An Impossible Secret (5 page)

The door was locked, and it took him a few moments to dig his keys out of his sports bag.

“Brice?” His mother’s voice came from upstairs.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he made his way into the kitchen where he poured himself a glass of orange juice. Above his head, he could hear voices. Moments later, there were footsteps on the stairs.

“Brice? I thought you had football training.” His mother was wearing a white silk dressing gown.

“So I see.” Brice took a drink.

“Speak later?” a male voice said.

His mother turned to face the man who was standing in the hallway. “I’ll call you.”

The outer door opened and closed.

“Who was that?” Brice asked.

“No one. Just a friend.”

“Another one?”

“I thought you'd be home later.”

“Forget it. I’m going out.” Brice slid his glass toward the sink.

“You’ve only just got in.”

Brice pushed passed her.

“When will you be back?”

He didn’t answer. He stepped outside just in time to see the Audi pull off the driveway. He saw, but didn’t recognise, the driver. Just then Brice's phone rang.

“Jimmy? Where have you been?”

“I’ve got something for you to see.”

“What?”

“I’ve got still photos from the CCTV.”

“How did you manage that?”

“Never mind. I’m going to send them to your phone. The images are big, so it might take a while.”

“Is it Weston? If it is, don’t bother sending them. Just tell me, and I’ll pay him a visit.”

“It isn’t Weston. I’m sending them now.”

Brice climbed into his car, and headed for Toppers. He couldn’t stay at home with his mother—if he did, he’d say something he’d regret. By the time he reached the coffee house, the e-mail and photo attachments had been received.

The black and white image was blurred and had caught only a back view of the person who'd keyed Brice’s car. It wasn’t Weston. It was a girl. He couldn’t see her face. She had blonde, spiky hair, and was wearing a black t-shirt, black mini skirt, and what looked like DMs. There were thousands of students on campus, but Brice would have remembered this girl if he’d seen her before. Who was she, and why the hell did she key his car?

“Have you got them?” Jimmy asked when he showed up thirty minutes later.

“Who is she?”

“No idea. I wouldn’t want to mess with her though.”

“Why pick on my car?”

“Maybe she didn’t. It might have been random. You just got lucky.”

“How did you get the photos anyway?”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

Chapter 22

“What happened to your car?” Kerry stared at the silver slash.

“Some psycho with a car key decided to give it a go-fast stripe. Climb in.”

They’d arranged to meet at the same spot where he'd dropped her off after their visit to Lake View.

“Who would do something like that?”

“Some psycho punk.”

“You saw him?”

“No. Just a CCTV image. It wasn’t a
him
. It was some leather-clad, punk-rock chick with bad hair.”

“Why did she do it?”

“No idea. Crazy probably. Don’t let’s talk about it. You look great.”

Kerry tried, but failed to hold back a blush. She’d chosen a denim skirt and a white top—both of which had her mum’s seal of approval.

“When did you find out you were adopted?”

“Not until my adoptive father died. He and my mum couldn’t decide when they should tell me. When he died, my mum thought I should know, in case anything happened to her.”

“Has she told you much about your birth parents?”

“No. She won’t talk about them. She didn’t want me to seek them out.”

“Why not?”

“I guess she thinks she might lose me. Silly really.” Kerry shook her head.

“So, what do we do first?”

“I have to complete a form to request my adoption file. It’s available online, but I don’t have the Internet.”

“We could download and print it at my house if you like?”

“Is that okay?”

“My mother’s out shopping.”

“What about your father?”

“They’re divorced. He left when I was ten.”

“No brothers or sisters?”

“Just me.”

“This is a nice house,” Kerry said, as they made their way into the living room.

“The printer’s in the study.”

“You have a study?” she asked, impressed.

“We call it that, but wait until you see it.”

The room looked more like a bomb site than a study.

“I don’t use the computer much these days. I do most stuff on my tablet or laptop. Here let me move these.”

Brice shifted a pile of books from the desk.

