Tell Me No Secrets

by Lynda Stacey

  Ben nodded and flashed an appreciative, dazzling smile. Kate caught her breath. For some strange reason she felt more alive than she had for months, and she sat back, allowing Ben to refill her glass.

  As the evening began to draw in, the soft candlelight created an even warmer ambience within the room. The conversation was effortless. The self-assured confidence that Ben had shown in the office had now disappeared. He now came over as very gentle, calm and just a little vulnerable, making Kate feel comfortable and relaxed. She sipped at the wine, allowing it to trickle down her throat with a warmth that only came with a good red. She held the glass with one hand, whilst using the other to hide the left side of her face from Ben’s view.

  ‘Don’t let it define you,’ Ben suddenly said as he lifted his hand to hers and pulled it slowly away from her face.

  ‘But it’s ugly.’ Kate immediately lifted her hand back to cover her scar and in response Ben shook his head.

  ‘Don’t do that. You don’t need to hide it, it isn’t ugly.’ He took hold of her hand, and once again pulled it away from her face. Her fingertips were on fire, pins and needles rushed through them and she simply stared at their conjoined hands and enjoyed the warmth that now spread from her fingertips to her arm, moving upward with the intensity of an erupting volcano. Kate gasped.

  Ben released her hand. ‘I’m so sorry.’ It was as though he’d suddenly realised what he was doing, making Kate lift her hand away. She massaged her fingers with the other hand as though trying to take away the burn.

  ‘The scar, the accident and everything else that happened that day, it was the worst day of my life.’ Her hand once again lifted to her face. It was as though if she hid it, it wasn’t there. ‘I feel so guilty. I think it was all my fault. My brother, James, he died and poor Eve, she’ll be in a wheelchair for the rest of her life.’

  ‘Who says it was your fault?’

  Kate sighed. ‘No one. I just know they all blame me. You see, it was me that insisted James drove us, I insisted that he take us into town, even though I knew he’d be rushing. He was late you see; he was going on a date. Yet still, I insisted. And Eve, I think I pulled her from the car, moving her was what would have paralysed her.’

  ‘What do you mean, you think?’

  ‘I don’t remember. I remember the crash, the airbags and then I think I must have blocked the next few moments out. I really can’t remember anything until I was on the grass, with Eve. But no one else was there, so it must have been me. I must have pulled her out of the car and if I did, why didn’t I get James out too?’

  ‘You couldn’t have possibly known what would happen, Kate.’

  ‘My parents, they’ve never said as much, but if I were them, I’d blame me.’ She paused. ‘My father doesn’t say much, but my mother, she’s just acted odd and been awful to be around since the accident, and right now, she’s staying at my house. She and Father will have argued, and because my cottage used to belong to her mother, my grandmother, she sees it as her right to turn up and stay whenever she likes.’ Kate closed her eyes and thought of her mother who would now be stomping up and down the kitchen, waiting for her to arrive. ‘What if she never went home? I’d be distraught if that happened. I couldn’t bear it.’

  ‘Kate, you wouldn’t be you without your history. You can’t turn back time. God only knows that if you could, you would have done it by now.’ He once again picked up her hand. ‘But, Kate, there is a time when it becomes harder to stay in the past than to move forward. Trust me. I know.’

  Kate raised her eyebrows. He was talking about his wife, about her death and about that of his child and for a moment she wondered what his wife had been like.

  ‘One day everything is normal,’ he continued, ‘then the next day, everything changes in a heartbeat, everything you know has gone or has changed and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

  Kate was all too aware that what he was saying was true. His eyes once again sparkled with tears and Kate knew that he was hurting inside, but also realised that he wouldn’t allow the tears to fall.

  ‘Could I ask you a really personal question?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Kate answered just a little too quickly. Placing her wine back down on the table she looked down and away from Ben’s eyes. She could sense that Ben was thinking before speaking. This could only mean that he wasn’t sure of the question he was about to ask. His hand gripped tightly onto hers, sending sparks flying up her fingers.

  ‘Kate, do you love your boyfriend?’

  ‘W-w-why would you ask that?’ Kate was shocked.

  Ben stared into her eyes. ‘Do you?’

