Her Deadly Secret Read online

  So he sat there crushing the pillow that still smelled of her and staring at nothing. All the time keeping out the image he must never let himself see again. Lily, as she was now.

  They wouldn’t say much about how she died; only that she wasn’t raped – thank God. But he imagined all sorts, and even thinking about how the doctors must have pulled her about was horrible.

  Loretta had been there, of course. Watching him when he identified the body. Noting down his reactions, no doubt. But he had simply looked at the face that was and wasn’t Lily. It certainly wasn’t his cheeky laughing girl who loved his special cheese on toast and was always trying different hair dos. He stood, staring, numb and yet aware of being watched. And suddenly, horrifically, he’d wanted to giggle. He’d fought to keep it down, gritted his teeth and pressed his lips together until he was able to look up and nod that, yes, this was his daughter.

  As he put the pillow down, smoothing it carefully, he realized Loretta was watching him again, leaning on the wall outside the door. She laid a warm hand on his arm as he slid past, but said nothing. He didn’t speak either. If he did she would probably write it down in that fucking notebook of hers.

  That was what made him so angry. He couldn’t even tell Hannah to be careful about what she said. She must think bloody Loretta was just there to help them. But she was police, the same as Philips and the rest, and she was watching them all the time. Reporting on everything.

  He went into the spare room – the only place he could escape to. It was empty apart from a sofa bed, so the police hadn’t spent as long in there and it felt less contaminated somehow. The venetian blinds meant he could see the street without being seen.

  After the first few nights the group of reporters and cameras had thinned out. Lily wasn’t top of the news bulletins anymore, and his mum said the papers had gone quiet too. More important things to focus on: celebrities and football.

  Loretta was outside talking to a group of girls. The ones who seemed to have nothing better to do than hang around all day. Probably hoping they’d get their faces in the paper or even an interview on TV. As if none of this was real. As if Lily wasn’t lying back there in the morgue, cold and all alone. He told himself not to be mean: they were Lily’s friends. Trying to show they cared; trying to make sense of it.

  Loretta

  Right now, Loretta hated her job. She had trained as an FLO because she thought she was good with people, and it was always useful to have an extra qualification. Also, her kids were happier when she was out of uniform. What she hadn’t bargained for was the way, when you were working with a family, it set you apart. She had no reason to spend much time at the station. When she was there hardly anybody bothered to talk to her or ask her how it was going. They seemed to think she was onto a cushy number. ‘Sitting about drinking tea all day,’ was how she’d overheard that bitch Maggie describe it.

  And this was her first murder as an FLO. It had come as a surprise when they’d found a body, because with a 14-year-old you expected the girl to come back, shamefaced, after a couple of days hiding out.

  But there had been something wrong with the atmosphere inside that house from the start. The parents both seemed sure the worst had happened on the very first night. And the mother, Hannah, well, she was something else. Loretta knew she should feel more sorry for her – the poor woman had lost her only child for fuck’s sake – but it was difficult when she was so cut off. So cold.

  At least she whispered the occasional word to Loretta. A lot more than the husband got. Hannah still blanked him completely, which was curious. The most likely explanation was always going to be that he had something to do with it, so she probably had good reason to reject him, but for now they had to keep him sweet. It stuck in Loretta’s throat to be pleasant when she let herself imagine the possible scenarios, but that was the job.

  Hannah was asleep again – out of it with all the stuff the doc had given her. It was obvious Joe wasn’t going to be forthcoming either, and DCI Philips had suggested she try to talk to some of the kids hanging around outside, so she had the excuse she needed to get out for a bit.

  As she closed the front door behind her silence fell. The kids lounging in small groups looked studiously away. She strolled out, mimicking their pretence of indifference. A lanky boy of thirteen or so in a school sweatshirt and grey trousers elbowed his smaller friend, who turned to stare at her. Then, very deliberately, the smaller boy placed a cigarette between his lips, head to one side, daring her to do something.

  When she ignored them, and approached the three girls nearest the gate, the taller lad shouted, in a voice hoarse with puberty, ‘He’s too young to smoke, ya know, Miss. Tell him, Miss.’

