be a few minutes. Will you be OK?’

Her mum nodded in a weary, broken way that made Lizzie want to scream.

Lizzie sat on the seat, staring straight ahead of her, not bothered by her naked lower half that was peppered with goose bumps. Her dad closed the door and then turned the key in the driver’s door and locked them in.

‘We were so worried about you,’ her mum said.

‘Shut up,’ Lizzie whispered. ‘I fucking hate you. You’re a fucking bitch and I fucking hate you.’

‘Lizzie, you don’t mean that. You don’t—’

‘Yes, I do! The only thing in this shit world that gives me pleasure is Haydn. You have no idea. You’ve never been in love like this. If you had then you’d understand, and you would never do this to us.’

Her mum was quiet.

Lizzie cast a glance at her quickly. She wasn’t crying. She was looking out of her window, pinching her nose. Then she turned to face Lizzie and drew in a laboured breath. She dropped her head as if she had no strength to hold it up. When she managed to lift it again Lizzie saw in her eyes that there was no fight left.

‘We don’t want you to see Haydn because his father was having sex with your sister, and it’s tearing us up.’

Monsters

Kate watched Lizzie’s face crumple and realized her world was shattering. They had torn her apart from the boy she loved and then told her the truth about Anna.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

Lizzie shook her head violently, dislodging fresh tears. Kate was exhausted beyond repair, like she could curl up and sleep for a hundred years.

‘No,’ Lizzie said. ‘You’re wrong. It’s not true.’

‘I wish it wasn’t, but it is. Rebecca had a film of them. I saw it with my own eyes.’ She turned her head away from her daughter and stared out of the window into the darkness. ‘God knows I wish I hadn’t,’ she said under her breath.

‘No.’

‘As far as your dad and I are concerned, it was abuse. A forty-eight-year-old headmaster had sex with a pupil of fifteen on school premises, and that man repulses us and we can’t have you anywhere near any of his family because of what he did.’

Kate turned and stared out of the window again. She wondered how many monsters lurked outside the car. How many of the passers-by, ostensibly normal, innocent men and women, were actually monsters in disguise, people hiding secrets – child abusers, wife beaters, rapists, violent thieves, murderers. She tore her eyes off the darkness and turned in the seat towards her daughter.

‘But how could he?’ Lizzie stammered.

Kate didn’t say anything.

‘The way Mrs Howe was looking at me, and what she said about Anna, it all makes sense now,’ she said. She shook her head and sniffed. ‘She must blame Anna for him killing himself.’

‘Anna isn’t to blame. He was the adult and she was a child. Whatever she did, whatever she said to him, he should have said no. He killed himself because of what he did, not because of what she did.’

‘The graffiti was right then, what it said . . . he . . .’ Lizzie didn’t finish her sentence. She collapsed against the side of the car, her face in her hands. ‘But this doesn’t have anything to do with Haydn,’ she sobbed. ‘It wasn’t him, Mum. His father isn’t him. Oh God, this hurts, Mum. It’s hurting my tummy.’ She bent over, gripping her stomach with her hands.

Kate reached over and rested a hand on Lizzie’s lower back and gently rubbed a circle like she used to when the girls were little. Then she turned to look out of the window again and watched the monsters outside through tear-blurry eyes.

The Lost Watch

‘She and Kate are waiting in the car,’ said Jon. He felt as if he’d been battling in the trenches.

‘Is she all right?’ His mother was pale with worry. ‘We heard the commotion.’

‘She’ll be fine. I need to get them home. I just popped down to tell you we were going; I didn’t want you to worry.’

Dan was back, sitting in a chair in the corner of the kitchen holding a bottle of red wine and a full glass.

Jon nodded a terse greeting in his direction. ‘Nice dinner?’

‘She was dull; like eating with a stuffed fish.’ He reached down to rest the bottle on the floor beside his chair. ‘Only just arrived back. I can’t believe I missed the show.’

‘Daniel!’ said their mother, before Jon was able to reply. ‘And don’t leave that bottle there, you’ll knock it over when you get up.’

Just then his father wandered into the kitchen in his dressing gown. ‘I heard burglars,’ he said. His hands flapped frantically at his sides.

‘No burglars, my darling. Just Jonathan,’ his mother said. ‘Let’s get you back to your bed.’

