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

by Rona Halsall

  As her thinking crystallised, a shiver of fear ran through her. ‘So where’s Anna now? It might sound daft, but I honestly don’t feel safe. What if she wants me dead as well for some reason?’

  Neil shook his head. ‘You’re okay. They’ve probably gone by now. I dropped her back at the house after we’d seen the doctor, made sure she was okay. Her son was already on the way from London to pick her up. I rang him to check and he said he was only half an hour away.’

  A switch flicked in her mind, another piece of information. ‘So you’ve got her son’s phone number? I just found out that Anna Betts is a pen name. What’s her son called? His surname?’

  Neil frowned. ‘A pen name? Wow, I didn’t know that. I just thought it was her maiden name, you know, and she kept it when she got married. Um, he’s Montgomery. Charles Montgomery.’ He pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket, handed it to her while he kept his eyes on the road. ‘I’ve got his card in there somewhere if you want to have a look. We’re sort of in the same line of business. He’s a corporate lawyer. Nice enough bloke. Quite chatty. Probably a bit older than me. Forty-something at a guess.’ He narrowed his eyes as he thought. ‘Montgomery Nuttall Toms. That’s the name of the partnership, but they market themselves as MNT. Easier to remember, I suppose.’

  MNT. That rings a bell, but she couldn’t remember why. Martha shuffled through a whole stack of business cards before she found the right one. A simple cream card with navy lettering, very classy and understated. Exactly what you’d expect from a corporate lawyer.

  ‘Take it, if it helps. I suppose the police are going to need to speak to him anyway if Anna’s with him. You can pass that on to them.’

  Martha slipped the card into her pocket, a thought flitting about at the back of her mind, like a butterfly that she couldn’t quite catch. She settled back in her seat, more relaxed now that she knew Anna was on her way to London and the police would catch up with her before long. Her eyelids flickered, the headlights of other cars hypnotic, and soon she was asleep.

  ‘Martha. Martha, we’re back.’ Neil was leaning across, gently shaking her shoulder.

  She blinked her eyes open, rubbed at them with her fists, still drowsy and struggling to wake.

  ‘Do you want me to come in?’

  Martha gave him a grateful smile. ‘Would you?’ She looked at the house. ‘This is going to sound really childish, but I’m not sure I want to be in there on my own. You know, after what happened.’

  ‘I’ll sleep on the sofa if you like?’ He grinned at her. ‘You promised me breakfast anyway, didn’t you?’

  She gave him a sleepy smile, covered a yawn with her hand. ‘I did.’ She frowned, wondering what food they had in, then decided it really didn’t matter. They’d make do. What mattered was getting to bed. She swung her legs out of the car, her movements sloth-like as she gathered her energy to stand.

  ‘You can have the spare room at the front. We actually cleared it out. Well, Izzy…’ Tears welled at the thought of all of Izzy’s hard work, how she’d made the bedroom nice for herself. She’d definitely been planning to stay for a while, and now she was gone. Just like that. Dead.

  Neil’s hand squeezed her shoulder. ‘Come on. Let’s get inside and get some sleep.’

  Martha glanced at Anna’s house, the windows dark, her car in the drive. She chewed at her lip. ‘She’s definitely gone, hasn’t she?’

  Neil nodded. ‘Definitely gone.’

  She heaved herself out of the car, stumbled down the driveway and opened the door, hesitating on the doorstep as she looked into the gloom of the hallway.

  Neil went in first, flicking on lights and walking round the whole house, while she stayed by the front door until he’d finished. ‘All clear,’ he said, leaning over the banister from upstairs. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

  She made her way up to him, her legs so tired she felt like she was climbing a mountain. ‘Okay. Let’s get the bed sorted for you.’

  She passed the door to her mum’s room, police tape criss-crossed over the closed door, and pushed open the door to Izzy’s room, the weight of her loss landing in her chest and squeezing her heart. She gasped, couldn’t breathe. Too soon. It’s way too soon. Neil saw the look on her face and shut the door.

