The Girl You Gave Away: An absolutely gripping psychological thriller Page 9

  Then again, it might go really dark.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Erin

  March 2020

  I didn’t tell Tom that Saturday evening; the impulse was there, but when it came to it, the words refused to leave my mouth. The rational part of my brain held me back. It’s too dangerous, it said. Not worth the risk.

  Sleep was impossible. I kept replaying my meeting with Jade over and over in my head, remembering what she looked like, how she spoke, what we said. So many different emotions were bubbling through my system. I felt elated. It was like I’d been tethered to a post and suddenly set free. I was floating on air. My daughter was no longer a horrible guilty secret; she was a real living person and she needed me. This was my chance to make up for those past rejections and to give her all the love she deserved.

  But my happiness was tempered by anxiety. What was going to happen next? I couldn’t develop the relationship with Jade without telling Tom and the children. Would they be willing to accept her into the family? Would Tom forgive me? Would our marriage survive? I desperately wanted the answer to all those questions to be ‘yes’, but deep in my heart, I knew there was a chance I’d get the opposite response.

  Tom and I found ourselves alone together again on Sunday. The children were either ensconced in their rooms or out with friends, we had no social engagements and he didn’t seem to have any urgent schoolwork to do. It was the perfect opportunity for a heart-to-heart. Instead, I busied myself around the house, making light conversation, pretending everything was normal and fine.

  ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ Tom said. It wasn’t something we normally did, and it made me worry that he knew I was hiding something. The weather was windy and cold. We drove to the country park and strolled along the riverbank, scarves over our faces and hands in our pockets. We chatted about this and that, but it was all superficial stuff.

  ‘What’s up, Erin?’ he said at last. ‘Is there something you need to tell me? A problem at work?’

  ‘Nothing to do with work,’ I replied, keeping my head down.

  ‘What is it then? You’ve been in an odd mood all weekend.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I mumbled. ‘I’m tired, that’s all.’

  As we continued along in silence, my thoughts rolled back to when we first got together. I’d met him at a party in Bristol while I was visiting Holly – they were friends on the same literature course at the university there. We only kissed that first night, but then we saw each other the next day and the next, and before long I was making the trip every weekend.

  The first time we made love was a revelation. He was passionate and tender, strong yet gentle. I didn’t know it was possible for sex to feel both liberating and deeply binding in the same moment. Until then, my only other experience had been with Dean – crude and functional without an ounce of affection. The contrast was so overwhelming it made me weep.

  ‘Why are you crying?’ he asked, and I told him they were tears of joy. In truth, I was crying for my past stupidity.

  Afterwards we lay in bed, deliciously sweaty, limbs still entangled. Tom traced his finger down my bare thigh. ‘I don’t want us to ever have secrets from each other,’ he said. ‘We must start with a clean slate.’

  He insisted on telling me about his previous girlfriends – their names, how he’d met them, how the relationship had ended, even how good they’d been in bed. I said I didn’t want to know about the other girls, that I didn’t care, but he was adamant that there should be no skeletons in our cupboards. When it came to my turn, I felt sick with shame, certain he wouldn’t want to be with a girl who’d given up her own baby. I told him I’d only slept with one other boy – a summer romance, over almost as soon as it started. It was the truth, but not the whole truth, which made it a lie.

  ‘You’re virtually a virgin,’ he said. The idea seemed to please him. ‘How amazing it must be to have just one lover for your whole life. I envy people who can save themselves until marriage. There’s nobody to worry about, no ghosts lurking in the shadows. The past holds no fear; you only need to think about the future.’

  Would it have turned out any differently if I’d told him about Jade that first night? Or on the eve of our wedding, when I had another chance to confess? Impossible to know for sure. I kept quiet then because I didn’t want to lose him. I still didn’t want to lose him. I loved him. He was the solid ground beneath my unsteady feet.

  That evening, I cooked dinner for the four of us, and then the kids did their usual disappearing trick while we sat in front of the TV, absorbed in the latest Sunday drama serial. Or rather I pretended to be absorbed; thoughts of Jade were still running through my brain, refusing to let me rest. The weekend had passed and I’d failed to confess. Now we had a busy week ahead of us and there wouldn’t be a chance.

