Her Last Secret: A gripping psychological thriller

by Barbara Copperthwaite

  ‘Breakfast first, then get dressed. Hopefully Daddy and Ruby will help, too.’

  It was boiled eggs for breakfast. Dominique followed the 5:2 diet religiously, keeping her figure slender at a point in time when she had started to naturally thicken slightly around the waist. Surely forty-four was too young to start middle-age spread?

  One of the eggs in the roiling water cracked, its contents spilling forth and solidifying until it looked like intestines. Dominique shuddered at the thought, wondering where such a dark image had come from. She was letting things get to her.

  Well, she would have to eat the cracked egg, because Mouse certainly wouldn’t.

  Mouse already sat at the kitchen table, her legs almost but not quite long enough to reach the floor. She was growing up fast.

  She pointed, wrinkling her nose. ‘Eurgh! Your egg is trying to escape,’ she giggled.

  ‘I know, the shell cracked.’

  ‘You’re not very lucky with boiled eggs, are you, Mummy? Yours always cracks and mine never does. Why is that?’

  Dominique tilted her head and gave her daughter a smile that glowed. ‘You must just be a very, very lucky girl.’

  Then they both dived into their breakfast, and the only sound was of happy munching.

  * * *

  That was the highlight of the day for Dominique. Once the Christmas tree was delivered, it quickly became clear that Benjamin would not be coming home early from the office to help, and that Ruby would not be appearing from her bedroom. Even Mouse quickly bored of decorating, frustrated because she wasn’t allowed to do it the way she wanted, with everything messily everywhere.

  Dominique was not a fan of the decorations, either, if she were honest. They were too desperate to be chic, the white colour scheme too cold and corporate. A bowl of lemons was not Christmassy, no matter how tasteful it may look. It was all too considered, which automatically sucked the joy out of it. Christmas should be about laughter, really bad decorations made by the children, and making an arse of yourself in charades.

  When she and Benjamin had first moved in together, they had such a laugh at Christmas. They’d had no money at all. Dom’s parents owned a dance studio, which they’d set up after retiring from professional ballroom dancing, so although comfortable, didn’t have much money going spare to help the young couple set up. Not that Dom would have accepted anyway, particularly after Benjamin had so generously given his share of his inheritance from his father to his mother and sister. So, they had lived in a draughty flat, cheap as chips, with dreadful storage heaters that couldn’t cope with the cold snap that made Jack Frost patterns on their windows. But they had kept warm making love, or cuddling up on the sofa under a blanket watching It’s a Wonderful Life. On Christmas night, after spending time with each of their families, the pair had come home to discover the heating had packed up altogether. Instead of despairing, they had put their music on full blast and jumped around to their own private disco, singing and laughing helplessly.

  Dom had spent all her money that Christmas, about £40, on a Sekonda watch she had had engraved for him.

  Time for love

  A play on something Benjamin had whispered to her not long after he had told her he loved her for the first time. As he had laid out all his hopes and dreams for the future, and launched his business with Jazmine Bauer, he had said he would work hard every single day to give Dominique the life she deserved.

  ‘No more draughty flat, no more rusty cars. We’re going to have a wonderful life together. But I promise, no matter how hard I work, I will always make time for you.’

  Benjamin had worn the gift for years, but stopped suddenly when he bought his fancy timepieces. The latest in his ever-increasing snobbery.

  Fatherhood had wrought the initial change in Benjamin, Dominique realised now. When she and Ruby had come home, he had been a bundle of nerves. When he held Ruby, the newborn cried.

  ‘She just needs her nappy changing. Can you do that, please, while I take a nap?’

  ‘What? No, I – I can’t.’ The panic on his face.

  ‘Benjamin, you look like I’ve asked you to disarm a bomb.’

  ‘I can’t. You do it.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She folded her arms as he proffered their baby, eyes beseeching.

  He’d burst into tears. Actually broken down, hunching over Ruby as he held her away from his body.

  ‘I’m just scared I’ll break something,’ he confessed. ‘Look at my massive rugby player hands. Look how tiny she is.’

