The Secrets She Keeps

by Michael Robotham

I’m the less attractive friend that all pretty girls need because I won’t steal their limelight and will happily take their leftovers (food and boyfriends).

Last I heard, he was living with a schoolteacher in Newcastle, a divorcée with two teenage boys—an instant family, just add water and stir.

I talked. He listened. A lot of men fail to realize how attractive that is to a woman: listening. Not interrupting. Not judging. He let me sob on his shoulder. He wiped away my tears with his thumb. He whispered that things would all work out.

“The whole idea of getting married and having children terrifies me. What if becoming a parent doesn’t make me grow up? It could be just a cheap disguise.” “It’s not cheap.” “True.”

Mr. Bowler may have robbed me of my childhood, but my mother and stepfather stole my future.

With one flick of the pen, in my childish handwriting, I had condemned myself to a lifetime of wondering.

“Just sex” is what every unfaithful spouse says, as though putting just in front of a word minimizes the betrayal.

My past mistake is growing inside me, ticking like a time bomb that will go off unless I can stop Simon.

Literally

Some men get funny about babies because they think a woman only has a finite amount of love to give, but it’s not about dividing or subtracting or making do with less. Our hearts expand. We have double the love, maybe more.

I want to be charitable about all these messages of support, the offered prayers and heartfelt sympathy, but instead I find them irritating and self-serving, as though the authors feel better about themselves for having been in touch. I know that’s unfair. What would I do in their situation? The same.

Lachlan frowns. “Why did they steal him?” “They must have wanted a baby,” replies Lucy, making it sound so logical.

Neither of them has mentioned Baby Ben since yesterday. I don’t think they’re unmoved, or uncaring. That’s the difference between children and adults—children don’t put as much energy into being sad.

“High intelligence doesn’t always equate to academic achievement.

He keeps asking why the police haven’t found Ben. He knows I can’t answer the question, but he asks it anyway because it improves on the silence between us.

My dearest babies have all died young. I tell myself there is a purity in that because only the young are completely innocent.

This is really creepy and messed up.

“Take care, Mrs. Shaughnessy. The value of a secret depends upon whom you’re trying to keep it from. You may think it’s worth a lot. I may think it’s worthless. Someone always has to pay.”

I turn to Agatha. “Look after him.” She doesn’t understand. “Your baby,” I explain. “Never let him go.”

So much meaning in this sentence!!!! Wow!

I slept with Simon. A one-night stand that will always stand.

Suicide is the ultimate act of selfishness, but surely it becomes more so if we take another life. It’s like saying, “I cannot handle this world so I choose to die, but I cannot handle death so I choose to take someone with me.”

I am trapped between these two thoughts—willing her onwards, yet hoping she fails.