The Quiet Ones: A gripping psychological thriller (19 page)

‘It’s fine.’ He sounds sincere for the first time since I’ve met him. ‘She’ll be back soon. Take a seat. Can I get you a drink?’

‘Have you got any vodka?’

‘Sure do. How do you like it? Ice and lemon?’ Rory moves towards the fridge, seeming more at ease.

‘No. Straight, please. ’ I sit on the edge of the black leather sofa and rub my knees to stop them from tapping.

‘Oh, right. Straight it is.’ He takes a tumbler out of a cupboard and fills a third of it with the ice-cold vodka straight from the freezer. ‘There you go.’ I thank him and take the glass. My hand is shaking. He takes a few steps backwards and sits uncomfortably on the edge of a tall stool near the kitchenette.

We share a few awkward, silent minutes until we hear the sound of a key in front door. Sophie’s back.

‘Rory,’ she calls from the hallway shutting the door behind her with a bang, ‘Mrs Dorking was thrilled with the chocolates. It was so nice for her to have a visitor,’ She comes into the room and stops in her tracks. ‘Jose? What are you doing here?’

‘I didn’t have anywhere else to go.’ I can feel my voice cracking as I cling to my cold glass with both hands.

Sophie turns to Rory.

‘Be a star, and run to the shop for me, would you?’ Her eyebrows are raised in an extreme fashion. ‘We forgot to get some chestnuts. ’

‘Yep. Will do.’ Looking so relieved to be excused from the tension, he springs to his feet and rapidly leaves the flat.

Sophie comes over and sits down gently beside me.

‘What’s wrong, Doll? What’s happened?’ She slides her arm around my shoulders and pulls me close to her.

Unable to say anything, I burst into tears and bury my face against her bosom.

‘Shhh.’ She soothes, stroking my hair. ‘It’s OK. Everything is going to be OK.’

By the time I have finished crying, I am too exhausted to talk. Sophie makes a bed up for me on her sofa and tells me to get some rest.

      
‘We can talk about it in the morning. When you’re ready.’

Rory has been hiding in their bedroom ever since he returned from the shop. She turns to look at him and gives a little shrug of her shoulders.

‘You can stay as long as you like. We have plenty of food. The more the merrier,’ she smiles.

I curl up under a blanket, in the dark and turn away from her.

‘Thanks.’

      
‘Sleep well, Doll. I’m sure things will seem brighter in the morning.’

I say nothing and listen to the sound as she closes her bedroom door.

25th December

I wake up and don’t know where I am. Then yesterday comes rushing at me like a punch to the stomach.

It’s three thirty in the morning and I’ve only been asleep for a few hours. I swing my legs off the sofa and rub my tired eyes. For a moment, I am able to tell myself that it was just a bad dream. But then I see my bag of hastily packed things, and can no longer escape from the truth.

The large room is cold and dark. I look out at the black night hoping to find some answers in the stars. But there are no stars.

As quietly as I can, I stand and tiptoe across the living room and into the kitchen. Feeling about in the dark, my hand finds the handle to the fridge and I pull the door open. Standing soaked in bright artificial light, I wince as I search for the vodka. It is the only thing that will help me to sleep.

‘I keep it in the freezer.’ A voice says from behind me and I jump to find Sophie standing there in her dressing gown. There is a sad smile on her face.

‘I’m so sorry. I tried not to wake you,’ I apologise, feeling my cheeks growing red. I close the fridge door and we are plunged back into darkness. Sophie reaches for the light switch and turns it on.

‘You didn’t. Get me one, too,’ she says yawning, nodding at the freezer and stretching her arms. ‘Then let’s cuddle up on the sofa, like we used to when we were teenagers and you can tell me what this is all about.’

I nod and open the freezer as she turns and goes over to the sofa. I find two glasses and pour us two large neat vodkas.

I wonder where I will begin. My situation doesn’t have a proper story. There is no beginning or end, just that one appalling fact. But how do I begin to actually say it? My tummy rumbles with disapproval as I sip the vodka, hoping to find some courage.

In the living room, I hand her her drink and sit down on the squeaky leather next to her. There is only a small reading light on in the far corner of the room and I am grateful that I can hide from the light.

‘So,’ Sophie sips the vodka and puffs out her cheeks, ‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on?’

I put my drink down on the table and bury my face in my hands. A pathetic attempt to hide from her.

