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

by Rona Halsall

  Martha frowned at Izzy, not sure what she meant.

  Izzy shrugged. ‘It’s your mum’s problem, so there’s nothing you can do.’

  Martha’s eyes widened. ‘What if they declare her bankrupt? What happens then?’

  Izzy put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a rub, her eyes full of concern. ‘Don’t worry. I’m sure there’s a way to negotiate payment schedules and stuff. Maybe you could ask the Citizens Advice Bureau or something? Anyway, I can help.’ She shuffled sideways so she could see Martha better. ‘I told you I’ve got a bit of money, didn’t I? After Mum died and the house was sold, I was in… I wasn’t…’ Izzy huffed out a breath and studied the box on her lap for a moment before she carried on talking. ‘I was in a secure unit. I was only sixteen, didn’t even have my own bank account then. Anyway, the money was put in trust for me for when I was better.’ Izzy looked up, gave a rueful smile. ‘That took a while and I had a few… let’s call them setbacks, so I was never in a position to use the money. Not until now.’ Her eyes searched Martha’s face. ‘I’m planning on buying somewhere when I’ve decided where I want to settle down. If you wanted, you could come and live with me. You can go to uni – I know you want to – and I can do the therapy course I’ve decided I want to do.’ She beamed at Martha. ‘We can both be students. I can help you achieve your dreams, give you the future you deserve.’

  Martha leant away from her, shocked by the turn the conversation had taken. Leave her mum and live with Izzy? In her dreams, maybe, but her reality made it impossible.

  ‘What about Mum?’ Her voice was an alarmed squeak and she cleared her throat, tried again. ‘I can’t just leave her. Apart from the fact that she’ll need a carer for a while until she recovers, she’s pretty helpless when it comes to sorting things out, making decisions. She just can’t seem to do it.’

  ‘It’s her mess, Martha.’ Izzy sounded all snippy. ‘She’s an adult. She can sort it out herself. Are you going to sacrifice your entire youth for her? Your future? Do you think that’s what a mother wants for their child?’

  Martha’s mouth fell open and she clambered to her feet, stalked into the kitchen, struggling to process what Izzy had said.

  The sound of footsteps behind her made her tense.

  ‘Sorry, that came out wrong.’ Izzy put a hand on Martha’s shoulder and she spun round, angry and confused and unable to think now that Izzy had put the idea in her head that they could go and be students together, because she knew she’d love that – the freedom to be herself, not have to worry about anyone else. But it just wasn’t possible, and her head started to ache with the muddle of emotions, no words to express what she felt about the suggestion.

  ‘I’m just trying to help, make you see that you need to put yourself first at some point in your life, otherwise you’ll have a mountain of regrets.’ Izzy sighed. ‘Look, it’s not as bad as it sounds. She can rent a little flat or something, where she can manage better on her own. And surely she’ll be eligible for benefits of some sort to pay for a home help. Maybe get her into sheltered accommodation.’

  Martha was quiet for a long time, picking at her nails as she straightened out her thoughts. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ she said. ‘But not straight away. I couldn’t leave Mum struggling, but maybe her health problems and this financial stuff will make her realise there have to be major changes. And perhaps the assessor will say this place isn’t suitable for her. Who knows? I can’t make a decision right now. I can’t even think straight.’ She looked at Izzy and saw the hope in her eyes. ‘But in the long term’ – she smiled – ‘I like your idea very much.’

  She’d hardly finished speaking before Izzy burst into tears.

  Twenty-Nine

  Fran

  Now

  ‘We’re just going to move you to the cardiac ward,’ the nurse said as the porter unlocked the brakes on Fran’s bed and started wheeling her towards the double doors at the entrance to the ICU. ‘The doctors are really pleased with your progress, and it seems the damage to your heart isn’t as bad as they first thought, so they’ve just got to get the medication sorted now.’ The nurse gave Fran a warm smile and she allowed herself a glimmer of hope. Maybe they’ll let me out of here soon, she thought, crossing her fingers under the blanket.

