CRUEL SECRETS

  Cruel Secrets

  by

  Kerry Barnes

  Once Upon A Book

  Copyright © Kerry Barnes 2017

  The right of Kerry Barnes to be identified as author of

  this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright,

  Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights Reserved

  No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication

  may be made without written permission.

  No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced,

  copied or transmitted save with the written permission of the publisher, or in accordance

  with the provisions

  of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended).

  Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to

  this publication may be liable to criminal

  prosecution and civil claims for damage.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is

  available from the British Library.

  ISBN: 978-1-9997262-5-6

  This is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, places and incidents originate from the writer’s imagination. Any

  resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  First Published in 2017

  Once Upon A Book

  Dedication

  Penny Mcallen my friend of 47 years.

  Class of 81

  Dedicated to all the pupils who attended Walsingham school.

  Any reference to the school in the book is purely fictional, because

  sadly, the school closed on 31st August 1990.

  Table of Contents:

  Chapter one

  Chapter two

  Chapter three

  Chapter four

  Chapter five

  Chapter six

  Chapter seven

  Chapter eight

  Chapter nine

  Chapter ten

  Chapter eleven

  Chapter twelve

  Chapter thirteen

  Chapter fourteen

  Chapter fifteen

  Chapter sixteen

  Chapter seventeen

  Chapter eighteen

  Chapter nineteen

  Chapter twenty

  Chapter twenty-one

  Chapter twenty-two

  Chapter twenty-three

  Chapter twenty-four

  Chapter twenty-five

  Chapter twenty-six

  Chapter twenty-seven

  Chapter twenty-eight

  Acknowledgements

  Writing is always regarded as a solitary occupation, but I owe a great debt to my editor Robert Wood who generously gave me so much of his time and invaluable input. Without him this book would probably be unreadable.

  Deryl Easton who has supported me and has always been there to lift me up when I lack confidence and feel like giving up.

  I would like to thank all the members of the Notrights book club, The Crime book club and my supporters in The Beech Tree pub and The Ocean Inn.

  I would also like to thank my brother, Adam, for his input over the summer, whilst landscaping my garden.

  CRUEL SECRETS

  CHAPTER ONE

  Using all her strength, she gripped her victim’s throat, squeezing it as tightly as she could. It proved to be more strenuous than she could ever have imagined. The unsuspecting woman, in her docile state, fought with every ounce of her life, and of course she would have done because she had so much to live for.

  The vision of blood on her hands and the gory mess she was about to make of her victim should have shadowed her mind with tremendous guilt, for as long as her heart would beat. She picked up the long carving knife. It would be like gutting a fish. She knew she would feel nothing when she had accomplished the task. But surely the ultimate prize would be worth it, wouldn’t it?

  Little did she know that the reward would be a few meagre words of insincere gratitude.

  ……………………….

  Kelly looked in the tiny mirror in the bathroom, the only one in the house, and sighed at the state of her boring face, with her long, limp hair just hanging there either side of her face. Not even a fringe or a trim. God forbid she even suggested hair bobbles to her mother. She hated being called Jezebel and hated the elastic bands even more. The first day back at school, after the summer holidays, was going to be another reminder she was a prisoner in her mother’s house. She looked again at her face and lowered her eyes; she hated what she saw, not even a golden glow from the sun. Not surprising, since she was kept inside most of the time, but only to study. The truth was, her mother didn’t want to lay eyes on her, and so the best thing all round was to remain out of sight in the bare, cold, characterless bedroom. Then she heard her mother’s shrill voice screaming up the stairs. “Hurry up, you will miss your bus. If I call you again, it will be with a sharp reminder!”

  Knowing exactly what that meant, she hurtled down the stairs, two at a time, snatched her jacket and bag, and was there at the door for a full inspection. Maureen, her mother, looked her up and down through mean, beady eyes and sniffed the air. “I expect you home at 4.15, and this year, I will want to see higher grades, so no slacking. Do I make myself clear?”

  Kelly nodded, and left, desperate to get out of the house and away from those burning, hateful stares from her mother. How could she get higher grades? All her subjects were A stars. If she got any higher, she would be teaching the class herself. Yet no academic knowledge she gained from school was going to prepare her for the outside world.

  As soon as Kelly stepped off the bus, she sighed, looking down at those wretched long white socks. Her mother was strict and every rule had to be obeyed, including the knee length skirt and childish flat shoes. As the other girls from her estate clambered off, gossiping with excitement, Kelly bit her lip. If only she could be a part of it all. She heard them at the back of the bus, talking about the fun they’d had during the summer holidays. Kelly could only imagine what it would be like to go to a party, a barbecue, or even just hang out over at the park with friends. She wasn’t included in their little chit-chats; she wasn’t like them, and she had her mother to blame for that.

  Penny was the last to get off the bus; she was a trendy girl with a seriously confident personality. She skipped past Kelly, almost knocking her out of the way.

  “Soz, Churchy,” she laughed and ran to meet the popular group of girls. She wasn’t sorry because she didn’t really give a shit, and yet Kelly still admired her.

