My name is Susan Wright, I have lived in Broadchurch for a while now but no one really knows me. I have no friends here only a long lost son and it was due to his threats that I left that night but something is calling me back. I have unfinished business here, a secret that must remain a secret and if I am not around to keep the frighteners on the one who knows it could idly slip passed there lips and be known in the community. I don't want that so I am back.
This morning I went walking out in the bay along the beach. The same route as the night I discovered and witnessed something terrible. But I am only saying something more happened to that boy and nothing more. It doesn't haunt me, my stomach is too strong for that. I walk alone, sometimes feeling a little pang of guilt for what I have failed to confess but then I listen to the waves lapping up on the shore and then washing away as they roll out. The guilt effects me like that, it pours through my veins momentarily and seconds later it is washed away.
I will have nothing to worry about with the two detectives leaving town. Nothing further is going to come to light regarding the Latimer case. They have what they think is their murder and so the book is closed now. All the information regarding the case is common knowledge. I found out from a nosy passer by on my way back to the town last night. Gossiping away they were, sat beside me sipping a coffee and reading the latest updates on the Latimer Investigation in the paper.
I wanted so much to chuckle when he read me the headline, but I kept my stern expression and looked at him blankly the poor clueless fool. They all think they are safe now, nothing to worry about, open and shut case. How wrong they are. A murder still lives and breathes among them. He read the article out loud as if looking to open up a conversation with me about it. I had and have no intention on discussing my opinions with a soul. It would be highly inappropriate seeing as I know more about the case than anyone suspects.
I am happy minding my own business, doing my cleaning job and keeping myself to myself. Many of the residents around here need to learn the art of discretion. They are a very close-knit community; all know each other's business and get along. You would think that was a benefit in life but it really isn't, trust me. I haven't had a nice past, I know some evil and dangerous people and been to some vile places. Broadchurch is nice and quiet but people ask too many questions of strangers. I see them all stare at me as I wander around and I don't like being glanced at suspiciously, that is why unless it is necessary I don't go out during the day. Avoiding the people means they will never know me well or have chance to try and interrogate me.
I know what they say about me, and that I don't have their trust but as I said I don't need friends or acquaintances in life to be happy. I like my own company, much more than most people do. I only came here to find my long lost son Nigel but he is a monster, just like his father. I'm not much better myself. Being with his father changed me and not for the better. Everything that happened with my daughters and the social all those years ago has not made me as nicer person as I had hoped to be. I destroyed my soul, stripped away any personality I had and just left a cold empty shell. I am a closed book and I do not open up to anyone but my diary.
I'll tell you why…
If I don't write my thoughts down like this in my diary, I will drive myself mad. I need to get it all out, see it in front of me not having it taking up valuable space in my head. As ink hits the page I allow my thoughts to become real and concrete, forever memorable and they're there as and when I should need to recall on them upon reflection. I have written in it everyday since I discovered the entire trauma that caused so much destruction in my family. It is therapeutic to have everything out, I'd rather this way than talk, it is easier to explain to a none judgmental piece of paper instead of a judgemental doctor or therapist as has so often been suggested to me over the years. I have only missed one day and that is that fateful day that hit this little town.
I told the police all that I thought was vital and matched details they had already declared they knew but there is more. I am afraid if I write it down it is evidence although I suppose even my written speculation would count the same. I think that is enough for now though, any more and it could be incriminating, withholding information is a crime, I know it is but this is for the best.
Susan closed her diary and squirreled it away in her safe place. No one would ever find her jottings, safe in the pages upon which they were inked in the cubby-hole in which she kept them. It was a small space, just wide enough, cut into the floor of her trailer in her cupboard where a few weeks ago she had Danny's skateboard stashed. No one had the answer as to why she had taken it, Detective Miller had once asked but Susan had never given any real reason. She smiled as she shut the door and turned back round to face the front door.
A face stared back at her, made her jump with fright as she saw stood there her estranged son Nigel Carter who had warned her away in the first place. He thought he'd scared her but now he realised he had failed. He had only been passing when he had noticed activity inside and being nosy had come closer to investigate who was in residence. He hadn't expected to see her back as she stood up from her crouched position on the floor and so strode up and tried the door handle. She flinched as he vigorously tried to rip it open but luckily it was locked.
Susan had a tough exterior but she had a soft centre when you finally dug deep enough. Having been interviewed the other day by the Detective Miller brought back all those repressed memories that Susan had been keeping back now for years. She was suddenly more sensitive to intimidation again after spending years and years practising keeping her sensitivity at bay. It was amazing how much the past could still affect your future and present in such a strong way. For a moment Susan felt tense, scared that Nigel would get passed the door that currently acted as the only barrier between them. It was intense as she froze on the spot and tried to think what to do. Nigel knew she was back and he wasn't going to leave alone now he knew.
Suddenly he started hammering on the door. "Let me in" he demanded. "I warned you, told you what I'd do if you didn't go"
Nigel couldn't have been acting out more suspiciously in broad daylight if he tried. What was he thinking behaving like this where all other residents in Caravan Park could hear his outrageous threats? She had to be strong, play the game. Susan knew what she had actually seen that night. She knew what had actually happened to Danny after Joe Miller dumped his body on the beach as it had now been discovered. Nigel wasn't going to run her out of town again she had just had a little stumble, a moment of weakness when she fled but this time she was here to stay.
Walking slowly forward she opened the door. Only too aware of what she was letting herself in for and the hell that was about to be unleashed in her tiny living space. Nigel stomped inside and with wide focused eyes glared at her. Standing over her, so much taller and trying to be as intimidating as he could.
"What are you doing back?" He snarled.
"Because I know the truth" she threatened back. Showing him the power she could hold over him if he didn't leave her alone.
"You know nothing" he chuckled seeing her threat as idle.
"I know more than you think" she snapped back, coolly and calmly. Shifting forward she reached up, supporting herself on tiptoes to try and make herself seem taller and looked him in the eye best she could. "I know what you did to Danny Latimer" she whispered.
Nigel said nothing he backed off straight away. Turning he fled her trailer as quick as his feet could carry him. She had managed to frighten him just enough for him not want to push to know if she was bluffing or really did know his involvement. He paced away, keeping his head down as he made his way back into the town. He had to plan. Susan's silence may not last forever unless he could make sure of it.