  Kate thought of the day that Rob had come into her life. A chance meeting at the hospital after a visit with Eve. Rob’s car had been parked next to hers in the car park. He’d been so charming, so caring and she’d felt an excitement that she hadn’t felt since before the accident. But then he’d changed and she had no idea why. She stared into space. The question should have been an easy one to answer, so why couldn’t she? Kate stared at the table and just to prove to herself that all was not bad, she tried to come up with a recent good time. There had to be something he’d done or said that would have made her happy.

  She looked up at Ben, and a tear slipped down her face.

  ‘Kate, you are unhappy. I saw the way you reacted in the library, when he sent you that text. You deserve more.’

  Kate stared at their hands. They were still held together. His thumb gently moved back and forth over hers in a slow rhythmic movement.

  Ben was right. She did deserve more. But who would want her? Who would ever fancy her, looking like this? She wiped away her tears; there was no point in crying, not any more.

  ‘How about you, Ben?’ she asked. ‘Don’t you deserve more?’

  Ben released her hand. He picked up his drink and sipped at the wine, then held a hand up to the waiter, who promptly delivered another bottle of red to the table.

  ‘I know I need to move on, Kate. I loved my wife, so much. We were having a baby. We were going to be a family and then suddenly, it was all gone. It’s taken me four years to realise that she isn’t coming back.’ He leaned back in his chair, his hands now clasped tightly around his glass, and Kate wondered if he’d continue.

  ‘I know you said it was meningitis. But … what happened?’ she finally asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I’d been working away and when I got home, she was there, on the floor. I rang the ambulance, but it was all too late. One day we were happy, we were looking forward to being a family, and the next, everything changed, my whole world ended and I was left alone, with nothing.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ Kate said sadly. She picked up the bottle of wine and began to refill the glasses. She needed something to concentrate on other than Ben’s shaking voice and hands. The volcanic sparkle in his eyes had turned to a deep and profound sadness.

  ‘Don’t say anything. You’re the first person other than my immediate family that I’ve spoken to about it for years. If I’m honest, it’s a bit of a relief to say it out loud.’ He looked into the depths of his glass.

  ‘Does this place serve food? I’m sure they do and I’m starving,’ Kate said, changing the subject. ‘Let me find that waiter.’

  ‘It’s eight o’clock,’ someone shouted across the bar. The words made Kate look at her watch. She knew that her mother would be waiting and stamping her feet all around the cottage, ready to throw her another insult the moment she walked through the door. But she’d been so happy, chatting to Ben, they’d both been laughing about nothing in particular and, for just a few hours, their problems had been pushed to one side. The wine had flowed, the food had been served and Ben had continued to hold her hand.

  ‘Look, I’m so sorry, I really have to go. I guess I have to face my mother, that’s if she didn’t bugger off to Eve’s like I told her to,’ she said as she stood up abruptly and began to dig in her bag for some money.

  Ben shook
his head and placed his hand over hers. ‘Don’t, it’s on me.’

  Kate looked up and into his eyes, ‘Oh, okay. I’ll see you in the morning then and … thank you.’

  ‘Actually, I’ll get you a taxi.’ Ben jumped to his feet, but it was Kate’s turn to shake her head.

  ‘It’s fine. There’s a taxi rank just up the road. I’ll tell them to send you the bill.’ She laughed, winked, grabbed her bag and began to walk away.

  ‘Seven o’clock in the morning. Don’t be late.’ Ben tapped his watch face.

  Kate turned as she reached the door. Through the crowd she could see Ben was still standing, watching her leave; his imploring eyes had followed her out. It was then that she realised that he needed her friendship and company so much more than her mother did.

  A split second later she found herself sitting back at the table with Ben, indicating to the barman for another bottle of wine.

  ‘I thought you had to go?’

  ‘Well,’ Kate replied, ‘I do, but I have a choice. I could go home, face Mother and be in trouble for being late. Or I could stay here with you for another hour and still get in trouble for being late. So, I choose to stay here.’ She paused. ‘That’s if you want me to?’