  My mobile rang, and assuming it was either Holly or Asha calling, I picked it up without thinking.

  ‘Hi,’ I said cheerily.

  There was a short pause, then, ‘Mum? It’s me … Jade.’

  ‘Who is it?’ mouthed Tom. I shrugged – nobody important – but I felt my cheeks burning.

  ‘Oh hello,’ I replied evenly. ‘Yes? What is it?’

  ‘Just wanted to say how great it was to see you yesterday. It was totally amazing. I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m so happy, it’s like this huge weight just lifted off my shoulders.’

  ‘Good, glad to hear it.’ I held the receiver tightly against my ear, hoping that Tom couldn’t hear Jade’s voice.

  ‘Can we do it again? Soon? I was thinking like maybe tomorrow? Same place?’

  ‘Well … that would be lovely, but I’m at work all day.’

  ‘After work then. Six o’clock?’

  ‘Yes, I could do that.’

  ‘Awesome.’

  ‘Look forward to it. Sorry, can’t chat now. Bye!’ As I finished the call, I saw that my hand was shaking.

  ‘Who on earth was that?’ said Tom. ‘Sounded like you couldn’t wait to get rid of them.’

  ‘It was Holly. She was in a bit of a state. Usual drama over some man. I didn’t want to talk about it tonight; said I’d meet her tomorrow after work.’

  ‘Funny … you didn’t sound like you were talking to Holly.’ He took a sip of his wine and leant back against the sofa cushion. ‘Are you sure everything’s okay, Erin?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I smiled. ‘Absolutely.’

  * * *

  The time sped by on Monday. So much was going on – staff meetings, job interviews, even a health and safety inspection – I had no time to feel nervous about meeting Jade again. Besides, I genuinely wanted to see her. There were a few things I needed to explain.

  I arrived early. There were no free tables in the café, so I decided to wait on the railway bridge. I watched the London train arrive, trying to pick Jade out from the sea of commuters pouring out of the station. I was hoping to feel that instant tug of affection I felt every time I saw Oli or Chloe emerge from a crowd, but I missed her completely. She was wearing different clothes from last time, which threw me. I’d had her fixed in my mind, like a painting.

  She smiled as she walked towards me. ‘Hi, Mum,’ she said, kissing me on the cheek as if we’d done it a thousand times.

  ‘It’s rather busy in there, I’m afraid.’ I gestured towards the café. ‘Perhaps we should try somewhere else.’

  ‘Yeah, how about a pub?’

  ‘Okay, if that’s what you want.’

  She slipped her arm through mine and squeezed against me as we set off up the hill towards the centre of town. ‘I bet nobody guesses we’re mother and daughter; we look more like sisters,’ she giggled. It was true that the age gap between us was embarrassingly small, but we didn’t look alike, so I doubted we would confuse anyone.

  I was trying to think of a suitable pub to go to – one where I was unlikely to bump into anyone I knew. This was the business part of town, full of modern blocks and large Victorian houses that had been converted into offices. I knew
that some of the nursery parents worked around here; it would be awkward if they saw me with Jade. How on earth would I introduce her?

  ‘This place will do,’ I said, stopping outside the Grapevine. I’d never been there before, but it seemed okay, and I didn’t want to go as far as the high street. We uncoupled to get through the door and found ourselves in a small, dark but friendly-looking establishment. Jade plonked herself down at a table, clearly expecting me to go to the bar.

  ‘What would you like?’ I asked.

  ‘Pint of lager, please. And some crisps? Anything except cheese and onion.’

  I went to place the order, adding a bottle of sparkling water for myself.

  ‘Not drinking?’ Jade said when I returned to the table.

  ‘No. I don’t drink. Alcohol, I mean.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Don’t like the taste.’

  ‘I don’t take after you in that,’ she laughed, lifting her glass and swallowing about a third of her pint in one go. ‘Thanks, Mum,’ she said, wiping away a foam moustache. ‘I really like calling you that.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yeah. I’ve never had anyone to call Mum – not since I can remember, anyway.’

