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

Chris then observed, in the same way a person might observe through a window, that his shirt was wet. It was raining and, now more aware of his surroundings, he realized the wind was giving him a chill.

He had been painfully passing the time walking through the quiet streets of March, a small fenland town thirty-two miles north of Cambridge, for an hour before arriving here. A town that was tired and had been left behind, full of charity shops and bargain outlets that displayed items for a pound or less. The shop signs that hung above paint-stripped doors were crude and cheap, almost shouting their names at him as he passed by. He’d noticed those inconsequential things but not the fact it was cold and he was wet. He briefly wondered why before shaking off the thought. He had to keep his focus now more than ever.

He looked again at the clock, it still read ten thirty-nine, and he still had eight minutes. Just eight small minutes.

Then he would be dead.

Chris had chosen the location perfectly. At this time of night there were no passenger trains. The next one not for thirty minutes after the one that he had dreamt of and longed for. He had done his homework. In the months before there had never been another person on the platform on a Thursday night. Research that began after his grief and shock had turned into numbness. As soon as he had made the decision to end his life, he knew it could only be in one place. The one place that changed everything.

It was on this platform Chris had known he was in love.

The first time he stood in this spot he had to fight the urge to do it then and there. But it was the middle of the afternoon, and there were several people waiting to travel. Each and every one of them would see him die. Something he couldn’t live with. He knew it would have to be at night.

Every Thursday he went back to the platform to find the opportune moment. Then one night, a distant rumbling came over the track and Chris knew this train was different. As it passed, he counted the carriages. There were forty-two. He counted them each week. Sometimes there were more, sometimes less. But they were always in the dozens and always at the same time: 10.47.

He had found a solution.

Researching the company, London Concrete, Chris knew it would be passing through on the date he needed. It was perfect. Only God would witness this but the God Chris grew up to know didn’t exist anymore. There would be no witnesses; there would be no one hurt.

His memory tried to take him back to that night where Chris stood eye to eye with a monster as Julia lay dead at his feet. Before it could take hold, he grasped at a glimmer of something else. He closed his eyes, fighting to hold onto the image. He wasn’t ready for the other one. Not yet.

The memory that he desperately grabbed hold of was the moment when he had first laid eyes on her.

It was five years earlier, and he was with Steve, his best mate, who had dragged him out for a few drinks despite his protests. He remembered how that night had begun. Steve didn’t call or text, but turned up unannounced at Chris’s front door, leaving him no choice but to go out. A taxi sat waiting, engine running as Chris threw on an old T-shirt and jeans – the only things he could find clean, cursing Steve as he did. For a moment Chris felt like he was back there.

‘Come on, mate!’

‘I’m coming, hold on.’

‘Bloody hell, they’ll be calling last orders by the time you get your arse into gear.’

‘Well then ring me to say we’re going out before you turn up.’

‘No chance, you would have said no.’

He was right. He was always right.

It had only taken the five-minute taxi journey into the city centre for Chris to forgive Steve’s intrusion. An hour later Chris was glad that his mate had turned up; he hadn’t realized how much he needed to unwind. The drinks were flowing and he hated to admit it to Steve, but he was having the best evening he’d had in a long time.

Propping up the bar in their favoured place, unoriginally called The Corner Lounge due to its geographical location, Chris sipped his drink while people-watching as Steve chatted to one of the barmen. Chris couldn’t help but notice the similarity of everyone. How people all have their go-to outfits for a night on the town in order to stand out, only to blur together. The men all wore the classic jeans and jacket combo and the women all looked glamorous, perhaps too glamorous for a small bar in a small city. Looking down at his fraying jeans and old T-shirt he couldn’t help but smile wryly to himself.

The walls of The Corner Lounge were adorned with portraits of unknown people on top of wallpaper designed to make the modern space feel old and classy. Soft house music played in an undertone to the menagerie of conversations and laugher. He had to give the place its due: it had atmosphere.

Chris’s attempts to keep up with Steve’s drinking pace had left him a little blurry-eyed and he could hear Steve’s conversation with the barman about 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.