Every Little Secret Read online

  ‘Get some ice cubes,’ Tom shouted and pulled Max’s head up for a few seconds. ‘Breathe,’ he said in Max’s ear.

  Then he was in the water again, ice cubes bobbing against his raw skin. The men’s voices muffled, blood pumping loudly in his ears. He didn’t recognise the miniature scarlet face in the shiny plug, the swollen slit eyes reflecting back at him. He couldn’t breathe. He grabbed at Tom’s sleeve and tugged hard. The pressure on the back of his head eased and he lifted his head. He took in a deep breath. The water on his skin burned like acid. Tom pushed him in again.

  At last the burning sensation began to subside as his face became numb.

  ‘The ambulance is here,’ he heard Bob say.

  Tom pulled Max up and shoved a towel into his hands.

  ‘Catch the drips,’ he said. ‘Don’t touch your face with it.’

  They sat him back in a chair and he caught a glimpse of the elderly woman staring at him, like a ghost standing in the corner waiting to take him to the next world. His face started burning again. As if answering his prayer, a paramedic appeared in front of him with what looked like a piece of skin. He placed it on Max’s face, moulding it gently around his nose and eyes. It soothed the pain while he was led to the ambulance. As the doors closed, all Max could think of was his mobile phone left on the mantelpiece.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Maddy: October 2019

  The day dawned with a widespread frost over much of the British Isles with freezing fog in places. A light sprinkle of snowfall quickly turned to rain as the temperature rose. Snow has been heavy in parts of Wales, Scotland and Northern England.

  Maddy switches off the radio.

  These trips are becoming a daily occurrence, but she can’t help herself. She’s constantly on high alert. Her family has been invaded. No wonder it’s impossible to sleep. Sitting behind the wheel is getting more uncomfortable as the bump grows bigger. She ought to be at home with her feet up instead, but she needs to find out where Max is and what he’s been doing with this woman all these months, why he’s been lying to her.

  Her drive to Huntingdon is taking much longer than usual because everyone is driving slowly. Today, she can’t afford to be late. Everything is arranged. In her head she can hear her mother’s voice advising her on what to do to make this bitch suffer.

  When she arrives in Lawn End, the Nissan is still on the drive. According to Alison’s kitchen calendar, she has the morning off. Good, at least she’s not gone out, as she worried she might. Maddy parks at the end of the road, keeping the front door and driveway in view.

  While she’s waiting, she opens Facebook and checks Alison’s page. Checking her page has become automatic. There’s still nothing to indicate that she knows where Max is. She doesn’t expect him to have a Facebook account under his Adam name, but she checks through Alison’s whole list of 573 friends just in case. She must be used to him being away for long periods because about seventy per cent of the time Max was with Maddy.

  Alison’s posted a message on a colourful background in shouty text:

  HAS ANYONE SEEN ADAM? HE’S NOT BEEN IN TOUCH FOR WEEKS, BUT IT LOOKS LIKE HE’S BEEN COMING IN THE HOUSE WHILE I’M OUT!!! WHAT’S GOING ON???

  Maddy scrolls down. Alison has posted photos of his jeans and ironed T-shirt and opened pile of post. There’s another post that she added that Maddy didn’t see before:

  A woman offered to take Jamie home from a party this afternoon – said she used to work with Adam and knows where we live. Any ideas who this is? Weird huh? Creepy/not creepy?

  She’s added the messages to Instagram too. Although she’s tempted, Maddy doesn’t click ‘like’ in case she draws attention to herself.

  Five minutes later, a van hurtles around the corner and pulls up next to the house. Right on time. One man in overalls climbs out and flings open the rear shutter while the driver knocks loudly on the front door. It’s only a few moments before Alison is shouting at them. She stomps outside, arms crossed. The second man has a fridge freezer on his trolley, ready to wheel into the house. Alison shakes her head but the driver points to his paperwork. It will be Alison’s name printed there. She’ll assume Adam has ordered it.

