By the time they went up the path, and the security light at the back door flicked on, she already had the keys out, so she had them inside in seconds.

  She closed the door behind him, held on to the counter for a second, until the sudden urge to throw up passed. She didn’t want to be back here. Every cell in her body was rejecting it.

  Meanwhile, Rory was scanning the room. ‘I always wondered what it was like in here,’ he said. Of course. He’d never been. She’d cut off all contact right after they’d moved in.

  She could hear the sadness in his voice. Not because of the location of the house – despite the labels of deprivation and poverty this estate attracted, there were plenty of good homes and good people in this street and this area. But it was the state of this one. The cracked window that Larry refused to spend money to fix. Probably blowing it all on cocaine instead. The ancient cooker that was blackened with use and rust. The lino on the floor that was ripped and tatty. The net curtains that were grey and frayed. The sheer bleakness of it all.

  But this wasn’t the time to reflect or to chat. All she wanted to do was get out of there.

  ‘I’ll need you to lift my case downstairs, is that okay?’

  ‘Right behind you, Mum,’ he said, getting on board with her urgency.

  The heels of her sandals clicked on the bare wooden stairs as she practically ran up them, and when they reached the bedroom, she couldn’t even bring herself to look at his reaction. Instead, she reached under her bed, pulled out the empty suitcase she’d left there when she’d first unpacked.

  She opened it on the bed, then went to her wardrobe, flicking through the clothes that she’d meticulously preserved from her former life. She pulled out hangers, passing them to Rory, who immediately understood the assignment and folded them into the case. As soon as that was done, she moved to the shoes in the ottoman at the end of the bed, then packed underwear and pyjamas into a linen bag and put that one in the case herself. She got her passport out of her bedside drawer and put it into her handbag. Okay. That should be everything she would need for a trip. Or a lifetime away from here. Except…

  Her eyes went back to the wardrobe, where she could see the other case. She reached in and pulled it out, but as she did so, a sickening thought made her stop. This was the case that contained her savings. Her photographs. Everything that she still had left that had value, either financially or emotionally.

  Most importantly of all, her insurance policies.

  There was more than just physical baggage in here. There was a lifetime of memories and there were secrets. If Rory ever looked inside, what he would see there would shatter him – evidence of so many things his father had done that had never come to light. Every detail of everything she’d witnessed over the years, written down in notebooks. She’d started compiling it after she got here, while he was out at work. Hours after hours of remembering and writing it down. After she’d saved enough money to leave, this was what was going to keep Larry away from her. These were her insurance policies.

  But it was the other things that were there that could wreck everything with Rory. The original photos and videos that had brought her husband down. And the letter that had come with them. She’d never told Rory the truth about them, and she could still keep it to herself, but if she’d learned anything, it was that secrets had a way of coming out.

  She couldn’t go away with Rory, have a fresh start, rebuild their lives, if there was always a loose brick in the bottom of their wall of trust. It was time for no more secrets. Even if it cost her all she had left.

  She turned to her son. ‘Rory, I need to talk to you.’

  ‘Here? I thought we were rushing?’ he said, locking the first case and pulling it off the bed.

  ‘We are but…’

  Her legs started to shake and she realised that she couldn’t do this standing up, so she sat on the bed.

  Rory crouched down beside her. Waiting.

  She sighed. This was it.

  ‘The person who took the video and pictures of your father accepting bribes and doing drugs wasn’t a journalist, Rory. It was someone who was trying to blackmail him. Someone who wanted something from him. A contract. Power. Influence. I don’t know who or what it was.’

  She saw his forehead dip into a frown, exactly the way it had done since he was a kid when he was focusing on trying to work something out. ‘And he didn’t give them what they wanted?’

  Alice could feel the nerves under her skin begin to prickle with cold rivers of dread. ‘The package with the evidence was left on the doorstep here and I got it before he did. There was just a letter with it saying copies would be sent to the press if he didn’t give them what they wanted.’

