The Secrets Women Keep

by Fanny Blake

  ‘Easy, you two.’

  The feel of Daniel’s soothing hand on her thigh was like a burn. Rose twisted her legs away from his touch, knocking one of the cups and saucers on to the floor, where they smashed, rivulets of black coffee running into dark gullies between the tiles. As she turned from him, she caught the bewilderment in his eyes. For a second, she wished she’d controlled her reaction, then she remembered. Miss. Love. Come back. ‘We can sort this out without you interfering,’ she said sharply.

  His puzzlement deepened, then he shrugged. ‘All right. I’ll get something to clear this up with, then.’

  Eve was on her feet, having missed their brief exchange, making her way round the table. ‘Anna’s quite right. I should call her. If she thinks she can put her feet under my desk while I’m away, she’s got another think coming. Ouch!’ She sat down heavily beside Rose, lifting up her bare foot with one hand and examining it. A thin stream of blood ran between her toes.

  ‘Oh Eve, I’m so sorry.’ Rose bent over to see the injury. ‘Don’t move – I’ll get you a plaster.’

  Squatting beside them, Daniel was picking up the scattered pieces of pottery. The way he moved told Rose how hurt he was by her dismissal. The knowledge gave her a shaming stab of pleasure.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ he volunteered. ‘I’m going in for a cloth anyway.’

  While he disappeared inside, Rose looked closely at Eve’s foot. ‘It’s only a tiny cut.’

  Eve scratched crossly at a new mosquito bite on her ankle. ‘Don’t worry about it, really. But I must talk to Amy.’ She pulled her injured foot from Rose’s grip. Making the call, she jiggled her right leg, impatient for Amy to answer. After a few seconds she returned her BlackBerry to the table. ‘She’s not picking up. She must be deliberately fielding my calls.’

  ‘She’s more likely to be out.’ Rose was desperate to restore the earlier atmosphere of the evening.

  ‘Mmm. More likely she’s up to something. Plotting.’ Eve reached across the table for her drink as Daniel re-emerged with a bowl of water with a whiff of disinfectant, a flannel and a packet of sticking plasters.

  ‘Don’t be so suspicious,’ Rose countered. ‘There’s probably a perfectly simple explanation.’

  But she could see that Eve’s thought process was speeding down its own track. Nothing was going to stop it. ‘She couldn’t be planning to set up on her own, could she? Taking some of my clients with her?’ She spoke slowly, as if she was thinking out loud as the idea took root.

  ‘She wouldn’t.’ Rose was shocked that Eve would even consider her close colleague capable of such a thing.

  ‘You always see the best in people. That’s one of your great gifts.’ Eve cleaned the cut, took a plaster from the packet and stuck it between her big toe and the next one.

  ‘Not always.’ They’d forgotten about Anna, who had been silent till now. The candlelight danced on her face, exaggerating its angles and planes, making her look thinner than ever. She sat with her coffee, picking at the remains of her brownie, covering her plate with crumbs, smoking. In a gesture of defiance, she stubbed her cigarette out on her plate.

  Rose decided to ignore the remark and the cigarette, both calculated to enrage her. Rising to either would only make the evening even worse.

  Beside Anna, Terry was stretched out in his chair, arms behind his head, eyes shut, as if waiting for the evening to resume as normal. She felt like strangling both of them. Why couldn’t they help pull what was left of the party back into shape instead of leaving it to her?

  ‘Whatever she’s doing, you’re not going to be able to sort it out now. It’s too late. So why don’t you give up and enjoy the rest of the evening?’ Daniel suggested as he sat down again.

  ‘I can’t enjoy it now. The bloody woman’s ruined it.’ Eve poured herself another glass of wine. ‘I’m going to have to work out some sort of damage limitation exercise the moment I get back.’

  ‘Please don’t go,’ Rose urged. ‘The holiday won’t be the same without you.’

  ‘Surely you can deal with this from here.’ Dan emptied the Soave into his glass. ‘A few judicious phone calls and a message letting her know that you know what’s been going on.’

  ‘But I don’t,’ insisted Eve. ‘I’ve no idea.’ She pressed a few brownie crumbs on to her finger and licked them off. ‘That’s the trouble with being in contact every hour God sends. I know too much but not enough.’ She closed her eyes with pleasure at the taste of chocolate.

  That makes two of us, reflected Rose, darting an angry glance at Daniel. He was sitting at an angle to the table, legs crossed. Immune to the mosquitoes, he always wore shorts in the evening. Tonight they were paired with a deep blue linen shirt, his chest hair visible in the opening. He was quite still, eyes on her, obviously puzzling over the reason for her shutting him out.