  Ruby’s skin wrinkled ever so slightly where he held her. Dominique smiled. ‘And look at how you’re holding her as though she is the single most precious thing in the world. You would never do anything to hurt her – I know that, you know that. Come on, I’ll watch while you do it.’

  And he had, marvelling at Ruby’s perpetual motion once she was on her back, little arms and legs wiggling. So careful with her soft skin as he wiped her, then did up the new nappy.

  But Benjamin had never really conquered that fear. Overwhelmed by the responsibility of a little life depending on him, he had become more and more uptight. More convinced that his role was to provide the money and hers the love; traditional roles, and she had nothing against that, but she didn’t understand why he had thrown himself into it quite so much. Or when material things had begun to outweigh the love his family gave him.

  Benjamin would, Dominique already knew, spend this Christmas Day lounging in bespoke cotton Charvet pyjamas. Even his bloody pyjamas had to be mega expensive. She wished he’d just grab some velour leisure wear, extract the poker from up his backside, and chill out.

  Was he the same with his mistress? Was he as grumpy, or did they laugh, talk, have wild sex without fear of being overheard by the children?

  Did they dance around to their own private disco?

  Twenty-One

  Bloodshed tends to bond people, one way or another. Ruby sat on her bed and looked at the words she had written in her ‘Book of Hate’ earlier that day. Sucked on the end of her blue Biro, remembering the exact moment when she had realised she was falling in love with Harry. From the moment they had got chatting in the school corridor, on her first day, they had clicked and started hanging around together. Deciding to meet up on a Saturday night the following week hadn’t felt like a big deal at all.

  Ruby and Harry had walked along, heads bent together so they could share the same set of headphones. It was a hot, sticky early September evening that still felt like summer. Neither teen had wanted to go home, even though it was approaching ten p.m., Ruby’s curfew. The day so hot the roads released their tarmac smell and metal railings had been almost untouchable, had turned into a stifling night.

  They wandered through the skatepark, nodding their heads in time to the beat and swapping smiles at the really good bits that made them want to air guitar it out. It was dark, but the skate park was well lit, and even though it was late the roar of the boards’ wheels over concrete could still be heard as dedicated boarders practised on halfpipes.

  As they came out of the brightly lit oval, through the other side of the skatepark, and entered the twilight area before they reached the orange-lit street, they noticed the people standing in front of them.

  A group of teenagers.

  A group of teenagers from Ruby’s old school, Tennyson’s Exclusive School for Girls. The girls who she had desperately tried to befriend – and who had made her life a misery. Poppy Flintock’s head tilted like a cat that had spotted something interesting to toy with.

  No, not here, not when she was with Harry.

  Ruby groaned inwardly for letting her guard down and allowing herself to think, even for a moment, that she could be happy. She had forgotten momentarily that she was the carcass on which all carrion fed.

  ‘Hey, shithead.’ Poppy’s drawling call was unmistakeable.

  ‘Hey, shithead.’ Poppy’s devoted followers echoed her, a choir led by their conductor.

  ‘Go
t yourself a little friend? Found another shithead? Wow, well done, who’d have thought there would be another one?’

  Poppy wrinkled her nose and put her head on one side as she studied Harry. ‘Doesn’t the smell put you off? I mean, she stinks like shit. She’s got piles. Doesn’t the cloud of flies buzzing round her bother you?’

  Her brow smoothed, as if realisation had dawned. How she loved to put on a show for her audience. ‘Oh, no, I get it,’ Poppy sniffed theatrically. ‘Yeah, you smell of shit, too. So you don’t even notice it. How sweet.’

  Her followers snuffled like eager piglets. Giggling, nudging each other, some going the extra mile to impress their leader by pretending to choke on the imaginary stench of Ruby and her friend.

  ‘Oh my God, I just thought.’ Poppy’s hand flew to cover her mouth as if to hide the smile behind the mock horror. ‘You’re… you’re not going to have sex and give birth to a load of tiny little shitheads, are you? Oh my God, Ruby, are you up the duff? You are. Look at you blushing.’