  Rory’s frown deepened. ‘And when he didn’t answer them, they went to the press?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ she said. This was it. She could back pedal now, lie to him, but hadn’t there been enough lies in this family. She forced the words out. ‘He never saw the threat. I assume that if he did, he’d have given in to them. But it wasn’t them who exposed your father.’

  He stopped. Lifted his gaze, locked it on hers, as if he was seeing someone he didn’t recognise for the first time. That’s when she knew he’d got it.

  ‘You sent the video to the press? You exposed him?’ His voice now had an edge of disbelief as he realised she wasn’t jumping in to contradict him. ‘You caused all of this?’

  Alice nodded slowly, the terror of admitting something aloud for the first time making her tremble. It had been her. If she’d given the blackmail communication to Larry, he’d have found a way to squash it. It would have been just another thing he’d got away with. But that day, that minute, she couldn’t stand that thought. So yes, she’d done it. She’d sent copies of it all to a journalist who’d covered the story. Blown the whole thing apart. Alice McLenn had been the architect of Larry’s destruction. And of her own. And despite everything that had happened since, she’d do it all again.

  Rory was pacing back and forwards now, speechless for a few moments until he found the words. ‘Look, Mum! Look what happened to your life,’ he gestured around the room, to the ridiculous oversized furniture packed into the tiny crumbling space. To the damp patches on the ceiling. The mould on the wall at the window, that didn’t come off no matter how much she scrubbed it. His voice was raised now in agitation and disbelief. ‘Why would you do this to yourself? No, no – to us! I haven’t seen you for over a year, Mum! This wrecked our family.’

  Alice snapped. ‘I didn’t do this, he did!’

  The sharpness of her voice stopped him dead, and now he was absolutely still, just staring at her.

  ‘It was always going to happen. He was careless. Reckless. It was only a matter of time. The drugs, the money… He was out of control and he thought he was untouchable. So yes, I was the one who exposed him. I sent the video to the press, because I wanted him gone. It was the only way I could see to escape him, to get him out of our lives forever. And I would have happily lived with the shame and embarrassment of having been married to him because it would have been balanced by the knowledge that he was rotting in prison somewhere. We would have been free of him.’

  ‘But he got off…’ Rory said quietly, restrained now. She could see he was processing the sequence of events, and he’d just hit on the brutal twist to the whole story. Larry McLenn hadn’t ended up in jail. Instead, they’d all had to serve a sentence.

  ‘Yes, he got off. It was the worst day of my life. He got off and I had to let you go. I felt the way you feel right now. That it had all been for nothing.’ She sighed, suddenly feeling light-headed, the exhaustion catching up with her.

  ‘But then I saw that this…’ She repeated his gesture to their surroundings. ‘This is a prison for him. No money. No power. No one to control. The only thing that wasn’t right was that I was still here with him. So I’ve been saving… just waiting for the right time to leave.’

  ‘Mum, I could have given you money. I could have helped.’

  ‘No, because if he thought we were in contact, if he’d discovered there was a way through me to you, then he would have been banging on your door with his hand out, dragging you back into this. No. I had to do it on my own. And I would have. I just needed more time.’

  There was fear, and anxiety and dread that this could destroy them for ever. But there was also relief. It was out. He knew the truth. Now she was about to find out if he really was the son that she had raised, the one who would see that she had done the right thing, or if he would only be swayed by how it had affected his own life.

  ‘So there it is, Rory. Now you know everything. Your dad put a grenade in our lives, but I pulled the plug. I really hope you can forgive me, but if you can’t, then please leave now because I can’t have another man in my life who hates me.’

  Deathly calm on the outside, but fear exploding in her heart, Alice watched as the son she adored stepped back, turned and walked towards the door.

  28

  RORY

  Rory opened the door, as a spray of bullets ricocheted of the inside of his skull.

