Every Little Secret Read online

  A glass domed clock on the Welsh dresser built up its rasping click to strike the half hour with the clear tinkle of a bell.

  ‘Dad bought that for Mum when I was born.’

  ‘Is your dad still around?’

  ‘No, he died when I was at school.’ She put their empty mugs in the sink and led the way back into the hall. ‘Let me show you around. It’s in dire need of modernisation as you can see.’

  ‘I can get that sorted.’

  ‘Everywhere will need doing except the study. I’ll probably keep that as it is.’

  Max followed her into the living room. Even with the light on it was dark, filled with chunky oak furniture. There were overgrown plants on every available surface. One had reached the ceiling, stooping over like an elderly man.

  ‘It would certainly brighten it up in here with a fresh lick of paint,’ Max said, calculating in his mind all the prep work that would be needed.

  ‘But I’d like to update it too, perhaps sell some of the furniture. I’m afraid my parents’ tastes were very old-fashioned.’

  ‘Everyone likes different styles, don’t they?’

  ‘And those old curtains have to go.’ She pointed to the faded, emerald-coloured material. ‘I’ve never liked them.’ She tried to open the door to the dining room. ‘Sorry, can’t get in here at the moment, it’s a bit of a dumping ground.’

  Max craned his neck round to see in. He’d never seen anything like it, beautiful pieces of old furniture stacked up to the ceiling, probably all priceless antiques. ‘I like this dressing table,’ he said, running his hand over the polished veneer.

  ‘That old thing? Its legs don’t match its body, they were stuck on at least fifty years later, which means it’s not worth much at all.’

  ‘You know your stuff then.’

  ‘Picked it up from Dad. He ran his own antique business.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘The whole house needs new carpets and curtains, maybe wallpaper on a few accent walls. Is that what they call it? What do you think?’

  ‘Sounds good. Whatever you want.’ He saluted her and they laughed.

  The worn carpet on the stairs barely held in the tarnished brass poles and in the bathroom the chequered floor tiles clashed with the avocado green suite.

  ‘Not seen one of those for a while. Very seventies. Coming back into fashion though,’ Max said.

  ‘You are joking?’

  ‘Yeah!’ He laughed, and she smiled, shaking her head

  ‘Can you do bathrooms?’

  ‘I’ve done a few.’

  ‘Good. I’d be willing to help, if you needed any.’

  Max winked at her. ‘I’m always happy with a helping hand.’

  They laughed and Maddy blushed. She pushed open a bedroom door. ‘I’m not in a hurry for the decorating to be finished so it would be perfect to fit around other jobs, if you want to take this on that is.’

  Max followed her onto the landing.

  ‘This was my mum’s room.’ She opened the door keeping hold of the handle. The orange patterned curtains were drawn, giving the room a strange syrupy light. There was a faint smell of urine, but he wasn’t about to say so.

  ‘And this is my room. I’ve tried to keep it looking nice over the years, but like everything else, it’s in desperate need of a change.’

  The daisy chain wallpaper looked more like something a young girl would choose. Under the window was a solid oak dressing table with three adjustable mirrors. On a matching chest of drawers stood a photo of what he presumed were her parents on their wedding day. A stiff looking couple if ever he saw one. Not even smiling.

  ‘There’s quite a bit to do then,’ he said as they traipsed back downstairs.

  ‘Please say if it’s too much.’

  ‘It’s not that. It’s just that it will take a while, weeks if I’m honest, months if I do find other work.’

  ‘Like I said, I’m in no hurry, believe me. After all these years, I can wait.’

  ‘When would you want me to start?’

  ‘It’s up to you.’ Her eyes brightened momentarily before she looked down again, as though she shouldn’t have spoken. He guessed she was quite shy at heart, which was cute.

  ‘I can crack on straight away if you want me to.’

  ‘Let’s both have a think about it over the weekend, shall we?’

  ‘Fine by me.’

  ‘And if you could put a quote together for me and come back, say, Monday?’ She opened the front door.

