What Did You Do?: a gripping psychological thriller with plenty of twists Read online

  What Did You Do?

  M. I. Hattersley

  Dark Corridor Books

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  1

  It was that blasted song that had set her off. Nadia Morgan switched off the radio and leaned over her large Belfast sink unit, turning her back to the room in the hope no one had seen. A quick swipe of her hand dealt with the tears, and she opened her eyes wide to stop any more from forming and ruining her mascara. To distract herself, she peered through the window at the expansive panorama in front of her, reminding herself once again how lucky she was to live in such an idyllic setting. Luscious green fields stretched away to the horizon, topped with a rich azure blue sky. Trees and long grasses swayed lazily in the late afternoon breeze whilst birds and hedgerow insects fluttered around in casual abandon as if they knew of no predator hell-bent on eating them this fine day.

  “Mummy? Are you okay?”

  “Oh, God, Mum! Are you crying?”

  The first question, full of confusion and concern, came from Emily, her gorgeous six-year-old girl who still thought Mummy was the best thing in the world. The second question, full of scorn and embarrassment, came from Andrew, thirteen going on thirty. Enough said. Even if you didn’t have a teenager yourself, you’d been one. There was a certain age one reached when everything a parent did annoyed and embarrassed you. Although some days it seemed to Nadia that Andrew took this concept to the extreme.

  “I’m fine,” she said, choosing to respond to Emily. “Mummy’s just been cutting onions, that’s all. Sometimes they make your eyes water.”

  She ran her wrists under the cold water before switching off the tap and reaching for the kitchen roll. Yanking off a couple of sheets, she dried her hands before wadding up the paper and dabbing at her eyes. Job done, she turned back to the room with the biggest smile she could muster.

  “See? I’m fine.” Emily gave her a long stare, but Andrew offered her only a simple eye roll and returned to whatever he was doing on his iPad. She’d like to believe it was research for his English essay, but she wasn’t that naïve.

  “Dinner will be ready in about an hour,” she continued. Can you both go get changed and freshen up before then? And Andrew, are we going to get our homework finished before dinner? I don’t want you up all night again like last week.”

  “Yes! All right!” He slipped off his chair and walked over to the lounge area, grabbing his blazer and school bag from the sofa before walking the full length of the open-plan kitchen-diner and into the hallway on the other side. It was rather impressive, considering he didn’t take his eyes from the iPad screen once, but Nadia wasn’t sure it would be a transferable skill once he became an adult. Not for the first time, Nadia had a mind to confiscate the iPad. Maybe even his Nintendo as well. At least limit his usage of both. But he needed the iPad for his schoolwork, and online gaming offered a lifeline to his friends, who all lived some distance away. That was what she told herself, at least.

  “Are you going to get changed?” she asked Emily with a smile.

  She regarded Nadia with those huge brown eyes of hers. “Can I finish doing this picture first? It’s a space pony.” She lifted the paper with a smile that would melt even her older brother’s narcissistic heart.

  “Wow, amazing,” Nadia said, nodding eagerly at the drawing. It was actually rather good and showed some development, she thought, but she’d had the response cued up long before she’d seen the image. That was how it was being a parent. You had a plethora of stock responses saved up, which could be employed without having to engage fully with the situation.

  That’s amazing

  Wow, that’s so clever.

  No! I am watching, darling!

  It wasn’t being a bad parent. It just meant you could fit in the million and one other tasks you needed to do each day, whilst still showing a semblance of interest.

  Nadia placed the knife down and sighed. But maybe that was unfair. Being this way wasn’t just about raising children whilst hanging onto your sanity. It was how all adults became, eventually. It wasn’t so much about being a parent as being a human being. Life was easier when filtered through a façade of faux-delight and stock responses. Some called it having an English stiff upper lip, but being half-Bengali, half-Irish Nadia didn’t subscribe to that stuffy English cliché. For her, this way of being, of always having an answer and a smile for whatever came at you, was the perfect defence mechanism. It was probably unhealthy to suppress your feelings this way, but she was English enough to suppress those thoughts, too, when they popped up. Being this way meant you kept the wolves from the door of your psyche most of the time. And that was a good thing. Nadia had a lot of wolves to deal with. Most of her memories were like dormant gremlins she’d pushed down deep inside of herself. But some days, like today, the beastly thoughts rose up and found sustenance. She could sense their spindly claws stretching out across time to invade her present.

  It was that blasted song that had set her off. Say My Name by Destiny’s Child. She hadn’t heard it in years and when it came on the radio just now out of the blue, the opening bars alone had set her off.

  Say my name...

  She and her mum listened to Destiny’s Child’s The Writing’s On The Wall album on every car journey they took that year. The year the album was released. Nineteen-ninety-nine. She knew that because it was the last year that they were properly together as a family. She'd always skip the CD to track twelve - Say My Name - much to her mum’s annoyance. But she didn’t seem to mind as the two of them belted out the refrain on their way to piano lessons, or swimming class. They even listened to it on the way to court, she remembered. Maybe that was why it had hit her so hard.

