Bay of Secrets

by Rosanna Ley

  ‘We will even organise the funeral service,’ he said. ‘And pay for it too. You must focus on growing strong again.’

  Sister Julia sighed. She was aware that the doctor wanted things seen to quickly and without undue fuss and attention. She knew that he thought it best for all concerned. He even advised that mothers did not attend the funeral of their own child. And unsurprisingly, most mothers did not dare to argue with him. He was after all a doctor, and as the reverend mother had once reminded Sister Julia, a pillar of society.

  ‘Thank you, doctor,’ the woman said. And she collapsed against the pillows. She had been sedated, Sister Julia could see that. And naturally she was grateful. How could these women afford to bear the cost of a funeral when they had so little?

  After the woman had gone to sleep, Sister Julia went to the private room which had been reserved for the señora, the friend of Dr Lopez. The door was open and the room was empty. She had gone. Already she had gone.

  What could she do? Was there nothing she could do? Was there no one she could tell? Sister Julia thought about this long and hard and when she returned to the serenity of Santa Ana that evening she prayed to God for guidance.

  She had tried to speak to the reverend mother and she had tried to speak to the doctor. Where else could she turn? Who would listen? It seemed that there was only one thing she could do. Sister Julia wrote it down in her book. She wrote down every name. Sister Julia was indeed beginning to understand.

  CHAPTER 22

  Ruby took the shortcut down a footpath leading to a row of stone houses with long, narrow gardens. Pridehaven was a rope-makers’ town and gardens were created for a purpose in those days. She was trying to magic up some enthusiasm for tonight. It was only dinner with friends, but she was feeling a bit fragile – probably still in shock from what Frances had told her.

  When she reached the old church, she paused and pulled the photographs out of her bag – she’d started carrying them around with her wherever she went; seemed to need to keep looking at them. Mother and child … Laura was holding her close. But was she holding her with love? Had Laura loved her? And if she had – then why had she given her away?

  ‘Are you sorry you asked about all this?’ Frances had said as she came to the end of her story – or Vivien’s story, Ruby supposed. Her eyes over the rim of the coffee cup were concerned. ‘Do you wish you could turn the clock back and not know any of it?’

  Was she sorry? The early evening sun was combing the church wall with strands of dark gold. Ruby touched the stone. It was like a biscuit; it felt like it could be dipped in a rainstorm and crumbled, and yet it had been here for centuries. Which was somehow comforting.

  No, she decided – though there was a conflict of emotions. She could understand why her parents had come to the decision they had. They were protecting her. That’s what they’d always done – protected her. Even so, she could hardly believe that her law-abiding parents had actually given false information in order to register her birth. That they had actually claimed to be her natural parents. She sighed. And she still found it hard to accept that they had deceived her over something that was just so important.

  Ruby walked on. And yes, she was angry at not being told the truth before. Angry that she had nowhere to direct her emotions, no parent to have it out with. She had been betrayed by the people she most believed in.

  ‘I needed to know,’ she’d told Frances.

  ‘And what now?’

  ‘Well … ’ As Frances had obviously realised, this wasn’t the end of the story for Ruby. ‘I’ll try and find Laura,’ she said. Not just out of curiosity or even to hear her side of things. There was a feeling that went deeper. Ruby might be scared of it – but she couldn’t run away from it either. It had been building as Frances had told her the story. She wanted to meet her birth mother. She wanted to find out the identity of her natural father too. She wasn’t who she’d always thought she was. So who was she? She had to know.

  ‘I thought you’d say that.’ Frances looked worried. ‘But it won’t be easy.’

  ‘I know.’ Ruby had no idea where to even start. All she had were a few photographs and the little information she’d gleaned from Frances. Unless Laura had unexpectedly become a fully paid up member of conventional society – which seemed unlikely – it would be a tricky and maybe impossible trail.

  ‘And if you do find her … ’

  ‘She may not want to even acknowledge me.’ Ruby stirred her coffee once more. ‘I know that too.’ If she didn’t have high expectations, she shouldn’t be too disappointed. But she had to at least try and find out what had happened to her.

  Frances had finished her coffee and signalled for the bill. ‘Let me know, Ruby,’ she said. ‘How you get on.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘And good luck.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Ruby reached for her purse, but Frances wasn’t having any.

