Don't Ever Tell: An absolutely unputdownable, nail-biting psychological thriller Page 3

  ‘They’re so brave. I love that bit when I open the door for the first time, they walk in and it all begins…’ She smiled. ‘I’ve had a really lovely week, thank you, but I’m excited to get back now. Bring on the new clients! I’m ready for them.’

  We were so genuinely optimistic, but within forty-eight hours of returning home all that remained from Mallorca were our already fading tans and the echo of good intentions. A mountain of holiday washing for me, a deluge of emails on Sunday night for Tris when he switched his work phone on and two dull, grey last weeks of the holidays to fill before back to school saw to that. It was almost as if we’d never been away, save the tantalizing taste of a different, better life still lingering in our mouths.

  Everyone was unsettled.

  The stage was set for Mia to walk back into my life and for the true significance of that first meeting in Edinburgh to become shockingly apparent.

  TWO

  MIA

  ‘I’m not abandoning you, Mia. I need to end our sessions because I have personal physical health issues.’ Maureen watched me blow my nose. ‘But I hope you will decide to continue with the colleague of mine I’ve recommended.’ She placed a neatly folded square of paper on the side table between us, next to the box of tissues. ‘Florence would really like to start working with you. These are her contact details. She’s based in Bromley; it would be just as easy for you to get to as here.’

  I nodded, looking around the small room with its familiar two floral chairs, small antique writing desk with the white orchid in the top left corner and pretty, chintzy curtains at the window; my safe space. I felt my eyes well up. ‘I’m sorry,’ I breathed, ‘of course you are entitled to look after yourself – it would also be really selfish of me to say: “just keep me on and ditch your other clients”.’ I looked at her hopefully.

  Maureen smiled. ‘You’re right, I’m not going to be able to work to the best of my ability and I have to be realistic about that.’

  ‘I just can’t help feeling that everyone ends up leaving me!’

  Maureen clasped her hands in her lap and looked at me steadily.

  ‘I’m not comparing you to Hugo and Ava, or my biological parents, but it still feels like I lose everyone who is important to me.’

  Maureen opened her mouth.

  ‘I know what you’re going to say,’ I continued quickly, before she could speak. ‘I have a mother and father who love me and wanted me so much they chose me to join their family. I have a big sister and brother who love me too. I lead a very privileged life, overprivileged in my huge luxury flat in Blackheath that Mum and Dad let me live in for pennies. I know ALL of that. Lots of good things… blah blah blah. But I don’t like change.’ I stopped, aware suddenly of how childlike I sounded.

  Maureen put her head on one side and raised her eyebrows patiently.

  ‘Yeah, OK, so no one does. It’s not only me.’ I looked down at the balled-up tissue in my hands. ‘You’ve just helped me so much,’ I whispered. ‘I feel scared to think about not being able to come here once a week. I’ll miss you – that’s all. Are you going to be OK?’ I looked up at her anxiously. ‘With this illness, I mean.’

  She smiled gently. ‘Thank you. Yes, I’m going to be OK. You have made so much progress, Mia. You still have the unmet goals we’ve discussed today but I’m confident that you and Florence, or whomever else you decide is a good fit for you, will continue to facilitate the excellent work you are doing. I don’t want to have to end this therapeutic relationship prematurely, and it’s understandable that my needing to is causing you a very real sense of anxiety and loss. We have four more sessions together, however, and we can explore those feelings next time, if that would be something you’d like to look at, but we need to leave it there for today.’

  She smiled, and at my cue that our time was up, I picked up the folded-over piece of paper and my bag from the floor, then let myself out into the sectioned off part of Maureen’s back garden and through the gate onto the street. What a crap start to the week.

  Increasingly twitchy, as the quiet overland train carried me into London Bridge, I stared out of the window listening to Sam Smith and started thinking about Hugo and Ava, out there somewhere, together… No! I was not that gullible girl anymore. I immediately reached into my bag and pulled out the piece of paper Maureen had given me, determinedly dialling the number.

  Florence sounded nice in her answerphone message – young, which I thought might make a change. I left her my number asking her to call me back and felt proud of myself. I had taken control of my anxiety. Maureen would be pleased.

