Our Little Secret: a gripping psychological thriller with a shocking twist from bestselling author Darren O’Sullivan
how well life was treating him. It left him feeling a little envious. He soon shook it off, ignoring the green-eyed monster. It was probably just the lager.
As Steve continued to talk about himself and Kristy, his girlfriend, getting married one day soon, Chris scanned the room once more. It was then he first caught a glimpse of her through the crowd. She was sharing a joke with a friend, throwing her head back as she laughed, giving everyone who might be looking at her a clear view of her perfect smile. That was the first thing he noticed: she laughed without a care in the world. At some point Steve had stopped talking to the barman and was focusing his attention back on Chris.
‘She’s pretty.’
‘Who?’
‘Come on, don’t pretend you’re not staring at the woman in the green dress.’
‘I wasn’t! I mean, she just caught my eye, that’s all.’
‘Of course she did. She’s lovely. Probably the type of lady who eats a lot of avocado. Well … go on, go say hello.’
Chris laughed at the idea of this. He had never found it easy to talk to women, especially women who were as beautiful as she was. He looked at Steve and smiled. It was a nice idea, but they both knew he wasn’t confident enough to ever do it.
Chris hadn’t had many love affairs in his adult life, but in every single one of them it had been the woman who had broken the ice and introduced herself first. And as much as he wanted it, Chris wasn’t ready for this to change.
‘Come on, mate.’
‘Wait, what are you doing?’
‘If it were up to you you’d never meet anyone. We’re going to go say hi.’
‘Steve!’
‘Fine, you stay here; I’m off to mingle.’
Steve walked away, bopping along to the music, which made Chris realize no one else was. It was something he really liked about his friend: he had such contagious confidence that wasn’t intimidating or something that people mocked. Watching him solo dance towards the beautiful woman, Chris drained his glass, cringing at himself as he did – he was that guy who knocked back a drink to fuel some Dutch courage before talking to a girl.
Turning to the bar he waved at the barman to order two more beers, his ears burning and his heart rate elevated at what might or might not be happening behind him. He figured that Steve’s advances on his behalf would be shut down and he would turn to see him returning, shoulders shrugging as if to say ‘oh well’. A sheepish smile on his face.
Paying for his drinks, he took another sip followed by a deep breath and turned back to face the room in time to see Steve rather unsubtly pointing in his direction, gesturing for him to come over. The beautiful woman was looking at him, making eye contact, and Chris had no choice now but to walk over and introduce himself.
He made his way through the crowd, trying his best not to interrupt the conversations of strangers he walked into, cursing and thanking his mate in equal measure. He remembered how he had awkwardly offered his hand as a way of introducing himself. At the same time, she went in for a kiss on the cheek, missing and landing near his ear, causing him to accidentally touch her on her side, not firmly, but enough for them both to know.
He would never forget that moment, yet he never spoke of it with her.
Steve stayed long enough to ensure the conversation was flowing smoothly before he splintered off to talk, rather loudly, to her friend about his future plans. It left Chris aware that it was just him and this beautiful woman getting to know each other. He hoped his nerves wouldn’t show though he could feel his face was still burning.
As they talked he struggled to understand how she could be so beautiful, so smart, so funny and after discreetly glancing down at her hand, so unmarried. He remembered how her soft green eyes never left the smoky grey of his as they spoke, and that he didn’t learn her name until embarrassingly late into their conversation because he was so nervous, he hadn’t asked.
Her name was Julia.
In that first meeting he learnt that she was a journalist for a local paper and had been for seven years, starting straight out of university. He learnt that she loved her job, and that being a writer was something she had wanted to do ever since she started her first diary as a child. He asked her if she wanted to write other things, a novel or perhaps something for TV. She said she liked where she was. Telling people’s stories and finding the hidden truth was enough. She told him that she truly believed she could make a difference. It wasn’t her being naive, just faithful.
He told her about his work. He remembered she was baffled as to what he did but asked if he loved it. He did, and she said that was all that mattered.
As the night drew on the crowds left, leaving the quieter murmurs of couples enjoying each other’s company, and as Chris ordered Julia and himself another drink he began to think beyond the moment. He wondered if he would see her again. He wanted to ask her for her number but couldn’t find the courage despite her giving all the signs of enjoying his company. Steve once again intervened and rather unsubtly asked how they were going to stay in touch. She immediately asked for Chris’s phone and tapped her number straight into it.
‘So you don’t lose it and forget me,’ she said.
He wondered if that was remotely possible.
He remembered how the rain felt warm on the back of his neck as he stole a kiss outside the bar before she got into a taxi. And how he laughed into his pillow like a child might on Christmas Eve that night, because he knew in that moment what he still knew now. She was the one.
He remembered being excited at the idea of seeing her again.
He remembered, in that moment, meeting her, he felt more alive.
And then jolting back to the present he remembered she was gone, strangled as he helplessly watched, unable to save her.
Opening his eyes, he was back on the cold platform. He looked at the clock.
Ten forty.
Seven minutes.
Chris took his wallet from his back pocket and opened it. A picture of his wife looked back. Carefully he took it out and held it in his hands and for a moment time seemed to matter less. It was from their honeymoon nearly two years ago now. Her skin was sun-kissed. Her smile was as wide and as carefree as the day they met. He remembered the beach they were lying on as he took it. Quiet and peaceful, a secret no one else knew of. And they just lay there, her head nestled in the gap between his shoulder and chest as he stroked her hair.
He pictured how they had spent day after day like it. Sleeping and talking and kissing without anyone to interrupt them. He told her stories of his father and she told him about her dreams and plans for the future.
He remembered how excited he felt as they discussed buying a bigger home and having a little family, both fantasizing about a daughter they would call Sophie, with her eyes and his smile. Their fantasy baby would crinkle her forehead when concentrating, and gently rub the bridge of her nose when falling asleep, just like Julia did.
He remembered how she told him he would make a brilliant daddy and how his heart felt full because of it. He thought about the night they stumbled across a cave bar in the side of the Sierra Nevada mountain range. Its locals rough around the edges with their dirty fingernails, stained T-shirts, and thick beards. But welcomed the non-Spanish-speaking couple with a kiss on each cheek. He thought of how she got drunk and he played guitar. He remembered feeling like those were the best weeks of his life.
It was his favourite picture of her. He could feel the Mediterranean sun every time he looked at it. Its warmth reaching his soul through that smile. But it felt cold in his hands, her smile not as bright. It told him what he already knew. He had let her down. There would be no bigger home, no little family, for he couldn’t save her from dying. He couldn’t stop her killer, even though every atom in his being was desperate to do just that.
He