  Entering the classroom, it was the same old, same old; some sniggered and some nodded. Kelly took her place just behind Penny’s chair. Penny, however, was late as usual, even though she got off the bus at the same time. Just as the teacher was about to call the register, the girl walked in as brazen as you like, wearing a short skirt and the tightest white blouse with her tie in a double knot. Kelly watched, smiling to herself. Were the class about to witness one of Penny’s little cameo performances? she wondered.

  With a way-out hairstyle, shaved on the one side and her fringe dyed pink, Penny looked cool with a self-assured edge. Her shoes were well over the three-centimetre rule but she didn’t give a toss. The teachers had tried detention and even exclusion, but she just laughed it off. Kelly thought about herself; if she received detention, her mother would beat her with a stick and make her say twenty-five Hail Marys.

  The smell from the newly polished parquet flooring filled the classroom. It was a recognisable odour common to many schools. The first day back after the summer holidays was always the same, with the kids clucking like chickens. The new starters were either cocky because they had an older sibling or nervous because they were alone. The fifth
and sixth formers breezed past; they had no worries unless they were anxious to start the year with good intentions to do well for their final exams. Walsingham was a large school; back in the seventies, they had merged the boys and girls to form a mixed comprehensive, and so for the new starts it was incredibly daunting.

  Johnnie Kent sat next to Penny, eyeing her up and down. He was the best-looking guy in the school and didn’t he know it. Penny stuck her middle finger up at him and then blew a huge bubble gum bubble.

  “Penny McAllen, throw that disgusting gum in the bin this instant!” screamed Mrs McAvoy.

  Dropping her oversized bag onto her seat, she slowly walked to the front, swaying her hips and flicking her fringe. With a cheeky smirk on her face, she leaned over the bin and gobbed, much to the disdain of the new form teacher. Every teacher knew Penny and probably had a good laugh at her antics, but in front of the pupils, they had to be seen to be uncompromising with the rules.

  The sound was loud as the gum hit the base of the metal bin. She turned to face the class and grinned. Then the pupils giggled, angering the teacher. It just made them laugh even more. Who would want to teach this lot? thought Mrs McAvoy.

  Sliding the chair back, which made a screeching sound, Penny sat down heavily and glared at her teacher. Kelly just watched with admiration, as Penny mumbled under her breath, “Miserable ol’ bitch.”

  “What did you say?” shouted the teacher.

  With a confident sneer plastered across her face, Penny replied, “Oh, nuffin, Miss, you must be hearing things.”

  The class tittered again.

  “I heard you, Penny McAllen!”

  Penny laughed, “You’re losing it, Miss. I never said nuffin.” Glancing around the room at her fan club, she thought, life doesn’t get much better than this. I’ve only been in the classroom two minutes and I’m already one up on this dozy old bat. Penny commanded attention and Mrs McAvoy was royally playing into her hands.

  “I clearly heard you!” The spiteful expression on Mrs McAvoy’s face intensified, as her piercing eyes narrowed.

  “If ya heard me, Miss, then why did you ask what I said?”

  The teacher was now red in the face and slammed her hands down on the desk. “Do not be so impertinent, young lady!”

  “Miss, I don’t know what impertinent means, but whatever it is, I ain’t done nuffin. Like I said, you must be losing the plot or going deaf in ya old age!” she replied, innocently, looking up at the laser-like glare focused on her.

  Kelly so wanted to laugh but she was too afraid of the consequences. God help her, if she got into trouble like this; her mother would have a good reason to beat the life out of her.

  There was silence, but inside her head, the teacher was screaming. They both held their gaze for what seemed like ages. Then, Mrs McAvoy sighed and rolled her eyes. “Right, it’s the first day back, and I will be going over the revision timetable, so class, please pay attention.”

  Kelly wished she had the gumption that Penny so obviously had. If only she had the guts to stand up for herself, then maybe she wouldn’t be so miserable. Penny always looked happy and she was surrounded by her friends. Her parents let her wear what she wanted at school and have fashionable hairstyles, even make-up. Unlike her though, she wasn’t allowed to even move unless her mother said so. In fact, she was so controlled by her mother’s obsessions, she was the butt of many a joke. The teasing was so intense it verged on bullying. Kelly was the girl they poked fun at. Every school had one and Kelly stood out. Perhaps she was bullied, but it was nothing in comparison to her mother’s brutal words and harsh punishments.

  The first day dragged on, as Kelly daydreamed about the day she would leave home and live her own life, instead of being dragged, pushed, and oppressed by her mother. Just to be able to have a hairstyle instead of her straggly, boring locks would be something. She contemplated taking action now, by changing her personality and standing her ground; after all, she could do nothing about the way she looked.

  The bus arrived at 4 o’clock and the pupils were gathered en masse, waiting to get on. Of course, they pushed past her, as if she didn’t exist. Usually, she waited for the 4.15 bus, to avoid having to wrestle with the crowd, but today was different. She was going to take a leaf out of Penny’s book. As the double-decker bus pulled up, the hoards heaved forward. Kelly could feel her heart racing, as if she were on a roller coaster. It was thumping more with nerves though than anything else. She felt sick with fear and her mouth was now dry. The doors opened and the kids tried to shove past each other to pile on. Four girls in the year below her were in front; they’d already had the foresight to ram their way forward.