  Somehow, Alison persuades the men to take the fridge freezer back. As they close the van doors, a florist drives up behind, blocking them in. A man carefully takes out a large funeral wreath. The driver of the fridge delivery van unwinds his window and says something. Alison opens the front door, shouts and shoves the man so he stumbles backwards. She slams the door shut. He curses out loud and leaves the wreath propped up against the wall. He has specific instructions to leave it there, no matter what, even if the recipient seems hostile. Grief does funny things to people, Maddy told them.

  It is another half an hour before Maddy sees the side gate open and Alison wheel the dustbin out to the pavement. Ducking down, she can just about see her wander out to the road, hands on hips looking in her direction. Any moment, Maddy expects her to march over and bang on her window, demand to know what she’s up to. But a woman is calling out to her. Maddy strains to see above the steering wheel. It’s an old lady from the house next door. The two neighbours meet in the middle of the cul-de-sac. Alison chats with one hand supporting her back. Twice she points to her house and in the direction of the car. Maddy sinks lower in her seat as far as her bump will allow her. She grips the handle of the door. They look as though they’re about to storm over. She’ll have to start the car and back out as fast as she can. But one of them spots the wreath. Alison strides over, her hands are over her mouth. She picks it up and chucks it in her garden waste bin.

  Maddy takes a deep breath and peeks over the wheel one more time. The old lady waves goodbye. Alison goes back through the gate. Maddy puts a hand to her chest. Her heart won’t stop thumping. She starts the car, hands shaking and checks in the mirror to back out of the road. A smile leaks from her lips but when she blinks it’s her mum’s face beaming back at her.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Alison: October 2019

  Alison arrives home from the shops with a couple of house plants to replace the dead ones. She doesn’t want Adam to think she can’t look after them. She hands a couple of bags of shopping to Jamie to take to the door and picks up a couple herself.

  A full-length mirror is propped up sideways against next door’s skip, a big crack in the glass. Can’t be theirs, surely. She stands in front of it, the lower half of her legs and new kitten heel slingbacks are displaced in each broken piece. Jamie pulls at the door handle, whinging that he’s missing Batman. She lets him in and he dips under her arm while she’s still holding the key in the door. A large parcel addressed to her has been brought inside. Must be her new suede boots. The dog runs past her, onto the drive. She calls him back in and he follows her up to her bedroom. Her mirror, normally against the wall by the window, has gone. ‘What the hell?’ she says aloud.

  She stomps downstairs again and opens the back door. The dog charges past her into the garden. Jamie has parked himself in front of a children’s cartoon channel. Outside, part of the hallway is reflected in the mirror, showing all the toys that have ended up along the skirting board covered in balls of dog hair, like tumbleweed mixed with grit and mud. Her mouth opens, letting out a vapour of shame. So this is what her house looks like to other people. She stands closer to the mirror, her hands resting on her hips, arms out.

  She rings next door’s bell and waits for an answer. Just when she’s going to turn away, Jill answers the door. She’s barefoot, her toenails ridged and yellow like claws.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Jill raises two badly drawn eyebrows.

  ‘Don’t suppose you saw Adam put this here?’

  ‘Sorry, I’ve been out all day. Don’t you want it?’

  ‘I didn’t put it there.’ Adam must have been back again. Is he clearing out her stuff?

  ‘Sorry love, too busy packing; we’ll be out by the end of the week.’ She picks at the flaky skin on her
chin; a large piece spins to the ground like a sycamore seed.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Alison sighs. She pictures all the skin she, Adam and Jamie must have shed in their house, collected together as a grey shroud of dust on the TV, in between the rungs of the banister, everywhere. Adam must have noticed the stack of magazines tucked behind the front door and the cobwebs on the ceiling. Piles of papers line the stairs like a frill; Lego bricks are still scattered across the living room rug. Is this why he isn’t talking to her? He knows she hates cleaning. Doesn’t he think she’s good enough to be his wife?

  She heaves the mirror back inside and drags it up the stairs. Once it’s in place she lies down on the unmade bed to get her breath back. Something dark on Adam’s pillow catches her eye. Several long dark hairs are caught in the brushed cotton. She sits up and shudders. Sandra has dark hair, but is it this long? Is it her doing these weird things? But why? She needs to speak to her. Between her thumb and forefinger, she pinches the hairs and drops them in the toilet, giving it a full flush.