  ‘Well, you can call me Mum as much as you like,’ I said.

  ‘Cool. Thanks!’ There was a long and slightly uncomfortable pause. ‘Want to see my adoption file then?’ She took a large brown envelope out of her bag. ‘Don’t read it now, you’ll get upset. I got a photocopy done so you can take it home.’

  She slid it across the table like a secret document. I stared at it for a few seconds. My life story was contained in that envelope; or rather, a version of a small part of it. Did I want to read what the social workers had said about me at the time? I suspected I didn’t, but I took the envelope anyway and put it in my bag.

  Jade gave me a sympathetic smile, as if reading my thoughts. ‘It is harsh, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Doesn’t surprise me. I made some big mistakes, got in with the wrong crowd. Your father was …’

  ‘Was what?’

  I shuddered as his sneering face jumped into my head. ‘Well, let’s just say he was a nasty character, not someone you’d want in your life.’

  ‘Right … Still, you showed them all, didn’t you? You ended up doing really good. I mean, who would have thought you’d be, like, Woman of the Year?’

  ‘That was just a silly local thing, and I didn’t even win. Anyway, how come you know about that?’

  ‘Social media. There’s loads of stuff about you online. You’re one of those success stories, you know – rags-to-riches kind of thing. I read this interview you did a couple of years ago. You left school when you was sixteen, didn’t have a degree or anything, built your business up from nothing. That’s well impressive.’

  ‘It was very hard work,’ I admitted, feeling a tinge of pride. ‘But Tom, my husband, helped a lot. I couldn’t have done it without him.’

  ‘You were “an unfit mother” and yet you’ve ended up looking after other people’s kids. How weird is that?’ She fixed me with a curious gaze. ‘I bet all those posh mummies and daddies would be shocked if they knew the real story … Not that they’ll ever find out from me, but you know what social media’s like, you have to be careful.’ She picked up her glass. ‘Then there’s your husband and my brother and sister …’

  ‘I haven’t had a chance to tell them yet, sorry.’ I felt as if the temperature between us, initially so warm, had suddenly dropped by several degrees. ‘It’s not that I’m ashamed of you or anything; it’s just … tricky. I will tell them. Soon.’

  She didn’t comment. Another silence followed, more tense than the last. I felt like I was losing control of the conversation, backing myself into a corner.

  ‘So, what made you want to work with little kids?’ she said, opening the packet of crisps and taking a handful. ‘I mean, after you, like, gave one up.’

  I flinched. Why was she returning to that subject? The truth was, it had been the only job I could get after I left school – far beneath my capabilities, but I’d enjoyed it. I did some training and worked my way up from the bottom until I became a manager. Then the nursery owner decided to sell the business and Tom helped me raise the money to buy it off her. But of course the irony had never been lost on me.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I, er … don’t know. Maybe it was guilt,’ I blustered. ‘Trying to make up for the mistakes of the past, something like that.’

  She nodded. ‘Well I’m here now, so you can make it up to me in person.’

  ‘Yes, I’d like to do that,’ I said cautiously. ‘I’m just not sure how.’

  ‘It’s a bit like those adverts. You know, like when you have an accident and it’s not your fault, they help you get … what’s it called?’

  ‘Compensation?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s the word.’

  ‘But in those situations they mean financial compensation.’

  ‘Do they? Yeah … I suppose they do.’

  ‘Was that what you meant?’

  ‘No, not at all. But I am, like well, totally skint and you’re minted …’ She smacked her forehead. ‘Sorry, shouldn’t have … Shit, I can’t believe I just said that.’

  ‘You’ve had a tough life. I don’t blame you for being angry,’ I said carefully.

  ‘I’m not angry.’ She batted the idea away with her hand. ‘It’s just hard that your other kids have had it so easy and all I’ve got is debts. Big debts.’ She reached for her glass and drained it, slamming it back on the table. ‘Sorry, sorry, forget I said that. I don’t want to be jealous – I hate myself. It’s not about the money.’

