You Can Trust Me: A Novel

by Sophie McKenzie

  “We have them.” I point to the room where Hannah and Zack are sleeping.

  “You know what I mean.”

  I nod. “Then we have to be honest,” I say.

  “Okay.” Will pauses. “If you want the truth, here it is: When I went to Geneva, Catrina did flirt with me. She made it clear we could start things up again. I made it clear I didn’t want that.”

  I swallow hard. “Were you tempted?”

  Will meets my gaze. “For a few seconds. Were you tempted with Damian?”

  I pause, remembering our bus stop kiss. “For a few seconds,” I say.

  We look at each other. “There are always going to be those times,” Will says.

  “I know.”

  And in that moment, I accept the past.

  * * *

  Another hour passes. Zack wakes, groggy and with a headache, but also hungry. Remarkably he seems largely untraumatized by the whole experience, but then, as the doctors point out, he was drugged for most of the night and has no memory of what he went through. Once we have reassured him that Paul has gone, he regains his equilibrium, polishing off two rounds of toast and a glass of milk and charming all the nurses who pass his way.

  Hannah takes longer to awaken and, when she does, shakes with fear at her memories of the past night. Paul didn’t rape her physically, but he whispered filth into her ear, terrorizing her. I fill with a new hatred for this man who has betrayed our friendship and violated my family in the worst ways possible. But my fury does Hannah no good. I try to hide it, just as Will tries to conceal his own anger, and we comfort our daughter as best we can.

  We have each been interviewed by the police again. Piecing the information I have together, I learn that Leo has confessed to his lie about Will’s affair but claims complete ignorance over Paul’s true nature and actions. The same is true of Alexa Carling. Since being interviewed by the police, she has fled to the other end of the country, far away from Devon gossip.

  I look at my own children and wonder how anyone could survive knowing that their own flesh and blood was capable of so much cruelty and violence.

  I tell my mother that Paul was Kara’s killer, that he confessed it to me before he fell from the cliff. She takes the news with her usual stoicism. After all, as she says, the knowledge won’t bring Kara back. Paul didn’t kill only Kara. The police have found that silver box—and his diary—and are currently tracing the contents to other victims.

  In contrast to my own mother, Joanie has taken the news that Julia was murdered—and by someone actually present at the funeral—very badly. At least this is what I hear from Robbie. Joanie won’t speak to me herself, having apparently decided that Will’s return of Julia’s ring is absolute confirmation that I must have stolen it—and that we’re using Hannah as a smoke screen.

  Robbie himself calls me on a daily basis for three days until I finally get so furious with his refusal to listen to my own requests for space that I pass the phone to Will, who tells him to fuck off and leave me alone.

  It works. Not just with Robbie. In some way, it brings Will and me closer together again. He goes with me to Damian’s funeral the following week, a sad affair featuring a large, weeping family and many ex-girlfriends. I take Julia’s picture and leave it beside his grave. It’s hard to understand other people and their relationships, but I believe they did love each other and in some romantic part of my mind, I allow myself to believe that they are together now.

  That night Paul’s body is washed up along the coast and my fears about evil spirits begin to ease. The following day Will officially resigns from Harbury Media. He hasn’t spoken to Leo. Nobody has. He and Martha have gone to ground in their designer home; by all accounts Leo is a broken man. He has been arrested—though not charged—by the police for his part in shielding Paul and hasn’t been seen in the office since the night Paul died. Becky is avoiding everyone too. She has stayed out in Spain, claiming no knowledge of Paul’s hidden life. According to her, there weren’t any problems in their marriage. So Paul even lied about that. I can’t bring myself to call her, and she doesn’t contact me either. Whatever she says, and the police are clearly convinced, I can’t believe she can possibly have lived with Paul for all those years and not at least suspected what he was up to.

  His parents are a different story. Like his friends, they would have been easier to fool. I try to imagine how Leo and Alexa must feel: Paul not only dead but also revealed as a vicious killer. At first I am angry with Leo for lying to me. Then I start wondering how far I would go to protect Zack or Hannah. I was prepared to kill for them that night on the cliff. Without question or hesitation. So, in spite of my anger, I pity Leo. There’s a lot of speculation about what will happen to Harbury Media. Some of the senior guys are contemplating a management buyout, but Will wants to do something new, to move on.

