Page 4 of The Good Girl

Chapter Three

MID-AUGUST

The heat was relentless. Not the balmy warmth of early summer, but the dry, uncomfortable kind that clung to your skin and made you hate whatever clothes you chose to wear. The churchyard was quiet, save for the lazy drone of bees in the hedgerow and the annoying bark of a yappy dog.

Molly sat cross-legged on the sun-scorched grass, the blades prickling the backs of her legs where her denim shorts ended. Her sandals were beside her, abandoned, feet bare and dusty from the stone path.

The envelope lay in her lap, cream coloured and crumpled at the corners where her fingers had fidgeted with it all the way from the school hall.

Her vest top stuck to her back and her dark brown hair, pulled into a scruffy yet stylish topknot, had begun to escape in frizzed curls that tickled her neck.

A bead of sweat slid between her shoulder blades, but she ignored it.

Her eyes were fixed on the headstone in front of her, its carved edges softened slightly by time and weather, the words still clear:

RONALD JAMES LASSITER 1974 – 2015

Beloved Husband, Father and Son

Always Cherished, Never Forgotten

Molly reached out and brushed the stone with her fingers, the heat of the sun radiating off it.

‘Hi, Dad,’ she said, her voice wobbling ever so slightly.

The breeze lifted a strand of hair and tickled her cheek. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the quiet wash over her. Soaking in the moment. Just the two of them.

‘I did it,’ she said, opening her eyes and glancing down at the envelope.

Her fingers slid beneath the flap and pulled out the sheet that earlier, she’d had to stare at and reread three, maybe four times until she actually believed the words written on it.

She held it up, tilted it so the sun didn’t glare too much, and scanned the results again. ‘All A*s. Every single one.’

A breath of laughter escaped her, half amazed, half disbelieving. She had known she would do well. She had studied like mad, practically lived in the library for the past six months, but even so. It still stunned her, seeing it written there in black and white.

‘You’d be proud, wouldn’t you?’ she whispered, glancing back at the headstone.

‘It was the first thing Mum said when I showed her. She was waiting in the car having kittens – you know what she’s like – and had a good cry.

She always says I take after you. That I’ve got your work ethic.

I think that’s just her way of affirming our bond, reminding me that even though you’re not here, you’re living on, through me.

I like that. And now, seeing my results in black and white, I understand why she pushed me hard and kept me on track because she wants me to do well in life, like you did. ’

She shifted her weight, brushing a lazy fly off her thigh.

‘Everyone used to call me your mini-me,’ she said, her voice softer now, threaded with memory.

‘Do you remember when I used to come into the office with you during the holidays? I’d sit in your big leather chair and pretend I was your secretary.

I even used to answer the phone, all official like. ClearGlass, how can I help you? ’

She chuckled quietly, then fell silent again, eyes fixed on the headstone.

‘I think those were my favourite days. When it was just us. You’d buy me those massive cookies from the bakery on the way and let me play on your computer when you had meetings.

I thought I was so grown up. Mum wanted me to be her little princess forever but you, you made me feel like you were showing me the ropes, as though I was part of the company’s future.

I’d have loved that, working with you and Mum. ’

A butterfly danced past, its wings pale blue in the sunlight. Molly watched it for a moment, then sighed. Her expression shifted slightly, tension creeping into her shoulders.

‘It’s been ten years, Dad. Ten whole years since you…

since you left us. And I still think about you every single day.

Sometimes it hits me when I least expect it.

A smell, bacon and eggs always, because you used to make it on Sunday mornings and trash the kitchen and Mum would go mad.

Or a song, anything by Fleetwood Mac is a killer, and if someone looks a bit like you from behind it makes my heart flip for a second.

Other times I feel like you’re still here, just out of sight.

Like if I turned around fast enough, you’d be standing there, smiling because I caught you out. ’

She paused and swallowed hard, then added, ‘I miss you. I won’t ever stop missing you or thinking of you.’

The words hung in the air between them. Molly reached down and began to pick at the grass, pulling it up in little clumps.

‘Things have changed so much. Dee’s going to be doing her exams next.

Can you believe it? She still talks about you sometimes, but not like I do.

I think she forgets. Or maybe she just… tries not to remember.

Mum’s still Mum. Except more tired. Loads more impatient and certainly not as happy as I remember her being when you were here. ’

There was a long silence. Somewhere beyond the hedgerow a blackbird sang, interrupting her thoughts.

‘I know it’s weird me talking to you about him but I don’t have anyone else.

But it’s Shane that makes her miserable, she’s done with him and that makes me feel better about, you know, the thing with him,’ she said, her voice tight now.

‘It’s complicated and wrong and I know I’ve said it before, but I need to say it again, I didn’t plan for any of it to happen.

I wish I could say it just did, like some kind of accident. But I made my own choices.’

She wiped her palms on her thighs, smearing a faint line of dirt.

‘I can’t expect you not to be angry with me, Dad.

I know what I’m doing is next level, but I can’t stop.

He makes me feel… grown up and special and chosen.

And I know that’s not an excuse. God, it’s the worst excuse.

’ She looked at the headstone and it stared right back, just like a disappointed parent who would not be moved by excuses or emotional blackmail.

A familiar wave of something not quite shame washed over her, so she averted her eyes and looked up at the sky, a vibrant cloudless blue. Then changed the subject.

