One Little Lie

by Sam Carrington

  Is her memory to be trusted?

  There are some gaps, I assume?

  Connie shifts further away from me, and I lose her words. She’s now at least five paces ahead. Then she stops, turns, and I catch something. I’m frozen to the spot.

  I had a feeling there was more to it. What do you want me to do?

  Alice has remembered. She’s told them.

  I have to leave now.

  While Connie continues to talk on the phone to decide what she’s to do with me, I make a break for it, sneak away with a family group heading up towards the centre of town. I keep in step with them.

  What precisely has Alice revealed?

  I might not have long. I must call Nathan, warn him of what’s to come. I stop walking with the family, and turn to check if Connie is in sight. Good, she’s not. I continue to the top end of Totnes, creating as much distance between us as possible – it’s the furthest point from the car park where I’ve left the car, though. I only put enough money in the machine for an hour, so I’m bound to get a ticket. I’ll worry about that later – it’s the least of my problems right now. I duck into a narrow side road, Castle Street, I note from the sign, and dial Nathan.

  ‘Nathan, it’s me.’ I hear his breathing, can almost feel his chest rising and falling. I’m glad we spent last night together. At least we had that before the truth came out.

  ‘What’s the matter? You sound out of breath.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Nathan. I think it’s time.’ I screw up my eyes, but it doesn’t prevent the tears from escaping. ‘Alice Mann is out of the coma. And I think she’s told them about the attack.’

  ‘Oh.’ He sounds defeated. ‘Are you sure?’ his voice monotone.

  ‘I was with Connie Summers when she took a call from the police. I heard her. It’s over, isn’t it? Can we run from this, do you think?’

  ‘No. No, love, we can’t. We discussed this yesterday – the probability of it happening. I’ll wait here for you to come home. We’ll face this together.’

  My arm goes limp, the reality of the situation numbing my muscles, and the hand holding the mobile bangs against the wall, sending my phone flying across the road. I lurch forwards to get it, almost knocking into a woman walking along the pavement opposite. We make the briefest of eye contact, but in that moment, I recognise her. I’ve seen her somewhere before.

  It takes me a minute or so to remember, but then I’m sure. It’s the woman from the café – the one who was with Marcie. The one who’s been asking questions about me.

  ‘Hey!’ I’m yelling. Yelling and walking quickly after the woman. Some other people are staring at me, looking to see who I’m shouting at, who I’m following. I don’t care. This woman, whoever she is, needs to answer my questions.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE

  Angela

  She’s not going to give up easily. I hear her shouts following close behind me as I attempt to scuttle away. I knew I shouldn’t have chanced making another run to the hardware store. I had a weird feeling it was a mistake. I thought it’d be safer if I got one more lock. For peace of mind. Tom’s restraints hadn’t lasted once he came around. I’m worried his repeated banging, and throwing himself – and furniture – at the door, will weaken it and he’ll escape. Lord knows what he’ll do if he gets out before he’s calmed down. I hadn’t intended to do it, but the opportunity arose, so I had to take it. If I hadn’t, he’d have left; run away. A few weeks will give him the chance to consider what he’s done. Time to reflect. Keep him away from temptation. It’ll give me time to figure out what our future holds.

  My heart pumps so hard it feels as though it’ll burst from my chest. Deborah’s footsteps get closer. She’s got almost ten years on me; she’s fitter. She’s going to catch up with me unless I can lose her. It’s my own fault. After Alice’s attack, I’d had to carry on my plan without involving her – if I hadn’t been so intent on meeting Deborah, and been seen speaking to her boss, she’d have been none the wiser. She would’ve walked on by now, instead of chasing me down. I wonder what she knows? Does she have any idea who I really am?

  Part of me is intrigued. After all, I’d wanted the chance to talk to her for so long. My whole plan of approaching Alice first, facing Deborah together, somehow trying to make right what Tom had done, had been all-consuming. All I thought about. Now I have the opportunity, and what am I doing? Running away.

  Running away. Ignoring the issue. I’m weak. I need to be stronger. Face up to the reality.

