Her Last Secret: A gripping psychological thriller

by Barbara Copperthwaite

  ‘Fiona, I had to really concentrate on everything to convince myself it was real. I think I felt even worse when I realised it was…’ Her voice climbed an octave as she fought tears again.

  ‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ Fiona soothed. ‘The thing is, you were safe and so was everyone else.’

  ‘Yes. Yes.’

  ‘So that’s good then. And, you know, you’re recognising that you’ve got a problem and now you’re tackling it by talking to me.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Dominique again, and a horrible knot of tension inside her unclenched the tiniest amount.

  ‘There you go. It’s good to talk to me. Really, really good. But, as you know, it’s not enough. You need to speak to an expert again. You need to speak to someone who can really help you, because we don’t want a repeat performance of last time, do we?’

  ‘I know,’ Dominique’s answer was no more than a whisper.

  ‘I know you know. It just helps to state the obvious sometimes. After all, we lawyers get paid by the hour so it’s an easy habit to fall into. Tomorrow you’ll make that call, won’t you? I know you can’t do anything on a Sunday, but today you’ve taken your first step, and tomorrow you can make the phone call. You still got his number?’

  ‘Dr Madden? I’ll call him tomorrow, promise. Sorry for phoning you in such a state.’

  ‘It’s okay. Let’s not let things reach the stage they reached before, though, you know?’

  Dominique brought her hand down finally from her face and looked at the silvery scars on her arm. A permanent reminder. ‘No, I definitely don’t want a repeat performance of last time.’

  ‘Will you be okay now?’

  ‘Yeah, I feel so much better. Thanks again for listening.’

  ‘Hey, any time. And I mean that. Any time. Even if it’s in the middle of the night; no matter what, you call me. We’re the two musketeers, remember?’

  ‘Yeah, all right, d’Artagnan, I’m off. I’ll see you soon.’

  ‘Love you, mate. Bye.’

  Thirty

  Benjamin was knackered. It had been a really full-on day the day before, and not the success he’d hoped for. He had cleared out the history of his computer at work though, to ensure Jazmine wouldn’t find out anything, and Dominique would never dream of suspecting him. The last thing he had needed this morning was a row with Dominique. He’d no idea why she had been in such a mood. Why couldn’t she have come along with him? The row about baubles was pathetic – didn’t she realise how important this meeting with Vladimir Tarkovsky was? Of course not, he reminded himself. But even so, it wasn’t much to expect her to support him in his business dealings.

  Too late to worry now, though. The Russian would just have to put up with him on his own. Maybe it was for the best; he wasn’t sure introducing his wife and kids to someone of Vladimir’s fierce reputation was the best idea, even if it did help land the deal of his life. No, better that it was only him, schmoozing the way he did best.

  Ben hid behind his easy charm when he left the house, pretending everything was fine. The smile in place as always. As he put the shotgun in the boot, he displayed it to full effect to his neighbour, Mr Jackman, who seemed to be having a fight with a string of lights he was attempting to put round a tree.

  ‘Need a hand, Alan?’ Ben called.

  ‘No, I’ll be all right, thanks. How come you’re not on festive duty? I’ve been given a list as long as my arm of things I need to do in preparation for Christmas.’

  ‘Ah, the women do like to fuss, don’t they? But Dominique is great, she’s taking charge of everything while I go shooting. I go all the time. Hey, look at this beauty.’

  He couldn’t help showing off the gun. It made him feel manly beside his emasculated neighbour. When Alan asked if he could hold it, Ben shook his head in fake regret.

  ‘Go to, er, shoot off, sorry.’

  * * *

  He was still chuckling to himself as he pulled into the shooting club’s car park, which was full. Clearly everyone was desperate to shoot something and get rid of their frustrations before being locked up with their families for the festive season.

  Where the hell was Vladimir? Benjamin checked his watch.

  As he was going to be doing something sporty, he wasn’t wearing his Rolex. It was perfect for fitting under the cuff of a dress shirt, but would look out of place in his current country gentleman outfit, complete with padded waxed jacket. So instead he chose his Audemars Piguet Royal Oak Offshore, because the rubber strap looked more sporty – plus, it had cost almost as much as his car, and was bound to make the Russian green with envy.

