One Little Lie

‘But, Deborah, you don’t even speak to your colleagues. I mean, unless you absolutely have to for your role. You are falling behind on your workload, and most of the time you don’t appear to be with us at all. Things are getting missed, others are having to carry you.’ She leans forwards, takes my hands.

This is it. She’s letting me go.

‘You’ve been part of this company since its birth. I want you to continue to be part of it. But I’m seriously concerned for your welfare, and with that in mind, I’m telling you to take some time – with full pay to start with, of course. Two months, maybe three, that’s all. To get your head together.’

I’m defeated. I can’t even think of an argument to strengthen my case to stay. The words ‘to start with’ echo in my ears. It won’t be just two or three months – she’ll keep stretching it out, make sure I don’t return at all.

‘What will I do, Marcie?’ I hate the sound of my own desperation.

‘That’s the problem, isn’t it? Outside of work you have nothing. Maybe you need a hobby.’

And we’re back to being condescending. Even more so.

I do have a husband – has she forgotten that?

‘Fine.’

I push my chair back, the loud screech hurting my ears. I don’t look at her again. I take my bag and walk, head down, out of Costa. Out of my job.

What the hell am I going to tell Nathan?

Marcie demanding I take time off work is a mistake.

Me, alone with my thoughts, is going to be an even bigger one.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Connie

The chill of the wind caught Connie across her face and made her eyes water. She touched the back of a hand to her right cheek and winced.

‘Shall we make our way back down to the car park?’ Lindsay’s arm reached out, giving Connie’s a tug.

‘Sorry. This outdoor life’s still taking some getting used to.’

Lindsay shook her head – a gentle mocking of Connie’s fragility.

‘Yes, your ability to survive on the moor in adverse conditions is questionable. But you’ll become hardy, eventually.’

‘If you’ve got anything to do with it. Even if it kills me.’ Connie slumped against a large rock, catching her breath. Her walking boots were heavy, clogged with mud, making her feel a stone heavier when she walked. On the plus side, she thought her thighs had started looking less chunky. But today was a bit much. They’d walked further than they’d done before and the weather was bitterly cold on the high ground. Dartmoor was one of the most beautiful places she knew. It was Lindsay’s idea to spend more quality time there, despite it being an area her professional life had brought her to on a few horrible occasions. She wanted to make good memories on the moor. Replace the bad ones. Or at least, diminish them.

‘Ready to go back down?’ Lindsay offered an arm.

‘Oh, yes. I’m ready.’ Connie gave a grateful smile.

Connie sat in the passenger seat and shivered, the North Face jacket Lindsay had lent her rustling with the small, jerky movements.

Lindsay poured a coffee from the flask, and handed it to her.

‘That’ll have you warmed up in no time,’ Lindsay said. She poured herself a plastic cupful as well and leant back in the driver’s seat. ‘What do you reckon to eating out tonight, save either of us having to cook?’

Connie shrugged. ‘Sure, I’m up for that. Where do you fancy?’

‘I thought maybe the Italian in town, we could walk there?’

‘More walking?’ Connie raised her eyebrows, but smiled. ‘Sounds good. We’ve not been out for ages.’ She drained the cup of the warm liquid.

With Lindsay’s recent work pattern being so erratic, they hadn’t seen a great deal of each other in the evenings. Often, Connie spent the hours of darkness alone. Her previous irresponsible, single-life antics had all but ceased weeks before she’d met Lindsay, so she’d got used to the quiet, lonely evenings prior to her moving in. But then she’d had a period of time with Lindsay being home with her more, her hours almost sociable. It’d been comforting; she enjoyed Lindsay’s company – her friendship had become important to her. Now, again, she was having to accustom herself to it being just her and Amber, her ragdoll cat, most evenings. This weekend had been a rarity – they’d spent the entire time together, uninterrupted by work.

Connie knew it was likely to be a one-off. Something was bound to crop up – some big case that would take all of Lindsay’s focus; her time, even at weekends. For now, though, Connie would make the most of it.

She followed Lindsay’s gaze – her eyes were intense, focussed on the rocks of Haytor looming in front of them.