‘I heard them!’ He sounded terrified. ‘They were right outside my room.’

‘There are no burglars, dearest. Come on, I’ll take you up.’

‘Up?’

‘To bed.’

‘Why should I go to bed?’

‘It’s night time. We all need to go to bed.’

‘Don’t speak to me like I’m a child! All I want is a glass of water and you’re cajoling me like I’m a baby. And I’ve lost my watch. Someone stole it. How can I know anything if I haven’t got my watch?’

Jon watched his mother take her husband’s hand and stroke it. She reached into his dressing-gown pocket and pulled out a balled-up handkerchief. She took hold of one corner and gently shook his father’s gold watch into her cupped hand.

‘Here’s your watch,’ she said. ‘I’ll bring you up some water.’

Jon saw bewilderment cloud his father’s face, and when his mother turned to lead him out of the kitchen he followed meekly.

‘Do you know who I am?’ Jon called out suddenly.

They stopped. His father turned and looked at him. His eyes seemed to search Jon’s face.

‘Do you know who I am?’ Jon said again.

‘What on earth are you doing, Jonathan?’ asked his mother.

‘I need to know if he recognizes me.’ Jon couldn’t keep the desperation out of his voice. He didn’t know why it mattered, but at that moment he would have given anything for recognition to dawn on his father’s face, for him to smile, and then to hear him say his name.

‘He doesn’t. You know that.’ His mother was annoyed with him. She glanced at his father, whose hands had begun to flap at his sides again. ‘You’ll upset him.’ She took hold of one of his father’s jittery arms. ‘Go back to Kate and Lizzie. They need you.’

Jon stared at the wasted, twitching figure of his father in his immaculate dressing gown. ‘Yes. Yes, I’m sorry. I’m not thinking properly.’

He watched him shuffle out of the kitchen after his mother. When they reached the hall his father made to turn right towards the front door. His mother corrected him and led him the other way towards the stairs.

‘I do know who that was,’ he grumbled, as they began to climb the stairs. ‘That was the bloody plumber who stole my gold watch.’

Jon and Dan were left in an uncomfortable silence. Dan leant down and picked up the bottle of red wine. ‘You know, he hides that watch in his dressing-gown about fifteen times a day.’

Jon nodded and started walking towards the back door. Looking at his father, he wondered what the point was. Human beings live in the now, with a past made of memories and a future of hope. If a human being has no memories and no hope, and his now is less than decent, how can his existence be anything more than pointless?

‘It’s always wrapped up in that handkerchief. You’d think he might change the hiding place, you know, shake things up a bit.’ Dan lifted his wine glass to his mouth, chuckling like a jolly Santa. ‘Maybe tuck it into a sock, or stick it in the cistern or something.’

‘You really are a wanker, aren’t you?’

‘Oh, don’t be so sensitive. I’m joking. You know I am.’

‘You’re always
joking
. But your jokes aren’t funny.’

‘Where’s Kiki? She would have laughed.’ Dan stood up and stumbled to one side, steadying himself on the table. He laughed.

‘You’re drunk.’

Dan held up both hands. ‘As charged. So where is she?’

Jon clenched his hands at his sides. ‘Stay away from my wife.’

Dan’s face scrunched up, and he looked at Jon out of one eye. ‘What does that mean?’

‘You know what it means. It means keep your bastard hands off my wife. I know what you want.’

‘You do? And what exactly is it that I want?’

‘You want Kate.’

Dan snorted with laughter.

‘I’ve seen how you look at her.’

The smile fell away from Dan. ‘Don’t be so damn pathetic. Honestly, you’re such a bloody wimp.’

Jon’s temper flared. He knew he should walk away. Dan was drunk and antagonistic. He was trying to wind him up, and reacting wasn’t going to help. He needed to get Lizzie and Kate home. Jon turned his back on Dan and reached for the back door.

‘And anyway,’ Dan said, ‘if I wanted Kate I’d have her.’

Jon slammed his hand against the door and, swearing under his breath as his anger boiled over, he ran at Dan. He put his hands up against his throat and pushed him backwards until they rammed against the wall. There was a clatter of pans and utensils as the force of the impact brought down the shelf.