By the time Brice returned from the kitchen with Coke for them both, Kerry had printed the form and was working her way through the questions.

“Is that all you need to do? Send in that form?”

“More or less. I have to send ID with it”

“What happens then?”

“Hopefully they'll send me my original birth certificate with my biological parents' details.”

“Hopefully?”

“It all depends who handled the adoption. If it went through the normal channels there shouldn’t be any problems.”

“Brice!” A woman's voice came from the hallway.

Kerry saw the expression on Brice’s face change.

“Mum? I thought you were out all day.”

“So I see.”

Kerry felt Brice's mother’s gaze burn into her.

“Who’s your friend? Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Kerry didn't think the woman looked old enough to be Brice’s mother. She wore a short skirt—much shorter than Kerry would have dared to wear. Her green top was low cut, showing plenty of cleavage.

“Kerry, this is my mother.”

“Pleased to meet you, Kerry. Brice hasn’t mentioned you.”

Kerry managed a weak smile.

“We were on our way out,” Brice said.

“Don’t rush off. Why not stay for a while, so I can get to know Kerry?”

“We have to go.”

Kerry mumbled her goodbyes and then followed Brice out of the door.

Chapter 23

“I’m sorry about that,” Brice said, once they were back in the car.

“Your mum seems nice.”

“She’s an embarrassment. She dresses like she’s eighteen.”

“I thought she looked great.”

“She looked like a whore.”

They drove in silence for several minutes. Kerry thought it best to wait until he'd calmed down a little.

 What would you like to do for the rest of the day?” Brice said.

“What do you usually do at weekends?”

“Play football. We don’t have a game this week.”

“What else?”

“There’s a few places that me and Jimmy hang out, but you wouldn’t want to go to any of those.”

Kerry frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t you want to be seen with me?”

“It’s not that. It’s just…”

“What?”

“They’re full of idiots. You’re better than that.”

“If it’s where you’d normally hang out—I’d like to go.”

“Are you sure?”

Toppers was full, as it always was on a Saturday.

“Are you sure about this?” Brice asked when they pulled into the busy car park.

“Positive.” Kerry was already stepping out of the car.

“I haven’t been here before,” Kerry said.

“Really?” Brice had assumed everyone at university would have been to Toppers. It was almost a rite of passage.

“Hi, Brice,” said a tall girl with a small tattoo of a butterfly on her neck.

“Hello, Melissa,” Brice said.

“Who’s your little girlfriend?” The girl stepped in front of Kerry.

“I’m Kerry.”

“Really? And, how long have you two been an item?” She turned to Brice.

“Not long. If you'll excuse us.” Brice pulled Kerry closer to him, and together they manoeuvred past Melissa.

It took a few minutes to find a quiet table away from the main throng. While getting the drinks, Brice had caught a glimpse of Courtney Jerome. Fortunately, she hadn’t seen him.

“Melissa’s pretty,” Kerry said.

“I guess.”

“Did you go out with her?”

“We went out once.”

“Have you ever had a long-term girlfriend?”

“No.” Brice looked into Kerry’s eyes. “But that could change.”

He’d expected her to blush—she did it so often. Instead, she held his gaze, and smiled. Brice put his hand on hers. He so wanted to kiss her, but not while they were there. 

“Where are the paint brushes?” Jimmy leaned against the wall.

“What are you doing here?” Brice said.

“Nice greeting. I'm pleased to see you, too. I thought you were helping your mother to decorate all weekend.” Jimmy grinned as he glanced over at Kerry. “Don’t I get a formal introduction?”

“Jimmy, this is Kerry. Kerry this is Jimmy—the biggest pain in the arse you’re ever likely to meet. He was just about to leave.”

“Pleased to meet you Kerry.” Jimmy took a seat next to her. “I’ll have a latte please, Brice.”

“You’ll be lucky.”

“You owe me for the CCTV.”

Brice scowled, but knew Jimmy was right. He did owe him.

“Don’t listen to anything he says,” Brice warned Kerry as he left the two of them together.