‘I’m leaving soon. Two weeks from now, I’ll be in America. At Princeton. A new country, a new start. Mum’s coming with me for a few days to help me settle in. She’s trying so hard to be happy for me. But I know she’s scared that I’ll be so far away. I can see it in her eyes.’

A bee landed on the edge of her envelope, then buzzed away.

‘I want to make you proud, Dad. I really do. Even if it’s journalism I’ll be studying.

I’m doing it properly, though. None of that influencer crap, or clickbait nonsense.

Real journalism. Investigative stuff. I want to uncover the truth.

Bring people to justice. And I’m sorry if that disappoints you but I don’t think working at ClearGlass is for me, not anymore.

I thought Mum would be upset when I told her but she was so supportive and insisted I choose my own path in life.

And I thought she’d flip when I told her about Princeton, too, and the chance of a scholarship but she’s been brilliant, even about not doing business or economics or something like that. ’

Molly gave a bitter little smile.

‘Funny, isn’t it? Wanting to expose other people’s secrets when I’m sitting on the biggest one of all.’

There was movement at the far end of the churchyard.

An old man with a flat cap and a walking stick made his way along the path.

Molly watched him pass without comment, then returned her gaze to the headstone.

She needed to talk, get it out of her system because she was so confused yet sure at the same time so even if no one would reply, they could listen.

‘I know you’d hate him, by the way. Shane.

You would have seen right through him. Mum didn’t.

Or maybe she did and just didn’t want to believe it.

He’s charming, you see. That’s the problem.

He makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room.

And I don’t just mean me, I mean everyone.

And that makes me ridiculously jealous then ridiculously proud that he picked me. Out of all of them.’

Her voice cracked then, barely a whisper.

‘But now I feel like my whole life is a lie and I’m holding my breath, terrified that before I get away and I can put it behind me, someone will find out and expose us.

It’s like the thrill of it has worn off and now I’m biding my time and wanting out, but still totally hooked on my drug of choice.

I keep picturing scenarios where everyone finds out, so I’ve doubled my efforts to keep the secret but I’m so tired of pretending. It’s exhausting.’

She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs.

‘Dee totally loves him. She thinks he’s the best thing since TikTok and Billy Eilish.

I sometimes see myself at her age, once I stopped hating on Shane and gave him a chance.

A lot of that had to do with my friends who thought and still think he’s the bee’s knees.

Half of them had massive teen crushes on him, Phoebe especially, yakking on about how he was so chill, telling me I was lucky to have a stepdad like that.

And he was cool, even I could see it. He’d play pool volleyball with us or put us on his shoulders then dunk us under the water.

God, they were queuing up to get close to him and I swear they used to lie and say their parents couldn’t pick them up so he’d drive them home in his sports car.

And now I see Dee looking at him like they did, and if she ever found out… ’

Molly shook her head. She couldn’t finish the thought.

‘Sometimes, it’s like my head gets into a tangled mess and I don’t know who I am anymore.

Part of me loves having a secret, being treated like an adult and playing dress-up in the things…

’ Molly froze, realising she was getting carried away and who she was talking to, blushing at the thought of the lingerie Shane often surprised her with so changed tack.

‘And part of me wants to be like Phoebe and Jilly who do regular things like movie nights and sleepovers and shopping trips and are still waiting to find the right guy to, you know…’ Again Molly reined herself in.

‘Even saying that out loud makes me confused because it’s as if I’m looking in on them and they seem so young and have it all to do.

And then I look at me, and I seem too old for my skin, and that gives me the ick.

I suppose I just want it all, don’t I? The best of both worlds and that’s why I think once I’m at Princeton I can start again and go back to being me or finding out who that is.

Can the real Molly Lassiter please stand up. ’

A breeze picked up then, rattling the leaves of the sycamore tree at the corner of the plot. Molly looked up, squinting against the sunlight.

‘So, I know I have to end it. And I will. I promise. Once I get to Princeton, it’s over.

I’ll draw a line under it all and whenever I visit things will be totally above board.

He knows that. But part of me doesn’t trust him to let go.

Not really. And part of me was hurt that he agreed to end things.

Not offer to fly out and see me. How screwed up is that?

I’m a total mess and I’m sorry if this part of me has let you down. ’

Molly knew tears weren’t far away. The day had been an emotion-bomb from the second she opened her eyes that morning.

Once she’d seen her results, she suddenly truly believed that the future really was ready for the taking.

It was change she was scared of. That and letting go of something that for the past two years, she couldn’t live without.

‘I need your help, Dad. Just… watch over me. Forgive me. Keep me safe. Help me to be strong and get on that plane and not look back. And Dee, too. I don’t know what’s going to happen at home when I’m gone because Mum’s really fed up and that’s another thing.

I’m leaving to start a new life when hers is falling apart.

One thing I do know is that me staying here has the potential to make it a whole lot worse.

I don’t know what Mum’s planning, but something’s coming. I can feel it.’

She stood, brushing grass from her shorts, and slipped her sandals back on. The envelope with her results she tucked into her bag, safe now, like a talisman. Then she bent forward and kissed the top of the headstone, her lips brushing the warm stone.

‘I love you. And I promise, no matter where I go, or what happens… no one will ever take your place. Me and you forever, Dad.’

She stepped back, mouthing the name one more time, then turned and walked away, the gravel crunching beneath her feet. Behind her, the churchyard remained still and quiet, perhaps shocked by the secrets it had heard, whispered in confidence to the ears of the dead.