  I am thrilled with his decision and we spend hours talking about the future, contemplating every possible avenue, from traveling around South America for six months to moving to London, where the opportunities for jobs are greater. Will is veering toward setting up on his own. To be honest, I don’t mind what he does, I just love the fact that he is talking to me like never before, that we are happier than we have been for years. We make love, late at night or first thing in the morning, as we did before the kids. We say how much we love each other.

  Most of all, I tell him I trust him. And I do.

  Another few days pass. We receive confirmation there will be no charges brought against us, no trial. And although neither of us really thought we would be prosecuted over Paul’s death, the news is still a huge relief.

  My thoughts turn more and more to Julia. I am proud that I kept faith with her, refusing to accept that she killed herself. And yet the thought nags away at me that, if I hadn’t tried to find out the truth, Damian would still be alive and my children wouldn’t have been put through the horror of that night on the cliff.

  And it will have lasting consequences. Not, perhaps, with Zack. After the first few days, he stopped talking about “scary Paul,” and, since then, Will has spent a lot of time playing football with him out in the park, giving him time and attention that Zack has soaked up. Hannah, on the other hand, has turned into an anxious shadow of her former self. She can’t bear to be alone, trailing me around the house and insisting that I sit with her until she falls asleep every night.

  Be careful what you wish for, the saying goes. Well, my desire to have my little girl back has been granted, but at a terrible cost. I never thought I would miss Hannah being rude and difficult, but now, as she trembles with fear when the door bangs or waits anxiously outside the bathroom for me to come out, I can’t help but wish for her old self to reappear. The doctors say that with consistent care and support, she will be all right, but I can’t help but fret that what she went through will scar her forever.

  At least she doesn’t have to worry about Will and me.

  * * *

  Another week passes and the weather grows hotter. We have booked a last-minute beach vacation to Portugal and leave later this morning. I wake early and finish off the last bits of packing, then wander into Will’s office to find him poring over his laptop, researching limited company tax law. Zack putters around him, playing with a couple of action figures, content just to be near his dad. I peer into Hannah’s room. She is still asleep, her blond hair strewn over her pillow, her body starfished on the bed. She will wake in an hour or two, I know, and immediately seek me out.

  I take advantage of my free time to clear out the fridge, then I go around the house, gathering up dirty laundry. I have bought a new camera. A good model. And I’m planning on taking pictures throughout our trip, so I need a variety of lenses and some other bits and pieces. I’m so busy checking on all of these that I don’t see the missed call on my cell phone for nearly an hour. I don’t recognize the number, but they’ve left a voice message:

  “Hi, Olivia, it’s Brooke. Sorry it’s taken a bit longer than I expected�
�we’ve had a few, er, technical problems here—but I have the ‘report’ you ordered and I’d love to meet up to discuss. If I don’t hear back, I’ll try again a bit later. I wanted to catch you, as I know you’re going on holiday this morning, so … anyway … speak then, bye.”

  I frown, for a second I have no idea who Brooke is, or what on earth she’s talking about. Then in a flash I remember my meeting at Honey Hearts, how I told Alexa Carling about Will, how I hired Brooke to entrap him. Oh, shit. I’d completely forgotten about it. I listen to the message again. Brooke’s voice is low and gravelly but there’s a lightness—something arch—in her tone. I remember how I looked at her and wondered how any man could resist her. She’s talking about the “report,” which presumably means she must have engineered a meeting with Will at some point in the past week or so.… I can’t imagine when, he certainly hasn’t said anything. And yet she knows about our holiday, that we’re leaving this morning.…

  My heart pounds as I pace up and down the kitchen. How could I have forgotten about this? For a moment I’m staggered that Alexa Carling didn’t realize who I was and query me turning up at Honey Hearts. Then I remember the reports I’ve read about Paul’s mother fleeing Exeter. Alexa Carling has been in hiding in another part of the country since the day after I met Brooke at the Honey Hearts office. There’s no reason why Brooke should connect the Olivia Small who hired her with the Livy Jackson who was nearly killed by Alexa’s son. That’s if she even knows the name Livy Jackson. Thanks to the children being minors, all our names and pictures have, mercifully, been kept out of the press.

  Upstairs I can hear Will and Zack laughing about something. The bathroom door creaks open, then shuts. That will be Hannah. She’ll be down here looking for me as soon as she’s finished.

  I don’t have much time to decide what to do. I listen to the voice mail again: “I have the report you ordered.”

  I don’t need a report. I just need to know if my husband flirted, asked for her number, boasted about any affairs, agreed to meet her again.

