Embellished Deception: A Psychological Suspense Novel (The Crime Files)

by Netta Newbound

She felt funny, as though she was in a dream, or like it was happening to someone else. She knew there was something wrong, something very wrong. Call it sixth sense or whatever you wanted, but she knew. She was more troubled by how she was going to break the news to Max. Then there was Geri and the baby. Who would be there for Geri if she wasn’t?

  Although all these things buzzed around in her brain, she wasn't upset. It was strange, as though she'd accepted her fate somehow. She would have to be strong and get on with it.

  Simon came to the table with a tray full of sandwiches, tea and cakes.

  "Oh good. I'm famished," she said.

  "I thought you might be. I couldn't eat a thing this morning, and I had an idea you might have been the same, so tuck in."

  The sandwiches were like tasteless cardboard and the tea like dishwater, but they went down so fast they never touched the sides.

  "How's Geri?"

  Grace knew Simon had been dying to ask her all day, bless him.

  "She's fine, I think. To be honest with you, I haven't seen much of her for the past few days." She could have bit her tongue off. Simon didn't know about Carl and Geri’s new living arrangements.

  "Why, Grace? What have you not told me?"

  "She's looking after my friend's house while she's on holiday."

  "Is that all? What else? Come on you may as well just tell me." He poured them both another cup of tea. They were going to be there for a while.

  "She's got a boyfriend," Grace blurted. "I don't think it's serious, but she's staying with him for a couple of weeks."

  By the look on his face, Simon was about to blow a gasket. "What? What about the baby? My baby? She can't go shacking up with any Tom, Dick or Harry when she's carrying my baby!"

  "Calm down, love. She's not thinking straight at the moment, but I'm sure she'll come to her senses soon enough. Carl's a nice lad but not her type, you'll see."

  "I'm sorry, Grace. This is the last thing we should be discussing. I promised myself that today would be all about you, but it's driving me mad. Especially the fact that I can't even let on that I know."

  "It has been all about me—worst luck. And I really do thank you from the bottom of my heart. I don't know how I'd have done it alone. But I'd rather have a distraction if I'm honest." Grace patted his hand and he looked at her, his lovely, big blue eyes brimming with tears.

  "Okay." He nodded.

  "Tell me about Kevin. It will help take my mind off what we're really doing here."

  "There's not a lot to tell really. I met him through work—I worked for the opposition, and there was an instant attraction."

  Grace shuddered and cleared her throat. It seemed strange imagining Simon with someone other than Geraldine, and she felt as though she was betraying her daughter by letting him confide in her.

  "I refused to act on it at first. Honestly, Grace, it almost killed me. I tried to avoid any further contact with him. However, it seemed fate kept pushing us together."

  She nodded, becoming agitated and having to bite her tongue. She wished she hadn't asked him to tell her now.

  "After a while, Kevin approached me with a job offer. It was exactly what I'd been looking for, but still I didn't accept. That was until Kevin made the position too good to turn down."

  "So you took it," she said, nastily.

  He nodded. "I know what you're thinking—don't worry, I felt exactly the same. I was disgusted with myself. Geri didn't deserve to be treated that way, but Kevin was like a drug and I was an addict. I loved Geri and knew I couldn't go on deceiving her. I also knew that if we broke up I'd never have another chance to have children. That's when I came up with the idea of Geri becoming pregnant before I told her the truth."

  "Simon!" Grace was shocked he’d confessed to such a deliberate and disgusting ploy.

  "I know. I'm ashamed of myself, but I'm just trying to be honest with you."

  She didn't say another word. Neither of them did. They both jumped when his mobile rang. He braced himself and nodded at her as he answered it.

  He hung up. "They have the results back, Grace. They're waiting for us."

  Doctor Price was standing at the reception desk as they returned. She smiled—one of those sad smiles that didn't reach her eyes. She ushered them into her office.

  "Okay, we have the results, Mrs Eve. It's not good news, I'm afraid."