  She knew she was testing the water. Knew she was treading on dangerous ground. But Ben flashed her a smile, and poured the wine. Which told her everything she needed to know.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Isobel fastened her diamond belcher chain and gazed over her appearance in the tall full-length mirror. She wore a long white dress with inlaid diamante jewels that dropped into a deep cowl to reveal her flawless, bare back.

  ‘Are you ready for your guests, my darling?’ Giancarlo asked as he moved behind her, seductively and repeatedly kissing the back of her neck. His six-foot frame towered over her petite body as she slowly turned, allowing her lips to meet his.

  ‘Absolutely. I love dinner parties,’ she replied, giggling playfully as she picked up her bracelet and held it out to him. ‘Would you fasten this for me, Giancarlo, my love?’

  ‘Of course I will. Now, who is attending tonight?’ His voice was strong and his accent held a soft Italian note. Isobel breathed in deeply; his aftershave was subtle but rich. It was the smell of money, a scent that she particularly liked.

  ‘Oh, the usual suspects will be here: Roberto, Colin, Martin, Simon and Jason, Luca and your lovely wife, Elena. That makes nine of us in total.’ Isobel turned to preen at herself in the mirror. ‘I’m still never sure why Elena always comes. You know I like to be the centre of attention?’ She pouted as she spoke in the hope that Giancarlo would notice.

  ‘Well, my darling, because it balances the room. You wouldn’t want to be the only woman, would you? Besides, Elena is jealous of you. Inviting her hopefully allays any suspicions she may have and it makes her happy.’ His hands rested on her shoulders and she felt the firm squeeze of his fingers.

  ‘Maybe I should take another lover then, you know, to balance my side of the room.’ Isobel liked Giancarlo’s company, but since her husband’s death, and unbeknown to Giancarlo, she’d been known to enjoy the company of many men. She got a thrill from the chase, of seeing how many men she could lure, but the chase had become boring. She needed a new game, a new challenge and she thought about Roberto. She’d already seduced Giancarlo’s nephew, Luca, but he was too easy, a puppy dog with an insatiable attitude to please. His other nephew, Roberto, he was new blood. And if she wished, she knew that she could use him to make Giancarlo jealous. She looked over her shoulder to where he stood, and saw the anger in his face.

  ‘My dear, you will take another lover at your peril.’ He turned and walked towards the bed. ‘No one touches what is mine, you know that. Not without paying dearly.’

  Isobel sighed. Why shouldn’t she have some fun? He had Elena to go home to, who did she have? Her life over the past two years had been hell and she didn’t see why she should be the only one to suffer. Her own marriage had been ruined, her husband killed on their own doorstep and now she was determined to have some fun.

  She thought through her options. She’d make her intentions known early and steal Roberto away from the dinner on the pretence of showing him her new gym; the equipment had arrived a few days before and still sparkled with a newness that she knew Roberto would love.

  She looked across at Giancarlo. She’d loved him so much, she’d given him her heart, but he didn’t seem to love her back. If he did, he’d have left Elena by now, but every night he went home to her, and much to her disapproval, Giancarlo always brought her to the dinner parties. Isobel knew that it was time for her to move on, but worried about what Giancarlo had meant by ‘at her peril’. Surely he wouldn’t do anything? Not when he pushed Elena in her face every day. Maybe being with another man in front of him would teach him a lesson. Besides, she’d been intending to seduce Roberto for the past year, whether Giancarlo liked it or not.

  Was it time to end it? To start again? After all, why keep the relationship going? Why didn’t she take up with Roberto or Luca on a more permanent basis? Or was she staying for the drug money? Selling the drugs was the only thing that still kept her near to Giancarlo. But did she want to still be near him? That was the question. She didn’t take the drugs herself, she didn’t need the income, not anymore, so why not leave this life completely? Find herself a good man, with a real job? She nodded to herself, knowing that it would be the right thing to do. After all, drugs had been such a huge part of her life. Her husband had been a dealer, and Giancarlo his boss. From the first moment they’d met, Giancarlo had immediately chased her. He’d made his intentions known. But she’d been a faithful wife, madly in love with her husband, and it had only been after Scott’s sudden death that she’d allowed Giancarlo to finally seduce her.