  It was his mum. She’d turned his dad in. Let the whole world know what he was doing. She’d caused this. But then…

  ‘Come on, Mum, let’s go.’ Fuck it, his dad deserved every single moment of his spectacular downfall. And as for the consequences the rest of them had faced? The honest truth was that if Julia had loved him enough, she would have stayed. And Roger Fieldow, in some ways, was just as bad as his own power-wielding, ruthlessly self-aggrandising, manipulative father. It’s probably why they’d got on so well when they’d met – recognition of kindred spiritship and how they could use each other for mutual gain. Fieldow could shove his job. Rory’s stomach was in knots and he was pretty sure it would take a whole load of time and more conversations with his mum to process everything, but right now, all he wanted to do was get out of here and he wasn’t leaving his mum behind.

  ‘Are you sure?’ his mum asked, and the worry was all over her face.

  This was what mattered, he decided. She mattered. She’d given everything for him, made every decision, good or bad, because she thought it would be best for him. This was the person who needed to be protected and taken care of now. There was no question. And besides…

  ‘I’m sure. If I thought there was a way I could have landed his arse in jail for years, I’d probably have given it a shot too. That or a hitman.’ It was an attempt to lighten the mood, to wipe her expression clean of the searching anxiety, and it worked. Then he watched another transformation as she slumped, exhaled, as if all the air had left her body, then almost instantly inhaled again, sat up straight, pulled her shoulders back, stood up and smiled with a calm, dignified bearing. This was her. He saw it now. The shell of a person he’d met this morning was gone; this was the woman that he’d grown up with.

  ‘Then, as you say, let’s go.’

  It did cross his mind that he should still be miserable. Divorce. Career screwed. But somewhere in the craziness of today, he’d realised his life wasn’t over. In fact, he’d been so miserable since Julia had told him she needed a break, that there was actually a sense of relief. And maybe, just maybe, some happiness about having something to look forward to.

  His mum went first, carrying her handbag and the smaller trolley case, while he went behind with the larger one. Jesus, what had she put in here? This bloody case was a workout in itself.

  At the back door, she stopped, glanced around the kitchen again. ‘I swear to you, son. No matter what, I’m never coming back here.’

  ‘Good. Because no matter what, I’m never letting you. Even if you have to sleep in Albie’s spare room, and I’ll move to the bath.’

  They reached the hedge at the end of the garden and Rory forced the big case through the hole, then went after it, before reaching through for his mum’s smaller one. By the time he made it to the car and pressed the button on the key to open the boot, she’d caught up with him.

  ‘Erm, slight problem,’ he observed, resisting the urge to laugh. Or groan. He wasn’t sure which.

  All his possessions that couldn’t fit in Albie’s flat were in the boot, including several sports bags, an ab trainer, and a dozen random refillable water bottles. Bugger. The back seat was populated with four footballs, a paddleboard and a snorkel set because he’d been planning to go down to Loch Lomond this weekend.

  ‘Two secs, I just need to reorganise this.’

  There was no way the big case could go in the back seat, so he had to make space for it in the boot. He pulled out the sports bags and the ab trainer and was just about to try to fit the case in when he noticed the other bag. Blue. Plastic. But fairly opaque so he couldn’t see inside.

  ‘What’s this again, Mum?’

  She leaned in to see. ‘It’s your dad’s belongings from the taxi. The police gave them to me.’

  ‘Ah okay. I’ll squeeze them in the back seat.’

  His mum surprised him by blurting, ‘No.’ She looked perturbed. ‘I don’t want them. I don’t want anything that he’s touched.’

  ‘But there might be important stuff, maybe his wallet…’

  His mum was having none of it. ‘I don’t care. I don’t want a single thing that he possessed. Nothing. Put it all in the bin.’

  ‘You mean, in the house?’

  ‘Nope, in the wheelie bin there. Why should we go out of our way even one more time to help him? Here, give it to me.’

  Surprised, but fairly impressed by her new kick-ass, take-no-prisoners attitude, he couldn’t help but grin as he handed it over. She promptly turned to the row of wheelie bins behind her, lifted one of the lids, and dumped the whole bag inside.

