The Secret Within: A totally gripping psychological thriller with a jaw-dropping twist Read online

  The Secret Within

  A totally gripping psychological thriller with a jaw-dropping twist

  Lucy Dawson

  Books by Lucy Dawson

  The Secret Within

  Don’t Ever Tell

  The Memory

  White Lies

  The Daughter

  Everything You Told Me

  His Other Lover

  You Sent Me A Letter

  What My Best Friend Did

  Little Sister

  The One That Got Away

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  *

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  *

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  *

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  *

  Epilogue

  The Daughter

  Hear More From Lucy

  Books by Lucy Dawson

  A Letter from Lucy

  White Lies

  The Memory

  Don’t Ever Tell

  For GP, SD, CD and GD.

  Four generations of inspirational women.

  Author’s Note

  The Exeter Memorial Hospital, the Royal Grace Hospital and the Goldtree Hospital group are fictional. The Westmare caravan park and the Fowles hotel in Lyme Regis do not exist in real life either.

  Prologue

  ‘Shhh! I’m not going to hurt you! I’d never do that.’ I loll back on the comfy hotel mattress and wait. Those big, anxious, baby blues stare back at me, shining in subdued lighting.

  ‘We can stop this any time you like, OK?’ I smile. ‘This is about you being totally comfortable with everything we’re doing. Is it all right for me to carry on now?’

  A hesitation. ‘Yes.’ The reply is little more than a whisper.

  I reach for the roll of thick tape. ‘Shall I do your wrists first?’

  As they are offered to me, I take a moment to marvel at how slender they are – the network of delicate veins running up the arm… such incredible complexity beneath that pale, almost translucent skin. Beautiful. True to my word, I bind them with care, but tight enough to do the job, cutting the roll free with my pocket knife before smoothing down the severed end. I like a neat finish.

  ‘I’m not sure I want to do my ankles too?’

  I swallow down a sigh. ‘Well – it’s up to you, but…’ I shrug.

  A nervous bite of the lip. ‘OK – I’ll do it.’

  That’s more like it. I move quickly while we’re still in this decisive mode, before sitting back to admire my handiwork. ‘Try and work yourself free…’ I watch carefully for any loosening but I’ve done an excellent job. ‘There we are! We’re ready…’

  ‘Wait!’

  Oh, fuck me.

  ‘I don’t think I want to do this after all.’

  Yup – here we go… My smile tightens. ‘I’ve just finished binding you.’

  ‘I shouldn’t be doing this. Can you take me home? I want to go home to my family.’

  ‘Hey, hey!’ I soothe. ‘This is what you said you wanted, remember?’

  ‘I thought I did, but I don’t anymore. Can you cut me free, please?’

  I hesitate – and watch those eyes widen again: this time, with fear.

  ‘You’re cross with me.’

  ‘No, no!’ I say truthfully. ‘I’m not at all. I promise.’ Because this was entirely predictable; having doubts when it comes to the crunch is only natural.

  ‘I did think I wanted to do this but turns out I’m not brave after all.’

  I get up, walk to the door and double-check that it’s locked.

  *

  July 2017

  One

  I needed the two men sitting on the other side of the table to trust me.

  Our meeting had been billed as an ‘informal’ coffee, but I knew full well they had the final say in my getting the job. While there was a post in the department that had to be filled, if these two didn’t want me joining their team, it wouldn’t matter how well I’d done in the earlier rounds of interviews. They’d put a stop to my coming to the hospital – and that was unthinkable: far too much was riding on this.

  As they put their phones on the tabletop and settled themselves, ready to begin, I tried to remain relaxed; smiling as I picked an imaginary piece of lint from my trousers, shifting slightly in my chair out of the direct sunlight shining in my eyes. I focused instead on the cloudy lines on the table, left by the last quick wipe down it had been given. It takes as little as a tenth of a second to form a first impression of someone’s personality, based on their face. One of the most useful things I was ever taught as a rookie plastic surgeon, was to always smile at my patients – because then they will trust me and that will make them feel safe.

  It’s actually a false misconception, because there is no link between having a friendly face and being trustworthy, but we’re all built that way regardless, so when I meet people before I operate on them, I look confident. I tell them I’ll take good care of them, even though the very first thing I will do when they are laid out unconscious in front of me is hurt them – albeit for the greater good. Once anaesthetised you’re defenceless; you can’t blink, you can’t breathe for yourself. You are at the mercy of other people, keeping you alive. So, patients are incredibly brave and the very least they deserve when they are frightened is someone to trust – me.