‘Come on,’ she says softly, ‘you know you can tell me anything. Is it about Ailene? Did something happen?’

A violent headache is making the blood pound against my skull and I feel as if my brain might explode.

‘I can’t.’ I say feeling dizzy.

‘You can.’ She puts her hand on my shoulder, encouraging me. ‘You can.’

‘Charlie is my father.’ I say out of the blue, sitting up and looking her.

The confusion on my friend’s face is palpable.

‘He’s my dad.’ I say the words as if I am reading them from a book and they have nothing to do with me.

‘I’m sorry, I really don’t understand,’ Sophie looks cautiously at the vodka I am now holding in my hand.

‘Charlie is my dad.’ I say it again only this time more slowly. The words are foreign to my ears.

‘Put the vodka down, Jose. You’re not making any sense.’ She reaches over and tries to tease the glass out of my hand. All I can do is laugh.

‘It’s true. Ailene told me. She arrived and when she saw him, she freaked. I didn’t know what was happening at first and then she told us she recognized Charlie from all those years ago.’

The nausea returns and I close my eyes in an attempt to escape it. Sophie sits utterly still, trying to process what I have just told her.

‘He didn’t know either. It was an appalling shock for all of us. Ailene left, and I, well, I couldn’t stay there. I didn’t know what to do, so I came here.’

When I open my eyes again, the room is spinning.

‘Your
father
?’ Sophie speaks in a whisper.

‘Yes,’ I stare at the books on the coffee table, trying to focus on something motionless.

‘Are you sure? I mean, is she sure?’ I can tell from her tone that Sophie thinks that either I have gone mad or Ailene already is. She doesn’t believe what I’m saying.

‘Sure.’ The word hits me over and over again. ‘He remembers meeting her on holiday when they were young. They had sex. She was a virgin. She fell pregnant and they never saw each other again. She didn’t touch another man ever again and he never knew she had a baby. Until yesterday.’ I am struggling to accept the twisted turn of events.

‘But, he’s your husband.’ Sophie’s face is pale. Without realising it, she has moved away from me. I feel the distance between us, growing like mould.

‘I know.’ My eyes search the floor, unable to look at her any longer. ‘He’s also my dad. And he’s slept with my mum. I can’t believe life is so cruel. So fucking unlucky. What are the chances? This isn’t a Greek myth. This is my fucking life. ’

There is a long, painful silence and I keep staring at the ground, hoping she will say something, anything that might make it better. But she can’t.

‘Oh, my god.’ She stands up and goes over to the window. ‘Oh, Christ!’

Please look at me, Soph, I think,
please
. I cannot endure her disgust as well as my own.

She stays by the window with her back to me for what feels like a lifetime. The room is unnaturally quiet and the stillness threatens my sanity.

‘Soph?’ I know she can feel my eyes staring into the back of her head. She hugs herself as if someone has just walked over her grave. Then very slowly, she turns to look at me. Tears have collected in the corner of her eyes and glisten against the darkness.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ she sniffs trying to hold back the wave of emotion threatening to break through. ‘It’s just …’ she struggles with her words, ‘… just so unbelievable.’

‘I know,’ I say, starting to cry. Normally, Soph would rush over to comfort me but on this occasion she just stands there. ‘What am I going to do?’ A large trail of snot runs down my face. Now she does. Now she rushes over and holds me. Just like that, she’s back, back to being the friend I need her to be.

‘Oh, Doll.’ She is crying too. My face presses against her dressing gown and a growing wet patch made up of tears and snot. ‘It’s going to be OK.’ She tells us both, trying to sound strong. They are the only words she can manage. ‘It’s going to be OK.’

The next morning I wake to find Rory sitting quietly on a stool, eating his breakfast on the bar. Frightened to stir and alert him to my waking presence, I freeze and close my eyes again.

Moments later, I hear the bedroom door open and footsteps crossing the floor.

‘Morning.’ Sophie says to him in a half whisper. ‘Happy Christmas.’ For a moment I had forgotten what day it was and wish to God it wasn’t. I feel even more foolish for being here that I already did. ‘She’s not awake?’ Sophie murmurs quietly. Rory whispers with his mouthful,

‘Nope. Not stirred.’

I imagine the chewed toast showing through his teeth.

