Her Deadly Secret: A gripping psychological thriller with twists that will take your breath away

Her gaze was steady, and he could almost feel her itching to note down his reaction. He forced himself to speak calmly although his heart was beating faster. ‘No. Lily wouldn’t have got involved with them.’

‘That’s not what Monique says. She says Lily started going there and met Samuel. Do you think Hannah knew?’

He tipped the rest of his coffee down the sink then turned to take the mug Loretta held out to him. It was obvious she was watching and waiting for more. Knew she’d hit a nerve. He put the tablet in the dishwasher, switched it on, and continued to stand, looking out at the garden. The shed door at the back was open, the grass needed cutting, and a couple of towels had been hanging on the rotary line for days.

‘Hannah was with them – The Children of Light – when we met,’ he said. He could feel Loretta’s eyes on him and had to turn and look at her. She wasn’t even pretending this was just a chat now. ‘But it was all so long ago and it couldn’t have anything to do with Lily.’

He told her the bare bones: that Hannah was an orphan, only eighteen, and he was a bit older, twenty-four. She had got mixed up with the commune when she became homeless. They gave her a bed, but she was fed up with the way they tried to run every aspect of their converts’ lives. Joe met her, they fell in love and that would have been it, but The Children made it difficult for them, kept sending people round to ask her to come back.

‘They threatened her?’

He’d almost forgotten Loretta was there. It must be one of the techniques they taught them – to become invisible. Be careful. He made himself pause and slow down. ‘I don’t think so. She just said they kept on about how she’d turned her back on the Light. Stuff like that. We laughed about it.’

‘And it stopped?’

‘Oh yeah. She hasn’t had any contact with them for years. Not that I know of anyway.’ Stupid, stupid, why did I have to say that?Hannah doesn’t keep things from me.

‘But she’d have been angry if Lily got mixed up with them?’

‘Not angry, no.’ He wasn’t falling for that one. ‘She’d have been …’ he searched for a neutral word, ‘concerned. We both would. I mean, that was why she was so keen to get away in the first place. Didn’t want Lily growing up there.’

‘Hang on a minute, Joe, I thought you said Hannah left them when you first got together. That would have been before Lily was born, surely.’

Oh, God, she didn’t know. Hannah hadn’t told them. He took a breath. Tried to speak casually. ‘No, because when I met Hannah she already had Lily. She was nearly two. I’m not – I wasn’t – her real dad.’ Very aware of her silence he found himself rushing on. ‘But Lily knew. We told her when she was old enough. She said it didn’t matter because I was all the dad she needed. I always treated her like a dad, loved her like a dad. Well, better than a dad if mine was anything to go by.’

He knew he was rambling, could feel her waiting for the words to dribble to a stop. The guilty-sounding words. But he couldn’t stop, even though his voice was beginning to waver. ‘I thought Hannah would have told you, but I suppose she didn’t think to. As I say, we all thought of Lily as mine. Well, she was mine. I adopted her.’

There was a pause before she smiled at him. It was a lovely smile, and he could almost believe it was genuine.

‘No, Hannah didn’t mention it, but never mind. It’s best if we have all the facts.’ She folded her arms, still with that gentle smile. ‘And the biological father?’

‘He’s never been in the picture, and Hannah didn’t want to talk about him.’ He was doing it all wrong again, but Loretta seemed satisfied. She glanced at her watch and stood, putting her bag over her shoulder.

‘Well, thanks for the coffee, Joe, and for clearing things up a bit more. It’s not easy, I know, to talk about the past at a time like this, but if we can get a detailed picture it can only help. Hannah seems a bit calmer today, but if there’s an emergency you’ve got my mobile number.’

When she had gone he went upstairs. Hannah was lying on the bed, her dark hair spreading over the pillow. She was wearing a sleeveless summer dress with a bluey green pattern. It was one he’d always liked, but she hardly ever wore because she preferred trousers. Her bare legs were stretched out and crossed at the ankles, her toenails still painted red, and he was filled with such a longing for her he had to bite his lip to keep back a gasp.

When he took off his shoes and lay beside her, as always, now, she turned to face the wall. He wanted to pull her round, force her to talk, but he was afraid of what she might say. What they both might say. Instead, he curled over and put his arm round her. She stiffened, then seemed to relax just a little.

It was enough. He pressed his face into her hair and felt the sobs wrenching out of him. Something deep inside tearing away. Then, unbelievably, Hannah’s hand, feeling so cold and rough he almost didn’t know it as hers, reached up and covered his.

How long he cried, gripping her cold hand, smelling her stale hair, he didn’t know but, finally, he slept.

When he woke, Hannah was gone.

Chapter Four (#ud6f98b2e-a18d-5fd9-bd14-a63d151d83b8)

Rosie

Fay was at the window before Rosie even registered the sound of the car. ‘Daddy. Daddy’s home.’ She bounced about and dragged at the curtain, threatening to bring it down, as Oliver pulled into the drive with a rattle of gravel.