  ‘My treat,’ she said. ‘Next time maybe we’ll meet under happier circumstances.’

  Ruby smiled, though she wasn’t even sure if she would be seeing Frances again. Frances didn’t live here now, and Ruby … well, she hadn’t quite made up her mind. She had thought she needed to come back here to Dorset. But now, after this bombshell, she wasn’t quite so convinced. Where did she belong? She didn’t know any more.

  ‘And I’m so sorry,’ Frances added. ‘About all this. About the accident. Your father. Your mother. I’m so very sorry about your mother.’

  Ruby nodded. ‘Thanks, Frances,’ she said. But which mother was she sorry about? Which mother?

  *

  Ruby headed towards the riverbank cottage of her host and hostess. They weren’t old friends; she’d met them not long before she moved to London and the invitation had been a bit unexpected. She’d been undecided about what to wear and had finally chosen an emerald green skirt, a red fitted shirt tunic with tiny buttons, and black shoes. It wasn’t exactly casual. Was she too dressed up? Too colourful? Did she look too much like a flag? But Mel had urged her to get out more, and she was right. Dinner with friends was part of leading a normal life – whatever that was. They wouldn’t care what she was wearing, as long as she didn’t burst into tears over the pudding.

  Ruby was conscious of the touch of the breeze on her face as she crossed the old bridge. She held on to the damp and mossy wooden handrail to look down into the river. The water was high and fast-flowing but clear – she could see past the weeds and stones right down to the rocky bottom. From force of habit, she bent to pick up a twig, tossed it into the water and quickly turned to the other side to check its progress. A lot of people were afraid of alone time. When others were around, you didn’t have to get too close to yourself, that was the thing. Not so for Ruby. She reckoned she was just learning who she might be.

  She’d phoned Mel after her meeting with Frances to tell her what had happened. ‘So you were right,’ Mel had said.

  ‘I suppose I was.’ Though she’d still believed, hadn’t she, right up to the last minute, that there would be some reasonable explanation that hadn’t occurred to her before. That Frances would make it all clear. Make everything right again.

  ‘And how do you feel?’

  ‘Numb. Relieved to know the truth. Angry. Sad. Lost. Incomplete.’ Ruby sighed.

  ‘That’s an awful lot of feelings,’ Mel said.

  Yes, it was. And Ruby wasn’t sure how to begin coping with them.

  She walked up the path of the riverside cottage and rang the bell. Outside the door were tubs of summer blooms – red and white geraniums and big blowsy poppies – while a pale pink wild rose was blossoming in wild and thorny abandon around the porch.

  Tina opened the door wide. ‘Ruby!’ She beckoned her inside. ‘Great to see you. How’re you doing?’

  ‘Good, thanks. You?’ Ruby handed her the wine. She’d first met Tina when the band played regularly at the Jazz Café.

  ‘We invited another friend,’ Tina said. ‘I hope that’s OK.’
<
br />   Ruby’s stomach dipped. Oh, hell. It would be a man, it had to be.

  She was in the sitting room before she knew it – Gez giving her a drink and a quick hug. She avoided looking at first. Then she glanced over and did a rapid double take.

  ‘Christ,’ she said, without thinking.

  ‘Hello.’ He was getting to his feet. Auction man. The potential stalker. ‘It’s er … good to meet you again, Ruby.’

  Gez and Tina exchanged a questioning glance. ‘This is Andrés Marin,’ said Tina. ‘Or do you know that already?’

  OK. Ruby would never accept another invitation to dinner again. He must have fixed this. She had been only half serious when she’d called him a stalker. But it seemed as if she was right. Only … He looked about as surprised as she. And besides, what choice did she have? It would be much, much too rude to just walk out.

  ‘Hello, Andrés,’ she said. Shit …

  *

  ‘So … ’ Tina looked from Ruby to Andrés expectantly. ‘Where did you two meet? At the Jazz Café?’ She frowned as if trying to remember when.

  Ruby selected a green olive from the bowl offered by Gez. It tasted sharp and surprising on her tongue – maybe it was stuffed with anchovy. She wasn’t thrilled with Tina – she should have told her she was planning some matchmaking. But then she would have guessed that Ruby wouldn’t come.