‘Good. She’s going to need as much rest as she can get.’ Sophie sounds exhausted. ‘This is just awful. Poor, poor Josie. Ever since she was a child, she’s wanted a proper family. She used to talk about her biological parents as if they were characters from a Disney movie. She had this idea in her head that they were somehow perfect. Now …’ her words melt away.

‘Sleep isn’t going to make it go away,’ Rory says carelessly and I realise that Sophie has already shared with him my dirty discovery.

Unable to bear the thought of listening to them discuss me, I give a loud yawn and sit up on the sofa. I’d rather face them.

‘Good morning,’ Sophie flashes Rory a look.

‘Oh, morning.’ He says in a far too cheerful tone. I give a small smile but say nothing and pull the blanket up around myself.

‘There’s some black coffee in the pot if you want it?’ Sophie busies herself, so she doesn’t have to look at me.

‘No thanks.’ I sink back into the sofa and wish I were anywhere else.

‘Did you manage to get any sleep?’ She tries to sound bright as she pours herself a mug of steaming coffee.

‘A bit.’ I can’t face conversation.

‘Want some toast?’ Rory waves a slice in my direction. I shake my head and he bites down on it, before turning his back to me again.

‘Well,’ Sophie is determined to appear jolly, ‘in a little while I’ll get the smoked salmon and blinis out and we can have some bubbly. How does that sound?’

‘Yum.’ Rory says still eating toast. Pig.

‘That sounds good.’

I get up off the sofa and fold the blanket I slept under. It is their Christmas, after all. It wouldn’t be fair for me to ruin it for them, and since I have nowhere else to go, I have to stay and try and make an effort.

‘Great.’ Sophie flashes me a look of appreciation and readjusts her dressing gown cord. ‘I’m going to jump in the bath and then we can get things under way.’

‘Soak for as long as you like.’ Rory says dusting crumbs off his t-shirt.

‘I will.’ She kisses the side of his head as she passes on route to the bathroom. ‘Why don’t you have a bath after me?’ She says looking at me. ‘Wash away …’ her words fade into nothing. She doesn’t know how to finish the sentence and neither do I.

‘I will. Thanks.’ She shuts the door behind her.

Rory and I are left alone in the huge room with only the sound of running water in the background for company. I’ve been inside that flat so many times before, but for the first time I feel like an outsider.

Rory tidies his mug and plate away and comes over to the sofa.

‘Can I ask you something?’ He sits down far too close to me. I hold my breath, dreading the moment he is going to comment on my awful situation. Instead, he removes a small, red, velvet box from his pocket and opens it.

‘Do you think she will like it?’

He shows me a dainty diamond engagement ring. I look at it for a while, speechless. Sophie mentioned that marriage had cropped up in their conversations, but I never thought it would happen so soon. Unable to think of an answer, I simply stare at the ring for a while. A small, single diamond sits twinkling in the middle of a yellow gold band.

‘Well?’ Rory cannot hide his frustration. ‘Do you think she will like it?’

I look at him and search his face.

‘I’m sure she will.’ I cannot muster any real enthusiasm. The truth of the matter is that Sophie does not own any yellow gold jewellery. She doesn’t like it. Silver or white gold is her thing. If he really loved her, he would have noticed that. ‘Is she expecting it?’ I ask as he slides the box back into the pocket of his joggers.

‘I hope not.’ He winks and I think to myself, what a callous man he is. My marriage has just fallen apart and here he is brandishing an engagement ring under my nose. I’m tempted to bring up the fact that Sophie doesn’t like yellow gold, just to take him down a peg or two, but I stop myself, knowing it wouldn’t be fair.

‘You look after her, OK?’ I feel my protective side rear its head.

‘I will. Promise.’ He says looking at me thoughtfully. Then he pauses as if ordering his thoughts. ‘Can I ask you something else?’

‘Sure.’ I feel uncomfortable under his gaze and shift in my seat.

‘Why are you so upset?’

The question completely takes me by surprise.

‘I was under the impression Soph had told you,’ I choose my words carefully.

‘Oh, she has,’ he interrupts. I stare at him dumbfounded.

‘I’m sorry then, I don’t understand.’ My face reflects my confusion.

‘I just don’t really get it.’ He says cocking his head to one side. ‘You didn’t
know
you were sleeping with your dad, so what’s the big deal?’

I stop dead and look at him.

‘The big deal?’