  Benjamin had been blind to luxury timepieces until chatting to someone in the business class lounge of Heathrow one day. He and the man had been laughing at the poor suckers who had to fly cattle class and get deep-vein thrombosis due to lack of legroom. The other man had suddenly pushed back his sleeve and brandished his watch at Benjamin.

  ‘You want to get yourself one of these,’ he’d said. ‘This will guarantee you get treated right no matter where you are.’

  ‘Is it magic?’ Benjamin joked.

  ‘Might as well be. People take one look and they give you an upgrade because they know the sort of life you’re used to. Seriously, I checked into a hotel in Vegas the other week, and as soon as the receptionist clocked the watch I was upgraded to a suite. Bet you’ve got a nice car, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, a Merc.’

  ‘People look at you a certain way when you get out of it, don’t they? They know the type of person you are and the life you lead purely from the wheels you have.’

  True – it was one of the things that Benjamin loved about his car.

  ‘Well, unlike a car, a watch is noticeable wherever you are, at all times, in all public and private spaces, night or day, whether you’re at meetings or going out with friends and family at night. It’s the best investment you can make if you want to be taken seriously by people who matter.’

  Benjamin hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that conversation during his entire business trip, wondering what people made of him wearing the Sekonda Dominique had bought him years before. He’d quickly treated himself to a Rolex while away. He had reaped the benefits of his investment a few days later, when he had decided to upgrade his car. He had been chatting with one of the salespeople when the manager had come over, complimented him on his watch, and insisted on dealing with him personally. It had also got him the best table in a restaurant many times, when he had forgotten to book something. The watch was a lifesaver, and Benjamin had got used to receiving a certain reaction from people; they looked at it, and knew he was a serious man with serious money.

  Looking at it gave him comfort and confidence as he waited for Vladimir. He glanced up at the sky expectantly. The clouds were the colour of concrete. So heavy and low it looked as if he could reach out and touch them. The helicopter the shooting club had arranged to pick the Russian up in should be landing in about five minutes. All these little touches added up, making Benjamin certain Vladimir Tarkovsky would be impressed and convinced that his company could handle his business. All of his business.

  He smiled as he buffed his shotgun, making sure the dust that had gathered on it had gone. Finally, it was going to get some use, instead of sitting in his study like an ornament. He was looking forward to firing it.

  Thirty-One

  Rather than spend yet another day wallowing, getting angry and doing stupid things she only regretted, such as drunk texting, Kendra decided to distract herself. She nipped across the hallway.

  She felt both a dread curiosity about Jayne being hit, and a sense of responsibility: one day she would be Ruby’s stepmum, after all. When Dawn answered her knock, she found herself gabbling with guilt.

  ‘Just thought I’d see how you’re feeling. Hungover? How’s Jayne’s face? I keep thinking about her.’

  ‘She still won’t come out of her room,’ Dawn sighed. ‘Want a coffee?’

  ‘I�
��d love one, but I came over because… I wondered if you thought it might be worth me speaking to her, and trying to get the truth out?’

  Dawn hesitated, the relief writ large on her face. ‘Oh, would you? She won’t listen to me or her father. But she thinks a lot of you.’

  Kendra warmed at the compliment.

  Dawn’s kids were similar ages to Ben’s two, and so Kendra always made an extra effort with them – with an ulterior motive. She wanted to be a good friend to Ruby and Amber. Hoped they would all bond and grow to love each other eventually. It would take time, naturally, but in the meantime, helping Dawn out gave Kendra the opportunity to get used to being around kids of that age. To discover what they were into, because it was all a mystery to her.

  In her bid to become a good stepmum, Kendra had become fond of Jayne. Sometimes, when she knew Dawn was at work, Kendra would pop over to check on the teenager, and they would sit and chat. Hearing school gossip, giving advice to the youngster, even doling out make-up tips. Kendra had learned so much.

  Now, she hoped she would be able to use her influence. Fingers crossed.