  ‘Well . . . looks like the party’s over.’ Terry stretched his arms into the air so that his striped polo shirt rode up to expose his sunburned stomach. ‘Think I’ll turn in.’

  ‘Just like that? Don’t you have an opinion about Amy or what she’s up to?’ Rose’s impulse to protect her friend finally took over.

  ‘I’m with Daniel.’ He slipped his feet back into his sandals. ‘Things will look different in the morning. They always do.’

  Rose heard Eve’s frustrated tsk and tried again. ‘What about Eve going home early? You don’t really want that, do you?’ Surely he’d come on side to stop her carrying out her threat.

  Terry gave a languid smile, tucking his polo shirt into his trousers. ‘Dear sister, you should know by now that when it comes to the agency, Eve will do exactly as she pleases. That’s one of the reasons it’s been so successful. She doesn’t always do what’s expected.’

  The way he looked at Eve told Rose more than she’d previously appreciated about her brother’s marriage. Whatever their apparent differences, he obviously admired Eve’s business methods and the success she’d achieved.

  ‘Not true, my love,’ interjected Eve bitterly. ‘I play by the rules. And that’s why it’s worked so well. I’m not going to sit back and watch Amy destroy it.’

  ‘If that’s what she’s trying to do.’ Anna took a walking stick that was leaning against the balustrade and walked off the terrace to the nearest fig tree. Raising her arm, she took aim with the stick and hit the nearest branch. She aimed again. Gathering up the fallen figs, she dropped the stick where she stood. ‘Night, all.’

  ‘Think I’ll do the same. Read my book for a bit.’ Terry kissed both Eve and Rose’s cheeks, and took himself off. ‘Sleep on it,’ he advised. ‘I would.’

  An hour later, Rose followed suit. She had stayed up to try to persuade Eve to take Terry and Daniel’s advice, but her sister-in-law was too anxious to listen. In the end, she had given up and left her to look for an available flight home.

  Rose opened the bedroom door quietly, hoping to find Daniel asleep. Instead, the light was on and he was sitting propped up against the antique wooden bedhead. As she came in, the curtains billowed and the window slammed shut in the wind. She went over to secure it as, in the far distance, lightning flashed over the mountains.

  Daniel put down his book and looked over the top of his reading glasses. ‘Well?’

  ‘Well what?’ Rose took off her trousers and hung them up before going to the bathroom. She could hear his voice over the sound of her overly brisk teeth-brushing and the running tap.

  ‘Have I done something to upset you, sweetheart?’ He sounded genuinely perplexed.

  She threw the rest of her clothes into the laundry basket. As she reached for her nightdress on the back of the bathroom door, she noticed a tiny chip of flaking blue paint and picked at it, trying to control the uncontrollable rage that swept through her. Miss. Love. Come back.

  ‘No.’ She bit her lip till her eyes watered as she brushed her hair, then cleaned her face and smoothed in the night cream that cost the equivalent of the national debt and had yet to make any notice
able difference. She was trying to put off for as long as possible the moment when she would have to join him.

  ‘Rose. I know there’s something wrong. I’m not going to sleep until you come out and talk about it.’ Daniel was placating, confident he could talk her round from whatever it was that was upsetting her. He was so good at that.

  She half opened the door, wishing she could vanish from the face of the earth. Or that he would.

  Daniel patted her side of the bed. ‘Come on. You must be as exhausted as I am. All this entertaining. But let’s sort this out.’

  Throughout their years together, Rose had followed to the letter the one piece of parental advice given to her the night before their modest registry office wedding. ‘Never go to bed on an argument if you want a happy marriage,’ her mother had advised from the hardly exemplary bedrock of her own. Well, thought Rose, not this time, Mum. This isn’t something that can be mended that easily.

  ‘Sort it out?’ She heard her voice rising. ‘How can we sort this out?’

  Daniel looked alarmed. This was not what he was expecting – or used to. He ran a hand through his curls, his brow furrowed. ‘What? What are you talking about?’

  ‘I read that text. I read it.’ No! That was not what she had meant to say. But too late.

  ‘What text? What are you talking about?’ But as his hand dropped from his head to the bed, she could see that he knew.

  ‘You know bloody well which one. The one I brought out to you at the pool yesterday. “Miss you. Love you. Come back soon.” ’ Her voice was a shrill imitation of another woman’s. ‘That one.’

  She took a breath, feeling her heart pounding in her chest, watching his face change, the light fade in his eyes. He seemed to deflate in front of her. But it was too late to take back her words, however much she didn’t want to have this out now. She didn’t want another shadow cast over everyone’s holiday, over their marriage. If only the clocks would wind back to the time before she’d picked up his phone in mistake for hers. But it was too late. The words were out.

