Our Little Secret: a gripping psychological thriller with a shocking twist from bestselling author Darren O’Sullivan

‘I don’t want to come with you. It’s not like that. It’s just, I can see that you’re cold. I don’t mind paying for one, saves you waiting here for so long.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s a really kind offer.’ She said it slowly, clearly weighing up whether to take him up on the offer. Holding his eye to try and work out what the catch was. Breaking eye contact, he looked at her cigarette burning in her hand.

‘They’ll kill you,’ he said, noting the irony, watching her put it out under her shoe.

‘I can’t accept your offer, but thank you.’

‘It’s just a fiver.’

‘N-not many people would be so generous.’

‘Please. Take it and go get warm. It’s cold tonight.’

‘It is. Are you not cold?’

‘A little.’

‘Why don’t you have a coat?’

‘Why don’t you?’

‘Long story.’

She looked at his feet, clearly wanting to ask but not wanting to embarrass him.

‘To be connected,’ was all he said by way of explanation, regretting the words as they fell from his mouth.

‘Sorry?’

‘Nothing, it doesn’t matter.’

‘Are you all right?’

Chris opened his mouth to reply. But caught the words before they left. A pause she noticed. Telling her that he was far from it.

‘Wanna talk?’

‘No, and you shouldn’t want to either. I could be anyone. I could be a mugger or worse.’

‘I did think that. But somehow I know you’re not.’

‘How could you possibly know what kind of man I am?’

‘I don’t know – instinct.’

She watched as the tension from his shoulders lifted momentarily. Her kind words having the impact she wanted them to have. Chris kept eye contact with her for a second. Trying to process what was happening. There was something in the way she looked at him that was unnerving. It reminded him of the way he used to see the world. Hopeful, kind. He pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing his tear ducts. His words slipped out of his mouth again before he could catch them.

‘It’s been a rough day.’

He glanced past her to the clock.

90 seconds.

‘I’ve had a rough day too. My boyfriend, I mean ex … You know how it is.’

As he turned back to look at the track, the girl’s voice faded away. Chris’s mind raced, as if he was drowning. This was supposed to be a peaceful time for him. He was supposed to be alone with his thoughts so he could reflect upon his short thirty-four-year existence up till the point where he watched Julia die – and the long ten long months after.

He wanted to be seeing it all in a series of flashbacks, pausing on the highs and lows of his time. He wanted to be thinking of his first bike ride, and the long summers he enjoyed as a child and the way his father smiled when he spoke of his mother, and that night when he took him into the garden to show Chris the night sky and the terrible day he died and his funeral that was on a beautiful summer’s morning as well as his first kiss as an awkward teenager, and then how years later he met and fell in love with Julia, the way she snored and how she would tease him about his slowly greying hair before kissing him and telling him she liked a silver fox. Their holidays and adventures, their kindness to one another. Their plans for a future.

He wanted to, as painful as it was, think of that night.

Instead he was panicking and his mind grabbed for something he couldn’t quite reach. For the first time since he knew what he must do, he didn’t know how things would play out. It had all been clear up to this point: wait for the 5th of May, their wedding anniversary, a date that mattered to her. Find a discreet place that would cause little damage. Leave this earth quietly. Be with his wife again.

It didn’t matter if it hurt; it didn’t matter if it was quick or slow. It just had to not cause harm to another person and it just had to be now, and therefore the girl had to leave. He turned around to look at her once more and she was looking straight back at him. Had she said something again?

‘Hmmm?’ muttered Chris.

‘I was just telling you why I’m here.’ She waited for him to respond, but he didn’t. ‘Anyway, so he’s been using me, and if I’m honest, I’ve known for longer than I let on. I guess that sometimes things are rough. You know?’ Again, she waited for him to reply, but he said nothing, only lowered his head. ‘I saw you kiss that picture.’

‘That’s none of your business,’ he said, his guard back up.

‘Sorry, you’re right, I shouldn’t pry.’

He watched her pull her scarf up over her chin to shelter herself from the cold wind that was sweeping though the station.

60 seconds.

Chris had forgotten it was cold, but he did notice that her gestures reminded him a little of the way Julia used to hide her face when she was embarrassed or shy. Another memory began to swirl into focus among the million that were circling his mind, unable to fully settle, like a flock of birds feeding at sea. He grabbed the one that was closest and as it fell into place he could see it was one of his favourite moments.

He was in bed lying with Julia next to him, facing him, lit only by a small lamp that cast shadows over her delicate features. The memory was of their first night together. The night that had begun at this station. They were both nervous and tipsy after a dinner party her mother had hosted. He still couldn’t believe he’d summoned the courage to go, but he guessed that’s what she was to him: personified courage.

They were both in his bed in their underwear and between gazing at one another and giggling due to their nerves they kissed passionately, her gentle moans and heavy breathing in his ear making his whole body tingle as if suddenly exposed to intense summer heat. His pulse moving at such a rate that for a second he thought his heart would burst and he would die right then in that moment.

He remembered the way he entered her without looking anywhere but deep into her eyes and how it was over quickly, both climaxing together in such a way that Chris didn’t know where his began and hers ended. He thought about how she giggled after and hid her face, embarrassed about how loud she had been, with only her smiling eyes showing above the covers. He remembered thinking that nothing else mattered.

The woman in the cardigan was looking at him still. Had she spoken again? Why was she bothering?

‘Hmm?’

‘I just wondered why you would want to get me a drink, that’s all.’

‘I’ve said – you look cold.’

‘I mean, why would you care?’