  I stand still, breathing heavily, heart still banging noisily in my ears.

  What can she do to me? We’re in a public place. Perhaps I’ll ask her to go for coffee, talk things over just like I’d planned before things turned sour. I could get my chance at redemption after all.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SIX

  Deborah

  It’s her. It’s got to be – she looks remarkably similar to Alice Mann, like she’s imitated her. Her hairstyle and colour is almost identical. For a moment I’m stunned into inaction, then a surge of adrenaline pushes me forwards once more. She’s stopped running from me now. I stand opposite her, staring. Wondering.

  ‘You’re her, aren’t you?’

  She looks quizzically at me, but it’s brief. The pretence falls from her expression.

  ‘Shall we get a coffee?’ she asks.

  The moment couldn’t be any more surreal. This is fake Alice. This is the mother of Sean’s other killer. The one that got away.

  ‘What’s your real name?’

  ‘It’s Angela. Angela Killion.’ She utters the name like it’s alien to her tongue; the first time she’s spoken it. Perhaps it is, for a while at least.

  ‘Okay then, Angela. Well, you know who I am, and I know you’ve been wanting to talk to me. So, let’s do this.’ I walk purposefully towards the main shopping street, to the closest café. Angela follows.

  The similarities between Alice Mann and Angela Killion end at the colour and style of their hair and clothes, and the fact both their sons are responsible for Sean’s murder. There’s something dark about Angela – an unnerving quality about her. It puts me on edge; chills the blood in my veins. Alice Mann’s motives for meeting me were clear, obvious, and although she wasn’t exactly straight with me on our initial meeting about who she was, or later when she failed to mention she’d been seeing Nathan, she exuded a genuineness. Something I’m not sensing now from Angela.

  Angela has a different agenda.

  ‘This isn’t how I saw things working out,’ she says.

  I bite the inside of my cheek while I try to form a reasoned response in my head. I clench and unclench my fists underneath the table.

  ‘Oh. In what way?’ It’s not exactly how I envisaged my life going either. But I don’t think she’s talking about the bigger picture.

  ‘I’d wanted to talk to you for the longest time, had planned it all out, knew just what to say. Of course, the whole plan went awry when someone attacked Alice. I thought if we came to you together, you’d see we were all the same.’ Angela’s eyes are so wide that she seems almost manic. I’m glad we’re in a public place. I think she’s unpredictable. I also think she’s unwell, even more troubled than I’d imagined – and that’s the only reason my anger, my hatred for this woman, has dampened now I’m sitting with her. I wish Connie was here. But if I hadn’t run off from her, I’d never have met Angela. Fate has done this.

  ‘If you’d come to me together, I’d have turned you both away,’ I say with a tight smile.

  ‘Oh, but I wasn’t going to say who I was, not to begin with. I was going to be there as support for Alice.’

  I can’t help but frown. I’ve no idea what was, is, going on in Angela’s mind. She’s not making sense.

  ‘To be honest, Angela, I’m not sure I understand – or that I want to understand.’

  ‘It’s because I couldn’t be honest, you know? Not while I was protecting my son.’

  ‘So, what was your point the
n? The reason you went all around the houses to try to meet me?’

  Angela wriggles in her chair and leans her upper body across the table, closer to me. I instinctively inch away from her.

  ‘Okay, well, I couldn’t come and see you on my own, could I?’ She lowers her face slightly, and I see her take a deep breath. I feel she’s about to say something I’m not going to like. I keep my eyes steady on hers as she speaks again. ‘How would I be able to talk about what happened to your son, what my son did? I needed a way in.’

  I hear my own sharp intake of breath. Does this woman have any idea of how the words she is uttering will affect me? Isn’t she afraid of what I might do? As it is, I can’t do anything – it’s as though my body has frozen. I have little choice but to allow her to carry on.