  I took a deep breath, pushed Ava and Hugo away, and instead flipped onto an ancient Dizzee Rascal track that made me smile. They had no more power over me. It was time to focus on the day of rehearsals ahead. One week in, everyone was still at the polite stage, tiptoeing round each other, but that would change pretty quickly if I didn’t get my shit together. A WhatsApp pinged in from Mark asking if he could see me later, and I instinctively shuddered at the memory of his puckered, wet lips looming towards me two nights before. I’d said to everyone it was still too soon… or maybe it was just that he was completely gross? I instinctively wiped my mouth on the back of my hand and resolved either way to message him back that I’d… died, or something. Urgh. But then I brightened. At least I’d gone on the date in the first place. I was back – and there was nothing crazy about me… Not anymore.

  We began to slow. I stood up, automatically slinging my bag over my shoulder, tapping my fingers on the strap to the beat, and put my head down as the doors opened. I stepped onto the platform and joined the slipstream of people walking purposefully towards the main concourse. It wasn’t even like Hugo made me happy when we were together, he didn’t. If I had just ended it before finding out that he and Ava had started fu—

  Someone deliberately touched my arm and, frightened at the unexpected contact, I spun round, simultaneously yanking my headphones out.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry!’ A businessman was standing there, hands up. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you!’

  I stared at him, shocked into silence, and he hesitated, running his fingers through his hair, awkwardly. ‘Um. I’m Seth. Hi.’

  Did I know him? I scanned his face and looked at his suit. He wasn’t an actor. He wasn’t familiar at all.

  ‘So – this all sounded a lot better in my head,’ he swallowed nervously, ‘less mental and stalker-y, but I noticed you here on Friday too and I wondered if you might like to have coffee with me?’

  My gaze automatically flitted to his hand. No wedding ring, but I hesitated anyway. He was good-looking but…

  ‘Hang on.’ He held up a hand suddenly. ‘Excuse me!’ he called out after a mother pushing a buggy past us. ‘You’ve dropped something…’ He darted forward, picking up a toy dog from the floor, dusting it off and passing it to her with a grin.

  ‘Oh, thank you so much!’ she said, her eyes widening. ‘That would have been trouble later!’

  ‘No worries!’ He turned back to me as she disappeared off on her way. ‘When I was about five I left my bear by the sink in a service station toilet. My parents wouldn’t go back for him and it pretty much broke my heart.’

  ‘That’s a sad little story.’

  ‘Yeah. I’m over it now, obviously, but…’ He shrugged and smiled. He had nice laughter lines. ‘Anyway – I was about to explain my stopping you doesn’t mean I’m insane, or a serial killer. In fact, we’ve—’

  ‘I might be though,’ I interrupted, and he looked surprised.

  ‘I actually hadn’t thought of that and now I’m a bit worried. Should I be worried?’

  ‘You haven’t seen Killing Eve yet then?’ I said lightly. ‘It launches here in a couple of weeks. You should watch it. You’ll never walk up to a strange woman again.’

  ‘I think I’ve seen a trailer for that.’ He frowned. ‘I’ve definitely read the book it was based on. I liked it a lot. Very classy – she’s an assassin
, right?’

  I nodded slowly, and he laughed.

  ‘I actually went for that part,’ I confessed. ‘Didn’t get it, obviously, but…’ I shrugged and made myself smile.

  He suddenly reached out and put his hand on my arm again, moving me in towards the wall as some bloke barged past us with a huge rucksack, actually catching Seth and forcing him to step back. He rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

  I, however, instinctively yelled after the retreating backpack. ‘Look where you’re going, why don’t you?’ I earnt myself a raised middle finger in response.

  ‘Arsehole.’ I shook my head and looked back at Seth who was pulling an ‘okkaayyy…’ face.

  ‘Seriously,’ I said. ‘You should just say, “nice to meet you, Mia. Have a great day”, turn around and go while you still have chance.’

  He blushed. ‘So Mia, do I play it cool and pretend I don’t know who you are, even though I think you’re an amazing actress because I’ve seen you in a couple of things now?’

  I laughed. ‘If it makes you feel any better, actors say they love it when people don’t recognise them – it’s bullshit; they hate it.’ I offered him my hand, my turn to suddenly feel shy. ‘Nice to meet you, Seth.’