  An eruption of honking laughter and the two began punching each other, the smoker yelling in a still squeaky treble, ‘It’s constable, you dork, not Miss – she’s fuckin’ police and I’m brickin’ it. She’s gonna arrest me cos of you, you wanker.’

  Loretta caught the eye of one of the girls who looked heavenwards and mouthed, ‘Idiots.’ The other two nodded, and she had her way in.

  ‘Well, that’s lads for you, isn’t it? Don’t mature until they’re forty or so. If then.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’ This from the blonde girl who’d spoken. She gave the boys a scornful look, shaking her head, and hooking one bare leg behind the other so that her short navy skirt stretched over plump thighs.

  The other two stayed silent, looking at the boys with eyes that fired shards of ice before turning the same cold gazes onto Loretta. She walked away and began reading the cards and bits of damp paper on the flowers and the balloons attached to the fence and the gateposts.

  Lily, can’t believe you’re gone.

  One more angel in heaven.

  Missing you, babe.

  All the usual stuff. Then, without turning, she said, ‘You were friends of Lily’s.’ It was better to make it a statement rather than a question. Hope they’d assume she knew already.

  ‘Monique was her best mate.’ Again, it was the blonde talking. Her head jerked to one side, indicating the tall, dark girl who was pulling threads from the zip of a bag on her shoulder that bulged with coloured folders and files. Blondie again, ‘Go on, Mon, tell her.’

  Monique looked up through a curtain of dark strands. ‘We started at St Mary’s together.’ She had an unusually deep voice for such a thin girl, seemed shy but sensible, and for some reason, Loretta was reminded of her own daughter, Pearl. Pearl, at 16, was more assured. But then, her friend hadn’t just been murdered.

  ‘The primary? You were – what – 4, 5?’

  The girl nodded, staring at the ground, still pulling those threads, and scraping the toe of one shoe on the pavement.

  ‘I’m sorry. You must miss her.’

  Another nod, but something else was going on here. The other two girls exchanged a glance. Looked from Monique to Loretta. The third one, small and pretty, with mousy hair streaked with one or two fake strands of bright red, elbowed Monique, who shrugged and shot a fierce glance at her, letting out a flamboyant, ‘Ow,’ as she rubbed her arm.

  ‘What?’ Loretta made the question light, smiling and looking from one to the other.

  They didn’t speak. Blondie shrugged and crossed her arms, as if it was nothing to do with her. The other girl looked at Monique still scraping the pavement.

  It probably was nothing, schoolgirl gossip or fantasy, but she needed to clear it up, in case it came out later that she’d missed something. They’d love that down at the station, Maggie and her crew. She turned as if to go, her voice even lighter, unconcerned. ‘OK.’

  This was too much for blondie. ‘Go on, Monique, tell her.’

  Take it easy now. Get her confidence. ‘If there’s anything at all then you should tell me. You won’t get in trouble, and Lily would want you to help us. You know that, don’t you?’ For a moment, she almost mentioned Lily’s mum and dad, but, of course, whatever the girl was revving up to say might be about them –
or one of them, at least.

  Monique shuffled and twitched and the other two closed in, arms around her back, heads close to hers. She looked up and her lips were pressed tight together, the soft little chin wobbling. ‘It’s just – well – we didn’t. You know, we weren’t, anymore.’

  ‘You weren’t friends anymore?’

  ‘No. Well, not really.’ Her eyes dropped again and a tear ran down her cheek.

  ‘So you fell out? You had a fight?’

  Silence. Monique was crying lumpy sobs from deep in her chest, and blondie could stand it no longer. ‘She didn’t want to see none of us. It was that boyfriend, that Samuel. That’s all she was interested in.’

  ‘Do you know this boy’s other name?’

  Scrabbling in her bag for a tissue Monique shook her head.

  And Loretta looked at the others. ‘What about you two?’

  Blondie again. ‘Nah. Lily didn’t talk about him. Just stopped going around with us, but I saw them together, once, and asked her who he was. She said his name was Samuel.’

  ‘So he doesn’t go to your school?’