  ‘No, of course not …’

  ‘But I can’t lie: some cash would fix me up … give me a fresh start. I owe some bad people, see, and if I don’t pay them back, I’m in trouble. So … maybe we could help each other. If you really want to keep me a secret …’ She paused, searching for a reaction before she went on.

  My mouth had gone dry. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. She seemed a different person to the one I’d met only two days earlier.

  ‘If I’m a problem … if you want me to go away, leave you alone, we can make a deal. I promise I’m good for it.’

  ‘I don’t understand. I thought we were—’

  ‘But a cheque’s no use, it has to be cash.’

  I should have stood up immediately and walked out the door, but my brain was spinning so fast I couldn’t think properly.

  She screwed up her nose in a way that instantly reminded me of her father. ‘Shall we say ten grand? That would do it, for sure.’

  There was no denying it. My long-lost daughter was trying to blackmail me.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Erin

  September 1994

  Before I know it, the holidays are over. On the first day of term, I hurry off to the park, expecting to meet up with Dean as usual, but he’s not there. Nor are any of his mates. I decide he must have forgotten to tell me he wouldn’t be able to make it. The following day, I go back, but once again, nobody’s there. I feel confused and frustrated. We don’t have each other’s phone numbers – he wouldn’t give me his and I didn’t want to risk him calling my house. We never needed to plan ahead before – he’d just say, ‘See you tomorrow, princess,’ and I’d know where to find him. But once the link in the chain is broken, it’s impossible to communicate. Where is he? What’s happened?

  I start to worry that he’s been run over or even arrested. I imagine him lying in a hospital bed or a police cell wondering why I’m not visiting him. I know where he lives but I’m too frightened to call at his flat. He told me never to do that because his mum is mentally ill and panics when there’s a knock on the door.

  I go to the park every day for the rest of the week and try again at the weekend, but he seems to have vanished. I wander the local streets hoping to spot him or one of his friends, but it’s like everyone’s gone to ground. It doesn�
��t make sense. Where are they all? Why hasn’t Dean tried to make contact? He knows where my house is, so if he was desperate to get in touch, he could send me a note, or wait on the corner for me to walk by.

  It takes two more weeks of making up excuses for me to accept that he’s dumped me. By then, I’ve missed my second period, but I pretend to myself that it’s because I’m so upset. I can’t understand it – what did I do wrong? I can’t concentrate at school. I feel exhausted, emotionally drained. I doodle Dean’s name in the margins of my exercise book, or stare out of the window wondering what he’s doing and why he doesn’t want to be with me any more. My teachers complain that I’m not paying attention. They’re puzzled when I fail to hand in homework, and are disappointed by my marks.

  Nobody knows what’s really going on. I won’t even confide in Holly and Asha. When I dash off after school, I let them believe I’m going to see my amazingly gorgeous boyfriend. I tell them all sorts of stupid stories about how crazy we are about each other, how nothing and nobody will ever tear us apart. At first they were shocked that I was hanging out with someone so much older than me and tried to put me off, but now they listen wide-eyed to my ridiculous lies. I know that Asha secretly disapproves, but Holly is envious – she’s mad keen on boys and is dying to fall in love. She even asks me to introduce her to Dean’s mates, hoping to join the gang, but I make excuses, saying they’ve all got girlfriends.

  I start skiving off lessons. Every morning I leave the house wearing my uniform, backpack stuffed with civvies instead of books. Sometimes I go into school to get my morning mark, then make my escape. Twice I call the absence line and pretend to be my mother, putting on her Irish accent. But after a while, I can’t be bothered with any of that. I catch the bus to the town centre and change in the public toilets, then wander around the shops in the mall, or drift through the undercover market, or make the long trek to the retail park on the outskirts of town, where it’s easy to hide in the superstores. Sometimes I take the number 17 bus and go on a tour of the satellite villages. I sit at the back with my head down, trying to be invisible while we drive around the flat, open countryside, picking up old people and mothers with toddlers and setting them down in the town centre. Time passes slowly. I’m constantly listless and vaguely nauseous. I hunker down on my emotions, scared to feel anything, terrified to admit that I’m in a mess.