  ‘Sounds good, thanks.’ He held her gaze and made her blush again. There was definitely something special about her, a real sparkle. Gran would have loved her, that was for sure. And regular work, how could he say no to that? This could be the fresh start he needed. There was no going back, he’d got that message loud and bloody clear. He touched his bruised leg. It was about time his luck changed for the better.

  Chapter Seven

  Maddy: Late September 2019

  ‘The liaison officer came today to tell me the police are going to call off the search tomorrow night.’ Maddy sits with Sarah at the kitchen table after the school run.

  ‘But it’ll only have been four days.’

  ‘They’ve almost finished dredging the river and searching the surrounding area.’ She takes a teaspoon from the draining board and scoops a heap of coffee into each mug.

  ‘Don’t give up hope.’ Sarah rests her hand on top of Maddy’s.

  But Maddy can’t help fearing the worst. The last time she saw Max keeps flashing into her mind. He was going to work as usual, rucksack over his shoulder. He kissed her goodbye for the first time in ages. He smelt so good it made her smile with longing. But now she thinks about it, as he opened the front door, he turned to glance back at her and there was that same lost look in his eyes as when she first met him. And he hesitated. Oh God. He’d stared down at the floor then back at her. He’d wanted to tell her something. Why hadn’t she picked up on it? Damn! She should have talked to him while she’d had the chance to, but hadn’t wanted to make him late for work.

  ‘So that’s it, if they don’t find him, they just give up?’

  ‘They said there is nothing more they can do. A scarf was found by the riverbank. They think it’s his, but I can’t say for sure. Black, M&S, how many men have one of those?’ Maddy pours boiling water into the mugs and stirs in milk. ‘They said…’ Maddy’s voice breaks, ‘…his body may never be found.’

  ‘Oh Maddy, that’s awful. Is there anything I can do to help?’

  ‘Not really but thank you. You know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done. Sometimes I wonder how I’d cope without you.’ She’s helped her contact all their friends to let them know what’s happened. She thought it would make the national news, but apparently some bloke falling off a bridge is too ordinary to be newsworthy.

  ‘You’re more than welcome. We love having Emily over. She’s no trouble.’

  ‘Except for the bed-wetting.’ Maddy is grateful for her help but she wonders if Sarah would be as accommodating if Greg hadn’t left her. Sometimes she feels like she is Sarah’s project to distract her from meeting a new partner.

  ‘It’s not every time. It’s fine, really, you know I don’t make a fuss.’

  She’s read Sarah’s article on her blog. She knew it could happen in older children when they suffer a trauma like bereavement, especially someone close like a sister, but she didn’t know it could carry on for weeks. ‘She loves going to yours. You seem to understand her better than I do sometimes. We’re not always on the same wavelength.’ Maddy places the coffees on the table.

  ‘Don’t be so tough on yourself. We’ve talked about this a million times – you were ill when she was born – you missed a great deal of those crucial first weeks together.’

  ‘She blames me about Max, I know she does.’ Maddy sighs.

  ‘I’m sure she doesn’t.’ Sarah strokes Maddy’s arm.

  ‘I know he’s never forgiven me for… you
know.’

  ‘What happened to Emily wasn’t your fault. Max would be the first to say it. You’ve got to stop blaming yourself.’

  Sarah is being far too kind. Max may have forgiven her on the surface, but it has always been there between them. The damage can’t be undone.

  ‘And then Chloe dying so suddenly. Perhaps that’s why he did it.’

  ‘Max didn’t say anything to you about not coping, did he?’

  ‘Nothing at all.’

  ‘Would he really have jumped though? It’s hardly the Max we know, is it? Maybe it was an accident.’

  Maddy takes a tissue from her pocket and wipes her damp eyes.

  ‘Did you phone his business partner?’

  ‘Yes, but it was really weird. John says Max resigned the day before he went missing.’

  ‘That’s odd. Why would he do that without telling you?’

  Maddy shakes her head. ‘Why would he jump off a bridge? I don’t understand any of it. John said he was never in partnership with him either.’ She cradles her forehead. The side of her face has started to throb, a sure sign of a migraine coming. ‘I mean what on earth did he do with all that money I gave him if he didn’t use it to buy into the business?’

