Keep My Secrets Page 16

  The thudding inside her ribcage shook the covers as her eyes cast nervously about the room. There were metal shelves stacked with files of paperwork against one wall. A desk in front of it, a computer screen, a printer. Each shape contained its own squat blackness. She memorised it, so that she could tell if anything moved.

  Nothing did.

  Sleep was impossible. Her thoughts began to tumble over themselves: whispering shadows… Charlotte… Martin… Vanessa… the necklace… Jack…

  The wind sent a scramble of rain against the window and the curtain twitched.

  Sighing, she closed her eyes briefly and then opened them, staring into the darkness. Nothing’s going to happen, she told herself. Just get through these next few hours, that’s all. You’ll be fine.

  A few minutes passed, maybe more, when suddenly she became aware of a band of light. It moved slowly across the floor, stretching under the door in a thin strip of pale moonlight. She watched as the line came and went, came and went, as though something was moving through it, slowly back and forth. There was a rustle and a soft creak of a floorboard and she realised that it was the sound of someone pacing.

  Her eyes swept madly; the seconds felt like a lifetime. All the images of earlier in the bath came flooding back: the shape, the sound of the whispering, the feel of those fingers touching her spine. Then the pacing stopped. She watched the patch of darkness growing deeper. Something was moving closer. She stared, willing it to stop – and then, to her horror, she saw the door beginning to inch open.

  Her eyes wildly scanned the black gap opening up before her. She gripped the covers closer to her chin. The door stopped. The moonlight replaced the blackness in a stripe of grey light.

  There was only silence.

  She held her breath.

  Still silence.

  A gust of wind moaned again, the rain smacking the glass, harder this time. The edge of the door juddered a little, shivering in the draught, as it moved gently back and forth. She let her breath go.

  The bathroom window… It didn’t close properly, did it? That was all. Just the bathroom window and the doorcatch not latched.

  Swinging her legs from the side of the bed, she reached for Vanessa’s dressing gown and pulled it on. Tiptoeing onto the landing, she waited a moment, hoping she hadn’t woken anyone. The house was quiet. She glanced toward the bathroom door; she could feel the chill even from here. She took a careful step, trying to remember if any of the boards creaked. One tiny tiptoe as she eased her bodyweight forward, the carpet cushioning each tread.

  Two more, and she’d be at the top of the stairs.

  Her fingers brushed the wall to steady herself. She reached the doorway of Charlotte’s room but something made her look round.

  An eye looked back at her.

  It was red and blazing, a hooded outline beneath it hung there, long and shapeless, its silence dark and black and staring.

  The shock sent her stumbling forward, her hands flailing for the bannister as she slipped with a shriek down the first few steps, skidding and juddering until she landed in a heap at the bottom.

  There was an immediate blaze of light as Peter appeared, bleary but wide-eyed, scrambling down the stairs after her.

  ‘Oh my god, Frankie!’ He reached down to grab her, but she was already hauling herself to her feet. Vanessa was close on his heels.

  ‘What’s happened? What’s the matter?’

  She immediately scooped her up, arms around her, holding her up, smoothing her hair and the tears from her face.

  ‘Frankie, Frankie, Frankie,’ she kept saying.

  ‘I saw…’ she blubbered. ‘I saw…’

  ‘What did you see? Are you hurt?’ Vanessa kept checking her up and down. ‘Another nightmare – was that it?’

  ‘I wasn’t dreaming – I wasn’t.’

  She saw Peter and Vanessa exchange a look as they both began to lead her into the living room to the sofa where they banked her up with cushions and a throw that Peter pulled over her knees and tucked in.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  Jack appeared in the doorway rubbing his eyes.

  ‘Another nightmare.’ Peter looked over at him. ‘That’s all.’

  Jack knelt at the side of the sofa and took her hand. ‘What did you see, Frankie? What was it?’

  ‘Let’s not go there right now Jack, shall we?’ Peter snapped. ‘She doesn’t need interrogating.’