  She couldn’t wait to get home and have a little drink. Just one, as a reward for getting through all the trauma. She definitely felt better, that was true. And her feet didn’t hurt as much, so they wanted to get her up and out of bed, get her circulation moving. What a relief that will be!

  After the terrible news about Greg, keeping Martha safe had to be her priority now, because who knew what the repercussions of his death would be. She couldn’t bear to think about it and studied the artwork on the corridor walls to take her mind away from the darkness of her fears.

  ‘Oh, I forgot,’ the nurse said, ‘your daughter rang to say she’s on her way, should be here in about an hour.’

  Fran smiled to herself. Martha was a good girl. Obviously, they had their moments, like all people who lived together, but Martha had a good heart, and Fran knew she could always rely on her. Yes, she was proud of the person her daughter had become. They just had to sort out a new job for her, get some money coming into the house and then they’d be fine. Thank goodness we’re not paying much rent, she thought. Then she remembered that Anna had said she was coming down to stay for a few days.

  They were going to look at the cover design for her last book, but more ominously, she’d said there were things they needed to discuss. Fran’s hands found each other under the covers, fingers twining together. The more she thought about Anna’s words, the more she started to worry. Was this really the last project they’d do together? She had a feeling it might be. Anna had recently celebrated her seventieth birthday, and now she was more or less living abroad, she seemed to have lost interest in writing. What will I do without that regular money? Fran’s fingers clasped tighter. And what if she’s decided to sell the house?

  She thought about her career, although that word was far too grand for the piddling amount of work she did these days. The monthly allowance she used to get for Martha had stopped three years ago, and somehow, she’d managed to fritter away all the money she’d been left when her mother had died. Maybe some design work would come in now that spring was on its way. She hoped so because that file full of letters was really preying on her mind.

  It was getting harder to generate new work, of that there was no doubt. All these online design services doing things on the cheap. Letting people design their own flyers and business cards and posters – territory that had been hers a few years ago. She probably needed to have a rethink, change direction and find another niche market for her skills. It was hard to get excited about anything, if she was honest, other than illustrations. That was her talent, where she excelled. But the publisher they worked with hadn’t ever suggested sending more work her way, and unless she wrote and illustrated her own children’s book, that stream of work was probably about to dry up. Hmm, I could write stories. Martha could help. Perhaps that was something they could do together?

  She arrived at the cardiac ward feeling a little calmer, her mind floating about in a world of make-believe as she designed a new family of dragons.

  Then Martha arrived and reality landed like an elephant on her chest.

  ‘How are you feeling today, Mum? A bit better?’ She leant over and gave Fran a peck on the cheek before pulling up a chair by the bed.

  Fran noticed her face was pale and drawn, her lips pinched together. She smiled and nodded. ‘Well, I must be better, or they wouldn’t have put me in here.’

  Martha gave her a reproachful look and Fran knew she’d sounded snappy, but she’d never had much patience with meaningless questions.

  ‘Sorry, love. Don’t mind me.’ She reached out a hand, and after a moment Martha held it in her own. ‘I do feel better, but thinking is a bit of a struggle. I don’t know what drugs they’re giving me, but my
head’s all over the place and I feel really grumpy.’

  They gazed at each other for a moment and Martha was first to break the silence. ‘The ward sister just confirmed they’re coming to assess the house tomorrow. Apparently once your meds are sorted and they’re satisfied you can manage at home, they’re going to let you out.’

  Fran smiled, a flush of relief sending a glow through her body. ‘Oh, that’s wonderful news, love.’ She grasped Martha’s hand tighter. ‘I can’t wait to be back in my own bed, with all my things.’

  Martha’s gaze hardened, her jaw working from side to side, and Fran felt a shiver of apprehension run through her. She knew that look. ‘Well, Mum, there’s a bit of a problem there, as I think you know. We might not have our things for much longer if the bailiffs come.’ There was a spark of anger in her eyes as she let go of Fran’s hand.

  ‘What? What do you mean?’ Fran’s heart stuttered, and for one awful moment she thought it was happening again. She put a hand to her chest, as if that could still the rapid beats.

