Keep My Secrets Page 18

  And then she stopped with a gasp. There was sudden, acute pain, like something giving inside her: a stabbing punch that knifed into her belly and slammed into the top of her skull. She instantly doubled over.

  ‘Frankie… Frankie? Can you hear me?’

  The floor came up to greet her. All she was aware of were endless shoes moving in front of her eyes in a strange kind of dance. They moved oddly, and then white trainers took their place as the marbled floor began to billow slowly in an ever-increasing ripple.

  ‘I’m only twenty-nine weeks so I’m fine,’ she heard herself say. ‘The baby won’t be born yet.’

  She didn’t remember much else.

  * * *

  There were the snatches and drifts of memory, like a camera angle that was focused off centre. Other recollections were sharp and clear: a stretch of ceiling lights, ribboning above her head in a dizzy stream of yellow, the sound of sirens, a patch of sunlight on a wall, a box of surgical gloves with the cardboard top torn raggedly, dust motes spiralling in a cone over flashing and beeping machines. She knew they were there to keep her daughter alive. A daughter, someone said. You have a girl.

  She remembered the feel of her head on the pillow turning to look at her baby’s tiny frame. The drugs twitching her frog legs taut, her tiny chin shivering. Frankie closed her eyes and thought about the things she wanted to tell her: how she’d always be there to look after her, how she’d never leave her alone, how she’d face the worst horrors in the world just to make sure she stayed safe. She remembered a doctor and a nurse sitting on her bed with that look on their faces. She knew exactly what their look was saying: was she capable of any of those things? Could she even look after herself?

  She kept her head under the covers for what felt like days. She remembered hearing Vanessa’s and Peter’s voices as they sat by the side of her bed for hours as she pretended to be asleep. She couldn’t face them. What had she done?

  Slowly, she emerged. The hospital noises grew louder, the curtains swished back and forth a hundred times a day. She ate, she drank. She didn’t allow herself to think. She sat watching her little daughter in that fish tank of a plastic crib, knowing that one day she would take her away from this place, because she would get better; she had to get better. Hours and days passed. She thought of where they might go: somewhere quiet, the seaside maybe, just the two of them. They would sit and watch the waves, listening to the sea grass rattling beside them and watching the sunset blazing into pure lilac. They’d sit in hollowed dunes with the soft pink shadows creeping, hiding them from everyone. ‘Your name is Chloe,’ she whispered through the plastic wall. ‘And you’re all mine.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘How are you both doing?’

  ‘Oh!’

  Jude was standing behind her in the doorway. She was smiling, gently, looking round at all the machines and wires. Frankie’s embarrassment stung: hot and smarting.

  ‘I’m okay. We’re okay.’

  Jude tiptoed over and peered into the incubator, the shock of such a tiny little thing registering on her face and then she smiled.

  ‘You don’t have to look like that, Frankie.’ She raised an eyebrow and gave her a sideways look. ‘Vanessa and Peter have stayed in contact with me. They told me you were pregnant.’

  Frankie looked at her, stunned.

  Jude gave her a wry smile. ‘The three of us came to an agreement. They convinced me you were being looked after properly, so I knew you were safe.’

  She had no idea.

  ‘I could have intervened at any point, but I’ve learned over the years that being ‘text-book’ doesn’t always give you the best outcome, Frankie. After all, I knew where you were, even if the circumstances weren’t what could be described as…’ She chose the word carefully. ‘…Umm… Orthodox.’

  Frankie bit her lip.

  ‘So now I understand why you were so keen to get involved in going to court,’ Jude said gently. ‘I get it now. You did a very brave thing there, Frankie.’

  She didn’t feel like that at all.

  ‘It wasn’t brave. I was a total coward. Vanessa and Peter—’

  ‘Vanessa and Peter just want to help.’

  ‘But they must hate me.’

  ‘I know how it must feel, Frankie, but they don’t. I’ve spoken to them at length. They are genuinely warm, kind people. They see you and that baby as victims of circumstances beyond your control. You two are innocent in all this as far as they’re concerned.’