  Grace nodded. She felt Simon stiffen to the side of her and she reached for his hand.

  "You have a brain tumour. A glioma, which is one of the most common types of brain tumour." She paused, allowing the information to sink in before continuing. "We can't tell at this stage what grade it is—if it's malignant or benign. However, it is rather large and will need to be removed as soon as possible."

  "So I'll need an operation?" Her voice sounded alien to her own ears.

  Doctor Price nodded. "I'm afraid so, and the sooner the better. It's a relatively large mass pressing down on your optic nerve." She stood up and placed the scanned brain image onto the back-lit wall clip. "As you can see—" she pointed to a white area on the image, "—from the looks of these scans it shouldn't be too difficult to remove. But it's impossible to say until we can get inside and get a good look at it."

  Grace glanced at Simon. Her entire body was trembling. He smiled tentatively and squeezed her hand.

  "So you think you can get it all?" Simon asked.

  "I'll have a good go, but there are no guarantees, I'm afraid."

  "And if you can't get it all?" he asked.

  "We'll get what we can and decide on the next course of action."

  "You mean like chemo and radiotherapy?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  "What if I don't have the operation—could I just have the chemo?" Grace whispered.

  "There's no telling if your tumour is malignant, cancerous—you understand?"

  Grace nodded.

  "But what we can see is that it's growing quite rapidly. If left, even if benign, non-cancerous—it will cause its own problems."

  "So even if it's non-cancerous, it could still kill me?"

  "Yes. In fact I'm surprised you haven't had more problems already—I've seen much smaller tumours than yours, in a similar location, and they'd caused seizures and major eyesight problems."

  "When would you want to do it?"

  "We'd need to admit you on Sunday afternoon ready for an early morning surgery on Monday."

  "This coming Sunday?" Grace felt a moment of panic.

  "Would that be a problem?"

  She thought about it and shook her head. "It's just that I haven't told my family yet."

  "Don't worry, Grace. We'll tell them together. And if you want my opinion—I'd get it done as soon as possible if I were you," Simon said.

  And so it was settled. Admission on Sunday—brain op on Monday.

  Sounded easy when you said it quickly.

  ***

  They sat in the car park in silence for a while. "Now what?" Simon finally asked.

  "I don't know," Grace mumbled.

  "I'll come home with you. Shall I ring Geri and tell her to be there?"

  "No, Simon. I can't ask any more of you for one day. I'll be fine, honestly.” Once again, Grace felt strangely calm.

  "I insist, Grace." He held his hand out for hers. "We're in this together, okay?"

  "Okay." God only knows what Geraldine would say when she turned up with Simon.

  He called Geraldine on the hands-free car phone. It went to voicemail.

  "Geri, it’s Simon. I need to speak to you urgently. I will be at your mum’s house in approximately one hour. You need to be there." He had just finished the message when his phone rang.

  "It's Geri," he whispered. "Hi, Geri."

  "Simon, can't you just leave me alone? I've told you there's nothing more to say, I ..."

  "Geri, this is NOT about us! Just be there, please." He promptly hung up.

  "Ooh, she won't like that." Grace chuckled, imagining her daughter turning sev
eral shades of beetroot.

  "Well, I didn't want to get into an argument. I hope she's there."

  "She will be," she said, "if only to string you up by your nether regions."

  ***

  I'd spent the day with Carl. We'd been getting on like a house on fire. He reminded me so much of Simon. In fact, on several occasions, I'd accused him of being gay. He took it all in good spirits and never once denied it.

  Just as Carl was driving us back into the village, my phone rang.

  Of course, it was at the very bottom of my handbag and it had stopped when I finally reached it. Just as I was checking out who called, it beeped at me—a message.

  I dialled the voicemail and couldn't believe my ears. "The bloody cheek of him."

  "Who?" Carl glanced at me as he drove.

  "Bloody Simon, the cheeky bastard's demanding to see me at my mum's in an hour—hold on." I called Simon's number back.

  I tried to give Simon an earful but he cut me off before I had a chance.