  ‘It’s okay. I’ll sleep on the sofa. Honestly, I’m so tired I could sleep anywhere.’

  Martha looked at him for a moment, unable to speak until her heart had found its rhythm again. ‘Thanks, Neil. You’ve been brilliant. Really, I don’t know what I would have done without you.’

  He studied the floor. ‘No worries.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’ll go and get myself settled then.’

  Martha grabbed a spare duvet, a pillow and a blanket from the linen cupboard on the landing, loading up his outstretched arms, and watched him waddle down the stairs. Then she crept into her own room, shut the door and crawled into bed.

  Sleep wouldn’t come and she tossed and turned for almost an hour before she flicked on her bedside light, a sudden thought making her wide awake. She grabbed her phone and googled Anna Montgomery, but although there were plenty of people with that name, none of them matched the woman she’d always known as Anna Betts. Hmm, how about checking Charles, then, she thought, deciding this might lead her to the right Anna. She must have kept her maiden name when she married.

  Reams of articles came up. Her son was very successful, had fought some high-profile cases for big companies and was an active board member for a number of charities. There were no clues as to his mother’s name, although his father did get a mention: Arthur Montgomery, a criminal defence lawyer, now retired. There were plenty of news articles about him as well. No mention of his wife, which was odd, she thought.

  She sighed and threw her phone down, her eye caught by the line of books on the desk. The title of each book was picked out in gold letters on the spines and they sparkled in the lamplight, as if they were trying to attract her attention, calling for a reader to open them up. A clever bit of design, she thought, appreciating Fran’s talent and thinking she would tell her how proud she was of her work.

  She thought about Anna’s stories and how she’d loved them as a child, how they seemed to grow with her, and even when she was a teenager, she’d enjoyed them for a bit of fun, Anna always asking her to read through early proofs and give her opinion on the storylines.

  She got up and sat at the desk, picked up the first book in the series they’d started when they moved to Cornwall and flicked through the pages, reminding herself of the story. It was about a naughty boy whose mother was a witch, and she had to keep casting spells on people to make them forget all the things he’d done wrong. The next one was about a little girl who hated school because of the bullies, and the witch used her magic to teach the bullies a lesson. Martha picked up the next book, a story about a young princess who was banished from her kingdom and had to go and live in a land of trolls who spoke a language she couldn’t understand.

  The narratives were familiar and with a jolt, she understood that Anna had been telling the story of Martha’s life, dressed up with witches and princes and princesses and dragons and ugly monsters and magic. But it was Martha’s life in those books and Fran had illustrated it all without ever realising.

  She flicked through another couple of stories until she saw something that made her stop and read it again. Only the first few books had dedications – the usual husband, family, friends. Then they were blank until the one Martha was holding.

  For Erik Hass, the best mentor a girl could ever have. Miss you every day.

  A memory flashed into her mind, Anna teaching Martha to count to ten in German, telling her about her German grandfather. Hass is a German surname. Oh my God! Is that her grandfather? She grabbed her phone, did the search, and after a few pages, she found her: Anna Jane Hass, magistrate, based in Leeds.

  Martha read the news clip again, her brain frozen for a moment by this new discovery. Her world seemed to tilt.

  Anna was
the judge! The person Fran and Greg were so afraid of and yet there she was, fully embedded into their lives. Where she could control us. Was it Anna who’d arranged for Greg to be beaten up? Who’d broken the family apart and stuck Fran and Martha in the back of beyond, at the other end of the country, keeping them scared of repercussions so they’d stay there?

  It was all about protecting the family’s reputations, their careers and their future. At the expense of everyone else.

  A torrent of rage surged through her. Anna had been living a double life. She’d been such a good friend to Fran that Fran had never questioned how she seemed to have an answer for every problem, an answer that kept them tied to her and to this place. Now she remembered where she’d seen the initials MNT. Not only did they form the name of Charles’ business – those were the initials she’d seen on her mum’s bank statements. And she’d been right when she’d thought they might be maintenance payments. How clever of Anna to make Fran financially dependent. But worse than that, she’d made her live in fear, no doubt filled her head with all sorts of rubbish, making her scared to make changes.

