The Secrets Women Keep

by Fanny Blake

  Together they went out on to the west-facing terrace, where five canvas chairs were arranged round a low table that held bowls of pistachios, salted almonds and fat garlicky black olives. The sky looked like a child’s painting, with long, low streaks of cloud coloured the brashest red and bronze that Eve could remember seeing. If one of her illustrators replicated this, she would have asked them to tone it down for reality’s sake.

  ‘Have you cleared the air with Daniel?’ she asked Anna, quietly enough to prevent anyone inside from hearing.

  ‘Not exactly. I’m waiting for him to sort out this crap with Jess and Adam, then I’m going in for the kill. Only joking,’ she reassured, on seeing Eve’s despairing expression. ‘In fact, Mum’s in a better mood since Jess called.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘She’s coming with the gorgeous Dylan, but they’re leaving the OAP in Cornwall. But he is older,’ she added, seeing that Eve was about to object to her poking fun at Adam’s age. ‘And she’s insisted that she talk to Dad about it tomorrow morning. So once that’s all sorted out and they’re on their way here, it’ll be my turn.’ She concentrated on tucking her T-shirt into her waistband before tightening the wide woven belt by a notch.

  How Eve suddenly sympathised with Rose. Her niece had to be one of the most selfish young women she’d ever met. Delightful, but selfish. But before she had time to remonstrate, they heard Terry’s voice. At the cue, Anna rushed back inside, where Eve could see her mixing the cocktails. She turned away, leaning on the balustrade to admire the magnificent view.

  ‘Happy birthday.’ Rose was beside her, handing her a glass. ‘Cheers. Now – presents.’ From under one of the chairs, she pulled a parcel so beautifully wrapped and beribboned that it was almost a shame to open it. When Eve said as much, Anna stepped forward.

  ‘Open this first, then.’ She handed over a small package wrapped in newspaper.

  Eve tussled with the Sellotape until the paper fell away to reveal a small box, inside which she found a dark pink resin ring with a squared-off top, one that would look wonderful on Anna, but on Eve? The words mutton and lamb chimed loudly.

  ‘I love it.’ She slipped it on to her finger, where it sat uncomfortably beside her more traditional jewellery. Out of the corner of her eye she noted Terry’s shake of the head, while the others made polite admiring noises. Anna looked pleased.

  Eve turned to Rose and Daniel’s gift. Inside was a pair of pyjamas. ‘Perfect.’ She kissed Rose’s cheek, then Daniel’s. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Hard to get my hand all the way up those legs,’ Terry murmured as he passed over his own gifts, apparently unaware of the embarrassed silence that followed his remark.

  ‘Uncalled for, darling,’ said Eve tightly as she accepted his offerings. If she could have kicked his ankle with no one noticing, she would have. Why did he feel he had to make out he was some kind of rutting stallion when nothing could have been further from the truth? The answer’s in the question, she pointed out to herself.

  ‘Just a joke. Didn’t mean to offend anyone.’ He sat down, sheepish, as Eve slid the wrapping paper off the larger of the two.

  She opened the box inside to find the sort of complicated corkscrew that resembled a miniature instrument of torture, the enclosed birthday card carrying a picture of the Houses of Parliament. Looking up at him, she understood precisely the intended message. A subtle reminder of the government guidelines on drinking. She refused to rise to the bait, but instead said, ‘Thanks. Just what we need.’ And the moment had gone.

  Inside the other package was a pair of aquamarine stud earrings. Terry had always had an eye for earrings. On special occasions over the years he never failed to find something stylish to add to her collection. This had become so much of a ritual between them that she would have been disappointed if it didn’t happen. She turned them in her hand before getting up and kissing his cheek. ‘They’re beautiful, darling. Thank you.’

  Terry reached up to touch her face, but missed as Eve turned away to the glass door, using her reflection to guide in the earrings. Instead, he scratched his head as if that was what he’d meant to do all along.

  Shortly afterwards, Rose and Anna disappeared inside to put the finishing touches to the meal, accepting Terry’s offer to lay the table. Left with Daniel, Eve began to relax. It wasn’t often the two of them found themselves alone together, but when they did, she was aware of the ease that still existed between them. She wondered if he felt it too.

