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

The day she moved in she stood in the living room. Jack was sitting sullenly on the sofa as Vanessa and Peter flapped around her, manoeuvring her towards an armchair and gently taking Chloe from her arms and laying her in a brand new white and pink bassinet with matching covers.

‘This is too generous.’ She looked up at them. ‘You’ve already bought the car seat and you’ve told me about the cot and changing table. You mustn’t keep buying things.’

But Vanessa waved her away. ‘Oh, it’s nothing. We like getting bits and pieces, don’t we Peter? It gives us something nice to focus on.’

Peter was already in the kitchen, whistling tunelessly as the kettle boiled.

‘I’ll make us all sandwiches, shall I?’ She fussed excitedly. ‘I’ve got tuna, and cheese and tomatoes and salad…’ She went through the whole lot, reeling off lunch and then what she had planned for dinner as Frankie watched Jack’s face growing more and more bleak and stormy.

‘Sounds perfect,’ Frankie attempted to reassure her. ‘Anything, really. I’m starving.’

Vanessa finally pottered off into the kitchen still twittering about food, as an uneasy quiet descended.

‘Go and look upstairs, quick.’ Jack jerked his chin, glancing at the ceiling. ‘Go and look what they’ve done.’

Frankie glanced at the kitchen door and then at the sleeping Chloe before creeping into the hallway and tiptoeing up the stairs. The door to Charlotte’s bedroom was no longer closed. It sat open now. The bookcase against the far wall was still there, but that was the only remnant of the past.

It had become a nursery. The wallpaper was sprigged with pink flowers, as were the curtains. The bed had gone, and a white cot stood in its place. There was a white changing table stocked with nappies and creams and wipes, and a rocking chair was laden with big, blush velvet cushions. She gazed at it all in shock and then went to the room next door. It was spartan and functional as before: the computer, the printer, the bed pushed against the wall; it was all still the same.

She made her way back into the living room and Jack raised his eyes to meet her gaze. See? his expression said and then he flashed a look towards the cot. Frankie immediately went over but Chloe wasn’t there. She panicked. She could hear Vanessa cooing and crooning in the kitchen as she stormed her way in. Vanessa was sitting in the saggy old wicker chair with Chloe in her arms, feeding her from a bottle.

Frankie’s breasts ached. Her arms longed to take her.

‘What’s going on?’ She tried to say it as calmly as she could. Vanessa glanced up.

‘Oh, you weren’t there. She was hungry.’

‘I only went upstairs.’

But Vanessa only smiled and shrugged and stared down at the baby again.

Peter was standing at the sink, gazing out into the garden, seemingly lost in thought. ‘If you want things to be perfect, it’s all in the planning,’ he mused to no one in particular. ‘I’m so glad we did all the groundwork. That’s the secret to success, really.’ He turned to look at her, smiling. ‘I think I’ll get out there for a bit while it’s still sunny. Now, wellies… are they in the porch or did I leave them in the shed? That’s the question.’ He went to move past her, brushing the back of her hand as he did so. A jolt of alarm tingled up her forearm and she moved it away.

‘Gosh, I bet you’re shattered, Frankie.’ He paused, wrinkling his nose in concern. ‘I think we’ve got this all covered down here. Why don’t you go for a lie down, hmm?’

Frankie stared at Vanessa’s bowed head. She was humming to the baby as she fed her but then stopped suddenly and lifted her eyes.

‘Look at us!’ She gazed round with a strange smile on her face. ‘Look at us, a proper little family again!’

Peter went over and crouched next to the chair, reaching out to gently stroke the baby’s cheek. Frankie felt a whole surge of protective rage coursing through her veins.

‘It’ll be wonderful to watch her grow, won’t it?’ Peter smiled round. ‘We’ll be here to see her bloom and blossom into a young woman. Don’t you think that’ll be amazing?’ He caught Frankie’s expression. His smile froze.

‘Why don’t you take my advice and go upstairs for a little sleep, eh? Your room’s all ready and waiting for you. Don’t fret about Chloe. We’ll take good care of her. She’s in expert hands, don’t you worry about that.’

Chapter Eighteen

Frankie lay in her room listening to the sound of her baby crying downstairs. The tears leaked from her eyes, clucking into her ears and making the world go silent. She’d had weeks of this. The milk inside her swollen breasts felt hot and sore. It was excruciating. The thought of moving an inch brought her out in a cold sweat. A tiny sob hiccoughed in the back of her throat as she listened to Chloe’s cries getting smaller and smaller and Vanessa’s soothing tones. There was nothing to do but cry: for the pain she was in, for her hatred of Martin, for what had happened to Charlotte, for all the things she’d done and hadn’t done in her life. How she would love for everything to go silent and just stop. She really prayed it would – that she would never have to hear or see anything ever again. She honestly wished she were dead.

Chloe hated her.

She knew it.

She felt it every time she picked her up, feeling the baby kick and squirm and turn her face away. Each shriek and wail said the same, her tiny fists punching into the air, furious and rejecting – until Vanessa picked her up. Then she would lie against Vanessa’s shoulder, hiccoughing as her sobs faded, her big grey eyes staring in accusation. I hate you, the look said. I’ve seen inside you.