  ‘Jayne. Come here a minute,’ Dawn yelled.

  A door opened and Dawn’s daughter peered out from her bedroom. She had yellow shadows under her eyes, the bruising spreading from a swollen nose that was purple on the end. Kendra winced.

  ‘See!’ said her mum unnecessarily.

  ‘I do… Gosh, Jayne, are you all right?’

  The teenager gave a surly shrug. Jayne was built like her mum, sturdy and pear-shaped. But while her mum’s eyes were blue sparklers that sang of kindness, Jayne’s were a dirge of muddy brown.

  ‘You poor thing,’ Kendra tutted, surging forward with a hug. Jayne squeezed back. Dawn discreetly wandered away, closing the lounge door behind her.

  ‘Now Jayne…’ Kendra kept her hands on the teen’s shoulders. ‘What on earth is going on? Your mum says you won’t say who did this.’

  Kendra’s hands rose and fell with the teen’s shoulders.

  ‘It’s not worth saying. Thing is, it is that Ruby Thomas, Mum’s right, but…’

  ‘But she’s a bit of a nutter, isn’t she? I remember you telling me about her before.’

  Jayne had told a couple of tales about Ruby, saying she was a troublemaker, stuck-up, didn’t want to make friends with anyone, and all sorts of other things. Sadly, it was all things Ben himself had said about his daughter, the rare times he talked about his family. No wonder he was so stressed out all the time. And no wonder he didn’t feel he could leave. If only he would realise that if he left home he would be happier, which would mean he would be in a better frame of mind to support his clearly troubled daughter. Kendra would help him as much as she could, too. Hell, perhaps her friendship and mentoring could even bring Ruby to her senses.

  All Kendra wanted to do was make life better for her lover. Which was why she was talking to Jayne at that moment. She took Jayne’s hand.

  ‘You know, I understand why your mum thinks you should tell the police who hurt you… but you’re right to keep it to yourself. They’re not going to do anything, are they? And if this Ruby is as nuts as you say, well, it’s best not to antagonise her – who knows what she might do next, otherwise.’

  They talked back and forth for a few minutes, as Jayne filled her friend in on everything that had been said and done. Finally, she frowned, thinking. ‘You’re right. I should deal with this myself.’

  ‘I think it’s for the best.’ Kendra gave Jayne’s square hand a squeeze. ‘But if your mum asks what I said, I tried to get you to tell all, yeah?’

  ‘I won’t drop you in it.’

  ‘Thanks. Oh, I almost forgot, I brought this lipstick for you. I bought it the other day and it’s really not my shade. Want it?’

  Jayne’s face lit up. ‘Cool, thanks.’

  The pink shade would currently only accentuate the purple of the teenager’s nose, but Kendra kept that opinion to herself.

  Mission accomplished, she was feeling rather pleased with herself as she nipped out to do some food shopping. She even spotted Jayne leaving the building, so had clearly made her feel better. More importantly, she had managed to ensure her silence. Benjamin would be so pleased with her when she told him.

  She had tried several times to get Ben to open up about his children, but he rarely did. Kendra needed to show him she wasn’t only with him for sex, or to be looked after, she actually cared about his life. By winning this small victory for him, and making sure Ruby stayed out of trouble, he would see more clearly how she and the kids would be able to get along once he and Kendra were officially a couple.

  Thirty-Two

  A comforting smell of grease basted the air. The fast food joint in Charlton was heaving. Ruby revelled in the total anonymity only achieved when a large group of people who don’t give a toss about one another are crunched into the same space. She didn’t bother looking at the menu lit up on the board in front of her; she always had the same thing: a burger and fries.

  When it arrived, shoved into her hand by a teenager around two years older than her and with eyes that seemed dead, Ruby looked around for two seats, and finally found a free table.

  She and Harry moved as one as they unwrapped their food, tossed the thin paper to one side, then took the top off their burgers and removed the gherkins. They could, of course, have ordered minus the gherkins, but both of them never did, and Ruby liked the sense of closeness it gave her that they shared this routine. As if they were one half of the same person. Soulmates.