  Izzy knew who Anna was. They must have recognised each other, and that’s what the row was about before Izzy had left. Having the books lined up on Martha’s desk felt like a message from the grave. Had Izzy done it to prove to Martha that she was telling the truth?

  Martha leant on the desk, her head in her hands.

  Anna’s reputation and that of her family were so important to her that she was willing to kill to keep it intact. Now that Martha knew her secret, the idea that she herself might be in danger reappeared, grabbing her shoulders and squeezing tight.

  Forty-Two

  Martha

  Now

  Martha went back to bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, her mind a battleground of fear and rage about her discovery. She was exhausted and weary, and although her body wanted to sleep, her thoughts refused to settle.

  As the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, she rose and got herself dressed, thinking a walk in the fresh air might clear her head. She sneaked downstairs and peeked into the living room, where the hump of Neil’s body was just visible through the darkness. Quietly, she put on her trainers, grabbed a coat and let herself out of the front door.

  The wind whipped at her hair as she headed towards her favourite bench above the beach. How could she, how could she, how could she? Her thoughts landed in time with her footsteps, her hands clenched into fists in her pockets, her eyes fixed on the ground. She was oblivious to the tall banks that ran along either side of the road, to the cries of the seagulls as she got closer to the sea, and the crash of the waves as they flung themselves against the rocky headland protecting the stretch of beach below the cliffs.

  It wasn’t until she reached the car park that she realised she was being followed, the slap of footsteps hurrying behind her making her turn. And there she was, face to face with Anna.

  She gasped and stumbled backwards, shocked by the sight of her. Anna’s hair was escaping from the knot she wore at the base of her neck, flying round her head like a gossamer halo. Purple half-moons sagged under each eye, her face drawn and haggard.

  ‘Martha. I have to talk to you.’ Anna clasped her hands to her chest as if in prayer. ‘I need to explain.’

  Martha took a step back, then another, a hand held in front of her as if that alone could stop Anna from coming any nearer. Her voice quivered. ‘What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in London.’

  Anna took a step forward.

  Martha took a step back. ‘Stop right there. Don’t come any closer. Don’t you dare.’ She swallowed, glanced behind her and realised with a gulp that she was closer to the cliff edge than she would have liked, the spray blowing up the cliff face and dampening the backs of her legs.

  Anna shuffled to a halt. ‘Charles is picking me up later. He’s staying with a friend in Looe. I asked for one more night at the house, just to say goodbye to it.’ Her eyes gleamed in the dim morning light. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.’ Her voice was sorrowful, laced with anguish. ‘I don’t know what came over me. Honestly, I can’t even remember it. I just sort of—’

  ‘I don’t want to hear excuses,’ Martha snapped. ‘That’s not going to bring Izzy back, is it?’ Rage burned in her chest. ‘You’re a murderer!’ she shouted, her words flying on the wind. ‘And you nearly killed Mum as well. You’re an evil woman. Evil!’

  Anna shook her head, begging now. ‘No, it’s not like that. I was trying to help. Don’t hate me, Martha, please don’t hate me.’

  Martha sneered. ‘I know who you are. I know you’re Anna Hass. I know you’re my grandmother and Charles is my father. And when the police come in a few hours, I’m going to tell them everything.’

  Anna buried her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking. Martha could hear her sobs but she could feel nothing but contempt. Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding.

  ‘Why, Anna? That’s what I need to know. Would it really have been so bad to tell the truth?’

  Anna raised her head, tears streaming down her face, but there was a spark of defiance in her eyes. ‘It was for Charles.’ She flung her hands in the air. ‘You wouldn’t understand. How could you? You’re not a mother. But I’d do anything to protect my child and that’s what I did. He wouldn’t have had a chance at the career he has today if it had come out he’d got a fourteen-year-old pregnant. Can’t you see that? His life would have been ruined before it had properly started. And my husband was a defence lawyer – so how would that work with a criminal as a son? And me, a judge. It was tough getting there as a woman.’ She huffed. ‘I would have been a laughing stock.’

