Her Mother's Lies: A gripping psychological thriller with a stunning twist

by Rona Halsall

  She felt herself falling, sliding backwards, darkness filling her vision until there was nothing but blackness.

  No now, no future, just her past, spooling in front of her eyes. A past full of lies and regrets; things which, given the choice again, she would choose not to do. And the decision that her mind settled on, the moment before her heart stopped beating, was the one that had defined her miserable life.

  Nineteen

  Fran

  Twenty-four years ago

  The phone call had been her mother’s idea. The situation couldn’t just be left, she’d said. There had to be consequences, however wealthy and well-to-do the family were. Even they weren’t above the law. Fran had taken a bit of persuading, but now she was here, on the phone, and her heart was beating like the clappers.

  ‘It’s essential that the child never knows who its father is, you do understand that, don’t you?’ The man on the phone was firm, speaking with a cultured accent and the tone of someone who was used to being obeyed.

  Strange how you can tell by a voice when people are in a position of power, Fran thought. This was an order he was giving her, not open for discussion.

  ‘I agree that it’s in everyone’s interests,’ Fran said, holding her nerve, because this time she had the power, didn’t she? She was the one who could ruin the father’s future. She was the one who could bring disgrace to his family. She wasn’t allowing herself to think about what they could do to her, wasn’t admitting those worries into her mind. ‘But bringing up a child has a lot of associated costs, wouldn’t you agree?’ She left her comment hanging in the air, knowing that she didn’t have to spell things out.

  There was a long silence, a sigh. Then, ‘Of course, we’d be happy to offer compensation. On the condition that nothing is ever said.’ Another silence. ‘We accept that our son was in the wrong, but nothing good would ever come of bringing this unfortunate incident to the courts. We all have to agree it was a terrible mistake, a case of misunderstandings.’ There was a bit of throat-clearing. ‘It’s better to be constructive about the future, wouldn’t you say, rather than get tied up in the wrongs of the past?’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say,’ Fran snapped. ‘You’re not the one with a baby to bring up.’ Her mother’s hand tightened on her shoulder and Fran swallowed her anger. Now was not the time to pick a fight. She took a deep breath, tried to calm down.

  ‘We appreciate that and we’re very sorry for all your… troubles.’

  Troubles? Fran could hardly believe they’d said that, diminishing the whole thing as a trouble. Easier to say than to admit their son was a rapist. Much easier to imply the ‘troubles’ belonged to Fran. Her mum squeezed her shoulder again and Fran made herself focus on the purpose of the conversation. The future, just think about the future.

  ‘Let’s talk about compensation, then, shall we?’ Fran’s hand was sweaty on the receiver, her mother’s breath hot on the back of her neck as she leant in to listen.

  ‘Right, yes. We’ve had a long, hard think about the situation, and we think it would be best if the child was brought up in a different area. We will organise suitable accommodation and pay living expenses until the child is twenty-one.’

  Fran turned to look at her mother, who was shaking her head, and signalling that she should say no. It was the idea of Fran going away that was bothering her, Fran knew that. She’d struggle without her around to help with Beth, who was quite a handful at the moment, worse since there’d been a baby in the house. Fran thought about it for a moment. There was no happy solution in these sorts of situations, that was the truth of it, and a compromise was inevitable. Accommodation and living costs for twenty-one years sounded better than Fran had hoped for. Even if Greg didn’t accept the child as his, at least she’d have a roof over her head and wouldn’t have to worry about work.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘It’s a deal. But it needs to be organised quickly.’ Greg would be back in a couple of weeks and she wanted everything to be sorted out by then so he couldn’t argue. A new start for her and the baby and Greg. An instant family. Not exactly what they’d planned, but their lives had been heading in that direction. It was a big step, such a big step, but fortune favoured the brave as her mother was fond of telling her. Which was ironic. It’s the only way, she reassured herself, not wanting to catch her mother’s eye. Not wanting anything to stop this from happening.