  ‘But I’m not though, am I?’

  ‘Well, yes, they feel angry, yes, they’re upset and confused over what you did and didn’t do, but they also know that you’re just a kid. That you got mixed up in something that was way, way over your head. No, you didn’t do the right thing in the beginning – you should have told the police that you saw Martin and Charlotte together – but you did the right thing in the end, and that’s what counts. Your testimony and witness statement will be crucial in making sure that Martin goes to prison for a long time. Vanessa and Peter have been told it could be fifteen years. That has to be something, doesn’t it?’

  The idea of that length of time made her head swim. It felt like a lifetime.

  ‘Martin Jarvis is the guilty one here, not anyone else. That’s what you have to remember. All this blaming yourself for not coming forward sooner,’ she waved the idea away. ‘That just lets him off the hook. We all need to concentrate on building positive relationships. You have your whole life in front of you, Frankie. Vanessa and Peter know that. That’s why they’re offering you a home, you and…’ She looked at the name plaque. ‘…little Chloe.’

  Frankie felt her eyes widening in shock; she’d never dreamed…

  ‘You’re eighteen in a couple of months. You’re an adult, a free agent to live where you choose. Take the offer. Live with Vanessa and Peter. Let them provide you with a firm family base while you get yourself some qualifications and a job. Be your own woman, Frankie. Put all this behind you and move forward. Don’t drag the past round with you forever; let it go.’

  She nodded silently. She couldn’t bring herself to speak.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered finally.

  ‘Thank yourself,’ nodded Jude. ‘You’re the one that’s going to be amazing.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  Which meant Jude signed the paperwork for the remaining two months of guardianship. Chloe was doing well, so there was no reason she couldn’t be discharged. Vanessa and Peter came into the hospital smiling and happy and Frankie immediately burst into tears.

  ‘Hey, hey…’ Vanessa’s arms went around her. ‘There’s no need for all that. You did the right thing. Without you, Frankie… without you…’ She stopped and pushed her back to look into her eyes. ‘He’s not going anywhere for a long time, but we know where he is. That, at least, gives us a little peace for a while.’

  Frankie looked into her eyes and believed her. She believed because right that minute she would have believed anything. She was so tired, so exhausted. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it, tell me what to think and I’ll think it. It was as though she was functioning but with someone else pulling the strings. All she wanted to do was lie on the floor and close her eyes until the world stopped spinning and she could finally get off.

  She’d done everything that was required. She’d filed the witness statement for the court, given evidence, in camera, so that she didn’t have to face Martin. She allowed everyone to think that she had changed: grown up, taken the right path and done the right thing. So why did she feel so dead inside? It was as though she was on a moving treadmill, being taken into a foreign country where everything felt wrong and bizarre. Vanessa was always there by her side, constantly smiling. This was the right thing… Of course it was… Giving her statement against Martin… Telling the truth… Agreeing to live with Vanessa and Peter… Of course it was the right thing.

  The day she moved in she stood in the living room. Jack was sitting sullenly on the sofa a
s Vanessa and Peter flapped around her, manoeuvring her towards an armchair and gently taking Chloe from her arms and laying her in a brand new white and pink bassinet with matching covers.

  ‘This is too generous.’ She looked up at them. ‘You’ve already bought the car seat and you’ve told me about the cot and changing table. You mustn’t keep buying things.’

  But Vanessa waved her away. ‘Oh, it’s nothing. We like getting bits and pieces, don’t we Peter? It gives us something nice to focus on.’

  Peter was already in the kitchen, whistling tunelessly as the kettle boiled.

  ‘I’ll make us all sandwiches, shall I?’ She fussed excitedly. ‘I’ve got tuna, and cheese and tomatoes and salad…’ She went through the whole lot, reeling off lunch and then what she had planned for dinner as Frankie watched Jack’s face growing more and more bleak and stormy.

  ‘Sounds perfect,’ Frankie attempted to reassure her. ‘Anything, really. I’m starving.’