  ‘You don’t need to be so harsh on him,’ Daniel said, sipping his drink. ‘He’s not a bad man.’

  The reprimand made Eve more guilty than ever. ‘I know that. I do. My husband, your brother-in-law. How did we end up here?’ She got up and went to the edge of the terrace.

  ‘You married him, remember? For better, for worse.’

  As if she needed reminding.

  ‘Of course. But when I think back to when you and I . . .’ She stopped as he shook his head.

  ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘It’s a long time ago. You went off with Will and I met Rose and . . .’

  ‘And you haven’t looked back.’ She finished the sentence for him, a game they used to play when they were young.

  ‘And you have?’

  ‘Not really.’ If she wasn’t careful, this conversation could take them into dangerous waters. ‘But Will made it so hard.’ Despite everything that had happened since, she would never forget the evening she came back from work to find her first husband outside their flat, his car bursting with his belongings, his face more serious than she could remember seeing it before. ‘I’m leaving you.’ That was all he had said. Later she discovered that he had tossed two years of marriage into the air because at a school reunion he had met the girlfriend he’d had before her. They’d slept together that same night, while Eve was visiting an author in Manchester with her then boss. At the time she had watched in disbelief as he had driven off. She remembered exactly the numbness she had felt as she went indoors, the grief she had endured when she saw the space where his pillow belonged. His taking that seemed so final. And the pain she had suffered until, a year or so later, Rose had introduced her to her brother, Terry.

  ‘Do you know what he’s doing now?’

  ‘No idea. Once we’d divorced, there was no need. And I didn’t want to, once I’d started seeing Terry. And you two were so supportive.’ Rose and Dan had sided with her and, as far as she knew, had never contacted Will again. ‘Is Rose OK?’

  ‘Mmm.’ He sounded distracted as he concentrated on spearing an olive. ‘I think so. Why?’

  ‘She’s not herself.’

  ‘It’ll be the girls. Rose worries too much about them – they’re grown up now, for God’s sake.’ He passed across the bowl of olives. ‘These are from our own trees. They’re not bad at all.’ He waited while she took a couple.

  ‘You fathers find it easier to step back.’ Not that Eve was one to talk. She was moving forward into another stage of life at the same time as her children did, even if it occasionally made her look as if she didn’t care. If only Rose could do something of the same. ‘Ouch!’ She slapped at her bare calf and scratched at the skin. ‘Bastard mosquito. I’m drowning in Deet and it doesn’t make any difference.’

  ‘That’s fathers for you.’ Daniel smiled that smile that would melt an ice floe, the one that registered in his dark eyes as well. He stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankle. ‘Awful Neanderthal beasts without a grain of sensitivity in their souls.’ He threw back his head and laughed – a short sharp bark. ‘Oh Evie. If only you knew.’

  There was an immediate one hundred per cent shift in her attention from the bite to Daniel. ‘Knew what?’

  But after a fleeting look of sadness, his face had closed up. ‘Let me get you something for that. Rose’s got a cupboard full of first-aid stuff.’

  ‘Don’t worry.’ She was anxious to get him sitting again, to get him talking. She’d known there was something wrong. ‘It’s not that bad. Rea
lly.’

  ‘Well, another drink anyway. I know I could do with one.’ He took her glass.

  ‘Oh, good timing.’ Rose appeared in the doorway, undoing her apron and seeing their empty glasses. ‘Your dinner is served.’ She gave a mock curtsey. ‘Come through.’

  Frustrated by having such a promising conversation curtailed, Eve rallied and followed them inside, checking that her BlackBerry was in her dress pocket. She’d never be able to eat without the reassurance of knowing that she would be aware of the moment Amy and Rufus broke their separate silences. Whenever that might be.

  8

  The night had closed in around them. Now they were cocooned in the glow from the candle lanterns on the table. At one of the outside lights over the doors, an angry hornet buzzed. What had been a pleasant breeze during the day was stronger now, wilder, as if a storm might be in the offing at last. Rose was grateful that the meal had gone as well as it had, given the undercurrents swirling between them, and relieved that no one had commented on her lack of appetite. Every mouthful had been an effort. But everyone had put aside selfish concerns to give Eve a special birthday supper. The mood was relaxed, the conversation as easy as it could be between old friends. The ravioli and sage was followed by grilled pork served Italian style with a slice of lemon, then salad and cheese. Daniel kept their glasses topped up with a regular stream of crisp Soave or smoky Chianti. The candle-studded brownies were the hit of the evening.