  His skin was warm on mine. We stared at each other.

  We went for coffee.

  THREE

  CHARLOTTE

  ‘I’d just like to have a go at something more creative, that’s all I’m saying,’ Tris announced as we drove into East Molesey. ‘It was a given when I left university that I’d go off to the city and get a proper job, but I never intended to do it for the rest of my life. I’d love to be the one at home all day.’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t.’ I put my phone back in my bag. ‘You’d go off your head without anyone to talk to.’

  ‘Well it’s pretty academic anyway, you’re never going to get an office job, are you? You’re basically unemployable now. Plus, you hate people telling you what to do. In fact, you hate people.’

  ‘I do not “hate people”.’ I widened my eyes and nodded my head in the direction of the kids in the back.

  ‘They’re not listening.’

  ‘Yes I am,’ said Clara, not looking up from her colouring.

  I looked at him pointedly.

  ‘Well anyway, I’d like to stay at home making up stories all day,’ Tris grumbled. ‘How hard can it be?’

  I leant forward and changed the radio station, refusing to rise.

  ‘Do you mind?’ he said indignantly, leaning forward and flipping it back. ‘I was listening to that! It’s like I simply don’t exist! God!’

  ‘You can’t say “God” only “Goodness”,’ said Teddy immediately, from the back seat.

  ‘Excuse me, you don’t tell Daddy what to do. That’s very rude.’ Tris looked in the mirror at Teddy crossly.

  ‘Tris!’ I said sharply. ‘He’s only repeating what he’s been told at school. You’re quite right, Teddy, we shouldn’t say God like that. Thank you.’ I glanced at Tris and rolled my eyes before looking back out of the window.

  ‘Will you please not address me like I’m also one of the children?’ He wasn’t finished.

  ‘OK, enough, thanks,’ I said warningly, not prepared to have a scene in front of Teddy and Clara. ‘We’re nearly there now anyway.’ To lighten the mood, I added cheerfully, ‘perhaps, if you think you’d like to write stories, you could help me with a plot niggle I’ve got?’

  ‘Oh yes, please. I’d love to,’ he said sarcastically.

  I turned away. ‘OK. No problem. Forget I asked.’

  We lapsed into silence. Once the children had started chattering away to each other again, I said, quietly, while still looking out of the window, ‘I’m not sure what’s wrong, but could you please park it until later? Today’s going to be stressful enough as it is. I could really use some support rather than a row.’

  He didn’t respond, just stared out of the windscreen before saying moments later, as I opened my mouth to ask if he’d heard me, ‘Yes. OK. I’m sorry. It’s just work stuff at the moment, that’s all. I’m going to need to be in Sheffield again for most of next week.’

  I patted his leg briskly as we pulled onto my parents’ road. ‘Bad luck. But this contract won’t last forever, and you’re not there now. Try to put it at the back of your mind and let’s just get through today.’ We drew up outside the house and I took a deep breath. ‘OK. Happy party faces! Happy anniversary, Grandpa and Nona!’

  ‘Why does your mother insist on being called that?’ Tris undid his seatbelt. ‘She’s not Italian or Greek. It’s such an absurd middle-class thing… like getting your grandchildren to call you Gangi or Oompa – or some other wanky version of their actual name blended with Granny. It’s ridiculous. I mean, why Nona?’

  ‘Feel free to lead with that question,’ I suggested politely, opening the car door. ‘See how far it gets you. Smiles everyone!’

  ‘You’re a darling to have come! Thank you so much! And a present! You’re so naughty!’

  I watched my mother lean in to embrace an equally glamorous, gym-sinewy sixty-something woman I didn’t recognise. It was an uncomfortable-looking hug: clashing cheekbones, sharp shoulders and oversized-scratchy jewellery on their nut-brown tanned hands, before Mum drew back and took the proffered gift box, passing it smoothly to me.

  ‘This is my daughter, Charlotte; Charlotte, this is Pam. Pam has recently joined our aerobics class. Oooh!’ Mum looked surprised as Pam suddenly performed a dynamic star jump on the spot. ‘So anyway, Pam used to be…’ Mum lowered her voice as if about to confide something top secret, ‘an air hostess. You must get her to tell you some of her stories for one of your books. They’re a scream. Charlotte’s the author daughter I was telling you about, Pam. Don’t frown, darling, you’ll get lines.’

