Your Guilty Secret

by Rebecca Thornton

  ‘Wait,’ I turned to Conor, my finger held to my lips. ‘Can we do this in private?’ I nodded – imperceptibly – towards Joan, hoping Conor would get it but he didn’t pick up on my cues, touching everything in sight like an overwrought child.

  ‘Joan. If you could give us some space, please,’ I said. I wanted to pummel her, to tell her that she had no right to my daughter’s life in this way. That I was her mother.

  ‘Five minutes.’ Conor held up his right hand in Joan’s direction. ‘And then I’ll fill you in too.’ He smiled. Since when had he felt like he needed to defer to her? When she shut the door, he came and sat down on the corner of the desk and covered his mouth with his hands.

  ‘They’re turning,’ he said. I could tell he was trying to keep calm, trying to keep his voice steady, but I saw the way he blinked. I’d seen him do it only once before, when one of his big clients had been caught in a hit and run DUI scandal.

  ‘The leaked audio, Lara. They’re going fucking mad. I don’t know what to do. I need your help on this one. I’ve tried not to bother you. But the police – they’ve been useless and I’m losing confidence here. It’s their fault this happened in the first place. Of course they don’t want to get involved and as far as whitewashing this, they’re not interested. So I need a plan of action now. Like I told you, we need to get this right.’

  ‘Who is going mad?’ I asked, despite already knowing the answer. I just needed a few more moments pretending everything was fine, so I could process it all. And hearing Conor say that he was losing confidence filled me with dread.

  ‘You were on the phone when Ava went missing. They know. The public. There’s been a shift in mood. We need to do something. Before this all goes to shit and we can’t pull it back.’ He rested a hand on my shoulder. ‘Before we lose all hope of finding her.’ I shut my eyes and tried to stop the sinking feeling deep within me.

  ‘Well, they’ve got nothing to do with it, have they?’ I said, knowing how untrue this was. ‘I don’t give a damn anymore. I don’t care. I just want her back.’ Conor didn’t move. ‘I don’t give a fuck!’ My voice echoed across the walls. Conor looked shocked. I was so aware of the paps and the television cameras constantly following me that my default behaviour was to be on ‘form’ even within the privacy of my own home. It had been many years since I’d been so unaware of how I was behaving. But my eyes felt all dry, my throat was sore and still I carried on.

  ‘Cruel. It’s just cruel.’ I heard my breath coming in waves. ‘I don’t need them,’ I said. ‘I just need Ava.’

  ‘I know, Lara. I’m sorry,’ said Conor. ‘You do, though.’ He looked at his watch and then at the window. ‘You’d be stuck without them. You can’t move. Trapped. You need to listen to me. You need them now. More than ever.’ He took a deep breath. ‘You might think you hate them right this minute but don’t forget, Lara, they’ve been good to you. Really good to you.’ His eyes roamed around the room and settled on the large framed award I’d been given for the best television show, voted for by the public. ‘And I know sometimes it can be a love-hate relationship’ – he paused – ‘but you have to forgive them for this. They’re in shock too. After all, everyone loves Ava. It’s hard on them as well. And they’ve forgiven you in the past.’ I steadied myself on the desk. I thought that somehow he was going to bring up England. ‘I mean, not that you’ve done anything to forgive. But just . . . anyway, who cares. We need to focus here.’ Conor was one person who could keep me level and tell me things frankly but even he knew when to stop. ‘So let’s just figure this one out. If you were a member of the public and this had happened, what would make you feel better? I’m thinking maybe show them your charity appearance backstage shots? The ones you did for that safe driving campaign two years ago? That could work?’ We both went silent. Conor pulled my laptop towards him and started tapping away.

  I didn’t want him to see the things I’d been searching. Is Ava King alive? Did someone kidnap Ava King? But he seemed totally involved in what he was doing and not the least bit interested in my previous search history.

  ‘Fuck, Lara.’ He scraped his fingers down his cheeks. ‘It’s gaining traction.’ His phone rang and he disappeared outside the room. ‘Right,’ he said when he returned. ‘I’ve just spoken to Faye from the office. It’s gone mad on the front pages online. LA Times says: Lara distracted on phone. New York Times: Lara takes eyes off daughter whilst on phone.’ He shook his head. ‘She’s just sent me a rolling list of the headlines.’ I grabbed his mobile and scrolled through them.