  ‘What the . . .’ Eve leaned forward to examine the candles, fumbling for her glasses, then laughed until there were tears in her eyes.

  Anna sat beaming with satisfaction.

  ‘I’ve got to blow them out before they melt completely. They’re too good to let go.’

  ‘A blow job – how appropriate.’ There was a moment of silence before Terry laughed just a little too loudly at his own joke. Anna and Daniel echoed him in a half-hearted and dutiful way, while Rose managed a thin smile to cover her habitual despair at her brother’s schoolboy humour. None of them wanted to spoil the atmosphere.

  Eve said nothing, but her face said everything.

  Rose saw the danger signals, the tilt of the head, the flash of the eye, the reaching for the glass, and tried to step in. ‘I thought we might go to Lucca for the Festival of Lights.’

  But too late.

  ‘Why do you always have to lower the tone?’ Eve’s voice was flat, cold.

  ‘It was a joke among friends.’ Terry looked around for support, his face reddening. ‘That’s all.’

  ‘Look at them, Terry. They’re not laughing. That’s the sort of remark that might go down well in your office, but not here.’

  Suddenly the wind blew colder. Rose buttoned up her cardigan. How could she defuse this?

  ‘Easy, Eve. It’s fine. It’s us.’ Dan picked up the empty white wine bottle. ‘Shall we have coffee now as well?’

  ‘It’s not fine, Dan. We all put up with it, have done for years, but sometimes I get sick of it.’

  Terry was looking embarrassed, his eyes fixed on the red paper napkin that he was twisting under the table. ‘Don’t make a scene,’ he muttered.

  Their marital spats were familiar enough, but as Rose watched her brother’s embarrassment and his wife’s icy fury, she felt hopelessly divided between the two of them. When she’d introduced them, Eve on the rebound from Will, she’d never intended to play Cupid. Back then, as his big sister, she’d viewed Terry’s taste in women with despair. The few of his girlfriends she’d met had always been of a type: dolly birds who were pretty, giggly and monosyllabic. But to her and Daniel’s amazement, he and Eve had hit it off immediately. The slightly older woman. They always had something to talk about, and if they weren’t deep in conversation, they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other. David Bowie, the Rolling Stones, Jim Callaghan, cricket and pear drops provided a little of the obvious cement that bound them together at first. She had to hand it to Terry: he had never been a stereotypical accountant, although his occasional social gaffes had sometimes made her cringe. She’d sometimes wondered whether he fell somewhere on the autistic spectrum. If he did, it wasn’t enough of a somewhere for their parents to have noticed or to have tried to do anything about it. People tended not to so much then. Not that they had noticed much where their two children were concerned. Instead, Terry blundered through life without ever offending anyone enough to cause him serious trouble. Except, of course, Eve.

  ‘I’ll do that, Dan. You get another bottle.’ Rose pushed back her chair. ‘Anna, could you help?’ If they all left Eve and Terry alone for a moment, things might simmer down. That was the usual nature of their disputes – quick to blow and quick to go.

  ‘Sure.’ With a rattle of bangles, Anna stood and reached out for the wooden pepper grinder and the bowl of sea salt that were still centre table. Her hair fell across her face, hiding her expression.

  In the midst of this flurry of activity, Terry and Eve sat frozen. Neither of them could speak without embarrassing themselves further. Then, breaking the silence, came the shrill ring of Eve’s phone. Thankful for the distraction, she answered the call despite Terry’s despairing shake of his head.

  She held up a hand to excuse herself as she turned away from the table to have the conversation. ‘What? What did she say?’ Her voice grew louder, her forehead creased into a frown. ‘Hang on just a moment.’ She looked at Rose, just returned with the coffee cups, and made a gesture to say she couldn’t understand what was being said to her. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to take this.’ She crossed to the end of the terrace to stand in the shadows, where she could talk more privately. At the table, the others sat down again, Terry apologising, the others reassuring him. Snatches of Eve’s conversation blew their way and they pretended not to hear.