  Frankie saw something in the glare that passed between them.

  ‘I saw an eye.’ Frankie looked from one to the other. ‘An eye staring at me. In Charlotte’s room. The door was open.’

  Peter looked up at Vanessa. ‘Go and see what it could have been, could you, Nessa? Just to put Frankie’s mind at rest.’

  Vanessa nodded. The three of them stayed silent as they listened to her soft footsteps creaking their way up the stairs. There were several minutes, and then the sound of her coming back down again.

  ‘No, that door is firmly closed.’ Vanessa came to stand in front of her. ‘As in, pulled shut.’

  ‘It was open,’ Frankie insisted, staring up at them. ‘I swear to you, that door was open.’

  Peter bent and put his hand on her knee. She could feel the heat through the blanket.

  ‘Well, it’s not now. Do you want to go up and check for yourself?’

  She felt the pressure of the squeeze. Her eyes caught his, but his expression stayed the same: kind and concerned as ever.

  ‘No,’ she said with a little shake of the head, sniffing. ‘No, I don’t. Thank you, though.’

  ‘Good. That’s good.’ He patted her hand and straightened, smiling round at Vanessa and Jack. ‘There we are then.’

  She felt her cheeks colouring.

  ‘It was my fault,’ Jack said suddenly.

  They all looked at him.

  ‘I told Frankie a ghost story earlier. Well, kind of a ghost story. Something Charlotte once told me.’ He looked at his father. ‘I shouldn’t have. It’s my fault.’

  ‘A ghost story?’ Peter’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘Stupid, really.’

  Peter opened his mouth to say something else but Vanessa interrupted. ‘Hey, look, we’ve all got a heavy day tomorrow so let’s not get involved in a fight. Now, are we all ready for bed?’

  ‘Would you mind if I didn’t?’ Frankie suddenly blurted. She couldn’t face the thought of going back up there. ‘Would it be okay if I stayed down here? I don’t think I’d be able to sleep anyway.’

  ‘Of course you can!’ Vanessa soothed. ‘I’ll bring the duvet and pillows down and we’ll make you a nice comfy bed on the sofa. No problems at all.’ She disappeared upstairs and then came back with armfuls of bedding.

  ‘Here.’ She slotted one of the pillows behind her. ‘You can watch TV if you want, too.’ She picked up the remote.

  ‘I’ll stay with her,’ Jack said firmly. ‘To keep her company for a bit.’

  He sat, making it clear he wasn’t going anywhere.

  Vanessa smiled uncertainly. ‘Okay then. If you need anything, Frankie, you know where we are.’

  ‘Thank you, I’m fine.’ She smiled back.

  ‘We’ll say goodnight, then. See you in the morning.’

  Peter stooped forward and kissed her briefly on the forehead. She was aware of his breath, the sudden closeness of the stubble on his chin. There was a smell about him: strangely sweet, like rotting apples. She felt herself go pink.

  ‘We’ll look after you, Frankie. That’s all you need to remember. You’ve given us so much just being here. Never feel embarrassed about feeling overwhelmed – our home is your home.’ He stood, surveying her for a moment before collecting himself. ‘Okay then. Night-night you two.’

  She and Jack waited, listening to them making their way up the stairs and the click of their bedroom door. Frankie hugged her knees and Jack let out a massive sigh.

  ‘I warned you, didn’t I? I warned you what they were like.’

  ‘I did
see something though, Jack… And that door was open.’

  Despite the warmth of the duvet, she found that she was shivering.

  He glanced at the door and she anxiously followed his eyes.

  ‘Frankie… Frankie… Hey, come on.’ He took her hand. The pressure of it was comforting. ‘What I was trying to say earlier – it came out wrong. It’s not that my dad and Vanessa are bad people, they’re just stuck. It’s their grief and their pain that brings its own kind of weird energy into the house. Everything is heightened. I don’t know if you’re hooking into that weirdness, but whatever it is, it’s not healthy. I told you, now you’re here, it’s like they’ve got her back.’ He looked at the door again. It was making her nervous.