  Say my name…

  She always felt it strange that certain things could make you think of your past. Sometimes it was easy to understand why, but not always. She could be folding laundry or mucking out the stables and all at once an image would pop into her head. Sometimes it was a nice memory, but that was rare. Over the years, she’d grown good at deflecting these thoughts, catching them as they bubbled up through the primordial ooze of her consciousness and nipping them in the bud before they could fully form.

  And it was all such a long time ago now. A different world away.

  She was a different person back then…

  “Mummy!”

  Her train of thought was wiped from her mind as she emerged back into her modern-day kitchen to see little Emily looking up at her.

  “Sorry, darling. What did you say?”

  “You’re still crying! Is it the onions?”

  Nadia’s hand went to her face, and she dabbed at her eyes with the crook of her index finger. “Yes. Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

  “Are you sad, Mummy?”

  “No, of course not!” She said, putting on a big smile. “What have I got to be sad about? I’ve got you and your brothers and daddy. I’ve got this lovely big house in the countryside. Why would I be sad when I’m so lucky? Now come along Emily Bunny. Get changed for dinner and tell Edward to do the same.”

  “But I’m not a bunny today.”

  “Oh? What are you?”

  “A unicorn.”

  Without further comment, the small girl wandered out into the hallwa
y towards the bedroom she shared with her twin brother, Edward, who was more than likely building an extensive castle with his Lego.

  “And wash your hands,” Nadia called after her.

  She got no response, but that was okay. Sometimes, as a parent, saying it was enough. After that, it was in the lap of the gods what they did. You couldn’t be with your kids twenty-four-seven. She wondered initially, when she was pregnant with Andrew, whether her own experiences would make her a strict parent - or one of those irritating ‘helicopter’ parents she’d read about, and then seen in the flesh in the child groups she’d attended over the years. It was true she had been much stricter with Andrew, and as he reached teenage years, she could feel herself growing more so – much to his displeasure - but she also knew how precarious life was. The best kids in the world could make mistakes. And one mistake could change everything. She wasn’t dumb. She knew Andrew in particular needed space. But it was hard. The past and the future met her most nights when she was trying to sleep, and neither were pleasant bedfellows.

  “Come on now, Nads,” she whispered to herself. “No point going there.”

  She pushed her chest out and put on her smile. Because what did she have to feel sorry about? She’d been telling the truth before. She had a great life, a wonderful husband, darling children, and the most beautiful home she could ever imagine. This was paradise, and she owed it to herself to appreciate it.

  She picked up the large bottle of olive oil and glugged a decent amount into the large copper casserole pan already on the stovetop. Clicking on the gas, she scooped up the onions from the chopping board up and chucked them into the spitting oil. The onions were fresh and pungent and stung her eyes. Maybe they were partly to blame for the waterworks. It happened. She smiled to herself. A genuine smile this time.

  Yes. She certainly was grateful. Nadia Morgan had everything she’d ever needed or wanted. But she damn-well deserved it.

  2

  It was Wednesday, so it was curry night in the Morgan household. Nadia had made her speciality, her take on a traditional Bengalese dish with chicken breast meat, rather than thighs, and plenty of potatoes and onions. As of a few weeks ago, she’d even begun serving the twins from the main pot rather than give them a less spicy ‘kid-friendly’ version and, touch wood, they were eating it without comment. That made her happy. The dish was one of the few obvious links to her heritage that she still had – except for her dark skin and that of her children - and she was pleased she could share at least some aspects of her past with her family. The curry was one of the first dishes her mother had taught her to make.

  One of the first and last.

  No one had spoken more than a few words since they’d all sat down to eat five minutes ago, and she took that as a good sign. The chink of cutlery on crockery and the vague noises of satisfaction and delight as everyone tucked into their food were the sounds of a job well done. Not that Nadia's role in the house was merely as the cook or even the housekeeper. She did wear both those hats - and loved looking after her family – but she also had her horses, and the glamping business as well now. And whilst the stud farm only just wiped its feet these days in terms of profit, it was hers. She loved the fact she ran two businesses, as well as being a mother and a wife. Not bad going for a shy girl from a rough part of Bradford.

  “This is amazing, Nads,” Laurie said, waving his fork over his plate emphatically. “One of your best. Don’t you agree, kids?”

  “Yeah,” the twins both said in unison.

  Andrew shrugged and sniffed. It was the closest you got to a response from him most of the time. Laurie caught her looking at their eldest and shook his head with a smile as their eyes met.

  “Do you like it, Andrew?” he asked.

  “Yeah, it’s all right.”

  Laurie threw up his eyebrows. “Majestic praise indeed, thanks for that, Chef Ramsey.

  “I said I liked it.” He begrudgingly glanced Nadia’s way, but still evaded eye contact. "It's nice."

  “Andrew’s still upset that I won’t let him go to the party, aren’t you, darling?” she said.

  “Oh?” Laurie said. “What’s this?”