  ‘How do we get a grip on this?’ I said, my voice pitching higher.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he sighed. ‘I think we should release something. A story, or pictures that haven’t been seen before. What about Joan? Would she speak? Talk about what a wonderful mother you are?’ I felt defensive at this point and I wasn’t sure why. ‘I just need to let Faye know. She’s waiting to hear from us and push the button. This is going to be a mammoth task.’ I wished he’d stop reminding me. Usually he was so calm and would just take things off my hands and get them done.

  ‘Maybe,’ I said, thinking Joan was probably the last person I’d ask, unless I spun it that it would help find Ava. ‘The police are releasing the CCTV footage, if they haven’t done so already. That will help. Look at this. The Times of England. They’re saying I shouldn’t be vilified. That every parent does it.’ I started to read out the article. ‘Let’s not berate Lara King. She took her foot off the parenting brake for longer than necessary. Yes, but it shouldn’t have been calamitous. In most normal situations, the girl would have returned to the car quickly and without trouble.’ I stopped reading, thinking that she hadn’t, though. She hadn’t returned to the car quickly and without trouble. I couldn’t read on. The defence of my actions made me feel even worse. If that was at all possible. But it give me an idea.

  ‘How about we get people to talk.’ Conor rubbed his hands. ‘About you as a mother? Like, teachers and parents from Ava’s school? Everyone will want in. They’ll all want to admit to knowing you. I mean, of course, they’ll want to help find Ava too,’ he added quickly.

  ‘We don’t need to do anything.’ I slammed my hands down on the desk. ‘It was a bad thing to do. I was on the phone. I’m going to come clean,’ I said to Conor. ‘I should have gone with her. I shouldn’t have been distracted.’ And I meant it.

  Because, you see, I realise that despite my earlier words, despite my screaming and shouting about you being cruel, I know you. I know you deeply. You may think I don’t. After all, we don’t have much in common. Or so you think.

  I know your reactions. I know how you feel when I post on my social media that I’ve had a difficult day with my daughter. That things aren’t always perfect. Thank God, you think. She goes through it too.

  And then when I post the other stuff. The perfect stuff. God, you think. You cannot help but stare at the clean, crisp clothes that we are both wearing, after a day playing among the golden leaves, the smiles laden with love and happiness. Or the sun, speckling our bodies as we do yoga together on the lawn, limbs supple and tanned. It sickens you, yet you delight in it all and you can’t seem to get enough.

  And so I know now that if I deny any wrongdoing, or try and whitewash my actions, you’ll turn even more.

  I put my head in my hands to block out all light and sound and the other thoughts crashing around my head, and I thought about what Conor had said. What would make you feel better?

  And after five minutes or so, I realised.

  ‘I know,’ I told him. ‘I know exactly what to do.’

  Ryans-world.com

  Entry: August 26th, 2000hrs

  Author: Ryan

  Gutted. I mean I’m not a parent, am I? (Unless any of you special ladies want to tell me something!) No, seriously, I didn’t think she’d be the type of person who’d do that. Be on the phone. Not notice her kid had gone missing. I know most of you tell me that it’s a mistake. That sometimes yo
u take your eyes off the prize. I get that. Fair enough. But to not notice your child had gone? That seems careless to me, but then I keep thinking – she must have been having some pretty heavy-duty conversation not to have thought that it was weird Ava had been gone for so long. What if something had gone wrong? Maybe she was real upset? Who knows. I try not to judge too much but tbh, it’s going round and round in my head. Whirring, whirring. I know I won’t be able to sleep tonight. And then I think, whoa – poor Lara. She must be feeling so shitty and surely that deserves some compassion?

  Maybe I’m biased. Maybe if I had better home circumstances, I’d feel differently. My mom, she left me. I’ve been living with my granma since I was ten, so you know if I had a daughter, I think I’d cherish her, and dote on her and really, not let her out of my sight.

  Signing off now for some peace and quiet but I wanted you to come here to find info you haven’t yet had from anywhere else, so I’ve uploaded some pics of Ava that y’all might not have seen before. A friend gave them to me. They’re out-takes from a fashion shoot she and Lara did last year. Look how goofy she looks.