  I lifted my gaze and let it rest on both men. The older of the two felt it, looked up and automatically grinned back. ‘Right! Let’s get started! So, I’m Hamish, I… oh, I’ve forgotten my sugar.’ He frowned down at his drink. ‘Hang on.’ He jumped up, but as a man with a waist of reasonable girth, he accidentally jogged the table, making the liquid dance out of our mugs. ‘Damn, sorry both! I’ll get some napkins too.’

  He hurried to the stand of sachets and spoons by the till, and I turned my attention to his colleague. ‘This is a very swish new coffee shop!’ I commented, lifting my cappuccino to my lips. It was tepid and tasted like the milk had been strained through the seat of one of the burnt leather sofas that were dotted artfully around the room. I wished I’d asked for the water I’d wanted, instead.

&n
bsp; ‘Isn’t it?’ he agreed. ‘We haven’t got enough beds, but at least we have double roast.’

  I shrugged helplessly, and he sighed. ‘I know, right?’

  Hamish returned, dumped a pile of paper napkins over the largest spill, wiped his hands on his trousers and sat down again. ‘Where were we?’

  You were just about to wonder – now I’m sitting right in front of you – if everything you’ve read about me in the papers is true.

  Each of the headlines I’d memorised word for word flicked through my mind before I could stop myself.

  ‘Arrogant’ Surgeon Suspended

  * * *

  Spurned Surgeon ‘Threatened Medical Director and Patient Safety’

  * * *

  Vindictive Surgeon Demonstrated ‘Dangerous Lack of Respect’ for Protocol

  Still squinting, I moved my chair further to the right so I was out of the sun’s glare completely. I was starting to feel hot – despite sitting under an aggressive air-conditioning vent – but Hamish was too busy with his sugar to notice my discomfort, tugging at the corner of his sachet vigorously. We all watched the crystals fly everywhere, bouncing over the table to land in the sad coffee puddles. I stayed diplomatically silent.

  Hamish bit his lip. ‘Tan, can you take over, please?’

  His right-hand man cleared his throat. ‘Sure. So, I’m Tanveer Husain.’ He repeated his earlier introduction, nodding at me. His voice was quiet and shy. ‘I work closely with Hamish. I guess your first question is: do we think this is a good place to work?’

  ‘It is really – yes,’ I agreed.

  ‘Well, regional posts in hospitals like this genuinely are…’ Tanveer hesitated, before continuing delicately, ‘dead man’s shoes. They don’t often come up simply because no one wants to leave. Hamish can vouch for that. He’s one of the longest-serving team members in the department. How many years is it now, Hamish?’

  Hamish had happily sorted himself out and sipped his coffee. The flesh of his neck bulged over his tight collar as he swallowed. He needed the next size up. ‘Lord, more than I care to remember.’ He brushed some rather unruly sandy hair out of his eyes. ‘Tan’s right – I’m part of the furniture now, but the good thing about the way everyone stays put, is we all have the chance to really get to know each other and function as a cohesive whole.’ He smiled and placed his cup down, folding his hands in his lap. ‘Although that’s not to say the department is complacent, outdated or static as a result! We’re definitely holding our own!’ He looked dismayed and immediately moved his hands back into sight, on the table. ‘If you get my drift.’

  ‘Obviously, it’s not perfect,’ Tan caught my eye. I thought I saw a flash of dry humour. ‘Personally, I was really unsure about moving to the area when we relocated from the Midlands – it’s not exactly “ethnically diverse” down here.’ He sat up a little straighter. ‘But it’s been great for my kids.’ He reached out for his coffee. ‘They haven’t looked back.’

  ‘That’s really good to know.’ I decided to acknowledge the elephant in the room. ‘I just want to get it right this time.’

  ‘That’s understandable, given your recent experiences.’ Tan’s voice was sympathetic, but I noticed Hamish had crossed his arms. ‘In lots of other hospitals, as you know, the dinosaur age is almost over,’ Tan continued. ‘The old-boy network will have retired within the next ten years; it’s nowhere near so white, or so middle-class male anymore. Here, we’re behind that curve in the hospital overall. While I can tell you that there is definitely room for improvement balance-wise, bullying or intimidation will not be tolerated.’ He held my gaze unfalteringly.

  ‘Thank you, that’s good to hear too,’ I said.