  Monique crossed her arms tight over her chest and looked at Loretta with big brown eyes. They were red-rimmed but looked more angry than unhappy. ‘He don’t go to school at all. He’s with that mad lot – The Children, or whatever they call themselves.’

  ‘Do you mean the commune that runs a farm out in the country? The Children of Light?’ From what Loretta had heard they were some kind of semi-religious sect.

  Blondie said, ‘Yeah, those nutters. Hardly talked to us after she got with them.’

  Chapter Three

  Rosie

  On the afternoons when she wasn’t working as a supply teacher at one or other of the local comprehensives, Rosie always walked to Fay’s school. Today, the stroll through tree-lined streets in the June sunshine soothed her. When the doors opened she saw her daughter break away from the teacher, her face creased with delight as she ran through the jostle of little figures.

  But Fay wasn’t looking at her today and she was shrieking, ‘Nana, Nana,’ as she ran.

  Rosie closed her eyes. Please, no. But it was too late; her mum was beside her, and Fay dropped her book bag and lunchbox and threw her arms around her grandmother’s waist.

  ‘Nana, you came to meet me. Mummy said we couldn’t see you. Why not? I’ve been missing you.’

  Marion knelt, looking at Rosie over Fay’s head with the apologetic smile she always seemed to use lately. ‘I’m sorry, sweetie. I’ve been busy, but I’m here now.’

  ‘Can we come for tea then? Please, Nana.’

  Rosie looked around and saw the second little girl running towards them, dark pigtails bouncing. She had her excuse. ‘No, darling, you know we can’t. We’re looking after Harriet; she’s having tea at ours. Say bye to Nana. We’ll see her again soon.’ She took Harriet’s sticky hand and reached for Fay, but her daughter clung, mule-faced, to her nan and kicked the lunchbox that still lay on the ground.

  ‘Tell you what …’ Her mother picked up Fay’s things, avoiding Rosie’s eye. ‘I’ve got the car. Why don’t I take you all into town? We can get some ice cream to eat on the beach. Maybe go to the amusement arcade.’ This was greeted by bounces and shrieks from the girls.

  Fay pulled her grandmother towards the car, calling behind her, ‘Come on, Harriet, come on, Mummy.’

  Rosie stayed where she was for a moment, shaking her head, but there was nothing she could do as her mother opened the car and the two girls climbed into the back. Harriet, dark plaits as chunky and neat as the child herself. Fay, a total contrast, with her thin little legs in her favourite lace-trimmed socks, and the untidy honey-coloured hair she’d inherited from Rosie floating around her pointed face. Fay’s bright eyes looked back at her, their expression a mixture of triumph and pleading. Don’t be cross, Mummy, was the message. Rosie knew she risked a major tantrum if she tried to intervene and, anyway, what could she say? How could Fay understand that they could no longer trust her grandmother?

  By the time Rosie got into the car the girls were already buckled up, giggling and chattering together. She tried to keep her voice light. ‘I told you I’d ring.’

  Marion started the car, but didn’t pull away. ‘You keep saying that, but you never do and when I ring you won’t talk.’

  ‘There’s nothing to say, Mum.’

  ‘You can see how much Fay misses me. Please, Rosemary, come round. We’d love to see you.’

  ‘So it’s “we” now, is it?’ She was conscious of the bitter note in her voice and glanced back at the girls, but they were happily swapping hair bands and clips.

  ‘If you could see him. He’s changed so much. Sometimes, I can hardly bear to look at him.’ Her mother’s voice was gruff and she brushed at her cheek with the back of her hand.

  Rosie forced herself to whisper. ‘I haven’t been able to look at him for fifteen years. And how you could bring yourself to take him back—’

  ‘But if you just talked to him.’

  ‘My god, can you hear yourself? You know what he did. Christ, what he was probably doing for years.’ Rosie stopped, aware of the listening silence from the back seat, and she turned, twisting her mouth into what she hoped might pass for a smile. ‘Tell you what, girls, shall we ask Nana to take us to the soft play centre? You can have tea there if you like.’

  A squeal from both girls and then Fay, ‘Oh, yes please, Mummy, I love you. Nana, can we?’