  ‘Good. Give us a week to sort out somewhere for you and the child to live, then we’ll be in touch with the details.’ There was a pause. ‘And remember, you can never tell anyone the truth. Never. Otherwise, the deal is off and there will be consequences.’ A little cough. ‘I can assure you I don’t say that lightly and it’s not an idle threat. Understood?’

  ‘Yes,’ Fran said, not really thinking about what he meant. Aware that it was in her own interests for this to be a secret she would never share. ‘Understood.’

  The phone went dead, and Fran put the receiver down.

  Later, she would understand the implications of the deal. She would learn that she had sold her soul to the devil and there was no escape.

  Twenty

  Martha

  Now

  When Martha’s phone rang and she didn’t recognise the number, she hesitated. Who would be ringing me? Her first thought was the police.

  ‘Aren’t you going to answer that?’ Izzy asked.

  ‘It’s an unknown number.’

  Izzy frowned. ‘Could it be the hospital?’

  Martha’s heart clenched. I hadn’t thought of that. She answered and the colour drained from her face as she listened. ‘Oh my God, no.’ Her chest started heaving. ‘Twenty minutes,’ she said. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ She hung up and looked at Izzy, hardly able to believe what she’d been told. ‘Mum’s had a massive heart attack.’ Her voice cracked. ‘She’s in intensive care.’

  Izzy’s mouth fell open. ‘Oh, Martha, that’s terrible.’

  ‘They said I need to come. Soon as I can. They’re not sure…’ She bit her lip as fear filled her throat, making speech impossible.

  ‘It’s okay. Don’t worry, I’ll speed up.’ And she did, hunching over the wheel as she followed the directions, going as fast as the traffic would allow until she swung into the hospital grounds. She pulled up at the drop-off point outside the main entrance. ‘I’ll park up and follow you in.’

  Martha looked at her, horrified. ‘No! Come with me. Please, Izzy. Come with me. I don’t think I can do this on my own.’ Her chin trembled. ‘She might…’

  Izzy leant over and pulled her close, rubbing her back while Martha clung to her like a child. She murmured in Martha’s ear, ‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ although Martha knew it definitely wasn’t.

  ‘All right, I’ll come with you. I just didn’t want to be in the way.’ She pulled away. ‘I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to stay strong. Okay? I’m here, you don’t have to do this on your own. And your mum is getting the very best care. At least she was already here and not at home when it happened.’

  Martha nodded, her body shaking.

  ‘You go and find out directions while I find somewhere to park. I’ll be quick as I can. Okay?’

  Martha nodded and got out of the car, taking a few deep breaths before she entered the hospital and found the information desk.

  ‘Ready?’ Izzy asked ten minutes later when she appeared by Martha’s side.

  Martha gave a little nod, and linked arms with her, every footstep heavy with a sense of foreboding at what might await her in the ICU. Thankfully, Izzy took control, pressing the buzzer outside the unit and announcing they were here to visit Frances Taylor.

  Once they were in the waiting room, a nurse came to see them. ‘I’m afraid your mum is very poorly,’ she said, in a soft, sympathetic voice. ‘She’s not conscious at the moment, but you can sit with her for a little while if you want.’

  Is she going… to… die?’ Martha squeezed Izzy’s hand so tight, she heard her gasp.

/>   The nurse looked from Izzy to Martha and back again. ‘The doctor has just been to see her, and we think she’s started to stabilise now.’ She gave a reassuring smile. ‘Hopefully, she’s over the worst. She just needs a lot of rest to let her body heal. Recovery will take a while, but once the medication is sorted out, well, she should be fine.’

  Martha gulped with relief. ‘Can I see her now?’

  Izzy put a hand on her shoulder. ‘I’ll wait here. She won’t want to see a stranger peering at her if she wakes up. Better if it’s just you.’

  The nurse nodded. ‘Normally, we just allow family in these situations.’ She glanced at Izzy. ‘Make yourself comfortable in here for as long as you like. There’s a drinks machine over there. And a snacks machine next to it. Lots of magazines on the table.’

  Martha looked uncertain, but Izzy shooed her away and she left with the nurse, her legs so weak she thought she might fall over.