  ‘I’ve been tidying up, ready for the assessment, because, let’s face it… they wouldn’t let you home the state the house was in.’

  Martha looked grim. Fran tensed.

  ‘I found all the letters. Including the one asking you to pay arrears on the electricity or we’d be cut off. And the one telling you that your bank account has been frozen until you pay something in.’ Martha scowled. ‘Honestly, Mum, why don’t you talk to me about things like that, then we could have worked something out?’

  Fran was about to speak, to try and defend herself, when Martha carried on, her face like thunder now as she thrust a letter into Fran’s hand.

  ‘This was hand-delivered by a debt collector yesterday.’ She stabbed at the page with a finger, but Fran couldn’t look, didn’t need telling how much she owed. ‘The bailiffs are coming to take things away if we don’t settle that loan. All seven thousand pounds of it.’

  Fran shrank back against her pillow, couldn’t cope with the look of disdain in her daughter’s eyes. How has it come to this? There wasn’t a simple answer. It was a cumulative problem, one that had crept up on her until she was drowning in debt that she had no means to repay. It had started when she’d seen an advert for the loan on TV, been taken in by the ease of the process, and she’d just done it without thinking, without even paying attention to the exorbitant interest rate, which escalated the amount she owed at a speed she’d never anticipated.

  ‘We’ve got a week to come up with some money. A week.’ Martha’s voice was increasingly shrill. ‘Then they’ll start taking our stuff.’

  Fran closed her eyes, unable to look at the accusation on her daughter’s face a moment longer. She had no answer, had no idea what they were going to do.

  ‘I can give him a little bit,’ Martha said. ‘Out of the advance on my redundancy money. But it’s only a couple of hundred. I’m hoping that might buy us some time.’

  Fran’s heart did a funny beat again and her eyes flicked open. ‘Oh, sweetheart, that’s yours. I don’t want to take your money.’

  Martha scowled at her and Fran could tell she was beyond furious, her voice grinding out from between clenched teeth. Oh my God, she hates me. She really hates me. A chill prickled Fran’s skin.

  ‘You’re not taking it; I’m giving it because it won’t just be your stuff they’ll be removing.’ Martha threw up her hands and slumped back in her chair, clearly at her wits’ end about the whole situation. ‘I’ve called the Citizens Advice people and they’re going to help put an agreement in place with all the debtors, so I think we’ve got a bit of breathing space. But honestly, Mum, I don’t even know how you’ve got in such a mess with money.’

  Tears welled up in Fran’s eyes, slowly trickled down her cheeks. Is this what it’s come to? After all those years putting my life on hold to keep her safe?

  Granted she wasn’t the child Fran had expected, but she was her daughter, and from the day she was born, she’d barely given a thought to how she was conceived. Now she felt she’d ruined everything, trying to keep control, keep all the plates spinning when she obviously wasn’t managing.

  Martha’s face softened. ‘Oh, Mum, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone on at you like that, it’s just…’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know what we’re going to do.’ She leant forwards, reached for Fran’s hand again and gave it a comforting squeeze. ‘Thing is, I can’t really sort it out because everything is in your name. I told them about your… condition, and someone’s going to do a home visit. There’re forms you need to sign.’

  They sat like that for a little while, their silence an invisible barrier between them until Martha let go of Fran’s hand and sat back in her chair, arms folded across her chest, looking utterly defeated. She stared into space while Fran couldn’t think of a single thing to say. There was no defence for the situation she’d got them into, and Fran could hardly comprehend how fast the whole thing had escalated.

  It had started three years ago when Martha’s monthly allowance had stopped. At the same time, Anna had slowed down on her writing, so Fran was earning less. It was a double whammy and Fran had suddenly found herself short of money for household bills. She’d asked Martha for a contribution, but she hadn’t wanted to take all her earnings.

  Martha’s voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘The point is, you’ve got to come clean about everything now. It’s time to stop having secrets, stop treating me like a child.’