  ‘I saw Ruby playing one night.’ Andrés replied to Tina but looked at Ruby. ‘And enjoyed it – very much.’

  Tina seemed as if she was going to add something to this, but changed her mind.

  ‘Thanks.’ Ruby gave a little nod. Flattery would get him precisely nowhere.

  ‘She’s great, isn’t she?’ Gez smiled fondly before offering the olive dish to the others. He bent to refill Ruby’s glass, though she’d hardly touched her wine. ‘London’s loss is our gain.’

  Ruby was embarrassed. ‘Actually, I hardly played in London.’

  ‘You have moved back here for good?’ His eyes were green but his hair was very dark – almost black.

  She nodded – still wary. She didn’t want to go into what had made her come back – the death of her parents, the need to start again – not now at a dinner party and certainly not with Auction Man. But she could see he was confused – about the cottage and everything.

  Tina got to her feet. ‘So where did you meet?’ she persisted.

  He looked across at her and Ruby found herself exchanging a small smile with him. Well. She was surprising herself. ‘At an auction,’ she said. ‘He tried to steal my cottage.’

  *

  Over the first course of Parma ham, parmesan shavings and sun-dried tomatoes, they told the others the story, each taking it up when the other paused. Tina had placed them opposite one another, so it was easy to see where the other was going. The momentum was growing; they seemed to be on a similar wavelength – though that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? She hardly knew him. But by the end of the story – and significantly, after another glass of Sauvignon Blanc – they were all laughing.

  ‘It is a strange way to meet,’ Andrés said. ‘I probably should not have charged outside to speak to you like that.’ He was very formal. Was he Spanish? Italian? Ruby wasn’t sure. Though when they had got up to take their places at Tina and Gez’s wooden table, she had noticed that he was quite tall and – she had to admit – rather attractive.

  ‘Why did you then?’ Ruby asked.

  Tina started clearing the plates. ‘Ruby must have thought you were a right weirdo,’ she commented. ‘She didn’t know you from Adam.’

  ‘Adam?’ Andrés frowned.

  ‘It’s just an expression,’ Ruby said, sorry for teasing him. ‘Adam as in … Well.’ She blushed. ‘Adam and Eve.’

  Tina raised an eyebrow. ‘Exactly,’ she said.

  ‘I did not want you to leave without speaking to you,’ Andrés said. ‘I recognised you from the Jazz Café as I said. I felt … ’ He paused and Ruby waited. ‘As if I knew you.’

  Ruby fiddled with her wineglass. She didn’t quite know what to say to that and Tina and Gez had both disappeared into the kitchen. ‘So what will you do now?’ she asked.

  ‘Do?’ He raised his glass to his lips.

  ‘Find another cottage?’

  He shrugged. ‘It will wait. There is always another cottage. But what about you, Ruby? Were you planning to live there?’

  She thought of the view. ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘And do all the work that needed to be done?’ He was teasing her now, she knew.

  And perhaps he was right. Perhaps it had been unrealistic. It was just that she had seen that coastal view from the upstairs window and been blinded to all the things that needed doing. ‘It was just a dream,’ she said. Of her childhood, of something that she was trying to recall, to snatch, before it was lost for ever. And now that she’d talked to Frances … Was it lost for ever? She hoped not. Just before Frances had left that night, as they stood outside the restaurant, she had handed Ruby an envelope.

  ‘It’s a letter from your mother,’ she said. ‘From Vivien.’

  Ruby had looked at it. Her name was written in huge loopy letters on the outside – her mother’s handwriting. She swallowed hard. ‘Thank you.’ But she hadn’t opened the envelope. She still hadn’t opened it. She had put it on the mantelpiece and she looked at it every time she walked into the living room. But she hadn’t opened it. She was still too angry.

  ‘Ah, a dream … ’ Andrés nodded.

  As if he knew all about dreams, Ruby thought. ‘I’ll find somewhere else,’ she said. It was a lovely cottage and a nostalgic dream. But clearly it wasn’t meant to be.

  ‘Maybe I can—’

  But he was interrupted as Tina and Gez re-entered the room, armed with another bottle of wine and more plates. From the corner of her eye, Ruby sensed them exchanging glances, no doubt very pleased with themselves that their guests were getting on so well. Careful, Ruby, she thought.