  Giancarlo stretched out on the bed. Isobel watched as he lay against the pillow, lifting his hands behind his head, his eyes looking her up and down in a possessive and demanding way. He was a businessman, a man who always got his own way and Isobel had often wondered how far he’d really go. Word had it that he really did kill to get what he wanted and she considered the fact that he could have been responsible for Scott’s death. Could he have wanted her enough to remove his only competition? And if he’d done that to Scott, would he do it again?

  She flashed a smile at Giancarlo. For now she had to keep him sweet and as she walked towards him, she slipped off her diamante shoes and locked the door. Her bare feet sank luxuriously into the plush cream carpet as she walked toward him lifting her dress, and with a wiggle of her fingers, she allowed her underwear to drop unceremoniously to the floor. She knew the response that Giancarlo would give and he didn’t disappoint. He grabbed her hand and pulled her roughly down and onto the bed.

  ‘Shush, the caterers are downstairs. They’ll hear.’

  Giancarlo laughed. ‘The caterers are staff, Isobel. They’re paid staff.’ He paused, his lips travelling down her neck. ‘You can do what you like in your own bedroom, can’t you?’ Again, his voice was strong and demanding and not for the first time that day, Isobel melted into his arms.

  Chapter Twenty

  Darkness outside had dropped and Isobel paraded herself up and down the dining room, her hand constantly touching and rearranging. Table centres and candlesticks had to be central, equally spaced and the silver cutlery had to be perfectly polished. A speck of dust caught her eye on a side plate and she wafted it away with her finger and tutted.

  ‘Waiter, the plates. These are dirty, besides I prefer the ones with the gold edge. Change them for me.’ She spoke with authority and watched as a young waiter scurried around the room, collecting side plates and removing them from the table.

  ‘And tell that girl, the young one, to come and check the cutlery. I’ve already repositioned three knives. I shouldn’t have to, that’s why I pay you.’ She walked over to the antique sideboard, picked up a decanter and poured a large brandy into a crystal glass. ‘My guests will be here in ten minu
tes, people, you need to hurry. Is the soup ready?’

  ‘Yes, madam, it’s all ready to go.’ A shout came through from the next room and Isobel pulled a face.

  ‘Then it’s ready too early. Make sure it doesn’t split.’ She once again tutted and walked out of the room and into the hallway where she paced up and down, waiting for the men. They were always prompt, always wearing dinner suits and always ready to do business, which was why she entertained them. Their purchases would make her money and, above everything else, she liked to be rich.

  ‘Ah, there you are, my darlings,’ she said as she opened the door to Simon, Jason and Martin. ‘Did you all travel together? How very sensible. Simon, you look amazing, I love the waistcoat, is it new?’ She kissed each of them on the cheek, and then stepped back, allowing them to enter in turn. ‘We have champagne and canapes in the library,’ she said as another two cars pulled into the driveway. ‘If you’d like to go through, I’ll join you in a moment.’

  The guests all stood around the library chatting and drinking champagne. The soft lighting complemented the carved oak bookcases, which stretched from floor to ceiling, full of books that Isobel had never read. This room had been Scott’s, a room where he’d come to do business, and had been the room where he’d been sitting just moments before answering the door to his death.

  ‘Why is he late?’ Giancarlo whispered to Isobel. He stood, beautifully dressed in his tuxedo, with glass in hand, and Elena by his side.

  Isobel once again counted the guests. There was still one to arrive. She once again checked her watch, and noted that Roberto was already ten minutes late. ‘I have no idea, he’s normally so punctual.’ A waiter appeared at the door; he looked worried and beckoned to Isobel, who reluctantly left Giancarlo’s side and walked across to where the waiter stood.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s the soup, Mrs Reed. I’m so sorry but if we don’t serve it soon, it’ll split and Chef is pacing around in the kitchen with steam coming out of his ears. He said for me to say that if you don’t go to the dining room soon, he’d be having to make a new one.’ It was obvious that the young waiter had been sent to relay the message, like a lamb to the slaughter. He didn’t know quite what to say and for a moment Isobel felt sorry for him. His whole body trembled with fear of what she’d say next. She thought for a moment before speaking.