  ‘It’s actually very encouraging that we’re attracting the attention of candidates of your calibre.’ Hamish jabbed a finger in my direction, his jacket lifting, revealing deep-set wrinkles in the linen that suggested it hadn’t been cleaned recently. ‘We want to build on our reputation that this is a progressive department. You’d be sharing an office with both of us and one of the other consultants, a chap called Nathan. He’s sorry he can’t be here but it’s one of his private practice days.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ I assured them. ‘I’ve met almost everyone else now. I’ve got enough of a picture to know I’d enjoy working here.’ I could have punched myself in the face the moment the words were out of my mouth. I sounded desperate. No one is attracted to desperation.

  Tanveer smiled. ‘You’d be with the better of the two plastics teams, if that helps make your decision any easier?’

  My decision? I froze for a moment. Was this as good as in the bag? I laughed. ‘I’ve no doubt that’s true.’

  ‘You really would be warmly welcomed. I hope you’ll come here,’ Tan assured me.

  I sensed a sincerity in both his words and demeanour, which was so comforting I almost began to relax, but not quite. That the Devon and Cornwall Trust were even considering employing me full stop was a miracle, given I’d legally and very publicly forced my last employers to reinstate me after I’d been escorted off the premises, handily tipped-off journalists shouting questions as cameras were shoved in my face. If I was now this close to securing a post here, I could not afford to trip up in sight of the finishing line.

  So it was only once we’d warmly parted company, that I allowed a little spring in my step and my smile to spread as I followed the signs back to the main hospital entrance. They said it was my decision. They wanted me…

  The automatic doors opened and I stepped out into glorious Devon summer sunshine. I took a moment to slip off my jacket and roll up my sleeves, feeling the warmth beating down on my face and forearms. We were going to live here. I would finally be able to close the door on one of the most horrendous experiences of my life, leave it all behind, move us away and start again! Feeling excited for the first time in months, I started towards the car, then paused and dashed back to the hospital shop, buying four celebratory ice lollies. Holding them upside down by the corner of the wrappers, I let an ambulance pass, then crossed the road and hurried to the shady corner of the car park where I’d left my poor family.

  The doors were all open and I could see Alex’s pale, shorts-clad teenage legs hanging out of the back. They looked even lankier than usual, given he’d kept his enormous trainers on. With socks. It was certainly a look.

  ‘Hey!’ I smiled, appearing alongside the door. ‘It was too hot to go for a walk then? I’m sorry I was so long, but I’ve got treats?’

  ‘Ooh. Thanks, Mum!’ Alex removed his headphones and sat up, readjusting his slipping glasses and taking one of the lollies from my outstretched hands. Cassia vacated the front passenger seat, fanning herself grumpily, and took another without a word, before walking round to climb into the back again. I let the lack of gratitude go, given how long they’d been waiting and took my place in the front alongside Ewan. He looked at me expectantly.

  ‘Really good!’ I confirmed.

  My husband’s face split into a grin. ‘So you think?…’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘I knew they’d want you! I TOLD you!’ he exclaimed and leant forward to kiss me.

  ‘Dad! PDA – never okay.’ Cassia wrinkled her nose. ‘Public display of affection,’ she explained as Alex frowned and opened his mouth. ‘Can we go now, please, and get the air-con on before I actually expire?’

  Ewan ignored her, taking my hand in his. ‘That’s really great, Julia, but remember you don’t have to say yes when they offer it to you, unless you want to. It’s your call.’

  I looked at his earnest face. I knew he meant every word, but if I accepted, it would mean he could take the local teaching job he’d been offered: a head of department role at a school he was excited about, which also had spaces reserved for Cass and Alex. We’d be able to exchange on the house we’d all viewed together and loved. We’d be in for the start of the September term. Our new lives could begin. And what was to say I would be offered anything else? The staf
f at the Exeter Memorial Hospital seemed nice. The department was busy and covered a large geographical area, so there would probably be some interesting enough work. I wasn’t exactly looking for a high-octane environment in any case. Most importantly of all, they wanted me, despite everything. ‘I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.’

  Ewan frowned. ‘They’re lucky to have you, not the other way around.’

  I was so grateful for his unwavering loyalty, but privately, I knew I had to be realistic about my options. ‘Let’s go and drive past the new house.’

  The narrow, one-way street forming the main artery through the village we would soon be calling home, was busy with wandering holidaymakers licking ice creams and peering in small shop windows. We had to make an impromptu stop, pulling into the car park next to the boatyard so that Alex could nip into the nearby pub and have a wee, but miraculously, we found a space. As he shot out and Ewan and Cass started a lazy debate about what radio station we ought to be listening to, I opened my door and wandered to the edge of the harbour wall.