  ‘Maybe I can help you there,’ Andrés continued.

  Ruby looked across at him in surprise. He was wearing an open-necked blue shirt and jeans. His legs were stretched out under the table on to her side. She could see his boots, brown leather, loosely laced. ‘Really?’ She needed to find somewhere to live – and the sooner the better. She needed to escape from all those ghosts.

  Gez was putting out plates for their main. Tina was holding a casserole dish in giant oven gloves and she placed this in the centre of the table and took off the lid. It exhaled a gust of steam and herby wine fragrances.

  ‘Here we go,’ said Tina.

  ‘It smells yummy.’ Ruby suddenly realised how ravenous she was.

  ‘Good.’ Tina passed Ruby a bowl of steaming rice. ‘Just help yourself.’

  Andrés dished out the beef casserole. It looked as good as it smelt – tiny shallots, neat glistening mushrooms and large chunks of beef in a rich wine-laden sauce. ‘Ruby?’

  She held out her plate. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Ruby’s a writer,’ Gez said. ‘A journalist. Did she tell you?’

  ‘No.’ The serving spoon hovered. ‘What sort of things do you write?’

  ‘Oh … ’ He had a slightly lopsided eye-tooth and high, almost Slavic cheekbones. And he was looking at her in a kind of intimate way that scared the hell out of her. Quickly, she looked down at the serving dish, at the brown hand holding the spoonful of beef heaven. ‘Features for magazines mostly,’ she said. ‘And songs.’

  *

  When she looked at her watch some time later, Ruby was surprised to see it was almost one a.m. Funny, but she’d intended to make her excuses and leave before midnight. The evening had flown by and she’d enjoyed it. She’d talked, laughed, yes, even flirted a little. Why not? She was having fun. She felt like she’d had a wake-up call.

  She looked across at Andrés who raised his glass to her. Their eyes met and this time Ruby found it hard to look away. Why on earth? She hadn’t woken up because of this attractive stranger. Of course n
ot. And yet …

  ‘I must go.’ She got to her feet. ‘It’s been lovely.’ And she meant it. Hallelujah, she thought. ‘Thanks so much.’ She hugged Gez and Tina, not sure what to do about Andrés.

  He got to his feet. ‘I could walk you home,’ he offered. ‘It’s a lovely evening. Or would you prefer to call a cab?’

  Something – the prospect of going home? – had made him stiff and polite once more. Ruby smiled. ‘I can walk myself. Don’t worry.’ She picked up her bag.

  ‘But I insist.’ His gaze was intent. ‘A gentleman should escort a lady home, I think.’ He took her jacket from Gez who had retrieved it from the hall and held it out for her.

  ‘Well, OK. Thanks.’ She turned and slipped it on.

  The night outside was cool on her face as she stepped out of the door. Nice, actually. She zipped up her jacket and waved a final goodbye. Gez and Tina were standing on the step watching them like fond parents. Gez’s arms were wrapped around Tina as she stood in front of him; Ruby just knew they’d have a lengthy discussion about this before they went to bed.

  ‘Which way?’ Andrés stood waiting on the river path.

  She pointed. ‘I’ve got a torch.’ She delved into her bag to look for it.

  ‘That’s very organised of you. I didn’t think of it. I drove. But … ’

  She nodded and produced the torch with a flourish. Yes, they’d probably all drunk far more than they’d intended.

  After a moment’s hesitation, he took her hand and tucked it under his arm. An Englishman wouldn’t make such a gesture, but Ruby liked it. It felt warm and safe. She felt warm and safe. Which was equally ridiculous. Careful, Ruby … she reminded herself again.

  She shone the torch beam in front of them with her free hand. It didn’t illuminate much more than the sparse grass and mud that constituted the path, but should stop them falling in the river at least. ‘I was a girl guide,’ she quipped. ‘Be prepared.’

  He laughed. His walking style was loping, kind of easy. She fell into his rhythm without having to try.

  ‘There were youth groups on the island too,’ he said. ‘Kids do all kinds of sports there. Football’s big. Tennis. Dancing.’ She felt him smile. ‘And drumming.’