  Vanessa finally pottered off into the kitchen still twittering about food, as an uneasy quiet descended.

  ‘Go and look upstairs, quick.’ Jack jerked his chin, glancing at the ceiling. ‘Go and look what they’ve done.’

  Frankie glanced at the kitchen door and then at the sleeping Chloe before creeping into the hallway and tiptoeing up the stairs. The door to Charlotte’s bedroom was no longer closed. It sat open now. The bookcase against the far wall was still there, but that was the only remnant of the past.

  It had become a nursery. The wallpaper was sprigged with pink flowers, as were the curtains. The bed had gone, and a white cot stood in its place. There was a white changing table stocked with nappies and creams and wipes, and a rocking chair was laden with big, blush velvet cushions. She gazed at it all in shock and then went to the room next door. It was spartan and functional as before: the computer, the printer, the bed pushed against the wall; it was all still the same.

  She made her way back into the living room and Jack raised his eyes to meet her gaze. See? his expression said and then he flashed a look towards the cot. Frankie immediately went over but Chloe wasn’t there. She panicked. She could hear Vanessa cooing and crooning in the kitchen as she stormed her way in. Vanessa was sitting in the saggy old wicker chair with Chloe in her arms, feeding her from a bottle.

  Frankie’s breasts ached. Her arms longed to take her.

  ‘What’s going on?’ She tried to say it as calmly as she could. Vanessa glanced up.

  ‘Oh, you weren’t there. She was hungry.’

  ‘I only went upstairs.’

  But Vanessa only smiled and shrugged and stared down at the baby again.

  Peter was standing at the sink, gazing out into the garden, seemingly lost in thought. ‘If you want things to be perfect, it’s all in the planning,’ he mused to no one in particular. ‘I’m so glad we did all the groundwork. That’s the secret to success, really.’ He turned to look at her, smiling. ‘I think I’ll get out there for a bit while it’s still sunny. Now, wellies… are they in the porch or did I leave them in the shed? That’s the question.’ He went to move past her, brushing the back of her hand as he did so. A jolt of alarm tingled up her forearm and she moved it away.

  ‘Gosh, I bet you’re shattered, Frankie.’ He paused, wrinkling his nose in concern. ‘I think we’ve got this all covered down here. Why don’t you go for a lie down, hmm?’

  Frankie stared at Vanessa’s bowed head. She was humming to the baby as she fed her but then stopped suddenly and lifted her eyes.

  ‘Look at us!’ She gazed round with a strange smile on her face. ‘Look at us, a proper little family again!’

  Peter went over and crouched next to the chair, reaching out to gently stroke the baby’s cheek. Frankie felt a whole surge of protective rage coursing through her veins.

  ‘It’ll be wonderful to watch her grow, won’t it?’ Peter smiled round. ‘We’ll be here to see her bloom and blossom into a young woman. Don’t you think that’ll be amazing?’ He caught Frankie’s expression. His smile froze.

  ‘Why don’t you take my advice and go upstairs for a little sleep, eh? Your room’s all ready and waiting for you. Don’t fret about Chloe. We’ll take good care of her. She’s in expert hands, don’t you worry about that.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  Frankie lay in her room listening to the sound of her baby crying downstairs. The tears leaked from her eyes, clucking into her ears and making the world go silent. She’d had weeks of this. The milk inside her swollen breasts felt hot and sore. It was excruciating. The thought of moving an inch brought her out in a cold sweat. A tiny sob hiccoughed in the back of her throat as she listened to Chloe’s cries getting smaller and smaller and Vanessa’s soothing tones. There was nothing to do but cry: for the pain she was in, for her hatred of Martin, for what had happened to Charlotte, for all the things she’d done and hadn’t done in her life. How she would love for everything to go silent and just stop. She really prayed it would – that she would never have to hear or see anything ever again. She honestly wished she were dead.

  Chloe hated her.

  She knew it.