  Fran swallowed, shocked at Martha’s tone and the way she was standing up to her, could feel their relationship fracturing in a way it never had before. I’m going to lose her, and that thought was unbearable because Martha was as vital to Fran as her beating heart. She picked at the blanket covering her legs, decided that she had no choice. Martha wouldn’t like it. But if that’s what was needed to mend their relationship, then she’d do it. She stared at the ceiling and wondered where to start. There was so much that Martha didn’t know and a certain amount that Fran could never tell her, so she decided to start with the things that Martha would probably get to know sometime soon anyway. Especially if the police started asking more questions.

  ‘I need to tell you something.’

  Martha stared at her, wriggled her arms tighter across her chest. ‘I think there’s a few things you need to tell me, Mum.’ Her jaw softened. ‘Look, whatever you need to tell me, it’s not going to stop me loving you if that’s what you’re worried about. I know we get grumpy with each other, but, you know, I think that’s pretty normal. If we can just get everything out in the open, have a fresh start, well, maybe we can sort things out.’

  Fran clasped the blanket. Will she still love me when she knows? She really wasn’t sure, but she had no choice.

  She nodded. ‘Absolutely. You’re right. Okay, well … I’m sorry I haven’t told you before, but… me and your dad, we were still in touch.’

  Martha’s expression didn’t change. Then Fran understood. She already knows. Her pulse started to speed up.

  Martha’s lips pursed before she spoke, a hard glint in her eyes. ‘So, you were in touch with him, but he wasn’t in touch with me? How does that work?’

  Fran had expected shocked silence, but instead, Martha had gone on the attack and Fran wasn’t ready. She gulped in a couple of panicky breaths. This is going to be more difficult than I thought. ‘Your father did a very stupid thing, love. He tried to blackmail a judge. Years ago, now. That’s why we split up.’

  ‘Blackmail?’ Martha huffed, her voice full of scorn, like she didn’t believe her. ‘Why would he be blackmailing a judge?’

  ‘Because he was foolish. He’d been made redundant and we were struggling for money and he knew something that the judge didn’t want to be public knowledge. And… well…’ Fran stopped and looked down at her hands. ‘It set off a load of trouble. We weren’t safe. As long as we knew what we did, we were in danger. So, we decided for your sake, we needed to split up, change our names and start again in plac
es we couldn’t easily be found.’ She twisted the blanket beneath her fingers. ‘He never stopped loving you.’

  ‘And now he’s dead.’

  Fran caught the word ‘dead’, and recognised the finality of it. She’d been so full of drugs, it hadn’t registered properly, but now the stark reality hit home. Her throat tightened. Greg’s dead. The silence thickened until Fran could stand it no longer. ‘I texted him on the day he died. That’s how the police found me.’ She looked at Martha, a sudden fear throbbing in her forehead. ‘I just hope whoever killed him has nothing to do with that blackmail. I hope he hadn’t tried to get money out of the judge again.’

  Martha leant forwards, her face creased in a frown, clearly struggling to understand the implications of what Fran was telling her. ‘And why would he do that? After all this time, why would he do something that stupid?’

  Fran started to shake. ‘Because I told Greg we needed money. He used to send me a bit every now and again, when he had some spare. I was desperate.’ Oh God, is it really my fault that he’s dead? Her thinking hadn’t been clear enough to consider this before, but now she realised it was a distinct possibility.

  ‘Did you tell the police this?’

  Fran shook her head.

  ‘So, we might be in danger ourselves, you think?’

  Fran looked at her daughter, unable to speak, her words stolen by the knowledge that her worst fear was coming true. She’d caused Greg’s death and put her daughter’s life in danger. Coming to live in Cornwall was supposed to avoid this exact eventuality, was supposed to keep them all safe.

  Martha gave a weary shake of her head. ‘Mum, I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I believe you.’ She looked down at her hands for a moment before she spoke again. ‘The day he died, I went to see him.’

  Fran gasped, her hand clutching at her neck as if that would open up her airways.

  ‘You know what he told me?’