‘You okay?’

Lindsay didn’t take her eyes from the tor. ‘Still plays on my mind. This place.’ She sighed.

‘I can imagine.’ Connie placed her hand on Lindsay’s arm. Even she had bad thoughts about Haytor: of Steph, one of her clients last year, and her son – but she hadn’t had to witness it first-hand like Lindsay had; the broken bodies at the foot of the rock, the shock of seeing an innocent child taken to his death by his own mother in what was, as far as the police were concerned, a terrible suicide. Connie took some comfort in the fact that she wasn’t the only person troubled by her past and wanted to support her friend just as she’d been supported herself. ‘New memories, though – remember? We both need to attach positive feelings to this place, I think it’s the only way we can move on.’

‘Yep. Absolutely. Thanks, Connie.’

‘You don’t have to thank me. That’s what friends are for.’

‘That, and half-killing them in the name of fitness,’ Lindsay laughed.

‘Yeah, don’t push it. Friendships can turn nasty, you know.’

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Alice

It was hard to get out of the house this morning. Every time I was about to leave, something dragged me back.

One more chore.

One more check.

One more problem.

I’m out now, though, and I’m trying to stop my mind wandering as I walk to the bus stop. I want to be thinking about what’s ahead, but what’s behind me appears to be dragging me back. I need to talk myself out of it – keep my goal firmly in my mind’s eye.

I concentrate my thoughts on her. I know where she lives, and now I’ve found out where she works. It didn’t take much. The internet is both a curse and a blessing. It’s so easy to find out details with a few clicks, some clever searches using key words. Most people would think I’m mad, given how the internet brought my life crashing down. But it’s like most things, there is good and bad in everything. You just have to be careful – treat it with respect.

As I approach the bus stop at The Plains, opposite the Seven Stars Hotel, pain in my palms alerts me to my clenched fists. My nails have left crescent-shaped imprints where they’ve dug in. I can’t believe she’s still working. I wonder how she’s managed that when I was barely able to drag myself out of bed – the amount of sedatives I was taking for my anxiety, together with the drinking, turned me from a bubbly, chatty customer assistant at Marks & Spencer into a drowsy zombie not fit to be employed. A small part of me is jealous she’s continued with her life. She’s kept her job. I lost mine. She’s kept her husband. I lost mine.

But our sons. They’re a different story.

She won’t agree we’ve both lost them.

Maybe she doesn’t have to agree on that point. There is a truth in her denial. But we’ve both suffered, and I need to show her that. I can help her to come to terms with what happened. She’ll realise I am like her, that we can both support each other. I must help her. Then, in return, she’ll help me achieve my goal.

It’s the only way I can be free.

I cross the road quickly as the bus is there already. I pay my fare and take a seat halfway up – a window seat. The glass is smeared. Dirty. I don’t want to contemplate what with. I shuffle into the aisle seat. I don’t need to see where I’m going anyway. I hate having to use public transport, but I can’t afford a taxi to Coleton, my destination. The only destination I’ve ventured to this past month. I’m lucky no one has sat with me. Nothing worse than being squashed next to another body, a stranger who typically feels the need to speak – make polite, yet utterly useless, boring conversation. Small mercies.

Every now and then I check where we are – counting down the minutes until I arrive. Not long now. We’ve just passed the huge grey monstrosity that is the multi-storey car park. Another minute and I’ll be there.

A tall, narrow-looking building comes into view. My heart flutters nervously. I’m not sure what I’m going to do once I get off the bus. I don’t want to draw attention by hanging around the entrance to her workplace.

I press the bell. The bus slows and I stand, gradually making my way to the front. The bus stop is opposite the building, so once I step out, I stand for a few moments to gather my thoughts. I stare at the rows and columns of windows. Which one is hers?

I’m buffeted by someone walking past. I didn’t realise I was in the middle of the pavement, getting in the way. I back up, pressing myself against the wall of the hairdresser’s to allow the shoppers, the random people, to go about their business. Despite having been thinking about this for days, now I’m here I have no idea of how to progress. Should I wait for her to come out? Or make an excuse to enter the building, ask to speak with her. I’m not certain how she would react to my presence here, she could make a scene. I can’t risk that.

