Keep My Secrets by Elena Wilkes (management books to read .txt) 📕

knowing what’s been going on?’

She gave a little shake of the head. She was hearing the words but wanted to shut them out.

‘I need to ask you something.’

‘About?’

‘That night.’

She saw a flash of a silhouette, bent over.

‘You were there. You said you came to the boat.’

She remembered the outline of his shoulders with his back to her against the carbon blue of the night sky – so absorbed in his task that he didn’t hear her tread. And then a girl’s voice… and she sees—

Charlotte.

And Martin.

He was lying.

She remembered her rage – white hot. She felt it again now: the sheer thundering fury that made her grip that piece of wood and metal, feeling her fingernails biting into the heel of her palm. She remembered looking down and seeing that red stripe of discarded hairband lying on the deck, and then feeling the slippery wet of blood on her palms as the cuts opened up, the anger in her silently boiling higher – and then the next thing she was aware of was running, the pounding of her feet and the pounding of her heart—

‘Yes.’

She knows why he’s asking these questions.

‘And you saw nothing?’

She watched his face, savouring the moment, letting him know that she knew, letting him feel her power.

‘It’s just… Frankie, when I saw you the next day… You had blood on your face and hands. I know they found DNA that they have no match for… I don’t know how to ask this…’

‘I come bringing gifts!’ Gavin’s moony face appeared, plonking a tray with tea and cakes in cellophane on the table in front of them. He chuckled from one to the other and then realised that no one was joining in.

‘Oh dear!’ he said nervously. ‘Should I go away again?’

They both looked at him.

‘I’ll go away again then, shall I? Maybe see if I can find the facilities.’

He trundled off like a little cartoon character in his flat suede shoes. Frankie put her jacket on the table and drew her shoulders back. Martin’s gaze stayed glued to her face.

‘I don’t remember anything about that night.’ She stared intently back.

‘You don’t remember anything?’

‘I was stoned, I was drunk. I don’t remember.’

His gaze didn’t waver. He swallowed.

‘You didn’t see Charlotte?’

‘No.’ She didn’t drop her eyes.

‘You’re sure that’s true?’

‘Yes.’

He breathed and his whole body slumped with relief. ‘I don’t want you back at that court again, Frankie. As much as I love the idea of seeing you, it’s not safe.’

She stayed silent.

‘I don’t want the police to see or think anything where you’re concerned. I want you to keep right out of it.’

Jude’s warning came back to her. She was a girl from a care home. She was poor. She was trouble. She was easy prey.

‘Will you do that for me?’ His eyes dropped down briefly, and a stunned shock of realisation coloured his face in that instant. The round ‘O’ of his mouth wouldn’t let the words out.

‘Frankie—’

‘What?’

‘You’re…’

He was struck dumb. His mouth worked oddly at the realisation she was pregnant.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

She gave a little jerk of her shoulder.

‘Jesus.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you tell me?’

‘I didn’t know what I was going to do.’

‘What you were—?’ He looked at her. ‘You wanted to decide without me?’

‘I had to decide without you.’

He stopped and his hand fell. ‘What do you mean?’

She stayed silent.

‘You’re cutting me out,’ he said dully. His eyes winced, painfully. ‘You believe what they’re saying about me and Charlotte being in a relationship.’ He studied her. ‘Is that what your heart says?’

Her heart felt as though it was bleeding from a thousand cuts.

‘Have people got inside your head, Frankie? Is that what’s happened? Is that why you haven’t told me about the baby?’

‘No.’ She shook her head stubbornly.

‘Is it Jude?’

She put her hand on her stomach. ‘She doesn’t know.’

He looked at her in disbelief. ‘How can she have not noticed?’

‘In exactly the same way you didn’t.’ Frankie smiled grimly. ‘Only one of the girls knows and she won’t say anything. I’ve worn baggy clothes and I’ve been staying out and going back late.’

‘Staying out? With who?’

‘No one. Just out.’

‘Frankie.’ He took a deep breath in. ‘Just tell me.’

‘Charlotte’s parents.’

‘Charlotte’s par—?’ Martin’s face fell in shock and then terror. His head dropped into his hands and he groaned like a wounded animal.

‘What have you done, Frankie? What have you done? Why them, for pity’s sake?’

Martin looked like a man in pain. She was glad. She wanted to sit here and let him feel every blow she could muster. Him and Charlotte. Charlotte and him. The liar.

‘Her mum. Vanessa. At the court. She found me. She looked after me, when…’ She stopped at the pain of the memory. ‘I didn’t know it was her. I didn’t realise at first, and then…’ She looked away. ‘She was nice to me.’

‘Why would you want to be anywhere near that family, Frankie? And they know about you and me, do they?’

She gave a tiny nod. There was no her and Martin. She was alone – Again. There was just a man sitting across a grubby table, one that she had been stupid enough to come and see. That’s all there was.

‘It just doesn’t make sense… I can’t get my head around it. None of it. A baby… You being pregnant…’ His head swung slowly from side to side. ‘This changes everything, you know that don’t you, Frankie? Everything. They have nothing to convict me on – not really. They can’t prove I did it. There’s no concrete evidence tying me to her murder – and I did not do it, Frankie. I swear on… on…’ He glanced round. ‘…On that baby’s life. I didn’t kill Charlotte Vale.’

‘Don’t!’ Both arms came to protectively cover her belly.

‘I’ve not mentioned your name at all: not to anyone. I’ve protected you from being involved all this time, Frankie. So will you do this one thing for me?’

Her guts felt like stone.

‘You have to give