Public Secrets

have followed through, I don’t know. But at that moment, she meant it. I couldn’t leave Emma there, Bev. I couldn’t have left a stranger’s child there.”
“No.” She took her hands from his to lift them to his face. Her Brian, she thought. Her sweet, caring Brian. “You couldn’t have. How did you get her away from Jane?”
“She agreed,” Brian said shortly. “Pete’s having documents drawn up so it will all be legal.”
“Bri.” Her hands firmed on his cheeks. She was in love, but she wasn’t blind. “How?”
“I wrote her a check for a hundred thousand pounds. In the agreement she’ll get twenty-five thousand a year every year until Emma reaches twenty-one.”
Bev let her hands drop away. “Christ, Brian. You bought that baby?”
“You can’t buy what’s already yours.” He bit off the words because it made him feel dirty. “I gave Jane enough to be sure she would stay away from Emma, from us.” He laid a hand on her stomach. “From ours. Listen to me. There’s going to be press, some of it will be ugly. I’m asking you to stick with me, ride it out. And to give Emma a chance.”
“Where would I go?”
“Bev—”
She shook her head. She would stick with him, but she needed a little time yet. “I’ve been reading a lot of books lately. I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t leave a toddler alone for this long.”
“Right. I’ll go take a look.”
“We’ll take a look.”
She was still on the sofa, her arms curled tight around Charlie. The blare of the television didn’t disturb her as she slept. There were tears drying on her cheeks. Seeing them, Bev’s heart broke a little.
“I guess we’d better get the decorators busy on a bedroom upstairs.”

E MMA LAY IN the bed between fresh soft sheets and kept her eyes tightly closed. She knew if she opened them, it would be dark. There were things that hid in the dark.
She kept a hammerlock on Charlie’s neck and listened. Sometimes the things made swishing noises.

She couldn’t hear them now, but she knew they were waiting. Waiting for her to open her eyes. A whimper escaped and she bit her lip. Mam always got mad if she cried at night. Mam would come in and shake her hard, tell her she was stupid and a baby. The things would slink under the bed or into the corners while her mam was there.
Emma buried her face in Charlie’s familiar, stale-smelling fur.
She remembered that she was in a different place. The place where the man from the pictures lived. Some of the fear vanished in curiosity. He said she could call him Da. That was a funny name. Keeping her eyes closed, she tried it, murmuring it into the dark like a chant.
They had eaten fish and chips in the kitchen with the dark-haired lady. There had been music. It seemed music played in the house all the time. Whenever the Da man spoke, it sounded like music.
The lady had seemed unhappy even when she had smiled. Emma wondered if the lady was going to wait until they were alone before she hit.
He’d given her a bath. Emma remembered that he’d had a funny look on his face, but his hands hadn’t pinched and he hadn’t gotten much soap in her eyes. He asked about her bruises, and she had told him what her mam had warned her to say if anyone asked. She was clumsy. She fell down.
Emma had seen the angry look come into his eyes, but he hadn’t smacked her.
He’d given her a shirt to wear, and she had giggled because it had come all the way to her toes.
The lady had come with him when he had put her in bed. She’d sat on the edge and smiled when he had told a story about castles and princesses.
But they had been gone when she’d awakened. They’d been gone and the room was dark. She was afraid. Afraid the things would get her, snap their big teeth, eat her. She was afraid her mam would come and slap her because she wasn’t home in her own bed.

What was that? She was sure she had heard a whispering noise in the corner. Breathing through her teeth, she opened one eye. The shadows shifted, towering, reaching. Muffling her sobs against Charlie, Emma tried to make herself smaller, so small she couldn’t be seen, couldn’t be eaten by all the ugly, squishy things that hid in the dark. Her mam had sent them because she’d gone with the man in the pictures.
The terror built so that she was shuddering, sweating. It burst out of her in one high wail as she scrambled out of bed and stumbled into the hallway. Something crashed.
She lay sprawled, clutching the dog and waiting for