  Sarah sips her coffee.

  ‘Do you think John could be lying?’

  Sarah rests her mug in her hand. ‘Why would he?’

  ‘Because he was annoyed at Max being unreliable? What if they had a massive argument and he pushed Max in the river?’

  ‘Did the eye-witness see anyone else?’

  ‘They said someone saw Max fall in. What if that person was someone he knew? Someone who pushed him? If John is lying, how would I be able to prove it?’ Maddy stirs her drink, clattering the spoon round and round.

  ‘Max would have his copy of the partnership agreement, bank account details et cetera. We can soon prove that. Where does he keep his important paperwork?’

  ‘In the garage.’

  ‘Right, shall we go and check, clear this up right now?’

  The garage door swings open in a wide yawn. The aroma of oil and creosote wafts out. Years of her parents’ junk still takes up more than half the space.

  ‘He keeps them all up there.’ Maddy points to the highest shelf on the wall.

  Sarah helps her move the bikes out of the way and pulls the ladder out. Maddy climbs up. She drags out the first box file, named ‘New business 2017’. It’s heavier than she expected. She wipes off the dust and opens the lid. Inside is a pile of Top Gear magazines. She flicks through them. The papers must be underneath. But she can’t find any. She tips the box up to show Sarah and lets the magazines slide out into a heap on the floor.

  ‘Try another one,’ Sarah says.

  Maddy pulls the next one out: more magazines. She empties every single file onto the floor until the shelf is empty.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Sarah says.

  Not one piece of paper to prove that he was in business. Not even the agreement he showed her. Where the hell is it?

  Back inside, Maddy sits at the table, her face in her hands.

  ‘Oh God, come here.’ Sarah reaches her arms around her.

  ‘Why has he been lying to me and what’s he done with my money?’

  ‘Could he have put them somewhere else? Perhaps he moved them and forgot to tell you.’

  ‘I don’t know where. Perhaps John’s telling the truth.’ All she needs to know right now is what is going on. She rubs her bump. How can any of this be happening to their little family when she so desperately needs to speak to Max?

  Chapter Eight

  When Sarah has gone, Maddy marches into the garden. The dogs are tucking into the newly fallen apples. The gusty weather has died down for now. She yanks open his shed door and goes in. It feels wrong to be intruding, but this is too important. There are no folders or piles of paper on the shelves, only models and books about the phases of the moon and the moon landing. In the summer he recorded every programme on the landing’s fiftieth anniversary. He was obsessed with every detail of the old footage. She pulls open the drawer of the small desk tucked in the corner, but it’s full of junk, nothing relating to a business.

  She wanders outside, picks up the spade that’s leaning against the back gate and starts digging out the weeds. She mustn’t neglect the garden or she’ll regret it come spring. After her dad died, she took over all the gardening. Her mother let everything go to seed and wouldn’t let Maddy touch it to start with. But she would sneak out and do little jobs so that her mother didn’t notice and before long she was oblivious to it anyway.

  Maddy stands up and stretches her back. She hears a child laughing in a nearby garden and sees herself at Emily’s age running up and down the lawn playing tag with her dad then him bathing his feet in the paddling pool, splashing her with water so she shrieked and giggled. Her mother, cutting roses for the vase in the living room, smiling at the happy commotion. She remembers the summer parties they had with all the neighbours. Her father at the centre, captivating them with tales of his adventures around the world, her glamorous mother looking on.

  Her stomach pinches. A bitter taste rises from her throat. She was so young, it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly when things started to change – the arguments and her dad staying away took over and all the fun came to an end.

  She goes back inside and plods upstairs with a pile of Chloe’s ironed clothes. In the child-size wardrobe she hangs Chloe’s favourite party dress and in the bottom drawer she tucks the paint-splattered jeans she wore to help Max paint her room. There’s the T-shirt she wouldn’t give away, even though it was too small and the jumper Maddy knitted for her. She’ll take them out and wash them all again next week.