  They often met in Charlton. Harry lived on the western outskirts, edging towards Woolwich, while she lived in Blackheath, so Charlton was halfway for them both. It was only five or so minutes for them to travel to. Plus, it was way nicer than Woolwich, but not so posh as Blackheath, where Harry joked people stared at him, worried he might be a mugger.

  As they ate, they bitched about their lives, the people they knew, the stupid bullies at school, their pathetic parents.

  ‘Well, Jayne and her cronies aren’t going to bother you no more,’ Harry grinned. ‘Not after you clocked her one in front of everyone. That was a brilliant punch.’

  ‘Thanks for teaching me,’ she beamed, tearing at her burger with gusto.

  ‘Yeah, but what made you do it now?’

  Before she could answer, the stink of stale sweat and the sickly aroma of unwashed clothes suddenly assaulted Ruby’s nose. She turned. A man who looked homeless wandered past, up to the counter. Sensing entertainment, she twisted in her seat for a better view, elbowing Harry.

  ‘’Scuse, mate, could I have a cup of tap water, please?’

  The dead-eyed server’s reply was short and to the point. ‘No.’

  ‘Come on, it’s just a glass of water. I’m parched.’

  ‘Tough,’ she shrugged. ‘Next.’

  The man was shoved out of the way by someone desperate for a chicken burger, fries, and an extra-large Coke.

  Unwatched, uncared for, the beggar shuffled over to a seat in a corner, and appeared to be making himself comfortable. Staff came over, told him to move on. But he refused.

  A few people tutted, some at him, some at the staff. But no one got involved. Ruby and Harry watched, nudging one another and laughing. A trio of police officers arrived.

  ‘Come on, sir, we’ve had a complaint so you’re going to have to come with us…’

  Harry jumped up. ‘What you arresting him for?’

  ‘Breach of the peace.’

  ‘How has he breached the peace? Are you arresting him for trying to sleep here? There’s nowhere else for him to go.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, son. You’re not seeing the whole picture.’

  Ruby leaped in, feeling a thrill of glee at baiting authority. ‘What whole picture? Is he breaching the peace by being homeless?’

  ‘You’ve really got a lot of learning to do, haven’t you?’ the officer sighed. He walked past them both, trying and failing to ignore the phone Harry was al
most shoving in his face. ‘Sir, don’t come any closer with that camera, okay? You can record me, but please record me at a distance.’

  ‘There’s nowhere for that geezer to stay. He just wants some water and somewhere to sleep. This system is broken,’ Ruby shouted.

  ‘Yeah, man. Let anarchy rule. Screw the system,’ Harry joined. ‘Look at you, Mr Policeman, strutting about, fiddling the crime statistics.’

  The policeman went red. ‘Fiddling…? That’s it, record all you want, but I’m not fiddling any statistics. If anyone is doing that, it’s the government.’

  ‘No, it’s not. It’s you. You claim to be protecting people but it’s a lie. The whole system is a lie. It needs to be brought down.’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘You should arrest the real criminals. The bankers. The businessmen. The dodgy accountants.’ Ruby was particularly thinking of her father as she said this. ‘MPs, and people stealing from taxpayers. Yeah? They’re the real criminals.’

  ‘Really.’ Again, that same tired tone, an adult talking to a child. ‘I think you need to get an education.’ He started to walk away.

  ‘Yeah? So do you,’ shouted Harry.

  The officer turned, pursing his lips. Trying to keep his temper. ‘What organisation do you represent? You don’t, do you, you’re just a couple of kids…’

  Ruby’s heart jumped. It was impossible not to feel slightly intimidated by the black and neon figure bristling in muscles and a stab vest.

  ‘Journalist,’ she shrugged.

  ‘You’re a journalist? Really? Who for? Do you have a press pass?’

  She sniggered. Beside her, Harry’s shoulders shook, and she grew even braver. ‘Yeah, right. I’m not here on official business. I’m here in my downtime.’ She shoved her hands in her pockets and looked back at him, cocky and confident. ‘We don’t need a press pass here, we’re in a restaurant. There’s CCTV everywhere, we’re already being recorded. We’re just joining in.’