  "The cheeky ..."

  "What's he done now?" Carl grinned.

  "It's not funny. As I was about to tell him where to get off, he hung up on me." My voice had raised a few octaves. "It wasn't me who wrecked our marriage—I've done nothing wrong. He was the one who ruined everything, and now he thinks he can demand when and where I see him."

  "Calm down, Geri. It’s simple—just don't go. That'll teach him."

  "Yeah, you're right—the obnoxious prick can just fuck off!"

  "That's my girl." He gave me a high-five.

  By the time we pulled up outside Auntie Beryl’s house, I'd already changed my mind.

  "I'm gonna have to go, Carl."

  "You're joking."

  "No. I can't bear the thought of leaving Mum alone with him—she'll only go and blab her mouth off about, you know." I touched my stomach.

  "Yeah—I guess you're right. You may as well get it over with. I'll be here when you get back, and you can chew my ear off."

  "Gosh, how have I ever lived without you?" I laughed and gave him a hug before heading off in the direction of my parents’ cottage.

  Dad was home alone and didn't know where Mum was.

  "She went to Carlisle this morning—I thought she'd be back by now though," he said.

  "Has she got her mobile on her?"

  "No—she always forgets to take it, and when she remembers she forgets to turn it on. You youngsters can use them with your eyes closed, but we get panicky around technology.

  We heard a car pull up outside. I half lifted up off the chair and craned my neck to see.

  "Okay, Dad—it's him. Just act normal."

  ***

  Grace’s heart was in her mouth as they pulled up outside the cottage. Her chest seemed to be expanding far too much with every breath, yet she was certain the air wasn't reaching her lungs. This was unreal, like something you read about in a magazine.

  "You ready?" Simon asked.

  "As I'll ever be. Come on, let's do it."

  ***

  Dad and I began to chatter about nonsense as we waited for Simon to knock at the door. When we heard the key in the lock, we stopped talking and stared at each other, confused.

  Simon and Mum walked into the lounge.

  Oh fuck!—she's done it—she's only gone and done it. I don't believe it. My own mum has betrayed me.

  I was so busy worrying about what to say that I missed what they were actually talking about, until I noticed Dad’s expression.

  "And she's had lots more tests today, and it's not good news. Do you want to tell them, Grace?"

  Mum shook her head.

  "Don't panic when I tell you this," Simon continued. "They think they've caught it in time but ..."

  "What is it? Spit it out for God's sake, Simon. What's wrong with Mum?" My voice sounded irate.

  "She has a brain tumour." He glanced from Dad to me and back again, wringing his hands together. He took a deep breath. "I'm really sorry to be the one to have to tell you this. I know how hard this is for you, but you have to think of Grace right now. She's been so brave and didn't want to worry you ..."

  He carried on talking, but I no longer heard the words, only the steady tone of his voice.

  Mum was sitting on the sofa with her head bent, as though ashamed! I should be the one that was ashamed. I'd spent the first part of this meeting cursing her inside my head for telling Simon about me ... me, me, me! That's all I thought about lately. Now poor Mum has a tumour. My mum! A fucking brain tumour!

  This can't be happening. I couldn't even go to her. Couldn't say anything. I wanted to scream how unfair it all was.

  Dad asked some questions, but I didn't hear them or the answers. I was in a daze. She was only fifty-eight-years-old, for Christ's sake. I needed to get out.

  I stood up. "I need some air ..." I said, to no one in particular.

  ***

  Max and Geraldine were sitting on the sofa when Grace had walked in with Simon, and both of their jaws dropped in unison. It would have been comical if not so tragic.

  Simon was fantastic. He took over when he realised Grace had been struck dumb. He explained everything and then answered all their questions. She just sat there as though watching a soap opera.

  Max was in shock. He stared at her, shaking his head, his eyes wide and his mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out.

  She must have drifted off into a world of her own, as the next thing she knew they had all got up. Max shook Simon's hand and they gave each other a half-hearted man hug. Then Simon and Geraldine left together.