  “Oi, I was before you!” bellowed Kelly. Her heart was in her mouth. That was the first time ever she had raised her voice.

  One of the group turned and mocked. “Piss off, Churchy,” spat Helen, the younger sister of Jody, a girl in her class. “Go and crawl under a church pew where ya belong, ya fucking weirdo!”

  Kelly was seriously angry now; it was all well and good having girls her own age taking the mick but not one younger than herself. With a spike of gumption, which, to be honest, she didn’t feel she even had, she pushed the girl aside and glared back, “I fucking said, I was before you!”

  She had never sworn before, afraid she may burn in the everlasting fire of hell. That’s what her mother had brainwashed her into believing. Helen stood with her mouth open, allowing Kelly to go first.

  She managed to get on the bus and secure herself a seat, and yet her heart was still pounding nineteen to the dozen. Helen and her friends walked to the back, whispering about what they had just witnessed. It was outrageous: Kelly Raven swearing at them! This didn’t sit well with them at all. Kelly’s confidence then subsided, and she looked down at the floor, not wanting anyone to stare at her; really, she felt like crying, but she wouldn’t dare, not now and not again. Things had to change, if she was to ever become her own person.

  It was no surprise though why she was picked on. Looking down at her starched knee length school skirt and her Clarks baby shoes, it was obvious she was always going to be first in line as an easy target.

  The bus drove along the high street and most of the kids hopped off; they were either gathering in McDonald’s or wandering around the shopping centre. She wasn’t one of them. Her mother insisted on her coming straight home. “Idle time leads to mischief,” she would often say.

  As the bus stopped outside, Kelly gazed in the clothes shops and sighed with a dull, empty feeling. She could only imagine what she would look like in the latest fashion. Her own clothes were hand-picked by her mother and more often than not from a charity shop. Even her T-shirts were plain; no way would she ever be allowed to wear anything with a designer name or even a logo on. It wasn’t that they were poor, either. They lived in a reasonable three bedroomed detached house. It appeared classy from the outside but inside it was another matter altogether. It was sparse and plain, with no photos or pictures on the wall, except the gold framed one of Jesus and the ornate crosses everywhere. Kelly longed to have something of her own, even if it was a tacky seaside ornament, but there was nothing. She had given up crying herself to sleep, as it didn’t get her anywhere and only increased the longing to reach the age when she could leave for good and never look back.

  Finally, the bus arrived at her stop; she reluctantly got up from her seat and almost dragged her bag off the bus. This was the time of day she hated the most, entering the depressing ambience that seemed to linger in every room, strangling the life out of her. It had all been brought on by her mother.

  As she entered the house, she heard voices, even laughter, coming from the living room. Kelly hung up her lightweight jacket on the hallway coat hanger and crept into the room.

  “Ahh, here she is, my beautiful daughter!” smiled her mother.

  Kelly wanted to laugh out loud. Never had she heard her mother call her that – it was usually lazy, or tart, or something even more unplea
sant. Kelly glanced at the portly man sitting on the settee and didn’t recognise him at all. Her mother never allowed any men inside the house. “The devil’s soldiers,” she called them, except for the priest, of course: she worshipped the arse off of that old pervert.

  “Well, yes, I can see the resemblance, Maureen. She is as you were a few years ago,” replied the ruddy-faced fat man.

  Maureen blushed and chuckled, taking a sip from her small glass of sherry. She was in her element, hearing all these nice compliments about her daughter, but only because they reflected well on her.

  “Kelly, I want you to meet your Uncle Patrick. He is over here on business and will be staying with us for a while.”

  An uncomfortable feeling came over her, like a chokehold. She had never really spent much time in the presence of a man, aside from Mr Lawrence, her secret karate teacher, and certainly not living in their home.

  “Pleased to meet you, Patrick,” she said, as she held out her hand to shake his. However, that was clearly a bad move. She was almost screamed at by her mother. “Kelly, mind your manners. He is Uncle Patrick to you!” Then she redeemed her high-pitched squeal with a soft smile and nervously giggled.

  “Err… sorry, Uncle Patrick.”

  Edging himself off the sofa, he stood to greet her with a hug. Kelly froze to the spot. His aftershave was choking her and his harsh bristles grazed her face. He was a huge man, with most of the weight around his middle, and he reeked of cigarettes and whisky. There was no family resemblance at all and Kelly was still none the wiser. Her mother had never spoken of her having any family before.

  “Don’t just stand there, girl! You have your chores to do. Now run along,” admonished her mother.

  She left the room, deliberately leaving the door ajar, intrigued as to who this man really was. The kitchen was across the hallway and the washing up was piled high. She assumed her mother had cooked a feast for their guest. She opened the oven to see if there was a plate left for her, but no, there was nothing at all. As she opened the fridge, hoping to find some leftovers, she was clouded with disappointment. There was not even a piece of roast chicken for a sandwich. Kelly washed the dishes, pots, and pans, and then she made herself a cheese sandwich, before creeping back to the hallway to listen. Her mother was still giggling like a schoolgirl; it was a new sound and one that Kelly had never heard before.