  As I lay my cell phone on the counter it rings. It’s her. It’s Brooke.

  My finger hovers over the accept button. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I trust Will, I do. But I have to know.

  Then you don’t trust him at all, honeypie, Julia’s voice sounds in my head.

  Another ring.

  Footsteps pad across the landing. I pick up the phone. I need to know.

  I put it down. No, I don’t. I trust my husband—and if I speak to Brooke, then I break that trust, because if she tells me something good, I can’t let Will know I tested him, and if it’s bad news, I will have to confront him. Either way, I’ll know I wasn’t honest.

  The phone rings a third time.

  And yet how can I not know at all?

  “Mum?” Hannah calls out, her voice quavering and full of fear. And my head clears. There’s only one possible choice.

  Only one future.

  “Down here, sweetheart.”

  I pick up the phone. “Hello.”

  “Olivia?” Brooke’s tone professional and confiding. “I saw your husband last night. I thought you’d want to know.”

  My mind reels. Last night? How? Will was home all day. He went out for only an hour or two yesterday evening. A drink with Mike from work, he’d said.

  “Olivia, if now isn’t a good time, we can meet in person. I’m just aware you’re heading off on holiday in a couple of hours, so—”

  “Will told you that?”

  “Yes, I approached him in the pub where he was drinking. I—”

  “Stop.” I take a deep breath. “You see, the thing is, Brooke, I’m very sorry to have wasted your time, but I don’t want to take things any further.”

  Silence.

  “You mean you don’t even want to know what your husband said to me?” Brooke sounds bewildered. “What he did when I approached him?”

  I hesitate. The truth is that I do want to know. Very much. But what good will it do?

  I couldn’t leave Will right now, even if he proved to have a string of lovers. Hannah needs us to be together for the foreseeable future. Zack too.

  Anyway, if Will wants to have an affair, a Honey Hearts investigation won’t stop him. And if he doesn’t, then an investigation isn’t needed in the first place.

  “Are you still there?” Brooke says, a note of impatience creeping into her voice.

  “Yes.” I try to work out what to say to her, how to express my feelings. The truth is that Will’s affair with Catrina six years ago probably means I won’t ever feel completely certain that he will always be faithful. But so what? People you think are friends can betray you. And people you love can die, long before their time. There is no certainty in life.

  Except that’s not quite right either. I know Will loves me. I know he loves us, his family. I see him in my mind’s eye, kneeling on the cliff top, offering his own life if Paul would spare the rest of us.

  “Trust that,” I murmur under my breath.

  “Sorry?” Brooke says. “What did you say?”

  “Actually, Brooke, I was just saying good-bye.”

  I smile as Hannah wanders into the room. Her face is pale and there are dark shadows under her eyes. And I put down the phone so that my arms are free to wrap around my daughter, keeping her safe, chasing the darkness away.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Sophie McKenzie is the bestselling author of more than fifteen novels for children and teens in the U.K., including the award-winning Girl, Missing and Blood Ties. She has won numerous awards, was one of the first Richard and Judy Children’s Book Club winners, and has twice been longlisted for the prestigious Carnegie Medal. She lives in London and writes full-time. Visit Sophie at her Web site at www.sophiemckenziebooks.com; on Facebook at www.facebook.com/sophiemckenzieauthor; and on Twitter @sophiemckenzie_. Or sign up for email updates here.

  ALSO BY SOPHIE McKENZIE

  Close My Eyes

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  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Prelude

  Chapter 1

  Harry

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Georgiana

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Kara

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Hayley

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Annalise

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Sandra

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Julia

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Shannon

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Livy

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  About the Author

  Also by Sophie McKenzie

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  YOU CAN TRUST ME. Copyright © 2014 by Rosefire Ltd. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  www.stmartins.com

  Cover design by Ervin Serrano

  Cover photographs: woman by Mark Owen / Trevillion Images; scene by Hal Bergman / Getty Images

  eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purcha
ses, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

  McKenzie, Sophie.

  You can trust me: a novel / Sophie McKenzie. — First U.S. edition.

  pages; cm

  ISBN 978-1-250-03399-4 (hardcover)

  ISBN 978-1-250-03398-7 (e-book)

  I. Title.

  PR6113.C4874Y68 2015

  823'.92—dc23

  2014040747

  e-ISBN 9781250033987

  First Edition: April 2015