  * * *

  The next day, a wall of heat hits Alison as soon as she opens the front door. There’s no way she left the heating on high. Poppy is panting but the water bowl is full. The new house plants have wilted. They were fine this morning. The earth is so dry it has cracked open, separating itself from the edge of the pots. She collects the crisp brown leaves and scatters them in the heap of compost out the back. Adam would be proud of her; he’s always nagging her to recycle.

  A pair of trainers she’s never seen are behind the kitchen door. They’re his size and there’s the smell of sweat in the air. Why doesn’t he wait for her to come home for God’s sake? What’s he up to? There’s a used mug in the sink, placed on top of yesterday’s plates and a pan of cooked onions has been left on the hob. She leans forward and has a sniff. That’s where the smell is coming from, and they’re still warm. Has he started cooking dinner, popped out for wine and will be back in a minute? Maybe he wants to apologise for his behaviour. He’s opened his mail and squashed it into the letter basket. But no note. She’s going to tear into him for treating her like this.

  Thoughts overlap in her head. She’s used to him being secretive and being away, but this is ridiculous. She needs to know if things are okay between them. He must realise this is stressing her out. And poor Jamie, it’s hardly fair on him wondering where his dad is.

  She waits around but after half an hour she chucks the onions in the bin and cooks Jamie a sausage pasta ready meal.

  * * *

  After he’s gone to bed, she sits on the sofa with a mammoth glass of lemonade. The microwave pings. The lasagne is overcooked around the edges, but she cuts it in two and dishes it up. It’s too hot to eat.

  There’s a light tap on the front door. Julie is standing there teetering on high heels and holding a bottle of Rosé.

  ‘Sorry, started drinking without you.’ Alison laughs and goes back to the kitchen. She puts both plates on a tray and carries them in. Julie is pouring herself wine and then tops up Alison’s glass with lemonade.

  ‘Cheers Julie, thanks for the baby shower, it was lovely.’

  ‘You’re welcome, darling,’ she says. ‘Sorry about Jaz, I wouldn’t have invited her if I knew she was going to be in that state.’

  ‘It’s not your fault. Anyway, I wanted her to come. She’s been a good mate.’

  ‘Not heard from him yet then?’

  ‘Not even a message. I keep texting and calling, but his phone’s always switched off. He’s been here though, opened his post, but he makes bloody sure it’s when I’m not in.’

  ‘He probably wants to calm down, have some time to himself.’

  ‘But it’s been weeks. How long does he bloody need? We have to talk, not hide from each other.’

  ‘You know what men are like, it’s a macho thing, they need to feel in charge.’ Julie was married and divorced within two years. Single ever since. Never a good thing to say about men.

  ‘Whatever it is, I can’t go on like this and I can’t keep making excuses to Jamie.’

  They chink their glasses.

  ‘I brought our favourite: Muriel’s Wedding.’

  Alison forces a smile. ‘I’m not really in the mood for that. What are those ones?’ She points to the plastic bag on the floor.

  Julie takes all the DVDs out and lays them on the table.

  ‘I don’t fancy any of them, do you?’

  ‘It’s up to you, you’re the one who needs cheering up.’

  ‘Let’s put some music on.’ Alison puts her glass down and leans over the back of the sofa, ‘Something to chill us out.’ She switches on an Amy Winehouse album, Back to Black and skips straight to song two. It was the first thing Adam bought her after they started going out. He must have saved up for it for weeks because it hadn’t been long since his gran died and he needed to pay rent on his room above the fish and chip shop. He was so sweet to her then, worshipped her. She sighs. Shame they never really got those old days back.

  They sit with their feet up on the coffee table, both singing the chorus of ‘You Know I’m No Good’ at the top of their voices.

  ‘Are you sure this was a good choice?’ Julie laughs. Before Alison can reply, the telephone rings. She slides her legs down and picks up the receiver.

  ‘Hello?’ Silence. ‘Adam, is that you? I can’t hear you, I need to speak to you.’ The line goes dead. ‘Shit. I couldn’t hear a thing.’ She lifts a magazine from a pile under the coffee table and pulls out a packet of cigarettes.