Chapter 24

“Did Brice really say he was nervous about asking me out again after I'd said no the first time?” Kerry asked.

“No. I made that up.” Jimmy smirked. “It was true though. It was obvious to anyone that you two wanted to get together, but it wasn’t going to happen unless someone gave it a helping hand.” He lifted his arm. “This one.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Personally, I don’t know what you see in him…” Jimmy turned to look at Brice who had just returned, coffee in hand. “Brice, there you are—we were just talking about you.”

“Shut up and drink your coffee—then you’re leaving.”

“That’s not very friendly. Particularly as I’m the one who brought you two together.” Jimmy tried his coffee, but it was too hot to drink. “Have you worked out who the mystery blonde punk is yet?”

“No. Maybe I should stick copies of the photos around the campus.”

“You’d better not. You’ll get me thrown out of uni. You’re not meant to have that photo.”

“Another good reason to do it.”

Kerry loved to listen to their banter. Although both of them pretended otherwise, there was obviously a strong bond between them. She’d never had a friendship like theirs.

Two hours later, and the three of them were still at the same table.

“Well, you two have kept me talking long enough,” Jimmy said.

“I thought you’d never leave.” Brice sighed.

“Brice! Don't be horrible.” Kerry felt she should stick up for her new friend.

“Yes, don't be horrible to me,” Jimmy said.

“Sod off!” Brice laughed.

“Sorry about him,” Brice said, once Jimmy had left.

“I like Jimmy. He’s funny.”

“Don’t ever tell him that. He doesn’t need any encouragement.”

One hour later, neither of them could face another coffee, so they decided to call it a day. As Kerry waited for Brice, who'd stopped off at the loo, she sensed someone standing behind her. Before she could turn around, the girl whispered.

“It'll never last. Brice will dump you before the end of the week.”

Before Kerry could react, Brice appeared at her side.

“Who’s that?” Kerry pointed to the girl, who was walking away from them.

“Courtney Jerome. Why?”

“No reason.”

This time, when Brice drove Kerry home, he dropped her outside her house. He was about to kiss her—just a peck on the cheek—when he spotted someone at the window. It had to be Kerry’s mum.

“Can I see you again?” he asked.

“I’d like that.”

“I’ll find you in the library on Monday—we can arrange something then.”

“Okay—great.”

As soon as she got inside, Kerry made her way upstairs.

“Kerry?” her mum called after her.

“I’m going for a lie down. I’ve got a headache.”

Chapter 25

Brice didn’t usually stay in bed late at the weekend. He'd normally have a game or at least one training session. This weekend, he had neither. Mr Dunlop had had an operation, and was expected to remain in hospital until Monday or Tuesday.

“What do you want? Breakfast or lunch?” his mother said when he eventually made an appearance at eleven thirty.

“Very funny.”

“If you want me to make you something, you’d better decide quickly. I’m going to the gym at twelve thirty.”

“Don't bother. I'll see to it.”

“Suit yourself.”

Brice made toast, and poured a glass of orange juice.

“Don’t go back upstairs,” his mother said. “Stay and talk to me for a while. I miss our chats.”

Brice grunted something under his breath as he propped himself on a stool next to the breakfast bar.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Kelly?”

“Kerry!”

“So, why didn’t you tell me?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Is she at uni? What is she studying? How did you meet? ”

“Yes. Psychology. In the library.”

“What’s wrong with you Brice?” She shook her head. “Why can’t we ever have a proper conversation?”

“I answered your questions.”

“Are you going to see her again? Kelly—err—Kerry?”

“Yes. She’s nice.” He stared at his mother. “She doesn’t dress and act like a tramp.”

For a moment, his mother looked as though she'd give him the reaction he’d hoped for. Instead, she turned away, picked up her sports bag, and left without another word.

His phone rang. He didn’t recognise the number—probably another cold call trying to get him to change phone contracts.

“What?”

“Is that Brice?”

He didn’t recognise the voice. He wasn’t even sure if it was male or female.

“Am I speaking to Brice?”