Page 68 of Our Secrets and Lies

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Sarah opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Beside her, Darren was sleeping peacefully. She slid out of bed and grabbed her dressing-gown. Opening the bedroom door as quietly as she could, she tiptoed past Ollie’s room, where she could hear him breathing deeply. Careful to avoid the creaky spot on the stairs, she made her way down and went into the kitchen.

From the window she couldsee the white blanket that the early-morning frost had left on the grass. The first day of November had always felt like ‘proper winter’ to her. She put some coffee into a mug and went to warm some milk.

‘Jesus!’ A dead slug lay in the middle of a plate in the microwave. Ollie. Would that boy ever stop trying crazy things? If he was like this at ten, what in God’s name would he be like at fifteen?They’d never be able to control him. He’d be jumping off cliffs. She knew it was important not to stifle his zest for adventure, but he was her only son and if anything happened to him … Well, she’d never get over it. Ever.

Her kids meant the world to her. Sarah knew she was probably too lenient with them, but her own mother had been so cold and bitter. Sarah wanted her kids to have a life filledwith love and warmth and laughter, not rules and regulations. Still, they were getting a little out of control – she might have to rein them in a bit. In Ollie’s case, for his own safety, and in Shannon’s because she was worried she was going to get herself pregnant. She was so voluptuous andlooked much older than sixteen. Sarah had seen the way boys and men ogled her and it made her blood runcold.

Even though she was a year younger than Kelly, Shannon was in the same year in school. They had grown up like sisters, spending all of their time together as toddlers, with her in the salon or with Lucy in the shop. When Kelly had gone to school aged five, Shannon had cried so much that Sarah ended up sending her in with Kelly the next day. At four she’d been young, but she seemed wellable to keep up and had continued to do so throughout school. Sarah had suggested holding her back in the first year of senior school because she was worried about her being younger than the others in her class when it came to discos and boys and sex and all that. Shannon had freaked and gone on hunger strike (although Darren had found biscuit crumbs under her bed) until Sarah said she could stayin the year she was in.

Sarah worried that Shannon would attract the wrong kind of boy. The very short skirts she wore didn’t help, but all the girls wore them and Sarah had to choose her battles. She’d told Shannon the ‘Lucy story’ many times in an effort to drill it into Shannon’s head that even super-smart college girls could get pregnant: she had to protect herself and be careful.

Sarahtook the slug out of the microwave, washed the plate, and put in her jug of milk. She made her coffee, stepped out into the back garden and sipped it slowly. The sun was weak, but it warmed her face. She loved this time of the morning when everything was quiet. Her phone beeped, and she pulled it out of her dressing-gown. A private Facebook message.

She opened it and began to read. The mug slippedfrom her hand and fell onto the grass, coffee spilling everywhere.

Dear Sarah, my name is Tom Harrington-Black. I went out with Lucy Murphy a long time ago. I recently got divorced and was feeling nostalgic so I looked up people from my past. Lucy has no Facebook page, but I remembered her mentioning her friend Sarah who was a hairdresser. When I googled hairdressers on Violet Road, I saw Sarah’sSalon and photos of its fifteenth birthday party. Lucy is standing beside two children. One of them, the girl, is the image of my mother and me. I’m trying not to freak out or jump to conclusions, but when I left, Lucy was pregnant but was going to have an abortion. I know the way I left was awful and cowardly and I have hated myself for it. But we’d agreed that she was going to have an abortion,and my dad told me she’d had it. So who is this girl? How can she look so like me and not be mine? Did Lucy have the baby? I’m so confused and frankly completely shocked and I’m trying to stay calm but not succeeding. Is she mine? Can you give me a contact number for Lucy? I need to know. I need to know if I have a daughter. I’m desperate to know. I’ve wanted kids so badly but my ex-wife andI couldn’t have them. Please, Sarah, please let me know. Am I a father?

Sarah stared at her phone while her heart thumped in her chest. Tom didn’t know? Gabriel told him Lucy had had the abortion? Oh, Jesus. Sarah’s hand covered her mouth. Could this be true?

‘You’re a FREAAAAK.’ Shannon’s screech cut through the silence and the back door slammed. ‘I’ve had it.’ Shannon stomped over to hermother. ‘I’m reporting him to social services for mental abuse. Do you know what he just did?’

‘No.’ Sarah shoved her phone into her pocket.

‘He used my brand new black nail varnish and eyeliner to decorate his new trainers and make them look more “camouflage”. I swear to God, I’m going to kill him. I saved for ages to buy that Mac nail varnish.’

‘I’ll talk to him.’

‘Don’t do your usual Look-Ollie-it-wasn’t-very-nice crap. Tell him he has to buy me all new products and if he ever touches my stuff again, he’s going to prison.’

Sarah looked at her daughter’s red face. ‘Calm down, I’ll sort it out.’

‘I’m sick of him, Mum. He’s always taking my stuff and using it. If you don’t seriously make him stop, I’m moving in with Kelly.’

‘I’ll talk to Ollie.’

‘Muuuum!’ they heard Ollie shout. They turned. ‘Ifyou see any snails, will you bring them in?’

‘He’s abnormal,’ Shannon hissed. ‘He should be living in some tribe in Africa or with one of those Aboriginals in Australia. Maybe I’ll email them – they might take him.’

They went back inside and found Darren shouting at his son. ‘Stop trying to microwave bugs and eat some bloody cereal like a normal kid.’

‘I hate cereal. It tastes like cardboard.’

‘It tastes better than bloody snails,’ Darren told him.

‘Did you find any snails?’ Ollie asked Sarah.

‘No, and I need to talk to you.’

‘Is it about Shannon’s make-up?’

‘Yes, it bloody is,’ Shannon snapped.

‘Ollie, you can’t keep taking her stuff and wrecking it. It’s not fair. Besides, those are new trainers you’ve now ruined.’

‘I did her a favour. Black nails are rubbish on girls – theylook like witches.’

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