  ‘I thought you’d given up.’

  ‘I have, but Adam keeps an emergency supply.’ She shows Julie the half-empty packet with a mini lighter tucked inside. ‘He hides them in the laundry basket because he knows I’ll never get to the bottom of it.’ She offers the packet to Julie.

  ‘Just the one.’

  ‘Second thoughts, I better not.’ Alison clicks the lighter for Julie. ‘I just can’t settle. Adam’s been away so often before and it’s never bothered me. Why do I feel so… on edge?’ She opens the patio door and paces around the room.

  ‘You parted on a really bad note. Plus, you’re pregnant. Your hormones are all over the place.’

  ‘But why not just text me?’

  ‘He’s never been away this long before, has he?’

  Alison shakes her head.

  ‘Maybe you should tell the police?’

  ‘But he’s not away, is he? He’s coming home when I’m not here, deliberately avoiding me, giving me the silent treatment, tormenting me.’

  ‘I don’t know then. It doesn’t make sense. Have you tried leaving him a note?’ Julie shakes her head and pours herself another glass. ‘I honestly thought he was the sort of person who’d want to clear the air.’

  ‘He lets things stew if something’s bothering him. I’ll leave him a note but I’m going to try and catch him out when he’s here.’ Alison raises her glass to Julie.

  ‘Good for you. How are you going to do that?’ Julie blows smoke towards the door and watches it billow out.

  ‘Try coming home at a different time maybe? I need to know what’s going on. I keep having this feeling that he’s never coming back.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. He adores you.’ Julie chucks her cigarette stub outside and closes the patio door.

  ‘He disappeared before.’

  ‘That’s hardly the same. Your dad paid him to stay away.’

  ‘That’s what Adam told me, but now I’m wondering if it’s true.’

  ‘Look, the argument can’t have been that bad, can it? Anyway, you’re having his baby. For all his faults, Adam is not a bastard. I mean, he doesn’t knock you about, does he?’

  ‘You didn’t hear him. He said we’re never getting married, ever, as though there’s something really wrong about it. Like he doesn’t love me anymore.’

  ‘He’ll be back when he’s ready and you’ll make up with him like you always do.’

  Alison frowns. ‘I’m not sure I should tak
e him back after this.’

  ‘Don’t you love him?’

  ‘Does he love me? Anyway, look at me, Jules, I’m bloody huge. It’s not much of a turn on, is it?’ She leans back and spreads herself out on the sofa.

  ‘You are not, darling, you’re gorgeous.’

  ‘Rob keeps coming on to me at work, so maybe I’m not so bad.’ She finishes her drink.

  ‘There you go then.’

  ‘Told me I deserve better than Adam. That if he was my boyfriend, he’d do anything for me.’

  ‘Sounds like you’re enjoying a bit of attention.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s really sweet, but not my type.’

  ‘Now then, what about a comedy, to cheer us up?’ Julie switches on the TV to an episode of Friends.

  The telephone rings again. They glance at each other. Alison picks it up. This time she stays silent, imagining Adam speaking in some far-off place, assuming she can hear him. She waits for a snatch of his voice, but there’s nothing. She senses that the silence is occupied. Someone is listening, waiting for her to speak. She can hear faint breathing. Then the muffled sound of the phone being moved. The line is cut, and she’s left with the droning sound to confirm it.

  ‘Who was it? You look upset.’

  ‘No one spoke but I’m sure someone was there.’ She shakes her head. Was it Adam? What’s going on?

  Audience laughter fills the pause.

  ‘Maybe there’s something wrong with Adam’s phone.’ Julie flicks her hair behind her shoulders.

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘How can you tell, if you couldn’t hear anyone?’

  ‘I heard someone breathing and I don’t think it was Adam.’ She dials 1471. ‘It’s a withheld number.’

  ‘But who else would it be?’

  ‘A crank caller.’

  ‘Maybe someone you know who comes in the shop?’

  ‘But how would they have my home number?’ Alison prods at her lasagne with a fork.