  ‘If there are journalists raking through our bins like last time, they’re in for a treat. Although, the druggies round here have set fire to these bins twice this month, so they’ll have to be quick.’

  Rory didn’t stop laughing until they pulled out of the alley and hit the road. They were just leaving the estate, when a song came on the radio and his mum leaned towards the audio system. ‘Do you mind if I turn this up?’

  He could barely hear it, so he wasn’t sure what it was. ‘Go ahead. But if it’s George Michael’s ‘Freedom’, I’m going to give you top prize for soundtracks that would be in a movie of this moment.’

  It wasn’t. But it was close. They sang Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Born To Run’ at the top of their voices all the way to the motorway.

  When they reached the St Kentigern, they were hoarse, but just a glance at his mum was all it took to see she was happy. He lugged the cases up the steps to the front doors, then stopped by reception to see if there were any messages, half expecting a note to say his company credit card had been declined. Nope, there was none. Happy days.

  As soon as they got into the suite, he put the cases in his mum’s bedroom and then grabbed a beer from the minibar and poured a can of gin and tonic for his mum. When she came out of her room, he handed it over, then clinked the glass. ‘Here’s to a different life, Mum, one that starts right now. And here’s to finding a flight to somewhere fricking fabulous tomorrow. Where do you want to go?’

  ‘Son, until yesterday morning, I thought the furthest place I’d go for the rest of my life was the school that I clean in every morning, so I’m good with anywhere.’ She rethought that. ‘Make that anywhere we can lay low and be completely anonymous. With sun.’

  ‘Anonymous and sun. Got it.’

  He sat down and picked up his phone, ready to check his flight apps to see what the options were for tomorrow – Glasgow Airport to Anonymous and Sun. Before he even opened it, he saw the Instagram notification on the bottom of the lock screen.

  Message from @CarolCooperMiddleAgedModel.

  It took Rory a moment.

  ‘Something wrong?’ his mum asked him, sitting down on the sofa beside him, and curling her legs up beside her, gin and tonic in hand.

  ‘No. It’s just I’ve got a message from an account I follow on Instagram, but it’s someone pretty well known. Carol Cooper. Julia made me follow her… I can’t remember why. Hang on, I do. It was last Christmas and Carol was doing a rundown of the top ten designer gifts for women – Julia wanted numbers one to six, and only because she already had the other four. It must be a mistake that she’s messaged me, though, because I’ve never met her.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Although I did meet her husband in the hospitality suite at a football match once.’ He shrugged. ‘It must just be some kind of sales text for one of the products she’s punting.’

  His thumb was on it, and he was about to swipe left to delete it, so that he could get on with his holiday search, when he had the sudden thought that maybe it was a travel promo. She did loads of those. Amused at the thought that the universe or the Instagram algorithms might be telling him where to go, he clicked on the message.

  Hi Rory, sorry if this seems like a strange message, and if this is a sensitive time, please ignore it, but I’ve seen reports of your father’s accident and both my aunt and my friend were in the taxi with your dad this morning. They just asked me to reach out and pass on their good wishes. My aunt is particularly upset and would like to enquire as to how your dad is doing? We understand, of course, if this isn’t a good time for you to respond. Hope the news is all positive. Thanks and take care, Carol.

  He couldn’t have been more surprised if Carol Cooper had knocked on his door to deliver the room service.

  He read it through again. Nope, still bizarre. He turned the phone so that his mum could read it. She scanned it twice too.

  ‘What do you think?’ she asked uncertainly. ‘Do you think they were in the car when he crashed? They said only one woman was brought in with him though.’

  Rory shrugged. ‘I haven’t a clue. Maybe the other one wasn’t injured? I suppose that would explain it?’ He took a sip of his beer. ‘Normally, I wouldn’t want to answer it in case it’s some journalist trying to get info, but it’s clearly from the real Carol. This is the weirdest thing since I got a friend request from Salma Hayek. I thought all my dreams had come true until I put my specs on and realised it was a spam account called Thelma Hijack.’