  The followers didn’t need any further instruction. They took their cue, chanting.

  ‘Ruby’s up the du-uff, Ruby’s up the du-uff.’

  Harry looked at Ruby. Disgust, anger, even pity – that was what she expected to see. He rolled his eyes and laughed.

  Not at her. At them.

  Taking her hand, he walked through the crowd. There was no choice of going around them, the only means of escape to carry on forwards, or go backwards – and Harry clearly realised as well as Ruby that doing that meant turning their backs on her enemies. Not a good idea.

  Ruby gripped Harry’s hand and let his strength flow through her. It wasn’t an act this time as she stood that little bit taller, walked that bit more confidently. She had Harry by her side, she could conquer anything.

  And she did.

  The mob parted for the couple, in shock.

  Closed around them.

  Poppy turned – and spat in Ruby’s face. The shock of the gobbet sliding down her cheek froze Ruby in place. Until she spat right back, and all hell broke loose.

  Harry tried to push a lad off him. Even as Ruby was punched in the ribs, she saw her boyfriend yank at his enemy’s top, pulling it over his head to try to stop him being able to hit out.

  Ruby lashed out, trying to stop herself from falling to the floor.

  Where was Harry? Was he all right?

  There. Poppy’s boyfriend had shoved Harry’s glasses up and put his fingers right under Harry’s eyelids. She’d never seen anything like it. He screamed. Ruby lurched forward – she had to help him. A fist smashed into her stomach. She doubled over, gasping, unable to breathe.

  Fury wouldn’t let her give up.

  Head still down, she ran full tilt at the lad, just like she’d learned when playing rugby with her dad. Butting him in the side and causing him to stumble and let go of Harry.

  Harry didn’t need a second chance. He punched his opponent hard in the face, while he was still down. Once, twice, three times.

  Ruby could barely breath, she was so badly winded. Harry turned to grab her hand, and the urge to run died on his lips as he saw her wheezing.

  If they didn’t get out of here soon, they were done for.

  Twenty-Two

  More blows rained down on Ruby and Harry. More screams.

  ‘Get her!’

  ‘Kill her!’

  ‘Slag!’

  ‘Shithead!’

  She kept her eyes on Harry as he pushed people away. But there were too many of them.

  ‘Oy! What the…? Come on, quick, a couple of moshers are getting banged up bad,’ came a yell.

  Running feet. The mob scarpered, scattering like marbles spilled from a pocket, and disappearing into the shadows. Skateboarders appeared, surrounding Ruby and Harry, but this time with gentle hands, soft voices.

  ‘Woah, man, are you okay?’

  ‘We’re fine. Thanks, though,’ Harry mumbled through a lip already swelling, his beautiful skin split and dripping blood.

  With well wishes from the skateboarders, the couple limped away. It took several streets before Ruby realised Harry’s fingers were entwined with hers. It had been so natural, so right, that it hadn’t seemed a big deal. They were bonded for ever, thanks to those troublemakers.

  * * *

  Ruby’s parents were still out when they got back to her place, thank goodness. She hated to think of the drama they’d create if they saw her. No way was she going to tell them.

  Harry looked like crap. As well as a thick lip, one eye was black. Ruby tried to mask it behind heavy black eyeliner, telling him he looked like a gorgeous goth, but nothing could disguise the swelling.

  ‘Aren’t your parents going to ask questions?’ she asked anxiously.

  He gave her a look that told her she had inadvertently asked an exceptionally stupid question.

  ‘How are you doing?’ His face was tender now. He ran a thumb along her jaw, giving her goosebumps.

  ‘My bruises are mostly hidden,’ she replied. ‘Look.’

  She lifted her top, almost wincing as her arms rose to shoulder level – her muscles were stiff from the pounding they had received. Harry flinched when he saw the storm cloud bruises billowing across Ruby’s ivory flesh. He reached out, hesitant, but Ruby didn’t move away. His fingers landed on her ribs like the wings of a butterfly. His digits kissed her skin as they traced the outline of her injuries with only the lightest of touches, making her shiver when he arrived at the tenderest spots.