  Sitting on the bed, she folds back the pillow and smooths over the unicorn print pyjamas. She pictures Chloe bouncing into the room, arms open, launching herself at Maddy for a hug.

  At the window, her hand brushes away the invisible layer of dust. It leaves a grey shadow on her skin. She opens the window and wipes the specks into the passing air.

  As she leaves, a drawing of them on the wall above the bed comes unstuck. Daddy, Mummy, Emily and Me. When she presses the corner back, it immediately pops out again. She can hear Chloe’s giggle.

  Downstairs, she puts a saucepan of hot water on the hob and wanders into the living room. The sleepless nights are catching up with her. Lying on the sofa, she switches on the television, but soon drifts into sleep. She dreams about chasing Max, trying to make him come home. Everywhere she goes a line of blood trails behind her from an umbilical cord. When she catches up with him his face has changed, it isn’t Max at all.

  An hour later, she wakes to a faint nutty smell of burning. She staggers into the kitchen. The sleepy dogs plod after her. The empty pan hisses on the red cooker plate. The water has evaporated, and the bottom of the pan has burned. She can’t remember what she was heating water for. She switches the cooker off and drizzles cold water into the pan; it sizzles and turns cloudy. Max has told her so many times not to leave the kitchen while she’s cooking. Once, she gave everyone food poisoning from not cooking frozen chicken pies for long enough. Max was angry that he was too ill to go to work for the rest of the week. She’d joked that it was the longest time he’d spent at home in ages.

  Back upstairs, in Emily’s room, she struggles to push open the door. Discarded clothes catch underneath, wedging it open. Her collection of teddies is lined up neatly above the bed. Maddy takes a grey school dress from a pile of clothes on the back of a chair. It smells of cakes. She’ll give it a quick rinse, freshen it up for tomorrow. She opens the wardrobe and looks inside for Emily’s new school shoes. They’re not under the clothes that have fallen from their hangers. She reaches in further, feels around for something that resembles a shoe. Instead her hand lands on a fat bin liner. She finds the handles and tries to pull it out, but it won’t budge. Curious, she gives it another tug and out tumbles a pile of Max’s jumpers, T-shirts and sweat tops. She kn
eels on the floor, sniffing back tears. He can’t be dead. He’s alive and he loves her. He’ll need these when he comes back. She folds each garment neatly into the empty basket and carries them back to their bedroom. She’ll make sure they get back on track. They’ve both let things slide too far. She’s never liked asking him too many questions, she respects his privacy, but she needs to know what he’s done with her money.

  Downstairs, she stuffs Emily’s dress in the washing machine and switches it on. She takes an apple from the fruit bowl and a sharp knife from the draining board. The blade slides easily under the rosy skin. Her fingers turn the apple, revealing the pale flesh while the skin hangs in an irregular line. Her mother used to do the same with oranges. The peel cut away so perfectly she could put it back together as though untouched.

  The peel turns brown while she eats the apple, ready for the compost. She counts out six pips, takes them outside and scatters the seeds in the freshly turned earth. Hopefully one day they’ll grow into trees. Hot tears fill her eyes and spill out. Max will arrive at the crack of dawn tomorrow, waking her up with a lovely cup of tea like he always does. He’ll make sure he’s here to take them to the cemetery. He won’t miss Chloe’s sixth birthday for the world.

  Chapter Nine

  Max: March 2011

  When Max returned on Monday afternoon, he gave up ringing the bell and went around the side of the house. He unlatched the rickety gate and called out as he went in. Maddy was in the greenhouse by the back fence, planting seeds in a series of small pots. She wore a floppy hat, T-shirt and shorts. She didn’t seem to notice him at first. He touched a wooden wind chime hanging from a pear tree, just enough to make her look up without being startled.

  ‘Oh sorry,’ she said as soon as she saw him.

  ‘How are you, Maddy?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ She smiled. ‘Let me get you a cold beer. We must make the most of this spell of heat.’

  He followed her into the kitchen.

  ‘I was sowing lettuces, broad beans and carrots. I grow all my own veg.’ She rinsed her hands.