Page 35 of Never Tell Secrets
“What, Alfie? What did you do?” I asked, though deep down, I already knew the answer.
“I threw him over,” he whispered, so quiet, as if the ghosts might hear him. “I threw him over the balcony. I remember the sound of him hitting the concrete and then things got quiet. Up here.” He touched a finger to his temple. “It got really, really quiet.”
Twelve
Alfie stared into the flickering firelight, I watched, feeling helpless as his ghosts swarmed him. Of all of the secrets I thought he could be hiding, being responsible for his brother's death was never one of them. Alfie was carrying a darkness I could never have imagined, it made his attempts at stepping into my light all the more heartbreaking.
I wanted to take him in my arms, to comfort him and tell him it was all okay, but I couldn’t and not just because I wouldn’t allow myself to go there, but because from the still way he held himself I could see his story wasn’t over. He took a breath and began to speak.
“It was strange, feeling massive relief followed by a crushing sense of impending doom. But the doom didn’t hit then. Lina’s crying distracted me. I didn’t want her to be blamed so I called Damien Marx and told him to take her to get medical attention and then stay with her until I said otherwise…” he trailed off, swallowed. “Then I called my father. I remember feeling like someone else was speaking for me, like I wasn’t there.‘I’ve killed Charles.’ I just kept saying it over and over.”
“You didn’t kill him, Alfie. It was self-defence.” I meant what I said but even before the words were out, I knew they weren’t entirely true.
“Was it?” His gaze suddenly snapped to mine, startling me with its darkness. “In that moment, after he was down, he wasn’t a threat. I could have called an ambulance or the police but I didn’t. Trust me, I wish I could blame it on shock-induced madness but I can’t. Before I killed him, I grabbed a water jug and one of the towels, drenched it, and used it to wipe Lina’s blood off him. I made sure to drop him backwards so he would land on the back of his head, destroying the wound Lina had left.” The dark of the room seemed to swallow us, shrouding us. I wished we were doing this in the light.
“He was arapist.”
“Like Adam, you mean.” I couldn’t reply. Turning back to the fire, he pushed on as I wondered how much more to this story there could be.
“My father was silent when I told him, just silent as I repeated the same words over and over until Elliot took over the call. Elliot told me to make sure no one discovered the body, he was sending someone. Within the hour, a private medical car came and took my brother away. Then, shortly after, a security team arrived and asked me to show them where theincidenthad happened. I showed them and they cleaned up. Then they cleaned me too. They watched me shower, they put me in fresh clothes. I was part of the crime scene and they covered me up. Put everything back as it should be.”
This was insane. It was completely insane. They covered up his brother’s death?
“The next day, when I was sober, my father’s lawyer was there to see me. I don’t know how he got into the clubhouse, I can only think Elliot had something to do with it. I was informed that my brother had died of a suspected sudden brain aneurysm.‘It was tragic,’he said. He was very sorry for my loss.” Alfie gave a sick chuckle.
“I was sent to our country home in Cheshire. My family arrived a day later but I didn’t see them until the day of the funeral when they treated me like family for the sake of the public eye. It wasn’t until that evening, when my father called me to his office, that I knew my mother and sister had no idea what I’d done. He hadn’t told them. To this day they still don’t know.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He had carried this secret all this time, continued on with his mother and sister as if Charles really had died of an aneurysm?
“My whole life, my father had been a statue in a grey suit. That night, after burying his favourite son, was the only time I ever saw him any other way. My father was a cold, cruel man, but he loved Charlie. He was drunk and heartbroken. I was barely through the door to his office before he started on me, beating me worse than he ever had before. I know you’ve read about those beatings in my journals.” His voice was numb as he stared into the fire, once more unable to look at me.
“Yes, he used a…a cane,” I stuttered, emotion squeezing my throat.
“Yes. He was always careful to leave marks where they wouldn’t be seen but that night in his rage he brought it down on my face, splitting my eyebrow open.” He rubbed his finger over his scar, the same one I had traced and wondered about a thousand times. “That was the last time he ever hit me.” He fell quiet again, his gaze sinking into the flames, lost to his awful memories.