I’ll have to go into the building, though, as I’ve no idea which level she works on. I could do a recce of the place, then sit somewhere out here. I glance around me to see where would work. Yes, I could sit on one of the benches along from the building, near the river. Maybe she’ll leave at lunchtime, and I can catch up with her then, save me going inside. Whatever happens today though, I can’t wait past three o’clock. I’ve got my appointment with Connie at four, so I have to get the 3.10 bus back to Totnes to get there on time. I probably should’ve waited to do this until tomorrow rather than have two things to worry about in one day. But once I decided I was going to do it, it had to be attempted right away. No putting it off.

‘Hello, Alice.’ The voice, though soft and unassuming, sends a jolt of electricity through my body. I take a steadying breath as I realise it’s only Wendy, from my support group. Not great timing, and I could certainly do without her here, but it could be worse.

‘Lovely to see you, Wendy,’ I trill, twisting my lips into a forced smile. Now, how to get rid of her quickly without appearing rude. ‘Not long until our group session now – will be great to catch up on Wednesday, see how we’ve all done these past few weeks.’

‘Yes, I’m actually looking forwards to it.’ She lowers her dark eyes, looking to the ground. She carries on talking, and while I am listening to Wendy, and trying hard to appear interested in whatever she’s talking about, my eyes keep flitting around her bulky frame. I want to keep my focus on the entrance, in case she walks out.

Then the situation worsens.

A familiar face stands out from the crowd of people walking alongside the building.

What’s he doing here?

How?

I turn quickly, snapping my head around to face the wall I’d been leaning against prior to Wendy turning up.

Please, God, don’t let him see me.

I forget Wendy’s here, next to me. I take her arm, and gently pull her towards me. I whisper conspiratorially in her ear: ‘Don’t look behind, but my ex-husband is over there and I can’t handle him today. Just keep facing this way.’ I keep my grasp on her arm, so she knows I’m serious.

Her eyes are wide as she stares at me, saying nothing.

If he hasn’t seen me, it’ll be all right. If he has …

I use Wendy as a shield as I twist my head slightly to look over her shoulder to the building opposite. It’s clear. He’s gone.

For now, at least. But that was too close. And with Wendy here too. It could’ve been disastrous.

I relax my grip on her and give a brief explanation of how awfully things had ended between us when Kyle was convicted of murder.

She needn’t ever know it’s a lie.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Deborah

Marcie’s words played over in my mind all weekend. They wouldn’t stop. I’ve flipped between full-on anger and complete helplessness and now, standing at the top of Berry Head, I just feel utterly lost. This seemed the best place to come – something drew me here.

The waves smash loudly against the rocks below. I watch the tiny droplets of water as they fly upwards, but I can’t feel the spray on my face as I’m too far above. Must be a two-hundred-foot drop.

Enough to kill me.

Put me out of this misery.

Nathan would be all right. He’s got his job, his overbearing mother, his precious golf buddies. I’m fairly sure he has a mistress, too. He’d do fine without me.

I teeter on the edge; the grass is slippery with dew. The intermittent gusts of wind shake my body – push me ever closer to the sheer drop. It really wouldn’t take much.

The nerve of that woman. Sitting there, spouting on about how she misses her son. The nerve of Marcie, making me take time off work. The pity in her perfectly line-free face. Why now? I know I’ve been a bit more distracted recently – it is coming up to the anniversary. However, it’s nothing she, or any of my colleagues, should take issue with. Others are worse. Colin, now he is one lazy shit – he’s the one they should be telling to have time off. He’s the one who delegates all his work to others while he wanks off in the loos in a vain attempt to compensate for his marriage break-up a year ago. Why isn’t anyone bringing that to Marcie’s attention? They’re ganging up on me, picking faults, trying to get enough on me to get rid of me permanently. What have I done that’s so wrong?

Surely it’s enough that I lost my son. I don’t think I should be punished further. Not me. I’m not the one needing punishment.