  Rosie felt her mother squeeze her knee with a soft, ‘Thank you, darling,’ before adding loudly, ‘Of course, if that’s what you want. And when you two are playing, Mummy and Nana can have a nice chat.’

  If the girls were hungry they soon forgot about it when they saw the brilliantly coloured apparatus. They threw off their shoes and headed away. As they disappeared into the mass of shrieking children, all twisting and bouncing with excitement, Rosie shouted: ‘We’ll be over here. No going down head first, remember.’

  It wasn’t until they were settled at a table that Rosie looked properly at her mother. Marion had aged in the past few weeks. Around the time of Alice’s death, she had gone from being plumpish to almost angular. The weight had gradually come back on, but today her face was as drawn and grey as it had been during that dreadful time. The urge to touch her, to say it was all right, was very strong. Instead, Rosie waved at Fay at the top of a twisting slide. Harriet, gasping and pink from her own shrieking plummet down, stood at the bottom urging her on. As Fay leapt forward, Marion pressed one hand to her own breastbone.

  ‘It’s all right, she’s quite safe. They test these things all the time,’ Rosie said.

  Her mum looked at her with a tight smile. ‘Yes, I’m sure they do.’

  They watched as two little girls in matching pink jogging bottoms walked by giggling together, followed by a man with a toddler wriggling in his arms and a small boy clutching at his leg, begging to be carried too. As he passed, the man raised his eyebrows at Rosie in mock exasperation.

  She pulled her purse from her bag, trying to put off the inevitable. ‘You keep an eye on them and I’ll get some drinks. Do you want tea or coffee?’

  Her mother touched her sleeve. ‘Rosemary …’ Rosie could feel her jaw grow hard. ‘Just come round, will you? Bring Fay. Please, dear, it would mean so much.’

  She couldn’t trust herself to say anything more than a hard, ‘No.’

  ‘But he’s your dad and he’s never even seen Fay. He’d be so happy if you’d bring her over just for a few minutes. It’s all he talks about.’

  ‘Apart from lying about what he did you mean?’

  Her mother let out a small groan. ‘He didn’t do it. I know that now and I can’t forgive myself for not sticking by him.’ She glanced round and lowered her voice. ‘It was dreadful for him in there. He won’t tell me much, but he has nightmares and … Oh, Rosie, to think we let him go through that alone for all those years.’

  ‘He deserved it. Deserved much worse
for what he did.’

  Marion leaned forward, whispering so fiercely her breath tickled Rosie’s cheek. ‘But he didn’t. He loved Alice; he could never have killed her. I don’t know how we could have let them persuade us. And as for the rest, what they suggested, I never believed that. It was too horrible. I would have known if he was interfering with her.’ She twisted to look into Rosie’s face. ‘You’ve said yourself: he never touched you like that. Well, that proves it, surely.’

  ‘Maybe I was too young. Or not pretty enough.’

  Her mother’s shudder made the plastic table shake. ‘You don’t believe that.’

  Rosie felt like screaming at her to shut up, but she took a deep breath and made herself speak. ‘What I know is that, if he was innocent, he could surely have made a better job of defending himself at the time. Even I could see his story didn’t hold up properly and I was desperate to believe him.’ Her voice was shrill enough to stop a small boy in his tracks. He stood staring at them, a red ice lolly sticking from his mouth.

  ‘Billy, come on, Billy.’ He continued to stare, crimson juice dripping onto his white Tshirt. A woman was beside them now, taking his hand. ‘Oh, Billy, look at you. Come and sit over here till you finish that.’ She shot a glance at them that said very clearly it was their fault.

  Rosie looked towards the play area and her mother followed her gaze. Fay and Harriet, running through a maze of foam shapes, waved and laughed at them. Rosie waved back then turned to Marion again, lowering her voice. ‘Just because he’s convinced you – made you believe what you want to believe – that proves nothing.’

  ‘He has evidence but he wants to let it lie. Can’t face any more police or lawyers.’

  Rosie stood up. She needed to get away. Couldn’t hear this. ‘I’ll go for those teas.’

  At the counter, she was able to talk and smile as if nothing was happening. But her hands were shaking and the teacups rattled in their saucers as she put them on the table.