  Martha frowned, puzzled. ‘But that doesn’t matter any more, does it? You and Arthur are retired. I’m sure Charles could make the news go away with a bit of money in the right places. Why couldn’t you just leave us alone?’

  Anna snorted. ‘Well, Beth turned up, didn’t she? I knew the truth would come out and I couldn’t let her poison you against me.’ She shook her head. ‘I asked her not to tell you. I begged her, but she laughed in my face. Said she could be your mother now. She was going to take you out of here and let you see a bit of the world.’ She gasped, eyes wild. ‘I couldn’t let her do that. I couldn’t let her do any of it. Things had to stay as they’ve always been, then the past could stay buried, can’t you see that?’

  ‘Yes, I think I do see it.’ Martha jabbed a finger at Anna. ‘You’re a control freak! A nasty, selfish, controlling monster.’ She glared at her. ‘But you know that already, don’t you, casting yourself as a witch in your books.’

  Anna looked startled.

  Martha sneered. ‘Yeah, I worked it out. But I think you wanted me to, really, didn’t you?’ She nodded as she understood the truth of it. ‘You’re my grandma, but you couldn’t tell me. So you put it in the stories. You put all of us in the stories and we were too close to see it.’

  ‘Don’t tell anyone. Please don’t tell anyone. Charles doesn’t deserve to have his life ruined. It’s not his fault. He doesn’t know you’re his daughter. I told him Beth had moved abroad and he accepted it. Why wouldn’t he?’ She laughed, a sound verging on hysteria. ‘I’m a judge. I don’t lie, do I?’

  ‘I’m sick of secrets and lies, Anna. It ends here. I’m going to tell the police everything and you can face the consequences.’

  Anna looked at the horizon for a moment and her chest heaved. She nodded as if to confirm something to herself. Her eyes met Martha’s. ‘I came to say goodbye. I can’t… I can’t see how I can live with myself after everything I’ve done. And I can’t go to prison. Can you imagine how I’d get treated – me, a judge?’ She sucked air into her lungs and let it out in a long sigh, as if she was savouring the very act of breathing. ‘I want you to know that I love you, Martha. I’ve always loved you and tried to look after you as best I could. But everything’s changed now that you know the truth. I’d die to protect my son and it’s only right th
at I face the consequences and not him.’ She squeezed her eyes shut then blinked them open.

  Before Martha had time to react, Anna ran at her, knocking her off her feet. She fell backwards, her head smacking against the stony surface as she slammed to the ground, all her breath rushing out with the force of her fall. She gasped for air. Her brain rattled. Pain stabbed through the back of her head as though nails were being hammered in there, the fall so unexpected she was stunned for a moment. She’d landed right at the cliff edge, and the ground trembled and shook as each wave pounded the rocks below, the salty spray whipping against her face, stinging her eyes.

  Oh God, she’s going to kill me, she thought, understanding what Anna meant now. She’s going to kill herself and take me with her. Adrenaline surged round her body. She tried to focus, but the bang to her head had affected her vision and the saltwater was making her eyes stream.

  Get away from the edge. It wouldn’t take much to push her over, and she rolled to her side, squirming on the slippery stones, desperately trying to get her body to move faster. She managed to get on all fours, the ground swaying like she was on a boat out at sea, stomach heaving as she spewed its contents onto the ground. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think as her body convulsed with wave after wave of sickness. I’m going to die, she thought as she waited for Anna to make her final move.

  Finally her stomach stopped heaving and her vision started to clear.

  She saw the shoe lying on its side. Forlorn on its own.

  Anna’s shoe?

  She sat back on her heels, glancing around her, but Anna wasn’t there. A scream pierced the air, hanging there like the seagulls on the wind for a moment before it tailed off into the roar of the sea.