I catch my breath. The clarity of that thought hits me, like a short, sharp punch to the stomach.

I look down. I don’t deserve those rocks, the crashing waves, the deep, dark, cold water as my grave. I shouldn’t be the one to suffer that fate.

I take a step back.

I shouldn’t be the one to suffer at all.

Maybe it was a blessing, Marcie forcing me to take leave. I have time now.

Time to put a few things straight.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Connie

The Alice standing opposite Connie was not the same calm and collected Alice she’d seen two weeks ago. She was now red-faced, flustered, and appeared agitated.

‘So sorry I’m late,’ she said, her breathing laboured. ‘I had to … practically run … up the hill.’

‘Please, Alice, don’t worry. Take your time, there’s no rush – you’re my last client of the day.’

She took some deep breaths, then slumped, relaxing into the chair. Connie took her seat and waited for her to recover. After a few minutes, her colour had returned to normal.

‘How have you been since our last meeting, Alice?’

Connie noted Alice’s rapid blinking and how she was rubbing her hands together, and wondered what had happened to alter her demeanour. She waited for a response, but Alice remained silent.

‘Maybe you could begin by telling me something you felt was positive?’ Connie coaxed.

Alice’s face broke into a wide smile. Connie gave an inward sigh of relief. At least there was something good to give her a starting point for this session.

‘Positive, yes – there have been some good things since I last saw you. Some progression.’

‘That’s excellent, Alice. Let’s begin with that then, shall we?’

‘I found someone like me, someone who’s going through the same issues as me. It’s given me a purpose; some motivation.’

‘It can be very helpful to know others have experienced similar situations to yourself, showing you that you’re not alone in your struggles. Is it someone from your support group?’

Alice’s mouth twitched; she took a while before she nodded.

‘And you began the group, didn’t you?’

‘Yes. It was just online at first, but I decided it was more important to have proper face-to-face meetings.’

‘That’s such a positive step, and a really good outcome that you’ve bonded with someone else so early on in the group sessions. You must feel proud of your achievement?’

‘I do, actually. The group is the best thing I’ve ever done,’ Alice said, her face glowing. ‘I feel as though I’ve met a kindred spirit.’

‘Ah, that’s great,’ Connie said, nodding her head encouragingly. ‘How has it helped you, in your everyday life?’

‘It’s given me hope. A focus. The group as a whole has obviously helped, but this one person is the key, I think.’

‘The key? To what?’

‘To me forgiving myself,’ Alice said, her voice soft, almost a whisper.

Guilt was one of the biggest obstacles Connie had picked up on during her sessions with Alice. The fact she recognised she needed to forgive herself was a huge step. But that being said, Connie had a niggling feeling about Alice’s part in all of this. Maybe she had good reason to blame herself. But that wasn’t really Connie’s role – to apportion blame, dig into someone’s life and play detective. That was Lindsay’s area of expertise. If she did unpick Alice’s reason for guilt, and she was somehow to blame, Connie had to deal with it in a totally different way. Alice was her client. She had to help Alice. It was her job.

Now Connie had found out some of the positive things, she wanted to explore the reason for her earlier agitation.

‘When you arrived today, it seemed like you were flustered. I know you were late and had rushed, but there was something else. What caused that?’

‘Oh, it was nothing much. Stupid, really.’ She flicked her hand dismissively.

‘It didn’t appear to be nothing, and I’m sure it wasn’t stupid.’

Alice dropped her head, then snapped it back up, her intense eyes boring into Connie’s.

‘I had a shock, is all. Saw my ex-husband in town when I wasn’t expecting it. I suppose it rattled me, made me panic.’

‘Why would seeing him cause you to panic?’

‘He’s not a very nice man, Connie. Not someone I would want to have confronting me, especially as I was with someone from the group, too – and I didn’t want her to see him. Meet him.’

‘The woman you were talking about? The one you feel you have a lot in common with?’

‘Um …’ Alice looked confused for a moment, then nodded. ‘Yes, yes – that one.’