What does that mean?
“The doctors said it was a heart attack. It’s genetic. The family flaw. We all have rotten hearts.”
‘Bad hearts run in my family.’He’d told me that on our first date at L’Amour but the double meaning hadn’t really struck me till now. I thought of the concern in Riley’s voice as he’d talked about how hard his friend was working, I thought of the circles around Alfie’s eyes. Images of him collapsed, his steel greys fading as his heart gave out flashed through my mind, turning my stomach.
“I was on the floor, blood running down my face, preparing for the next blow but it never came. My father grabbed his chest, gasping and lunged for his phone on the desk but he didn’t make it. He fell to the floor right in front of me, still alive. Scared. My father, who had terrorised me my whole life, wasscared.”
He swallowed, his fists clenching, unclenching. I wanted to slip my hands into his own, to soothe him, but I didn’t.
“I froze in that moment, that quiet finding me again. I should have called an ambulance, but I didn’t. Strangely calm, I sat in his chair, blood dripping down my face, and I watched my father die. I watched him writhe on the floor in agony, clutching at his chest, silently pleading for my help. I don’t know how long it took, but I know that I didn’t cry. I just sat there. Watching. My mind in that quiet place. I suppose I was in shock. I just…I just wanted to not be scared of him or Charles anymore. My whole life, my whole fucking life I’d been terrified of them. It was finally over.”
He didn’t sound like my Alfie then, the arrogant billionaire businessman that could bend my mind and body a million ways. He sounded like the Alfie from the journals. The young boy who was lonely and abused.Hewanted it to be over.
“Eventually, Elliot found us. He called an ambulance. Covered for me. I have a vague memory of him half-carrying me to my room. I saw the flashing lights from my window as the ambulance arrived. I listened to my mother screaming as she learned that she’d lost her husband the same day that she’dburied her son. I stayed in my room, quiet, and later, after the commotion, Elliot came to me. He said, ‘After you left your Father’s office, he asked me to escort you to your rooms to make sure you were alright. I’m sorry to tell you that when I returned, he’d suffered a massive heart attack and passed away. I’m very sorry for your loss.’ He looked at me, holding my gaze to make sure I understood. I remember nodding and then he left.” Alfie paused again, staring off into the past.
“A few weeks later, after the inquest and the funeral, my mother finally came to me with a pack of lawyers. My father’s company was in turmoil and the shareholders had swarmed like jackals, each wanting to carve out the biggest piece of pie. My father’s shares and responsibility for the company had been left to Charles but with him dead, they went to me. Of course, none of the other board members wanted me to take it up. They wanted it for themselves. To them I was a feckless twenty three year old. But my mother was terrified of losing everything. It was stupid.” He gave another sick laugh, a sound so misplaced here in this moment that it sent a shiver up my spine.
“Even if we had lost shares in the company, she could have sold off one or two pieces of property and lived off that for the rest of her life. But I owed her. I had killed her husband and son and I owed her, not that she knew it of course. I knew I could run the business, that was never daunting for me. I had always been the smarter brother. So, I took my place as head of the company. Head of this thing I never wanted, this thing I loathed. It was my prison, my atonement. Every day I sat in my father’s seat, wearing his and my brother’s deaths like a ball and chain on each ankle. Every day I saw his name, his work. Every day I built and grew his company as some kind of twisted return for what I did and each day, each fucking day, I got colder and colder. I let the light die out because I deserved to freeze. But do you know what else? I missed the club. I don’t miss drinking alcohol, I’ll nevertouch it again, but I missed my Tellers. I missed feeling so alive, even if it was toxic. I loved the club. I understand why you don't, but it wasmine. I’d built it, despite its dysfunction. I had created a multi-million pound business by myself.”
I stared at him, struggling to process everything I had just learned. My mind spun. Charles, his father…the role Elliot had played. Was that why they were so close? Did Riley know too?
I watched Alfie staring into the fire.