  ‘And once you leave and if Martin Jarvis gets off tomorrow…’

  Just the mention of his name made her feel ill.

  ‘I think it will kill them. After losing Charlotte. I don’t think they’ll survive it.’

  Frankie saw the score lines under his eyes and around his mouth. He looked older than his years. He lifted his head to look at her. ‘And then there’s you, Frankie. You must be torn both ways: part of you must want him punished; part of you must hate the fact that he’ll be leaving you with a kid.’

  Frankie hugged her knees closer, trying to protect herself from his words. The baby quickened and turned inside her.

  The pain lines in Jack’s face deepened. ‘Charlotte’s death is at the centre of everything. It’s like we’re all haunted by her: what we did, what we didn’t do. We’re all thinking we could have stopped it happening in one way or another: if Vanessa and my dad hadn’t smothered her, if I hadn’t gone with her to that party, if you hadn’t had that row with her, if only, if only, if only – and the truth is, until we can put her ghost to rest, none of us will get any peace.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Now

  The sound of her phone slams her back into the present.

  There are seconds where it drills and jangles into the car’s quiet interior before she manages to look at it.

  Christ, Alex.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m—’

  ‘And don’t say you’re with Declan. I already know you’re not.’

  Her brain swarms into panic. ‘I wasn’t going to say that.’ What’s Declan said?

  ‘You were going to phone me. You said you wouldn’t leave me to worry. So where are you?’

  She glances quickly at the clock. Shit.

  ‘You can tell me the worst, whatever the truth is. What’s going on?’

  She wonders for some gut-churning minute if he followed her here and is sitting in his car watching her right now. She takes a surreptitious glance around, but if he’s here, she can’t see him.

  ‘Has something else happened at work?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Diane.’

  ‘What about Diane?’

  ‘I thought that’s why she was trying to get hold of you. She didn’t reach you then? She said your phone kept going to voicemail, so she rang here. I thought maybe it was bad news.’

  Frankie quickly glances at the screen and sees there are three voice messages.

  ‘Ah – no – I don’t know how I missed them. I’ll contact her now. I called into the office – I realised I needed some files that I can’t access at home. Christ, the time ran away with me. I—’

  ‘Oh, and the police rang.’ He doesn’t sound convinced.

  Her stomach does a little flip. ‘They rang you?’

  ‘Yeah… It was a really odd conversation. Julia said they couldn’t find a Matthew Jarrow on the system who’d been convicted or released recently. She said they couldn’t find anything on the police files about him at all… Strange, isn’t it?’

  She opens her mouth to speak.

  ‘So I asked Diane about him.’

  Her mouth closes again. There’s a moment’s silence.

  ‘Did you hear me? I asked Diane about this Matthew Jarrow and him harassing you. I told her I needed to know exactly what kind of man he was.’

  She thinks she’s forgotten to breathe.

  ‘And what did she say?’

  Everything stops.

  ‘She said it must’ve been before you worked for her, while you were still at the Ellesmere Port office. She said she remembered several cases where—’

  But his voice fades as her brain scrambles. She feels light-headed with relief. Diane, bless her, had taken the question in her stride.

  He pauses. She realises he’s asked her a question.

  ‘Sorry, the phone cut out. Say again?’

  ‘I said I was sorry for storming off this morning.’

  The guilt of where she’s sitting right now, washes up and over her in a hot tide of shame.

  ‘It was stupid and childish and could only make matters worse. There are two sides to every argument, and you feeling that you couldn’t confide in me makes me feel terrible… More than terrible. I hate the way I found out, but I hate even more that I was going to just walk out. That’s not how a partner is supposed to behave—’

  She wishes she could stop him talking right now. The guilt squirms and burns.

  ‘There’s no need, Alex. There really isn’t.’