  The tears started when Martha saw her mother connected to various machines, a screen above the bed flashing up graphs and numbers. Her face looked so baggy, like it was two sizes too big for her, the flesh sagging round her mouth and chin in a way she was sure it never had before.

  She wiped her eyes before sitting next to the bed, took her mum’s hand, glad to feel the warmth of it.

  ‘Hello, Mum,’ she whispered, waiting for some sign of recognition, a little squeeze back. But there was nothing.

  There were four beds in the bay of the intensive care unit and a central nurse’s station in the middle where they could see everyone. There was nothing private about it and other people sat next to other beds looking at other unconscious relatives. Martha adjusted her chair so she couldn’t see anyone else, could pretend it was just her and her mum. She stroked her hand, listened to the machine beeping its regular beeps and watched the numbers on the screen for a few minutes, trying to work out what they might mean.

  The idea that Fran might die tore at her heart and she leant forwards, started to whisper in her mum’s ear. ‘I love you. You know that, don’t you?’ She stroked a few strands of hair away from her mum’s face. ‘I know we don’t go in for lovey-dovey stuff. But I really honestly do love you, Mum. Even when I’m cross.’ Her voice wavered. ‘Please just hang in there, will you? Please.’

  Still no response. Did she hear me? She held her hand a little tighter.

  Weariness made her body heavy and she lay her head on the bed for a moment, closed her eyes.

  Her mind wandered back over the last few days, since her boss had died. That’s what had started all this. Poor Pete. She swallowed the lump in her throat. None of this would have happened if he was still alive. Death. She was surrounded by death. A wealth of sadness filled her up, threatening to overflow in a proper meltdown.

  As a distraction, she switched her thinking to more practical things, wondered how much money she had left, how long it would last. It would have lasted a lot longer if I hadn’t made a stupid dash up to Wales, she thought. But then I wouldn’t have met up with Izzy. And that, she decided, would have been a bad thing. Because she really liked Izzy and she’d been a tremendous support after the Greg incident. Yes, she’s a little odd at times, but then we all are in some way, aren’t we? Martha had led such a sheltered life, she’d probably find a lot of people outside Cornwall a little odd, and they probably thought the same about her.

  Having ventured to Wales, seeing all that spectacular scenery, Martha decided that she’d really like to travel. Maybe once her mum was well enough to look after herself, she could organise a little trip somewhere. Maybe Izzy would come with her. Now that could be fun. She allowed herself to dream of a new future, one with Izzy in it. And why not? Hadn’t Izzy said she had no commitments for the time being? Maybe she could stay a bit longer. Or come back for the summer? Her mind started to create a fantasy world, where Izzy lived with them. If they both had jobs, that would make life so much easier, and with Izzy having a car, they could look for jobs in Plymouth, even go to work together. The possibilities opened up in her mind, a world without boundaries, a world where she could escape the horrible reality of her life.

  A hand gave her shoulder a gentle shake and Martha realised she’d fallen asleep on the bed. Her cheeks reddened as she forced herself upright, groggy and disorientated.

  ‘Are you okay?’ The nurse was studying her as if she was a patient, and Martha gave her a quick smile, embarrassed that she’d dozed off.

  ‘Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Sorry, I didn’t sleep well last night.’

  ‘It’s a worry, isn’t it, but your mum’s in the best place. I’m afraid it’s just a waiting game for the next day or so.’

  Martha sighed, the idea of sitting here for hours on end landing like a weight in her stomach.

  The nurse handed her a card. ‘This is the number for the ICU desk. If you want to go home for a bit and ring later, we can give you an update. Call any time. And if she comes round, we’ll ring you.’

  Martha slipped the card into her pocket and gazed at her mum. The nurse was probably right. It would be better to go home and get some rest. At least with Izzy’s car, it would be easy enough to come back – if she’d had to rely on public transport, the idea of going home and coming back would have been unthinkable.

  She nodded. ‘Good idea. I’ll do that.’

  The nurse smiled, then held up a finger as she remembered something. ‘Oh, your friend said she’s gone for a walk.’