  This is breaking my heart.

  Here with the latest updates on missing Ava King, brought to you by Lara and Ava King’s number one fan.

  Twitter: @ryan_gosling_wannabe

  August 26th 2018

  2015hrs

  ‘I’m going to say sorry,’ I told Conor. ‘That’s what I need to do. It’ll help. I promise. Please. Let me say something. In a blog post. On Instagram. I need to make that connection.’

  ‘Yes.’ Conor looked up at me slowly and then nodded. ‘Bring the focus back onto Ava and the search. That’s genius.’ His voice sped up and he started pacing the room. ‘It’ll make them feel like they’re needed. Wanted. That can only be a good thing where support for the investigation is concerned.’ He pulled out a pen from his back pocket, clicking the top of it. ‘We don’t have long until it’s pitch . . .’ He looked towards the window. I couldn’t follow his gaze. Ava hated the dark. ‘Please, leave the side-light on,’ she would beg whenever I left the room before bed. Joan had bought her a small ladybird lamp and she’d count the spots with her small fingers pressed on each one. One. Two. Three.

  ‘OK. Good,’ he said. ‘We’ll do that. Set it live. And then we’ll start to work out next steps. OK?’ He started talking about something else. Your reaction. This, and that. Tomorrow. Next steps.

  ‘OK,’ I told him but I wasn’t listening. I was thinking that she’d be home by then and that I wasn’t going to sleep until she was back in her bed.

  When Conor left to speak to his office, I allowed my gaze to look at the window. Light was fading. I tried to keep my thoughts distracted, or I felt like I’d go crazy and in the end, I did what I’d promised myself I wouldn’t do. I looked online. It was the only way I could feel involved in the investigation. I flicked to the official Facebook groups that people had set up. Millions of followers. I looked at the search routes that were being posted. I imagined her then, wandering around in the dark. My eyes followed the trail of the blue lines that had been digitally drawn onto maps. Her small feet balanced as she tried to make her way home in the dark. I skimmed through the messages and posts. I couldn’t keep up with it all. Messages of support. Some of hatred. I closed the website. I couldn’t still my mind, though. I needed another distraction. My body seemed to be totally restless, trying to keep up with the traumas of my mind.

  And so I decided to look on Media Spy. To see what people were saying about the case. I flicked quickly through the threads I’d been previously monitoring. Ava’s dad and England had a few more discussions on it, but nothing like the most recent ones about me being on the phone. I hoped and prayed they’d stop, when they read what I had to say.

  Just as I was contemplating writing an anonymous thread, Joan came in with some tea. I noticed she’d forgotten the teapot, though.

  ‘Lara. I couldn’t listen to it, you know. Your phone call. I couldn’t. I’m sorry it leaked.’ She spoke quickly and then looked down at the tray, realising her mistake.

  ‘I’ll get the teapot in a minute.’ She put the tray down on my desk. ‘But I need to talk to you. What we discussed earlier. You and Matthew?’

  I kept one eye on my computer screen, on the forum counter. Three hundred thousand people were discussing a thread that had been posted exactly seven minutes ago, labelled ‘Lara and the Papa Razzle call’.

  ‘Me and Matthew? He’s upstairs now, I believe. He needed a breather.’

  ‘I can’t stop thinking about what Detective Mcgraw asked you.’ She drew breath and started speaking fast, so I had no chance but to listen what she had to say. ‘If you and Matthew had been rowing at all in the past few days.’ I snapped my head up. She looked frightened then. ‘I didn’t mean to overhear.’ She held up her palms. ‘I was coming to ask you guys if you wanted any food. The door was ajar. I’d just let Conor into the house. I wanted to see if you all wanted to eat, given Anthony’s not here.’

  ‘And?’ I injected a breeziness into my voice but I felt the air being squeezed out of me.

  ‘And, well, I heard you.’

  I moved my finger around the rim of the glass Joan had placed on the tray.

  ‘You heard me what?’

  ‘I heard you and Matthew after the announcement. The row you had. Before I showed Manny around.’