  ‘Yes, there is. I want you to know how bad I feel. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’

  ‘Alex—’

  ‘I’ve got to go over to the community centre this afternoon. I’ll go shopping for dinner on the way back. You’re coming straight home now?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So how about we talk about stuff over dinner tonight? Like, properly talk. I want us to be a team again. I want it to be us against the world.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, so do I.’ She tries to breathe normally.

  ‘—Oh and Frankie?’ She can hear the smile in his voice. ‘I love you, you know.’

  ‘I love you too.’

  ‘Bye, love.’

  ‘Bye.’

  The call ends and her hand drops. The phone lies there warm against her palm. She stares at it for a few moments. He’s going to find out; he’s going to find it all out and then he’ll see her for what she is. This is madness. She feels as though she’s standing in front of a wall of water. She can hear the sonic boom of it, a great roaring in her ears that’s getting louder and louder. She glances up as a shaft of sunlight dazzles from in between the houses. She raises a hand to shield her eyes. She knows she can’t stop it; it’s coming for her and right now she’s utterly powerless.

  The sunlight glints and moves and then she notices the figure by the gate. It’s oddly familiar. She pauses, and then there’s one great leap of realisation. It’s Jack. She almost laughs out loud at the sight of him. He takes a look back at the house, and then comes walking around the front of the car. He hesitates for a moment, pretending to look right then left as though checking for traffic but then quickly opens the door and slides into the passenger seat.

  ‘Oh my God, Jack! Is it you?’

  He grins back at her. Real and solid and right here, sitting beside her as though the last fifteen years haven’t touched him.

  His head ducks to look up at the house again. ‘Can I make a suggestion?’

  ‘I can’t believe—’ she starts.

  ‘I suggest you start that engine pretty smartish.’ He leans back in the seat so that he’s not visible from the windows. ‘You drive, then we can talk.’

  Her hands respond automatically as she starts the engine, managing to the end of the road where she halts with a jerk and looks round.

  ‘Which way?’

  ‘Any way you please, we can just pull up somewhere.’

  She drives a little further, finds a turning and pulls into it, yanking on the handbrake and slumping back in her seat.

  ‘Jack! I cannot, cannot believe—’

  He shakes his head, as though he, too, is stunned to find himself here.

  ‘When you rang earlier, I had this premonitio
n that you’d turn up. I’ve spent all morning trying to distract Vanessa—’

  ‘That was you, in the background?’

  He nods. ‘I visit her. I live nearby to keep an eye on things.’ He twitches a small smile.

  ‘It’s been too long.’ She studies his face. Still the same, kind, Jack.

  ‘Far too long. I’m sorry I didn’t—’

  ‘No, don’t be.’ She holds up a hand. ‘I know how difficult it was back then. I wouldn’t have come here Jack, it’s just—’

  ‘I know. You’re scared. We’re all scared. None of us know what he’s going to do. If he goes to social services; if he alerts people to the situation—’

  The situation. What they did.

  Neither of them speaks as the memories come flooding back.

  He clears his throat. ‘I thought of you a lot you know, over the years.’ He looks at her with real affection. ‘I still feel terrible. I could have, should have, helped you more—’

  ‘You don’t have to feel anything, Jack. I was a kid, a child, who was having a child. It was impossible.’

  ‘It didn’t have to be impossible.’ He sounds almost angry.

  ‘We were both kids. We were both in a mess. I don’t suppose we could have helped anyone, least of all each other.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right there,’ he says bitterly. He rests his elbow against the door ledge and touches his forehead gently with his fingers. ‘I knew though, didn’t I? I knew it, I was there, warning you, and yet we both blundered into it blindly like we were sleepwalking or something.’ He rubs his forehead as though he would like to erase the memory.

  ‘You make it sound like—’ She stops before saying the words.

  ‘A trap,’ he says sullenly. ‘That’s what it was: a grief-driven, ghost-ridden madness that we all got sucked into.’

  Frankie shook her head.

  She’d left her baby. Christ. Was that the way it had been? No. It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t all planned and orchestrated, they wouldn’t have gone that far. It just happened – a whole train of events: one, then another, and another. That was the truth. Wasn’t it?