The Forever Home by Sue Watson

Chapter Thirty-Eight

‘So, will you trust me with your secret?’ Ryan asked.

‘What do you mean?’ I replied, my heart slowly starting to thump.

‘I know,’ he said, looking at me intently.

I laughed, and took a gulp of wine.

‘I know what happened to Mark,’ he repeated.

He couldn’t possibly… could he?

‘Yes, he had too much to drink and set fire to the boat…’ I started, hoping he couldn’t see the truth in my eyes.

He put his glass on the coffee table, and faced me. ‘I care about you, Carly, but I can’t be with someone who isn’t being honest with me.’

I took a deep breath. ‘And what happens if I don’t want to talk about it?’

‘Then I leave tomorrow.’

I sipped my wine and wondered what I should tell him.

‘I don’t understand why you think Mark’s death wasn’t an accident?’ I said, in a last-bid attempt to keep this secret to myself.

‘Because you didn’t want the police to know you’d been there that night.’

‘I told you, Ryan, I didn’t want to go through what I went through with Erin, all the questions, the police station – it was horrible.’

‘Okay, so tell me this. Why did you call my mate Simon on the night Mark died?’

Shit. I tried not to let the horror show on my face. ‘How do you know I—’

‘He told me you’d been in touch, said you’d asked him to delete CCTV or something from the boatyard.’

No, no, no.

‘You didn’t answer my calls.’ He was staring at me, his eyes cold. ‘But you called Simon.’ He paused. ‘And something else… The baseball bat,’ he was nodding now, ‘there used to be four baseball bats in Jake’s room, and now there are only three.’

‘I don’t remember how many baseball bats there were,’ I said. ‘God, Ryan, the police are happy with it. I don’t see why you have a problem, Miss Marple.’ I tried to lighten the moment, but deep down I was thinking, he knew. Would he go to the police and tell them? If he didn’t go this week, would he go next? Would he go next year if we broke up?

‘The deleted tape, the baseball bat, it’s obvious. Who loves using the baseball bat?’ He half-smiled at this. ‘I don’t know why you’re even trying to hide it.’

‘Jake was in Exeter, over 100 miles away—’

‘I know! I’m not talking about Jake! I’m talking about you!’ he said. ‘Don’t you remember, on one of your rants down the phone, you threatened to chase Erin with one?’

‘That was a figure of speech.’

‘Whatever, but when they came here that morning to tell you, the police said Mark may have died from head injuries before the fire.’

I couldn’t continue with this charade. I had to give him something. He wasn’t stupid, he’d heard me lying to the police, and he knew I was at the boatyard that night.

I took a deep breath. ‘Okay, so you want to know exactly what happened?’

He nodded.

‘But if I tell you, how do I know I can trust you never to say anything? Ever.’

‘You have my word. I love you, Carly. And you can trust me. I’m not Mark Anderson.’

I started to cry. It wasn’t just the memories of that night, but he’d just said he loved me, and he so wasn’t Mark Anderson, he was my future. I was finally free of Mark, and the shadow he cast over me, and he couldn’t tell mine and my mother’s secret; it was safe in my heart where it would stay.

‘If I tell you, will you be able to forgive me? It might change your feelings,’ I said, feeling tearful. It would be so sad to lose him now.

He shook his head. ‘Never. I don’t think anything could change how I feel about you, Carly. I told you, I’ve loved you forever.’

I took a deep breath. ‘I thought about it long and hard, but when the police seemed happy to accept it was an accident, why ruin another life?’

He nodded. ‘You did the right thing, Carly. Mark was a cruel bastard, he ruined yours and your kids’ lives.’

We sat in silence for a few seconds, and then he said: ‘I don’t want details, but I’m guessing that night, you’d turned up there hoping to get your divorce. You took the baseball bat with you to protect yourself, but when you got there he was incapable of anything and you were frustrated – I get that.’

I nodded, slowly, unable to even think about that night.

He touched my face. ‘No one could blame you for killing him after all he put you through,’ he said gently. ‘And it doesn’t change how I feel about you.’

‘I’ve no money, and I killed my husband. I’m not exactly a keeper, am I?’

‘I don’t care about money. I’ll save up enough to take us both to Thailand and live on fish from the sea.’

After everything, that sounded like heaven.

‘You don’t hate me?’ I asked.

‘No… I told you, I love you.’