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

now, shall we?’ The teacher begins to usher them into a manageable bunch. ‘If your parents are picking you up, can you make sure you stay inside the school gates, please?’

The voices get louder and more excitable as they begin to discuss who saw what and when. A boy with red hair starts toeing at the tyre mark on the road with the tip of his trainer and talking animatedly about ‘crime scenes’. The driver of the car touches the teacher’s arm.

‘Err, excuse me, I was wondering if you needed me to fill out any reports or anything?’

‘Oh, thank you, that would be very helpful, just in case there’s any comeback.’ She winces a smile at Frankie. ‘Actually, could you both spare a couple of moments to come to the school office and I can jot some things down? I’m probably going to get hauled over the coals about this. I’m newly qualified, you see.’ She grimaces, embarrassed. ‘Mrs Vale – Charlotte’s mum, I’m sure she didn’t mean to come across as—’ She stops. ‘The family’s had a difficult time recently, and—’

‘The dad’s a nonce!’ The boy with the red hair shouts over his shoulder. ‘Nonce alert! Nonce alert!’ he yells at the other kids, and starts prancing about and swinging his bag.

‘That will do, Tom!’ Mrs Stephenson snaps sharply. ‘Stand over by that wall where I can see you and don’t move!’ She rolls her eyes and gestures Frankie and the driver towards the school office.

Frankie doesn’t want to be here right now. She can’t waste any more time.

‘I’m sorry – I was thinking… I was wondering if I could pop back later… Or ring you?… It’s just…’

There’s a sudden whoop of shrieking behind them. They all turn to look. About six or seven boys have joined in with Tom’s cat-calling. They swarm around each other in a strange flock formation, shouting over-excitedly, jabbing and pointing. Mrs Stephenson is answering her question, only Frankie isn’t listening. She’s watching the children as they point and jeer. There, by the school gates is a lone figure. His hands are hunched into his pockets as he stares mutely forward. Frankie stares across the yard, not quite believing, as her heart sets up a frightened thrumming. She knows who the figure is.

It’s Peter Vale.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Tonight.

Whatever she is going to do, it has to be tonight.

Peter Vale watching Chloe. The thought tumbles over and over in her mind as she drives home. She’d raced across that playground with the gang of schoolkids watching, shocked and in awe, only to see Peter disappearing into an alleyway. Hurrying to her car, she’d driven around the streets for half an hour, but it was pointless; he was far too clever.

She walks into the kitchen. Alex has his back to her but she can’t gauge his mood.

‘Oh hi, how did it go with Diane?’ He glances up from the cookery book he’s reading.

‘Oh, fine. I think we’ve got it sorted.’ The deceit makes her squirm.

Her brain struggles to connect with the lies. She feels like a puppet operated by strings.

‘They’ve added a no-climbing clause into your contract, then?’

She manages to grimace a smile. ‘Something like that.’

‘And so how are you feeling?’ He raises both eyebrows. She looks back at him in a nervous query.

‘I’m fine. I’m okay.’

Alex’s face relaxes into a smile in response. ‘Good… Hey, I’m sorry about earlier.’ He shrugs. ‘I think we’re both under a bit of pressure and neither of us are behaving at our best at the moment.’

He’s trying: he’s really trying.

‘Did you mention anything to Diane about leaving?’ He picks up a chopping board and knife, and then reads the look on her face.

‘Please, Alex – I will. I just don’t want to go over it all again right now. Can we leave it there? Is that okay?’

He regards her blankly for a moment, and then his expression softens.

‘You’re right. Let’s just enjoy the evening. Fancy a glass of something before dinner? That red’s open.’ He nods across to a bottle. She sees that the table is already laid. ‘Martin will be here about seven.’

Her stomach flips a little.

‘Okay.’

Sliding a wine glass across the table, she glugs a couple of inches into the bottom. ‘I’ll run a bath and take this with me.’

‘Great idea.’ He begins to slice a tomato. She can’t cope with it all.

Making her way up the stairs, she goes into the bathroom, turns on the taps and sinks into the chair, burying her face in her hands. A slick of anxiety winds itself into her gut: a tightening sensation that makes her want to scream. She has no idea how to handle any of it: Alex, Martin, the idea of going to Vanessa’s house tonight.

She takes a gulp of wine to steady her nerves.

She should tell Jack.

But what will she tell him?

She’d gone over the scenario all the way home in the car, imagining what it would feel like to find Peter at the house. What would she do? Would she be afraid of him? What would she say? Challenge him? Threaten him? With what? The police? What would she do there and then?

A thought slams into her mind.

Kill him?

No.

Would she kill to protect Chloe?

She takes a breath. She might. She really might.

My god.

Every possible outcome of tonight wheels endlessly.

You don’t know this man. You don’t know what he’s capable of.

He’s already tried to kill Martin…

Balancing the glass on the side of the bath, she strips off, sinking into the water, letting the searing heat prickle her skin.

Martin.

Martin is coming here for dinner.

The very thought of it sends her head spiralling along yet another track. She’s suddenly aware of the water cooling and it jerks her back. He will be down there, in her house, sitting at that table, those eyes searching out her own as her defences against him teeter.

‘Penny for them.’

‘Oh Lord!’ She reaches for the wine glass. ‘Alex! Don’t do that!’

‘Sorry, I thought you’d heard me come in,’ he grins. ‘I just wondered how