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

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СКАЧАТЬ ‘There was nothing missing in Lily’s life, and she had a perfectly good home.’

      The fucker was still smiling. ‘She wasn’t happy; surely you could see that. Or were you away so often you didn’t notice?’

      Don’t let him get to you. ‘I just want to see this boy.’

      Jerome shook his head, the smile still fixed. ‘I’ll have to ask you to leave, Joe. I understand you’re distressed, but I can’t tell you anymore than I have. I know nothing about any boy.’

      The door opened and two of the brethren – a couple of hulks with faces like Easter Island statues – stood there. Jerome began tapping at his laptop. ‘The brethren will see you off the premises.’

      Joe looked at the hulks. There was no point in arguing.

       Rosie

      Rosie had persuaded herself she was just going for an aimless drive in the country to try and clear her mind. But here she was again in Sedlescombe, the village where she was born, parking opposite their old house. The house she lived in until she was fifteen. The house where Alice died.

      She and Oliver had discussed the move abroad in more detail last night. They’d almost decided to go last year when he wanted to change jobs. But her mum was having a bad time then, knowing her ex-husband might soon be out of prison, and Rosie hadn’t felt able to leave her. So, Oliver had joined a firm of corporate solicitors in London.

      He wasn’t happy there, and he was right that things were different now. ‘You gave up so much to stay near your mother. Don’t you think you’ve done enough?’ She never got to be a proper student: to live away, to make friends, to kick up her heels. Had no choice but to go to Sussex University, travelling home every night to the bleak flat in Bexhill they’d moved to after the trial, trying to be cheerful, to pretend they were living a normal life. If it hadn’t been for Oliver she would have gone mad. And her mum hadn’t been happy when she started seeing him either. Kept telling Rosie she was too young to get serious. Making her feel guilty whenever she went out with him.

      And after all that, look at what Mum had done. Rosie owed her no loyalty. And if they went far enough away from England, there would be no question of her turning up at the house or Fay’s school. No chance he might turn up.

      France was no distance these days. She could still teach music there and maybe English as well. Oliver was really fired up with the idea, and Rosie just wished she could feel as excited.

      The old house was in a quiet tree-lined lane on the outskirts of the village and, as always, she was tempted to walk up the path to the front door. As if she could go in and find the place just the same as it had been and somehow stop it all from happening.

      The living room curtains were open and she could see a sofa at the back with a shelf of books beside it. It looked almost as it had when she lived here; the way it looked on that awful day.

      And here they came: the memories.

      * * *

      She’s 14 and sitting on a bus, on a beautiful summer’s day, at the start of the school holidays, but she’s really fed up. Dad drove her to her tennis lesson but, just as she got out of the car, he handed her some money. He needed to go shopping, he told her, and might not be finished in time to take her home, so she should get the bus. She’s had to sit on the bus sweating in her tatty old shorts and T-shirt. A boy she fancied from school got on and she turned away to look out of the window. But she was sure he’d seen her, with her shiny face and hair in two messy bunches.

      If only she wasn’t on her own, but, of course, Alice had refused to come, hinting she had her period. Rosie guessed she was lying, as usual. Probably knew they wouldn’t get a lift back.

      Now she’s chewing a torn nail and thinking that if this is how it’s going to be for the rest of the summer then she can’t stand it. Nothing is going right. Alice is a moody cow and Mum and Dad keep arguing. That’s probably why Mum’s gone to spend the weekend with Aunt Meg. It crosses Rosie’s mind, not for the first time recently, that her parents might get divorced.

      As the bus passes the village green she checks it out, thinking Alice might be there. Alice pretends to hate the local kids, but Rosie knows she hangs out with some of them. It’s not fair because, even though Rosie goes to school with them, they still call her stuck-up and don’t seem to think that about Alice.

      Their house is outside the village, so, when she gets off the bus, Rosie has to walk up the hill. By the time she reaches home she’s boiling. She’s got her key in her pocket and she could let herself in, or she could walk around to the back gate and through the French windows, but instead, she gives the bell three fierce buzzes, to make Alice stir herself. Of course, she doesn’t answer and Rosie has to use her key. Music is blaring out from the living room, but the door is closed. If Alice is going to be like that, she’ll just ignore her …

      And that was where the memories became hazy and it all got mixed up with what she’d said to the police in her various interviews, as well as what they’d told her, what Mum had said, and what she’d read or heard later.

      She knew she’d run upstairs to take off her sweaty shorts, T-shirt, and socks and pull her dressing gown over her bra and pants. Then she’d apparently gone down to put her tennis kit in the washing machine. She couldn’t actually recall doing that, but the clothes were certainly there when the police asked what she had been wearing. She must have put her stuff on to wash because Mum was away and Rosie thought she might play tennis again the next day.

      How long was it until she heard Dad moving about downstairs? She wasn’t sure. The bathwater was running and Alice’s music was so loud it was difficult to hear anything else. And it had caused problems with the police when she couldn’t give them a proper estimate of the time Dad got home.

      After that things were clearer …

      She’s in the bathroom when she hears the front door closing and Alice’s music go silent. Dad must have told her to turn it off.

      But the silence doesn’t feel right and she goes to the top of the stairs to peer over.

      Dad is standing at the open living room door. Just standing there in a bright beam of sunlight. Rosie can’t see his face, but he must have heard her because he turns and looks up.

      Then she does see his face. And she knows something awful has happened.

      She runs down but, as she tries to go past Dad into the living room, he grabs her, holding so tight it hurts. His expression makes her stomach lurch. ‘No, Rosemary, don’t …’ But she can see already.

      Alice is lying on the floor next to the sofa, all sort of twisted. She wants to go to her, see if she can help, but Dad is still holding her arm and he just keeps saying, ‘Wait for the ambulance. There’s nothing we can do.’ Which is mad, they have to do something, can’t leave Alice lying there.

      Then – and she’s not sure how this happens – she’s sitting on the stairs, feeling sick and weak, staring at Dad as he shouts into the phone. ‘She’s hurt. She’s bleeding … Yes, I said, it’s bad.’

      And the ambulance is here and the medics are in the living room. Someone is saying there’s nothing they can do. They say Alice is gone, even though that can’t be right. She can’t be gone. She can’t be dead. Not dead. Not Alice …

      They’re СКАЧАТЬ