Behind Closed Doors
Read Behind Closed Doors Online
Authors: Susan Lewis
Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary Fiction, #Literature & Fiction, #Contemporary
Contents
When fourteen-year-old Sophie Monroe suddenly vanishes one night it looks at first as though she’s run away from home.
Her computer and mobile phone have gone, and she’s taken a bag full of clothes.
As the police investigation unfolds a wealth of secrets from the surrounding community start coming to light. And it seems everyone has something to hide.
For Detective Sergeant Andrea Lawrence, the case is a painful reminder of the tragedy that tore her family apart over twenty years ago. She is convinced there is more to Sophie’s disappearance than teenage rebellion.
But is the past clouding her judgment, preventing her from seeing a truth that neither she, nor Sophie’s family, would ever want to face?
Susan Lewis is the bestselling author of thirty-two novels. She is also the author of
Just One More Day
and
One Day at a Time
, the moving memoirs of her childhood in Bristol. She lives in Gloucestershire. Her website address is
www.susanlewis.com
Fiction
A Class Apart
Dance While You Can
Stolen Beginnings
Darkest Longings
Obsession
Vengeance
Summer Madness
Last Resort
Wildfire
Cruel Venus
Strange Allure
The Mill House
A French Affair
Missing
Out of the Shadows
Lost Innocence
The Choice
Forgotten
Stolen
No Turning Back
Losing You
The Truth About You
Never Say Goodbye
Books that run in sequence
Chasing Dreams
Taking Chances
No Child of Mine
Don’t Let Me Go
Series featuring Laurie Forbes and Elliott Russell
Silent Truths
Wicked Beauty
Intimate Strangers
The Hornbeam Tree
Memoir
Just One More Day
One Day at a Time
Susan Lewis
To James,
with love
‘
WHERE ARE YOU
going?’
‘
Out
. All right?’
‘Not before you’ve cleared this table, you aren’t, and there’s plenty to do round here.’
‘I’m not your bloody slave.’
‘Don’t speak to me like that, and stop arguing all the time. Now, there are the dishes . . .’
‘No way!’
Heidi Monroe’s normally soft brown eyes sparked anger out of their tiredness, while her milky caramel skin flushed into the crinkled halo of her chaotic dark hair. ‘Sophie, I’ve had about as much as I can take of you today,’ she sighed. ‘I’m shattered, I’ve got a headache, Archie’ll be awake any minute . . .’
‘So? You’re the one who decided to have a baby, not me.
You
take care of him . . .’
‘I intend to, but I need your help. I’ve got a stack of work to get through tonight . . .’
‘It’s Sunday, for God’s sake. Normal people take Sundays off, but not
you
. Or me, thanks to you and this bloody place. I’m not the one who took the job, so I don’t see why I have to work as well . . .’
‘Most girls your age would love to earn some pocket money, so why don’t you think yourself lucky instead of bitching about everything?’
‘I’m
fourteen
for God’s sake. I want to have a life like . . .’
‘From what I hear you have
more
of a life, and you know what I mean by that. Have you heard what people are saying about you?’
‘I don’t
care
what they say. They’re a bunch of losers . . .’
‘I hope it’s not true, Sophie, that’s all I can say, because if your father ever hears about it . . .’
‘
Shut up! Just shut up
.’ Sophie’s pretty, stricken face was a fiery red oval inside her purple-streaked hair; her lavender-blue eyes were darkened by confusion and anger. Nothing was ever going right in her life,
nothing
, and it just wasn’t fair.
‘Stop shouting, or you’ll wake Archie.’
‘You’re the one shouting, and I don’t care if I wake him up. I’m going out.’
‘No you’re not . . .’
‘I worked all day, for God’s sake, I deserve to have some time off.’
‘You can go when you’ve cleared the table and tidied up that tip of a bedroom.’
‘I’m going now!’
‘Sophie, get back here.’
‘I said,
I’m going now
.’
They stood staring at one another, months of bitterness and bewilderment ticking like a time bomb between them. It was as though they’d stopped knowing one another, were challenging the monsters each had become to strike first or back down.
Sophie’s lip trembled as she glared at Heidi. ‘You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to,’ she choked angrily.
‘Do you want me to tell your father about the way you speak to me?’
‘Tell him what you like, he couldn’t give a damn anyway.’
‘You know that’s not true.’
‘Oh God,’ Sophie spat in disgust as thirteen-month-old Archie started screeching, ‘I’m getting out of here right now,’ but as she tore open the kitchen door she walked straight into her father.
‘What the heck’s going on in here?’ Gavin Monroe demanded. ‘I can hear you two halfway down . . .’
‘It’s not me, it’s her,’ Sophie yelled over him. ‘She’s picking on me again. Always picking, picking, picking . . .’ She was thrusting her face towards Heidi as though daring her to come and slap it. ‘Why don’t you go and shut your stupid child up!’
‘Sophie!’ her father barked, shocked and angered.
She wasn’t listening; she was already storming along the hall.
‘If you leave now you don’t need to bother coming back,’ Heidi shouted after her.
‘Thanks for making me want to kill myself,’ Sophie yelled out, and flouncing through her bedroom door she slammed it so hard behind her that a poster fell off the wall.
She hated them! Really, really hated them and it would serve them bloody right if she did leave home, or better still if she killed herself. In fact she might just do that, at least then she’d be out of this house and would never have to put up with them again. Why were they always so mean to her, making her feel useless or stupid, or like she was a waste of space that was always in the way?