‘You piece of shit,’ Jon snarled into Dan’s face. ‘Kate’s my wife. The mother of my children. She loves me. Not you.’ He pushed his hands harder against Dan’s throat. He watched as his brother’s face began to redden as he struggled against his grip.

‘Jon, stop it. I’m mucking about,’ rasped Dan. ‘I didn’t—’

Jon pushed harder.

‘She loves you,’ Dan croaked. ‘She told me.’

Jon loosened his grip, but didn’t let go.

‘What on earth are you boys doing?’ It was their mother.

Jon and Dan locked eyes. Then Jon dropped his gaze, shook his head and let go. Dan bent over, coughing and rubbing at his neck. ‘Fucking lunatic,’ he whispered.

‘How dare you fight in my kitchen,’ said their mother. ‘Did you not just see your father? Do you want him to worry there are burglars again?’

Jon and Dan were quiet.

She breathed deeply. ‘Take Lizzie home, Jonathan. Daniel, go upstairs to bed and sleep it off. Honestly, two grown men behaving like hormonal boys.’

‘Sorry,’ Jon and Dan mumbled.

Dan held his hand out towards Jon. Jon stared at it. He’d done that since he was six years old. It was all a show for their mother. Jon knew when he took his hand that Dan would squeeze too hard and maybe even wink if he was sure she wouldn’t see. Jon took the hand and as he shook, he leant in to give Dan a hug and pat his back with his spare hand.

‘If you touch my wife, I’ll fucking kill you,’ he whispered.

Stale Biscuits

‘We hoped it might be a good time to talk.’

Rachel was on the doorstep, and behind her was the hunched figure of Rebecca, who was wearing a denim skirt above her knees with nylon tights and a faded Michael Jackson T-shirt. She looked terrified. Kate stepped immediately aside and opened her arm to let the two of them in. Rachel gently pushed Rebecca in before her and the girl shuffled reluctantly forward.

Kate left them in the living room and went into the kitchen. She opened the back door and called to Jon. He looked up from behind the upturned mower he was trying to mend. His shirt was rolled to the elbows and he had smudges of oil and dirt all over him.

‘You need to come in!’ she called.

‘I won’t be long,’ he called back.

‘Now, Jon. Rachel’s here. With Rebecca.’

She closed the back door and flicked the kettle on, then opened the cupboard and scanned it for anything she might have to offer them. There was half a packet of digestive biscuits in the cupboard. They’d been there a while. She took the top biscuit, had a nibble and grimaced at its damp staleness. The next one down was just about passable, so she binned the two she’d tried and tipped the rest on to a small plate, then made a pot of tea, put four mugs, milk, sugar and the plate of old digestives on a tray. Her stomach fluttered with anxious nerves and she tried not to think about what Rebecca might be here to say.

Rachel and Rebecca were perched on the edge of the sofa. Neither spoke. Rachel sat with her knees together and her hands resting neatly in her lap.

‘Jon will be here in a sec,’ said Kate.

She sat on the armchair opposite the sofa, mirroring Rachel’s pose. Nobody said a word. Rebecca sniffed quietly. Kate cleared her throat, then leant forward to pour four cups of tea.

‘Would you like sugar?’ she asked Rachel. Silly really, just filling air with words – she’d made her plenty of tea and coffee in the sixteen years they’d been friends. Rachel never had sugar. She didn’t have a sweet tooth at all. She liked wine, cheese and, if she was treating herself, Walkers salt and vinegar crisps.

Rachel shook her head. ‘Rebecca might like some sugar, though.’ She turned to her daughter, who didn’t move a muscle. ‘Would you like sugar in your tea, Bec?’

Kate and Rachel stared at Rebecca for a few seconds. Then Rachel turned back to Kate and nodded. ‘She’ll have two, please.’

Kate held out the spartan plate of digestives and again Rachel shook her head. They sat without talking, Rachel and Kate easing the tension by sipping at their tea, and making a point of not watching Rebecca pull repeatedly at a loose string on the hem of her skirt.

‘Hello, Lizzie,’ Rachel said, over Kate’s head. ‘How are you?’

Kate turned around to see Lizzie at the door. Her heart sank. She’d forgotten she was upstairs. She tried to think of a way she could get rid of her. She had no idea what Rebecca might say, and it wasn’t right for Lizzie to have to listen to things about Anna that might shock or panic her, especially after the drama of last night.