  ‘Right. Thank you.’ Martha stood and walked back to the waiting room, glanced in to make sure Izzy hadn’t returned, then hurried out of the hospital, fumbling her phone out of her pocket as soon as she was outside.

  Izzy answered on the third ring. ‘Hiya. How’s your mum?’

  ‘Comatose,’ Martha said, feeling utterly glum; the realisation of how close to death she’d been was starting to hit home. ‘They said to go home and ring later and they’ll call if there’s any change.’

  ‘And is that what you want to do?’

  Martha thought for a moment. If she went home, at least she could be doing things to take her mind off how poorly her mum was and getting the house ready for when she was better. ‘Yeah, I think so. Where are you?’ It was suddenly an effort to even talk.

  ‘I’ll meet you at the main entrance. I’ll be there in a sec.’

  The journey back to Martha’s house was largely silent, both of them lost in their thoughts, and as they got closer, Martha felt increasingly conflicted. This was her home, where she’d grown up, but she’d never settled here, had always felt like an outsider and wanted to leave. Her daydream about Izzy moving in, having a friend to do things with, was just an unrealistic fantasy, and now she’d actually been away, she wasn’t sure she wanted to come back. But she had to, she had no choice, because her mum would need looking after and Fran wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.

  It’s always about Mum, isn’t it? she thought, jaw tightening. Somehow, Fran had to be centre of attention, always pulling Martha back, keeping her close. And that made her home more like a prison. I don’t want to be here, she thought as they drove down the lanes that led to the cottage.

  ‘Wow, this is lovely,’ Izzy said as they got closer. ‘Lucky you, living in a place like this.’

  Martha snorted. ‘Lovely for a holiday, but if you haven’t got a car, it’s a nightmare. A real struggle to get to work on time, or home again.’

  Izzy laughed. ‘Pass your test. Then you can get a car and it won’t be a problem.’

  ‘Yeah, well, passing my test appears to be impossible. I’ve failed three times.’

  Izzy glanced at her, eyes alight with excitement as she pulled into the driveway next to the house. ‘I can help you, take you out to practise.’ She laughed. ‘If I can pass my test, I’m sure you can.’ She parked the car and jumped out, turning in a circle, a big grin on her face. ‘Bloody gorgeous. I’d love to live here.’

  Martha snorted. ‘Let me hear you say that after you’ve been here a few weeks and you’ve spen
t half your driving time backing up to let people pass on all these windy lanes.’

  Izzy looked at Martha, her eyes darting backwards and forwards as she studied her face. When she spoke, her voice was no more than a whisper, as if she hardly dared ask the question. ‘A few weeks. I can stay that long? Is that what you want?’

  Martha smiled. ‘Why not? It’s going to be tricky with Mum out of action and I won’t be able to manage with public transport.’

  Izzy’s face fell and her eyes hardened. ‘So, I’ll be a taxi service? That’s why you want me to stay?’

  Martha’s mouth dropped open when she realised how it must have sounded. She grabbed Izzy’s arm. ‘No, no. That’s not what I meant. I’d love to have you here. As my friend.’

  Izzy stared at her, before opening the boot, ready to get their bags out, without saying another word. Martha knew she was hurt, wondered how she was going to make amends. She ran round the car and threw her arms around Izzy, hugged her tight. It was a moment before Izzy responded and Martha was relieved to feel her hands on her back.

  ‘Having you as a friend is the best thing that’s happened to me for… well, forever.’ Martha’s words rushed out unedited, a stream of thoughts and dreams. ‘And I was thinking about working for a bit then going travelling in the summer and thought maybe we could go together. We could do that, couldn’t we? But I can’t go anywhere until Mum’s better. And I’ve a few other things to sort out, but that’s what I’m aiming for. What do you think?’

  Izzy buried her face in Martha’s hair. Her body shook, and it took Martha a moment to realise she was crying, her tears hot and wet against Martha’s skin. There was a lot she didn’t know about Izzy and her tears made Martha wonder if there were things going on in her life that she hadn’t talked about. Maybe Izzy needs me as much as I need her?