  ‘You might have a cracked rib,’ he said, as she took a shuddering intake of breath.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she lied. Because she knew her breathing was down to more than simply her injuries. Finally, she had found where she belonged, she realised. Nothing else mattered. People could do what they wanted to her, as long as she had Harry.

  ‘Who were those people, anyway?’ he asked.

  Ruby’s eyes darted round, trying to flee the conversation. Harry took both her hands and rested his forehead against hers. They breathed in one another’s breath, until Ruby’s pounding heart had slowed to match Harry’s. No one else existed apart from them. Ruby stared at Harry’s eyes, noticing the deep brown flecks that made them look almost black, the amber around the pupil that made them glow like fire.

  Then she told him everything. How hard she had tried to fit in at her old school. How badly she had failed. And her hopes for a fresh start at her new school.

  ‘Everyone hated me at that posh school. They made my life a misery,’ she revealed. ‘All I wanted was to go to a normal school. But Dad simply had to make me attend that place, trying to impress the neighbours or his partner or whatever. Who cared if his own daughter was miserable as long as everyone knew how much money he was chucking at me?’

  ‘It’s over now. All that’s in the past. Everyone at school likes you so far, so screw these others. Bumping into them was just bad luck.’

  The bitter betrayal and constant fear of the last few years melted away at his words.

  They fell asleep together, exhausted. Holding hands, still facing each other, curled up on their sides.

  * * *

  The front door closing woke Ruby. Her eyes flew open, and she prodded Harry awake. His eyebrows shot up in confusion that was rapidly blinked away at her urgency.

  ‘You’ve got to hide. Quick. Into the cupboard.’

  Without a word, he hurried over, and the second he pulled the door closed, she entombed herself in the duvet and closed her eyes. Turned away from the door and forced her pounding chest to rise and fall slowly.

  The bedroom door opened quietly, the only giveaway was the hushing sound of it brushing over the thick carpet. A pause, then the same hushing and a click.

  ‘She’s fast asleep,’ Ruby heard her mum say out on the landing.

  She waited for a minute, heart still threatening to give her away with its thumping beat. It could be a trick. Her parents may have realised she wasn’t asleep and wanted to catch her out
.

  But they hadn’t.

  After five minutes, she crept over to the wardrobe, wincing at the movement.

  ‘You okay?’ she checked.

  Harry gave her a soft smile of reply. ‘Am I all right to go now?’

  ‘Should be. Come here.’ She opened the window and leaned out. ‘See that ledge? Immediately below it is a trellis and, look, that fancy bit of stonework. Think you can climb down using them? Don’t look so worried, Mouse did it all summer. She thinks no one knows, but I’ve heard her during the day, when she wants to get something from her room and doesn’t want to get told off by Father for “traipsing through the house every five minutes”.’

  ‘Yeah, I can do that. No problem.’

  He hesitated, then leaned forward and kissed her. Gentle; all the more so because of his split lip, but it made something inside Ruby come alive.

  Her first kiss.

  * * *

  By the Monday, everyone had known about the attack.

  ‘Two skanky moshers get what’s coming at the skateboard park – what a mess.’

  That was the message that flashed across Ruby’s phone. There was a video of her. Blurry, but still discernible, as she had momentarily curled up into a ball, feet kicking at her. She wasn’t even aware she had done that.

  From that moment, her fate had been sealed at her new school. Somehow, a girl called Jayne Seward had spotted the footage on Facebook or something. Recognising the new girl, Jayne had made sure the video was shared far and wide.

  Jayne had continued what Poppy had started at Ruby’s previous school, for no reason other than it was fun. People sniggered, pointed, whispered comments.

  So much for a fresh start.

  Ruby’s family were the only ones who had no clue. The teen hid her war wounds beneath long-sleeved tops and a mask of thick make-up. Before, she had tried everything to be like everyone else. That changed after being beaten up. Ruby realised she would never fit in – and she decided to embrace it. Her make-up got thicker and darker, her clothes blacker and more extreme. People were going to stare and hate anyway, so she gave them something to stare at and focus their hatred on.