  ‘Alice Mann is in the same position as me,’ Angela continues, now in full flow, ‘although Kyle is in prison, obviously, and I wanted to convince her we were in the same boat by telling her my son was also in prison for murder. If I could get her to trust me, open up to me about her guilt and talk about the fact we are all experiencing loss, then I could talk her into meeting you to help her with her guilt issues. Maybe even get your forgiveness. And by proxy, I’d be getting your forgiveness too.’ Angela sits back, her speech delivered. She’s smiling, as though she’s proud of herself, of her plan.

  I’ve been sitting, listening, mouth gaping with increasing disbelief. And now, seeing the smile still playing on her lips, my initial shock subsides. I finally recognise the hot, crushing pain in my chest – the one I experience when I’m looking at my newspaper cuttings – as my rising anger.

  This woman is deluded. More to the point, she is selfish and evil. She wants me to forgive her and her son to make her feel better – so she can redeem herself. And she was all up for manipulating me and Alice by lying to us to get what she wanted. To protect her murdering bastard of a son.

  I have to let some of this out. ‘Angela, that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard. You need help.’ I have to get away from this woman, and quickly, before I do something else I regret. I get up to leave, but she snatches my wrist and pulls me back.

  ‘Please. I’m sorry my son did what he did. He’s not a bad person—’

  I yank my hand from hers and lower my face so it’s directly in front of hers. ‘Don’t. Touch. Me.’ Spit lands on her cheek. ‘Your son is a murderer and hasn’t even been punished. He is every bit a bad person. As are you. Neither of you have my forgiveness.’ My heart is drumming so hard I feel faint, but I manage to turn and walk out of the café with my head held high.

  I escape a parking ticket despite being over my time. A tiny bit of good fortune in an otherwise bad day. I replay the bizarre chat with Angela Killion over in my head as I drive out of Totnes. She’s obviously protecting her son, and I get that – to a degree. But it should be out of her hands now. He has to face justice. I had waited, hidden inside a shop, for Angela to exit the café, then I’d called the police anonymously from a payphone after watching her disappear down Castle Street, the road I’d first seen her on an hour prior.

  I couldn’t hang around to see how it played out. I have my own troubles to face.

  On the radio, ‘Ironic’ by Alanis Morrissette plays, and I laugh. I drive the rest of the journey home to Coleton in a cloudy haze. Flat. Emotionless.

  When I see Nathan, it’s like a dam bursting and spewing its contents in one huge torrent – years’ worth of emotion let loose. Sobs erupt from me uncontrollably, like violent hiccups. His arms fold around me. His grip is tight, reassuring. I feel the weight of his head as he rests it on mine. It takes a few minutes for me to recover; Nathan waits patiently until I quieten.

  ‘You’ve been a long time, I thought you were coming straight home after you called me.’ His lips brush against my hair as he speaks, sending little electrical sparks shooting across my skin.

  ‘I ran into the mother of Sean’s other murderer,’ I say, my voice thick with the remnants of mucous and tears.

  He pulls back from me, his eyes wide. ‘What?’

  ‘I know. It’s been a hell of a day.’ I rip off a sheet of kitchen roll to wipe my nose.

  ‘What did you do? Did you call the police?’

  I give him a sympathetic smile. ‘I did, but anonymously. I could only give them a rough idea of the direction she was headed, I didn’t want to waste time following her. I needed some time with you before the police come here. They’re probably on their way now. I half-expected squad cars to be lining the pavement when I drove up.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Deborah. For everything.’ He runs a finger across my cheek.

  ‘I know. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions. But you never put me right when I accused you of having an affair …’

  ‘I know. I said I could have, if I’d wanted to. And like I told you yesterday, the temptation was there. I came so close. But ultimately, I couldn’t do it. You’re all I want. But I want all of you. Not merely the shell, the pretty exterior.’

  ‘And just as we’ve finally been honest with each other, it’s going to be torn away from us. I’d been so afraid of Alice waking up, telling the police what I’d done. I’d no idea you were terrified of the same thing.’

  ‘I really didn’t mean to hurt her,’ Nathan says. He looks away from me briefly. I know it’s because he’s ashamed.