  ‘What do you mean, retire? . . . That’s absurd . . . What? Say that again . . . Of course I’m not . . .’

  As time went on, the others gave up any pretence and sat transfixed, trying to follow the threads of Eve’s conversation. ‘She’s doing what? . . . But I can’t, I’m here . . . You’re breaking up . . . Of course she knows that . . .’

  Eventually they heard clearly, ‘Oh shit! The bloody signal’s gone.’

  She returned to the table, sat down heavily, put her elbows on the table and her head in her hands.

  Rose was the first to speak. ‘Something wrong?’ she asked, aware that that was likely to be the understatement of the evening.

  Eve let out a dramatic groan. ‘Only everything.’

  ‘For God’s sake,’ muttered Terry.

  Rose’s heart sank as Eve rounded on him. ‘For God’s sake what? This could be very difficult for me. Apparently Amy’s been telling my clients that I’m retiring.’

  ‘Retiring?’ Rose repeated. The thought of her sister-in-law giving up her agency before she was carried out of the office in a box was inconceivable. ‘You never said.’

  ‘No! Because I’m not. As if. Why would she do that?’

  Terry sat and stared up at the stars, as if he couldn’t begin to imagine and wasn’t much interested.

  Hearing Eve’s irate intake of breath and fearing another outburst at her brother, Rose went inside to get the coffee.

  ‘There must be a misunderstanding.’ Daniel was standing behind Eve. He put a consoling hand on her back as he refilled her glass. ‘No one would mistake you for an almost-pensioner. That’s ridiculous.’

  ‘I should bloody hope not.’ Eve sat upright, eyes blazing. ‘Apparently Mary Mackenzie’s pissed off because I haven’t got her the sort of deal she thinks she deserves. She told Belinda, another of my clients, that Amy told her I was signing off on the agency. Belinda’s just phoned me to see if it’s true. In fact, I asked Amy to look after Mary – big mistake, probably – but that was as far it goes. Oh God. I should be there to sort this out. I should never have trusted her.’

  ‘Then why don’t you go home? You might as well be there anyway, the amount of time you spend on that thing.’
Terry gestured at her BlackBerry.

  ‘Thanks for your unwavering support, Terry.’ She spun the phone in slow circles on the tabletop as she thought. ‘Actually, you know what? If that’s how much you want me to be here, I think I bloody well will.’

  ‘Will what?’ Rose returned, pot of coffee in hand, and took her place at the table.

  ‘Get a flight back tomorrow. I ought to be able to change my ticket.’

  ‘Eve, you can’t.’ Rose couldn’t keep the alarm out of her voice. ‘You’ll miss Jess and Dylan.’

  Daniel turned to look at her, an eyebrow raised in question, just as the first roll of thunder sounded in the distance.

  ‘And you’ve only just got here,’ added Anna, without breaking her concentration on rolling a cigarette. She glanced at them all as she licked down the length of the Rizla, stuck the paper together then put the roll-up on the table by her tobacco pouch.

  ‘Let’s all calm down.’ Daniel pushed his specs back up the bridge of his nose. ‘Aren’t you being a bit hasty? Decisions should be slept on. In the morning you can use my study and the landline to sort out whatever’s going on.’

  ‘I can’t sort out anything if the wretched woman won’t answer my emails.’

  ‘Haven’t you tried calling her?’ Anna took her pashmina from where it had slipped off the back of her chair and wrapped it round her bony shoulders before lighting her cigarette.

  ‘Of course not.’ Eve was incensed by the suggestion. ‘Until now we’ve always emailed when I’ve been away. We only ever talk if there’s an emergency.’

  ‘What do you call this then?’ Anna looked mystified as she blew a long stream of smoke into the night. ‘Sounds like one to me. I’d call her.’

  ‘I think you should stay out of this, Anna.’ The clink of the jug against the coffee cups betrayed Rose’s shaking hand.

  ‘Don’t talk to me as if I’m ten! I’ve as much a right to an opinion as anyone else around this table.’ Self-expression and assertiveness: sometimes alarming qualities that had been drilled into her during those expensive therapy sessions. Rose wished she hadn’t spoken. But as the whole edifice of the happy family holiday finally crumbled, she’d reacted without thinking.