The Quiet Ones: A gripping psychological thriller Read Online Free
Author: Betsy Reavley
Four… Five…
‘Hello?’
I freeze. Is that her voice?
‘Hello,’ she says again.
Still, I can’t speak.
‘Hello?’ she says again, this time with frustration. I snap out of it and manage to respond.
‘Hello.’
I don’t know what to say.
‘Hello, how can I help you?’ Is it her?
‘I’m… can I speak to Ailene, please?’
There is a brief silence.
‘Can I ask who’s calling, please?’ The voice sounds suspicious.
‘Is Ailene there, please?’ I dodge the question. Another silence and then,
‘Speaking.’
With that one word my stomach knots and a wave of nausea works its way up my body.
‘Hi,’ I speak quietly, ‘It’s Josie.’
‘Hello, Josie.’ Her voice sounds clipped. I hope she’s as nervous as I am. There is yet another silence, only this time it seems to last much longer. ‘I been hoping you’d call. You got my letter, I assume?’
‘Yes.’
With my left hand, I am fiddling with a biro, twirling it in my fingers, continuously clicking the end.
‘I don’t really know what happens now.’ The burst of honesty surprises me.
‘Neither do I,’ she sounds taken back, slightly defensive. Good, I think to myself.
‘What would you like to happen?’ Ailene is regaining composure.
‘Honestly, I don’t know.’
I lean back in my chair and slowly spin myself round. There is a low creak.
‘Look, I am really sorry about this but it’s not exactly a good time at the moment. I’ve got a lot on.’
I can barely believe my ears.
‘Can I call you back another time?’
‘Sure. Whatever suits.’ My words are cool.
‘OK. Good.’ In the background, I hear a raspy coughing. ‘I’ll call soon.’
‘Speak then.’ And I hang up before she has a chance to respond. I feel rejected all over again.
I go over to my desk, remove the letter that has been taunting me for the last few weeks and go through it yet again. Was there something I missed? That I failed to comprehend? I look for any hint that might help explain her change of direction. She wrote to me , not the other way around … but I don’t find it …
Flat 2,
Rigdale House,
Derwent Drive,
Bletchley,
Milton Keynes
MK3 7FS
Dear Josie,
After hearing from the adoption agency I’ve been
informed you are happy to allow me to write to you.
I don’t know where to begin. We are strangers yet I
carried you inside me for nine months – it’s strange.
There are reasons I couldn’t keep you. I was young, only seventeen when I fell pregnant. In those days, it was different. I have a lot I would like to say but feel it would be better to do it over the phone or in person.
It must have been a shock when the agency called and told you I wanted to get in touch after all this time.
As I grow older I realise I have made mistakes in my
life and would like an opportunity to put them right.
I hope for a chance to explain why I decided you would bebetter off with an adopted family.
This must be a confusing time for you and by no means do I wish to pressure you into seeing me. I appreciate it will take time before you reach that point. But for now, know I have extended an olive branch.
Should you decide to contact me you can write or if you would rather then you’re welcome to call me at home. My number is 07234 112869.
I hope to hear from you soon,
Best wishes,
Ailene.
She gave me up, and I kind of understand it. Thirty-six years ago, teenage pregnancy was not unheard of but attitudes towards it were far less forgiving. It might have ruined her life had she opted to keep me. I’m not bitter and I’m not angry, but I am puzzled.
February 21st
I wake up with a splitting headache. Jesus, this hangover is bad. The air in our bedroom smells of stale breath and booze. I sit up and the room spins as my feet find their way into my grubby stripped slipper boots. I realise I am still in the clothes I was wearing yesterday. Shame hits me like a bullet and I rub my temples hoping
‘Hello?’
I freeze. Is that her voice?
‘Hello,’ she says again.
Still, I can’t speak.
‘Hello?’ she says again, this time with frustration. I snap out of it and manage to respond.
‘Hello.’
I don’t know what to say.
‘Hello, how can I help you?’ Is it her?
‘I’m… can I speak to Ailene, please?’
There is a brief silence.
‘Can I ask who’s calling, please?’ The voice sounds suspicious.
‘Is Ailene there, please?’ I dodge the question. Another silence and then,
‘Speaking.’
With that one word my stomach knots and a wave of nausea works its way up my body.
‘Hi,’ I speak quietly, ‘It’s Josie.’
‘Hello, Josie.’ Her voice sounds clipped. I hope she’s as nervous as I am. There is yet another silence, only this time it seems to last much longer. ‘I been hoping you’d call. You got my letter, I assume?’
‘Yes.’
With my left hand, I am fiddling with a biro, twirling it in my fingers, continuously clicking the end.
‘I don’t really know what happens now.’ The burst of honesty surprises me.
‘Neither do I,’ she sounds taken back, slightly defensive. Good, I think to myself.
‘What would you like to happen?’ Ailene is regaining composure.
‘Honestly, I don’t know.’
I lean back in my chair and slowly spin myself round. There is a low creak.
‘Look, I am really sorry about this but it’s not exactly a good time at the moment. I’ve got a lot on.’
I can barely believe my ears.
‘Can I call you back another time?’
‘Sure. Whatever suits.’ My words are cool.
‘OK. Good.’ In the background, I hear a raspy coughing. ‘I’ll call soon.’
‘Speak then.’ And I hang up before she has a chance to respond. I feel rejected all over again.
I go over to my desk, remove the letter that has been taunting me for the last few weeks and go through it yet again. Was there something I missed? That I failed to comprehend? I look for any hint that might help explain her change of direction. She wrote to me , not the other way around … but I don’t find it …
Flat 2,
Rigdale House,
Derwent Drive,
Bletchley,
Milton Keynes
MK3 7FS
Dear Josie,
After hearing from the adoption agency I’ve been
informed you are happy to allow me to write to you.
I don’t know where to begin. We are strangers yet I
carried you inside me for nine months – it’s strange.
There are reasons I couldn’t keep you. I was young, only seventeen when I fell pregnant. In those days, it was different. I have a lot I would like to say but feel it would be better to do it over the phone or in person.
It must have been a shock when the agency called and told you I wanted to get in touch after all this time.
As I grow older I realise I have made mistakes in my
life and would like an opportunity to put them right.
I hope for a chance to explain why I decided you would bebetter off with an adopted family.
This must be a confusing time for you and by no means do I wish to pressure you into seeing me. I appreciate it will take time before you reach that point. But for now, know I have extended an olive branch.
Should you decide to contact me you can write or if you would rather then you’re welcome to call me at home. My number is 07234 112869.
I hope to hear from you soon,
Best wishes,
Ailene.
She gave me up, and I kind of understand it. Thirty-six years ago, teenage pregnancy was not unheard of but attitudes towards it were far less forgiving. It might have ruined her life had she opted to keep me. I’m not bitter and I’m not angry, but I am puzzled.
February 21st
I wake up with a splitting headache. Jesus, this hangover is bad. The air in our bedroom smells of stale breath and booze. I sit up and the room spins as my feet find their way into my grubby stripped slipper boots. I realise I am still in the clothes I was wearing yesterday. Shame hits me like a bullet and I rub my temples hoping
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