He had been gone a week and, although they were used to his trips away and he’d rung home every night, Fay hated it. For Rosie, too, the house had seemed very empty.

They stood on the step, Fay still bouncing, until Rosie let go of her hand. Then she ran to throw her arms around her dad’s waist while he tried to lock up and deal with his jacket and briefcase. Watching them, Rosie couldn’t help smiling. They looked like an advert for the perfect family – or part of it anyway. She had the feeling that, if she joined them, everyone would say they’d miscast the mother.

As always, when she saw Oliver after he’d been away, she thought how good he looked. They’d spent a lot of weekends this year messing about on the little cabin cruiser they kept moored at Rye Harbour. He’d picked up a tan, and the way his short fair hair had been brightened by the sun really suited him. He swung Fay into his arms and kissed the top of her head, looking over to smile at Rosie: the sweet smile that made her heart glow.

Still carrying Fay, he struggled through the front door. ‘Now I need to breathe and to talk to Mummy for a bit please, sweetie,’ he said, lowering Fay to the ground and untangling her arms from his neck.

But Fay wasn’t going to let him off that easily. ‘I’ve done you some pictures. They’re in my room.’ She took his hand and pulled him across the hallway to the wide staircase as he laughed and raised his fair brows at Rosie.

Listening to Fay chattering away upstairs and Oliver’s soft replies, Rosie smiled to herself as she made coffee. When Oliver came down again, Fay trotting after him, she said, ‘Why don’t you show Daddy what a big girl you are and help him in with his bags?’

‘Good idea, I need someone with muscles but, first, can you find my keys? I think I dropped them upstairs somewhere.’ Oliver winked at Rosie as Fay turned and raced away again with an, ‘I’ll get them.’

As soon as she was gone he pulled Rosie to him. ‘That should keep her busy for a bit.’ Their kiss was long and warm, and afterwards, she nestled against his chest as he stroked her hair. She felt herself relax and all the anxieties about her mum and dad begin to ebb away. Oliver was here now and together they could deal with anything.

‘I’ve missed you, Rosebud,’ he said. ‘And I need a lie down. Will you come up and tuck me in?’ He raised his voice as Fay appeared at the top of the stairs. ‘And, look at that, the car keys were in my pocket all the time.’

Rosie smiled. ‘You go up. I’ll bring you some coffee.’

She gave Fay a cup of juice and a biscuit to have in front of the TV and stood at the living room door. When it was obvious that her daughter, lying on her tummy, a chocolate digestive suspended in front of her mouth, was absorbed in Thunderbirds Are Go, she carried the two cups of coffee upstairs.

Oliver was in bed, his clothes scattered on the floor, and she put the coffees on her bedside table and curled up close to him. They lay for a while, breathing together, but when he began to undo her buttons she pulled away. He sat up, rubbing at his fair hair until it stood in spikes. ‘What’s wrong?’

She passed him a cup of coffee. ‘It’s just, with Fay downstairs—’

‘That’s not all, though, is it?’ When she didn’t answer he said: ‘Fay told me you’d seen Marion.’

She pulled her shirt closed. ‘Mum turned up outside the school, and Fay would have thrown a wobbler if we hadn’t gone with her.’

‘But you didn’t go over there, did you?’

‘Of course not.’

He picked up a T-shirt from beside the bed, his voice muffled as he dragged it over his head. ‘This isn’t going to stop, you know that. And, eventually, you’ll give in to her, like you always do.’

A spurt of anger made her get up and walk over to the window. ‘This is different. Do you honestly think I’d let Fay anywhere near that place with him there?’

One of her buttons was loose, hanging by a single thread. ‘Damn it.’ She snapped it off and tossed the button onto her cluttered dressing table, knowing she’d probably never find it again.

They both started as the door opened and Fay stood there, her face pinched. ‘You were cross, Mummy, I heard you.’ She had always hated raised voices, but lately she seemed to have developed antennae that vibrated at the slightest hint of tension between her parents.

As always, Oliver knew what to do, grabbing her and throwing her on the rumpled duvet. ‘It’s just,’ tickle, tickle, ‘your bad-tempered mummy,’ tickle, tickle, ‘getting cross,’ tickle, tickle, ‘because she lost a button.’

Fay was soon an exhausted bundle of giggles, and Rosie felt a surge of love for them both. This was her family, not that pathetic old pair in Bexhill. When she and Oliver made love tonight, she’d tell him she wanted another baby and that he was right: they needed to get away from here. They had talked about moving abroad ever since Fay was born, but Rosie had always worried about leaving her mum. Well she could forget about that now. Just the thought of her parents living together again after all her mother had said made her feel sick. She wanted to be as far from them as possible. If she stayed here, she would never escape Alice’s death.

‘Fay, you have something for school to finish so leave Daddy to get changed and come down with me.’