Grabbing her iPod she jammed it into a speaker and turned up the volume. She didn’t want them to hear her sobbing, no way was she going to give them the satisfaction of knowing they’d got to her, even though they had, because she could hardly catch her breath.
Throwing herself down on the bed she grabbed her old rag doll and squeezed it tightly to her chest. Sometimes this doll felt like her only friend in the world. She’d had her since she was a baby, and she’d never let her go,
not ever
. It had been a present from her mum, and for a long time after she had died Sophie had cried into the doll’s corn-coloured hair, sure she could still smell her mum’s perfume and even sometimes hear her voice.
‘It’s all right, my darling,’ her mum would whisper, ‘I’m still here. You just can’t see me, that’s all.’
‘I want you to come back,’ ten-year-old Sophie would sob.
‘I know you do, sweetie, and I would if I could, but you’re my big, brave girl . . .’
‘No, I’m not brave. I want to be with you, please Mummy, please let me be with you.’
‘But what would Daddy do without you? He’d be so lonely, and you know how much he loves you.’
Her dad used to love her, she was sure about that, but he was much more interested in Archie now. So was Heidi. Everyone was fixated on Archie, and in truth Sophie wanted to love him too because it felt really terrible not to when he was just a baby. The trouble was all he ever did was cry and eat and poo. He never laughed, like other babies, or did cute stuff, and he even looked a bit weird, though she’d never said that to anyone. She didn’t even like admitting it to herself, it felt so bad. One thing was certain though, he definitely didn’t like her. If she went anywhere near him he started howling the place down, and it made her feel like howling too.
The really upsetting part of it all was that she and Heidi had been like best mates before Archie had come along. It hadn’t been as good as having her mum again, nothing would ever be as lovely as that, but she and Heidi used to go places together, do each other’s hair, and practise their make-up. Sophie hadn’t even minded when her dad had said he was going to marry her, because it was definitely better having Heidi around than when she used to lie in her bedroom at night listening to her dad crying and not knowing what to do to make him feel better. Heidi changed all that. Right from the off she’d made him laugh and suddenly he wanted to do things again. Sometimes he’d say it was like having two daughters instead of one, since Heidi was only thirty, sixteen years younger than him, but she’d never really acted that old. She did now, since Archie, and the way she’d changed, withdrawing from Sophie and stressing out all the time, had made Sophie start longing for her mother all over again.
If only it could still be just the three of them the way it used to be, her, Mummy and Daddy, living in Devon, singing in holiday camps and at children’s parties and in church. She’d still have her lessons at home, although her mother had always said she’d have to go to proper school when she was eleven, so perhaps she wouldn’t.
The thought of school swelled another painful misery in her heart. In less than three weeks the summer holidays would be over and she’d have to go and face those horrible girls again. They were forever picking on her, calling her names, pulling her hair and even punching her when she went past. At the end of last term they’d started telling everyone she had an STD so they ought to steer clear. It wasn’t safe to be near her, they warned, and it seemed everyone had listened, because she’d ended up more or less isolated, with only Estelle as her friend.
‘They’re just jealous because you’re much prettier than them,’ Estelle had insisted, ‘and the boys like you better.’
Sophie didn’t think she was prettier, and as for the boys . . .
Tears were streaming even faster down her face now. She didn’t care about boys, or school, or anything else; all she cared about was how it wasn’t fair that she didn’t have her mother any more, when everyone else had one. It made her feel like a freak, as if she wasn’t worth staying around for; even though she knew that was nonsense, it was just how it felt.
‘You have to be brave, sweetheart,’ her mother had whispered the day she’d told Sophie she couldn’t hold on for much longer. ‘I know it won’t be easy at first, but you’re a big girl now, and Daddy’s going to need you to help him.’
‘But I don’t want you to go,’ Sophie had wept. ‘Please, please don’t go.’
‘I promise you, my love, I’d stay if I could, just for you, but there’s no more they can do for me.’
‘What about if we say our prayers?’
‘We’ve said them, my darling, but I’m afraid they haven’t done any good. So what we’re going to do, you and me, we’re going to start filling this book with all our memories, and after I’ve gone you can carry on putting things into it, anything you like, flowers, words, postcards, photographs, locks of hair, wishes, dreams, and it will be as though we’re still sharing it.’
The book was next to Sophie’s bed now, but it wasn’t like they were sharing it at all. Even though she’d carried on sticking things in and writing about her feelings and her days, a bit like she was talking to her mum, she could tell she was on her own. Her mum hadn’t even come when Sophie had started to write things to shock her. It was like she didn’t care any more.
Suddenly jumping to her feet Sophie yanked up her mattress and stuffed the book underneath, as if she were burying it, like her mother. She didn’t want to see it again, ever. It was just stupid and childish filling it in all the time, like she still believed in Father Christmas or the tooth fairy. She was a grown-up now; she knew very well that when people were dead they were dead. Her mother wasn’t coming back, and her father wasn’t interested in her any more, so she might as well be dead too.
Grabbing her phone, she turned the music up even louder and went to push open the window. The salty scent of warm sea air engulfed her, along with the flashing lights of the funfair across the street and a cacophony of screams and laughter that wafted and whipped down from the rides. Since they lived in a bungalow at the edge of a holiday park sneaking out was easy; she simply had to climb on to the ledge and jump down on to the grass below.