  ‘Oh God, Joan,’ I sighed. ‘That. I thought you were here for something serious. To do with Ava.’ I patted my chest. ‘You scared me. You want me to tell the police that Matthew and I had a row about the fact he was late for the announcement? And the photoshoot? A lovers’ tiff?’ A shadow crossed her face.

  ‘But,’ she said as I thought back to her standing by the fireplace threading her fingers through her hair. Listen to me, she’d been saying. Listen to me. ‘It sounded like it was more than that.’

  ‘I know. I was so stressed out with coordinating that huge surprise for the world. Millions of people tuning in. I mean I was so angry with him.’ I lowered my voice conspiratorially. ‘Men. I would have had it all in hand if he hadn’t been late.’ She seemed to be pacified by this. ‘I’ll quite happily tell them,’ I told her. ‘But I don’t want them to start looking in places that aren’t relevant. A small row because Matthew was late doesn’t warrant police time looking for Ava.’ I almost choked on her name. ‘Don’t you think? I mean, if I thought it was going to help . . . It’d just be awful, them wasting all their time. What do you think, Joan? You tell me what you think.’ It was an effort just to keep my voice steady and to keep myself from hurling the glass at her.

  ‘Oh, well now you put it like that.’ She looked down at the floor. ‘I guess you’re right.’

  ‘I am. I just need for them to focus. I had a long chat with Conor just now. That’s what he thinks. That they need to focus. The press. The public.’ If there was one person Joan trusted, it was Conor. He’d stopped the paparazzi from publishing a picture of her at Ava’s fifth birthday party after she’d begged him to keep her anonymity. ‘He thinks that if they lose interest then we’ll lose momentum. Look what’s happening now. With the Papa Razzle phone call.’ I wondered whether she too was going to start berating me for being on my phone.

  ‘Well, that’s a bit different,’ she said. I detected a hint of accusation in her voice and then I remembered one of the points in her contract was that she wasn’t allowed to use her mobile whilst she looked after Ava.

  ‘I was . . .’ I shut my mouth. I didn’t want to defend myself to her when I felt so broken already.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said. ‘I’m going to get the tea.’ I knew she wanted to say more. She didn’t move, except to mouth something, as though she was rehearsing for a play. And then she came out with it.

  ‘Detective Mcgraw. He was asking me so many random questions. I couldn’t work it out. But he said my alibi checked out. I mean I didn’t think for a minute he’d be investigating me.’ Joan had a smug look on her face that m
ade me feel furious. ‘All is fine from that end. So are we missing something else?’ she asked. ‘Something obvious?’

  I almost laughed but then she corrected herself. ‘I mean, she was behaving strangely. I told Detective Mcgraw that she was not quite herself.’ I thought back to the words Mcgraw had used when asking about me and Matthew. Quite a tricky time. Joan had started making me look bad. I wondered if I should speak to Conor about it.

  ‘Do you think she ran off?’ Her lips were trembling. ‘She wouldn’t have done that. She just wouldn’t. I told Detective Mcgraw that too. That there was just no way she’d run off in a million years and I know her better th . . .’

  Better than anyone. I could sense were the words on the tip of her tongue. I snapped my laptop shut. ‘Better than he does,’ she saved herself. She was getting out of hand, Joan. But then perhaps she’d hit a raw nerve. Perhaps Joan did know my daughter better than anyone. I remembered how she’d begged for me to spend more quality time with Ava before the announcement. I prayed to God that she hadn’t told Detective Mcgraw all of that and made me look even worse.

  Her words crashed around in my head, making me feel sick.

  Better than anyone.

  Do not question yourself as a mother, I told myself. Focus on Ava. And then I felt angry towards Joan for making me feel this way. But I couldn’t shift the sense that she was somehow trying to inveigle herself into number one position in the search for my daughter.

  Mother’s guilt. Always going to be there, no matter what we do, I’d remembered the midwife telling me when I was at the hospital.

  And I had an uneasy feeling that should anything have happened to Ava, she’d somehow manage to make me feel I was at fault. The thought that Joan would somehow find out about the annexe too, or that Ava had said things to her made me terrified.

  And then I thought of what Joan had been about to say. Better than anyone. Had she been right? Were there things she knew about my daughter that I didn’t?