  She felt it every time she picked her up, feeling the baby kick and squirm and turn her face away. Each shriek and wail said the same, her tiny fists punching into the air, furious and rejecting – until Vanessa picked her up. Then she would lie against Vanessa’s shoulder, hiccoughing as her sobs faded, her big grey eyes staring in accusation. I hate you, the look said. I’ve seen inside you. I know what you are.

  Everything Frankie did was wrong; every way she held Chloe made her scream. She could hear the tut in Vanessa’s voice as she bustled over to the rescue, trying to show her for the hundredth time how to hold her properly, how to change a nappy, how to get her into her onesie – how to be any kind of mother.

  She was rubbish; she knew it. She’d been abandoned in that house with the rubbish for a reason; it was clear for everyone to see.

  * * *

  ‘I did try and tell you what was going to happen, didn’t I?’ Jack was standing in the kitchen doorway.

  She was at the sink rinsing Chloe’s bottles. A bottle. An instant reminder of what a failure she was.

  ‘It’s not you, it’s them.’ He deliberately kept his voice low. ‘I told you what they’d do but you didn’t believe me. They’re taking away your confidence with your own child – they’re constantly undermining you. I can hear them; I see them doing it whenever you go near her. Chloe is fine, but they’re making you feel like you’re crap. You’re not. They’re trying to take over. You know deep down what’s happening. What I don’t understand is, why aren’t you fighting back? Why don’t you fight for your daughter?’

  She looked at him.

  ‘Don’t you see? They’re trying to replace Charlotte.’

  The horror of his words struck something deep inside her. She didn’t say anything; she just looked back at her daughter lying asleep in the baby chair. Chloe’s lips twitched a little as she dreamed her baby dreams.

  ‘You have to get out of here, Frankie. Somewhere they won’t know where to look.’

  ‘And go where, and do what?’ She shook her head. ‘They’re right. I’m not any good for her. I have nothing. How would I live? I know I won’t be able to look after a baby on my own. I’ll never manage. For a start, the authorities will never let me. I’m still in Vanessa and Peter’s care, remember? There’ll be case workers and social workers and health workers and court hearings, until they decide I’m unfit to look after her.’ She realised she was breathing hard. ‘And maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m just being selfish, and it is impossible.’

  ‘Unless I was with you.’

  She thought she must’ve misheard him. Her hands paused in the running water.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘You heard.’

  She shook out a bottle and put it on the rack. ‘That’s a lovely, kind, generous offer Jack,’ she smiled sadly. ‘But we both know it’s a fantasy. That’s not real
life.’

  ‘It is real, and I do mean it.’ The stairs creaked and they both anxiously looked round.

  ‘Jack—’

  ‘I have money. I have friends who’d help us.’ He glanced quickly over his shoulder again.

  ‘You have money?’ She frowned a little. ‘But a bit of money won’t go very far. It’s really sweet of you, but—’

  ‘No, I mean I have money. Proper, serious money. This is no life for either of us here. We have no future. This is what I want: you and me and the baby. We’ll disappear. People do it all the time.’ His eyes were wide and desperate. ‘You’re eighteen really soon which means you’ll be free… But would you do it, though? Would you take the risk? It’d be massive.’

  She almost laughed out loud. This could not be happening.

  ‘You mean all this, don’t you?’ She knew it was just talk, but it felt as though a weight had been lifted. It was lovely to pretend that she could have a life; not the one she’d dreamed of, but a life that wasn’t about being managed and controlled. She felt like screaming hysterically, the stress of all the last few weeks bubbling up inside her ready to explode.

  ‘Let’s do it.’

  She could see by his face he was deathly serious.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Let’s do it.’

  She shook her head at the impossibility of it all.

  His face lit instantly with excitement. ‘Just leave it all to me. I know how to make it happen. We’ll go quickly, we’ll take very little; it’ll make it easier. After we’ve gone, I’ll tell Dad and Vanessa that we’re fine and not to worry about us. I’ll sort it, I promise.’

  ‘But when?’

  Was she actually considering this? Really? Truly?

  ‘Soon. Play the game, Frankie. Don’t let them think that anything is wrong. As soon as we’re both ready, we’ll be gone.’