  Grace couldn't face Max, so she got up and ducked into the kitchen, busying herself but not really doing anything. Then she heard an awful sound coming from the lounge.

  Wiping her hands on a tea towel, she ran in to see what it was. Max had fallen to his knees in front of the fireplace, and a terrible wail came from him. Tears streamed down his face.

  "Max!" She ran to him with her arms out.

  He buried his head into her chest, saying her name over and over.

  "Grace, Grace, my Grace ..." They stayed that way for a good ten minutes. Eventually, Max stopped crying and got to his feet. He sat her down on the sofa beside him and held her tightly.

  "I'm sorry, Max," she whispered.

  "You have nothing to be sorry for, my love. I should have known there was something wrong. You haven't been yourself for a while. I just wish you'd told me—you must have been going out of your mind. And how on earth did Simon get involved?"

  "I needed to talk to somebody and didn't want to worry you or Geri. Simon's been like a son to us for years. Just because things aren't good with them at the moment doesn't mean we have to banish him from our lives too."

  "I suppose you're right. Do you have any more secrets I should know about?"

  "Eerrmm!!! No—er—do you want a cup of tea?" She felt flustered. She didn't want to keep anything else from him, but it was Simon's business, not hers.

  "Grace? What is it?"

  She could see panic in his eyes, and knew he was going to fill in the blanks himself if she didn't tell him. So she told him everything. About Geri and the baby and Simon being gay.

  They talked it all through. Although he was shocked he took it all in his stride. Then they finally got back to the tumour. He had lots more questions, but she couldn't help him. She couldn't even remember what the surgeon had told her, to be honest. They'd just have to wait until next week.

  Chapter 23

  I raced out the front door, and Simon caught up to me at the gate.

  "Geri, wait!"

  "Just leave me alone, Simon. I can't take it in. I need to walk for a bit."

  "It's okay. I'll walk with you, and we don't have to talk if you don't want to."

  He ran to his car and got out a couple of jackets. I hadn't even realised the temperature had dropped and was only wearing a thin cardigan. He put one of the jackets on himself and the other around my shoulders. I just stood there and
let him, like a child being dressed by her parent.

  We walked for miles. Simon pulled out a torch as we got to the edge of the village. It was pitch black, and the stars were out in force.

  We walked in silence at first. Then he linked his arm through mine and, as I looked at his lovely, familiar face, I started to cry, and cry and cry. In fact, I didn't think I was ever going to stop. He pulled me into his arms and held me while I cried. All the while he whispered calming words into my hair.

  Once my tears had run dry, I asked, "Will she die?"

  "Now stop that! Of course she won't die," he scolded.

  "But what will I do if she does, Simon? I've been an awful daughter. I even moved out when she obviously needed me. She couldn't even tell me what was happening because I've been too wrapped up in my problems. I knew there was something wrong with her. She's been behaving really funny lately. She even got arrested for shoplifting!"

  "You're joking!"

  "No, honestly! I should have known then. If only I'd known I would never have moved out."

  "Hey, hey, I know you wouldn't and so does she. Don't worry. You know all about it now, and you can make it up to her. Things are going to be pretty rough for a while, but we'll get through it."

  "We?"

  "Pardon?"

  "You said we'll get through it."

  "I'm not going to leave you to deal with this alone, Geri. Unless you want me to, that is. Listen, we've been married for years, you were my girl for years before that, and your parents have been there for me throughout. I'm part of this too."

  "Promise?"

  "I promise."

  We continued walking into Kirkby Mayor.

  "Let's go into the pub to warm up," Simon said.

  The Speckled Hen had been like a second home to us once we were old enough to drink. Simon had lived in this village since he was fourteen. His parents still had the family home there, although they were abroad most of the time. When they weren't at their villa in the South of France they were at their caravan in Wales, so they were often hard to get hold of.

  "I came in here last night," Simon said. "Just had a bar meal before going to the house. I knew there'd be no food there."