‘If you felt a connection with her, had things in common, maybe she would’ve understood if you’d confided in her?’

‘Maybe. But I couldn’t take the chance. I didn’t want to expose her to him. Didn’t want him knowing what I’m doing, who I’m friends with. He’d ruin it, put a stop to it. He doesn’t like me talking to people about, you know, what happened. About Kyle.’

‘I see.’ Connie thought about this new information. It sounded as though Alice feared her ex-husband, and coupled with what she’d told her in the last session about how her son had taken over where her husband had left off, Connie suspected that Alice Mann had experienced a lot of trauma in her past – possibly abuse from both of them.

‘I’m really sorry he made … makes you feel that way, Alice. I’m sure it must cause difficulties, and means it’s challenging for you to move forwards.’

‘He prevents me moving forwards, yes. I have to do my best despite him; pretend he’s not here. I suppose I pretend a lot.’

‘You shouldn’t have to pretend. I can help you work through these challenges, help with coping strategies. If your ex-husband is threatening you, causing you fear, there are people who can assist with that too – not only the police, but services who can offer practical support.’

‘No!’ Alice jumped up. ‘No, Connie. Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I’m sorry. This wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about, not what I wanted help with.’

‘Okay, I’m sorry, Alice. Please sit back down.’ Connie got to her feet and reached out to touch Alice’s arm, but the damage seemed to have been done.

Alice turned her back and walked towards the consulting room door. She stopped in the doorway, looking back over her shoulder.

‘I’m wasting your time, I’m sorry.’

The door slammed behind her.

Connie screwed her eyes up. Damn. She must have gone too far.

She had pushed Alice away.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Connie

‘Yes, Mum, I promise I’ll be careful.’ Connie’s ear was hot from pressing the phone to it for so long.

‘I feel it’s a mistake, I can’t help it, love. You shouldn’t be going backwards, you should be concentrating on the future, moving forwards in your life. No good can come of this – your practice should be your focus, not those degenerates.’

‘I know, I know.’ Connie rolled her neck, attempting to release some of the tension stored there. Her mum had repeated this advice at least four times in the one call. ‘This will be the one and only time, I swear. I’ve done one session, I’m there tomorrow, then perhaps two more days next week, that’s it.’

‘Yes, you already said, dear.’

Connie closed her eyes and shook her head, suppressing the urge to say, it must be catching, saying instead: ‘Well, I thought I’d reiterate it.’

‘I don’t want any harm to come to you. That’s not a bad thing, is it?’

‘No. Of course not,’ Connie said.

There was a silence at the end of the line. Connie knew why. It wasn’t only the last few years she was alluding to. When Connie was fifteen, her mum had feared for her well-being, had told her she was making mistakes – but her words had gone unheeded. Connie dropped her hand to her stomach, thinking about how her behaviour back then had led to one of the worst things that had happened to her. It was no wonder her mum was always worrying about her. But in some ways, Connie could understand that. While she wasn’t a mother herself, she knew exactly how it felt to need to protect someone.

Because Connie was keeping the biggest secret of all from her mum – one that had come crashing into her own life last year, and that she’d worried about every day since. Twenty-one years ago, Connie’s older brother Luke was stabbed to death. And just eight months ago, Connie discovered that his injury had not, as they’d all been led to believe, been fatal. As a result of her involvement in the Hargreaves murder inquiry, her father’s lies had been spilled, their abhorrent nature made clear. Luke’s death had been faked to protect him from their father’s toxic business dealings, dealings that ensured Manchester gangs were out for blood. His, or his family’s. After Luke’s supposed death, Connie had spent years feeling she was the one her father would’ve rather lost. Anyone but his precious son. She’d fought for his approval throughout her life, even when he moved back to Manchester, leaving her and her mum in Devon. Connie strived to make him proud of her, to the point she began to hate him, or maybe even herself, for the way she allowed him to make her feel. And then she’d discovered that the bulk of her life was built on a lie. At the time of the revelation, Connie had been absolutely convinced she should go straight to her mum and tell her everything she’d learned. She’d wanted to resist her father’s control, his warped sense of protection over them.