  Nadia waited for Andrew to reply, but when he just stared into his food, she answered for him. "Simon Burns at school is having a party in a couple of weeks. For his fourteenth. But I've found out his parents are away on holiday and his older brother is looking after him - who I imagine is also inviting friends to this party. I’ve told Andrew I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to go.”

  “But everyone’s going,” Andrew mumbled into his curry.

  “Not everyone.”

  He tutted loudly but said nothing else on the matter. Nadia glared at Laurie, who was regarding his eldest son with kind eyes as if he was considering saying more. But he decided against it. They would discuss it later and he’d no doubt put Andrew’s case forward, but it was usual for these decisions to be made by her alone and Laurie usually backed her up. She felt for her eldest son, of course she did. But he was only thirteen, and that was too young to be going to a party where there might be drink and drugs and who knows what else. She was his mother. She had to protect him from the evils of the world for as long as possible. In a few more years, he could go to whatever party he wanted. Within reason. They’d get him contact lenses too if wearing glasses was still such a bother for him. Sometimes she wished she could grab her kids and shake them, tell them not to rush growing up. It happened regardless, so stay young, for as long as possible.

  “And what about you, Nadia?” Laurie asked her. “Any news from the homestead that is Camborne Stables plus Elite Glamping Experience?”

  She reached for her glass of wine and took a sip as she thought about the question. Sometimes when Laurie spelt out the entire name of the business like that, she detected a slightly condescending tone in his voice. But today she didn’t hear it. Maybe she was choosing not to.

  "Not anything that fun," she said. “I did the horses, did the washing. We’ve got a new couple in yurt number two – the Snowdons. They’re down from London. He’s a writer. I’m not sure what she does. But they seem nice. They’re staying until Monday.”

  “Great, and how’s Mr Oddball in number one?”

  Nadia widened her eyes at him. Sending a clear message. Not in front of the kids. The last thing she wanted was one of them repeating what their father had said to the guests and her getting a bad review on Trip Advisor. The right - or, rather, wrong - one-star review and the business could be over before it got going.

  “Mr Jameson is fine,” she told him. “He’s a nice old man. He’s just really into his birdwatching, that’s all.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  She gave her husband another look, but she knew what Laurie meant about the guest in yurt number one. Mr Jameson had arrived last Friday and was staying at Elite Glamping for three weeks – time enough, he hoped, to catch sight of a Wilson’s storm petrel. Nadia remembered the name because the old man had said it about six times in the three-minute conversation they'd had when he checked in. Nadia had never heard of the breed but, apparently, they were super-rare and a couple of them had recently been seen in this part of Cornwall. It wasn’t his hobbies so much that gave the man an air of oddness, however, but the erratic way he moved his head as if he was a bird himself. Nadia had also found it disconcerting that Mr Jameson didn’t converse in the way normal people did. When she’d finished saying what she had to say, rather than reply, he’d continue to stare at you with a blank expression on his face, as though he expected you to say more. Being a people-pleaser, Nadia found herself waffling on and talking absolute nonsense to cover the awkwardness.

  “Don’t be nasty, Laur,” she whispered.

  "Ah, come on, I was only messing around."

  "You know I don't like name-calling."

  Harpooning a large piece of chicken with her fork, she put it in her mouth before she said anything she might regret. Nadia hated being mean a
bout people and she hated name-calling more than anything. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. That was how the children’s rhyme went. But she’d always thought it was complete nonsense. She knew for a fact that names hurt. But so did stones.

  She stared out through the glass wall that spanned the entire south side of the property. The sun was setting, and the sky was glowing a gorgeous mixture of orange and pink. Despite the view, she felt the dull but familiar spike of resentment in the back of her throat.

  Say my name…

  Leave me alone!

  She’d spent a hell of a lot of time and effort pushing these memories so far down inside of herself she wouldn’t ever have to look at them. Why were they haunting her all of a sudden?

  “Mummy, I’ve not seen Marge in ages and ages.”

  “What’s that darling?” Nadia snapped her attention to Edward, more than glad of his cute, squeaky voice drawing her out of herself.

  “Marge. She’s not been in my room since forever and she’s not eaten her dinner for ages.”

  Nadia frowned. “Really? Are you sure?” Marge was the family cat, but Edward in particular had grown close to her. They’d got her as a kitten from one of Laurie’s clients when Andrew was a baby and it was unusual for a cat, especially one of Marge’s age, to attach itself to a human the way she had. So her bond with Edward felt even more special. Most nights, Nadia would find her curled up on the end of his bed. “Have you looked for her outside? Or in the barn?”

  A frisson of panic fluttered behind her ribs. She looked at Laurie, hoping not to see anything in his eyes which might tell her he knew something bad. But he looked as nonplussed as she felt.

  “A bit, but I couldn’t see her,” Edward said. “Can you ask people for me? Melissa and Tom and Mrs Lamb Bear?”

  “I will, darling. As soon as we’ve finished dinner, I’ll go down and ask them. I’m sure Marge is fine, though. Don’t worry.” She smiled at him, wishing to all the gods in the sky that she was correct, and his special friend was okay. But not coming home for food, that wasn’t the Marge she knew.