  ‘I know, I know.’ My tears begin again – I am surprised I have any left. His admission late on Monday night came as a massive shock. All the time I’d been blaming myself for Alice’s condition, it had been due to Nathan. If I hadn’t heard it from him, there’d be no way on this earth I’d ever have believed it.

  ‘The strength came from deep within me. It came with the anger – a rage I didn’t even know I was feeling. You know I’ve never hurt a woman before.’ Nathan’s eyes are pleading, and tears prick at my eyes as I give the briefest of nods in acknowledgement.

  ‘I’m so scared, Nathan.’

  ‘Me not coming forwards isn’t going to help my case either, is it? God, if only I’d walked away when you did. Followed you home, confronted you, rather than gone into Alice’s house.’

  ‘Our lives have been filled with if only and what if ever since the day those bastards took our boy. We’re not to blame, they are.’ I walk to the window, convinced I hear sirens. ‘What are we going to tell the police?’ I ask.

  ‘The truth. Alice wasn’t badly injured when you left her, Deborah. She was just in shock from you lashing out at her, so there’s no need for you to feel afraid. I’ll tell them what happened, that I was attempting to get her away from me, but she kept coming at me, wanting me to hold her, comfort her. Like she was the one hurting. God, Deborah. Something inside me snapped. I grabbed her, shook her. One second I was shouting at her and the next, she was falling away from me. It was like time suspended for a few seconds as she hung, helplessly in the air, her arms flailing trying to grip mine to stop herself from falling backwards. I didn’t help. It was me who caused her head injury. You and I know all too well what it’s like to have been affected by others’ hideous actions. I have to take responsibility for mine now.’

  Isn’t it ironic, plays inside my head.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN

  Angela

  There isn’t much time.

  All the rushing I’ve done today has made me dizzy, sick; and I’m so very tired. I bend over the kitchen sink retching, but nothing comes up.

  Things are falling around me. Caving in on me and Tom.

  Tom.

  I make a sign of the cross. Dear God, if ever I needed guidance, it’s now.

  When they come, which they will now Deborah knows who I am, they will find him locked in his basement room. He’ll look awful. He’s bound to have bruises, and it’ll look like I’ve beaten him, somehow taken him prisoner. Although that part is quite true. It was for him, for his own good. For the safety of others.

  They’ll understand that, won’t they?

  They w
on’t understand Tom, though. Why he did what he did. That it’s not really his fault. My stomach gurgles with worry. This isn’t how I wanted it to end.

  I push back from the sink and drag an almost-empty bottle of vodka from the back of the cupboard and take a swig. The liquid is welcome, the burn as it goes down feels good. It’s not going to help my dizziness, but right now I need courage.

  There’s no noise coming from the basement as I press one ear against the door in the hallway. Of course, there wouldn’t be. The soundproofing does its job well. I unlock the wooden door, tentatively stepping down into the basement, then creep across to Tom’s bedroom door. No banging, no throwing of furniture. He’s worn himself out. Either that, or he’s succumbed to thirst and finally drank the water I left for him – the crushed sedative pills dissolved in the bottle should be enough to ensure he won’t have much awareness of what I’m doing.

  What am I doing?

  Why did it have to come to this?

  I step away from his door. Maybe there’s another way.

  I walk back up to the lounge and pick up the phone.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHT

  Connie

  Connie had cut Lindsay’s call short when she realised she’d lost sight of Deborah, saying she’d call back shortly. She’d scoured the streets for a while but had to get back to the office for her next client. She couldn’t believe Deborah ran off like that while her attention was taken talking to Lindsay. She was the one who’d sought Connie out after all, so why suddenly disappear without warning? Maybe Deborah had caught wind of the discussion – Connie couldn’t remember what she’d said, whether she mentioned Alice’s name during the call. Had Deborah been spooked by the fact Alice had regained consciousness?

  She had a while to wait for her final client, so she took the opportunity to ring Lindsay. She answered on the first ring.

  ‘Oh, wow, you must’ve been sat on the phone. Right, sorry to have ended the call so abruptly earlier—’