  I blinked, realising she was talking to me again. ‘Sorry,’ I apologised automatically. ‘I left my sunglasses in the kitchen. I’ll go and get them and pop this somewhere safe.’ I held the gift box up. ‘Nice to meet you, Pam.’ I quickly made my escape and retreated gratefully into the house, to find Flo in the kitchen chopping fruit.

  ‘So this is where you’re hiding!’ I shoved the champagne on the table with the other bottles and presents. ‘Jane Fonda’s just rocked up, by the way – aka Dynamic Pam. Thank goodness they’ve been lucky with the weather today, she’d have knocked someone out doing star jumps in the living room. Phew!’ I fanned myself. ‘You wouldn’t think it was October though, it’s a bit odd, isn’t it? Too hot really. Unless this is just me? Oh, please don’t let me be early menopausal. I can’t bear it.’ I turned as Flo stepped to one side to rinse her hands, revealing a small mountain of strawberries and apple. ‘Wow. Are you making fruit salad or is that just for the Pimm’s?’

  ‘The Pimm’s.’ Flo returned to chopping.

  ‘OK. Do you think we really need to bother with more fresh stuff?’ I said carefully. ‘Maybe just chuck more booze over what’s already in the jugs. That’s the bit they’re all interested in anyway.’ I looked at my watch. ‘I can’t believe we’re two hours in and she’s still got more people arriving.’

  ‘I can,’ Flo said tersely. ‘It’s ridiculous. Heaven help us if the emergency services need to get up the street. They’ll have to ram about a hundred Jaguars out of the way just to get through.’

  ‘Are you thinking about setting fire to the house to get them all to bugger off then?’ I reached over to grab a strawberry.

  Flo snorted. ‘Don’t tempt me. I’m more worried about one of them having a heart attack or something. I mean, look at that.’ She pointed the knife at the window; Pam was bouncily demonstrating a grapevine followed by alternate knee lifts to our slightly bemused but fascinated father. Her fake boobs were impressive.

  ‘I think he’s OK. You meant Dad rather than her, right? Are you sure you want avocado in the Pimm’s, Flo?’

  Flo stopped and looked down at what she was holding in her hands, having just reached into th
e fruit bowl. ‘What the hell am I doing?’

  ‘Are you OK?’ I looked at her more closely. She was flushed and had stopped to wipe her brow.

  ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘This whole thing is… beyond messed-up.’

  I looked out into the garden again, at approximately sixty of our parents’ friends, milling around eating finger food, drinking and guffawing in the late autumn sun. ‘Yeah, I know. We’re all on edge, aren’t we? Tris just asked me how I’m going to tackle the toast.’ I leant on the side and crossed my arms. ‘Let’s just pretend for a minute we actually are glossing over the fact Dad disappeared overnight and didn’t come back for eight years—’

  As ever when I said it out loud, I immediately pictured the day I arrived home, walked back into the sitting room as an almost eighteen-year-old, chatting to my then boyfriend, Daniel, only to stop dead because my father was sitting in his chair – after the best part of a decade of absence – just like normal. Mum walked in to find me staring at him speechlessly and said calmly: ‘Shoes off, darling. Daddy and I are having steak for tea. Do you and Daniel want to join us? Flo is out at a friend’s tonight, I think.’

  ‘It’s still not their ruby wedding anniversary,’ I continued. ‘I’m forty-three. They got married two years before I was born. If you subtract the eight years he wasn’t here, it’s their thirty-seventh anniversary. If you ignore that – which clearly we are – it’s the forty-fifth. Either way there’s nothing ruby about it.’ I sighed.

  Flo opened her mouth to say something else, just as Mum appeared in the doorway. ‘Well done you two, thank you!’ She nodded at the empty jugs. ‘You’ll bring them out in a minute once you’ve topped them up, won’t you? Isn’t this such fun?’ She beamed at us. ‘Oh Florrie, I do wish you’d brought your new chap with you. Harry, isn’t it?’