  Despite his tan, his face had paled. He sat alone in their bed, looking as if he’d been turned to stone. ‘You did?’ He spoke so softly that she could barely hear him.

  ‘By mistake,’ she justified herself. Perhaps this was all a misunderstanding after all. ‘I thought it was my phone.’

  He gave a short rueful laugh. ‘I should have taken it with me.’ He swung his legs out of bed and picked up his glasses.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Rose watched, astonished, as he made towards the door. He took his dressing gown from the row of heart-shaped coat hooks. ‘You can’t just walk out.’ She ran across the room, and grabbed a handful of his pyjama lapel. ‘We’ve got to talk.’ His reaction could mean only one thing: the realisation of her worst fears.

  ‘I can’t right now. I’m sorry.’ He yanked the fabric out of her hands.

  Changing tactics, she dodged behind him and stood with her back pressed against the door, one hand on the latch, refusing to let him by. ‘You can’t,’ she insisted. ‘Who is she? Who is “S”?’ To her fury, she realised she was crying, the tears blurring her vision, though not enough to prevent her seeing him flinch at the mention of the letter.

  ‘Shh.’ He reached out a hand to her, tentative. ‘Please don’t cry.’

  ‘Don’t shh me.’ Her fist banged against the door to emphasise each word. ‘Just tell me. You owe me that.’

  ‘I can’t talk to you when you’re so upset.’

  She had never seen Daniel look so old. Even through her tears, his face was drawn, the bags under his eyes looked fuller, his jaw less defined, the lines deeper. Despite his height, he seemed to have shrunk to half the man he had been only minutes before.

  ‘I’m not upset,’ she insisted, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. ‘I’m angry. Really angry. I wasn’t going to say anything until the others had gone, but now I have, and I wish I hadn’t. But I do want to know the truth. I want to know that it’s not too late.’

  ‘It’s complicated.’ His voice was level, but she didn’t recognise it. ‘But you must believe me, it doesn’t change what I feel about you.’

  ‘But it might change how I feel about you,’ she gulped, with tears streaming down her cheeks.

  ‘Rose, trust me, please.’ He removed her hand from the latch. ‘I’m going to sleep next door tonight. We will talk, but not now. Not with everyone here. Not when you’re like this and it’s so late. I never meant to hurt you. You know I wouldn’t do that. I’m not proud of what’s happened, but I will make it up to you somehow. I promise. It’s not what you think.’

  ‘What do you mean, it’s not what I think? What is it then? Daniel, you can’t . . .’ Stunned by his refusal to talk to her, she hesitated as he opened the door.

  From downstairs, the unmistakable click of the latch on the study door echoed through the stillness of the house. Eve. She was the only one of them still up. Could she have overheard? Horrified by the idea of their private argument being shared, Rose took a step back into the room, giving Daniel the opportunity to leave it. He turned, one finger on his lips, and tiptoed next door.

  This couldn’t be happening. The shock of his walking away from her was as much of a blow as his betrayal. There was no question in her mind now that that was what this was. The temptation to go after him was almost irresistible, but trying to make him talk when he didn’t want to would only make him dig in his heels. Having been overheard by Eve was humiliating enough. She didn’t want to make matters worse by enraging him.

  Sitting on their bed, she mopped her eyes with a corner of the sheet and blew her nose on a bit of old tissue she found under her pillow. Her head was spinning, making coherent thought impossible. What had just happened between them? What had she missed? They only ever slept apart if one of them was ill. ‘It’s not what you think.’ What could that mean? As the rain began to beat against the windows, she fell back, eyes wide open, staring at the old-fashioned ceiling fan, trying to make sense of things.

  During what seemed one of the longest nights of her life, Rose lay alternately weeping into her pillow then trying to work out what Daniel could have meant, why he hadn’t held up his hands and confessed. But ‘never apologise, never explain’ was one of his guiding rules in life. And until now, he had never needed to. She had always trusted him completely. In fact, they’d even joked together after parties where women had flirted with him. In her eyes, he had been the perfect husband.

  How could this have happened? She went through the previous months, looking for clues, but finding nothing. Dan’s behaviour hadn’t changed. He’d been busy, spent time in the Arthur, the hotel he had just opened in Edinburgh, with occasional visits to Trevarrick when he wasn’t in his London office at the Canonford. When he’d spoken to her, at least twice a day, there had been no hint that anything unusual had happened. If it had, she would have known. She would have heard a change in his voice. She knew him too well. They had been looking forward to Italy together . . . as always. She imagined Daniel lying awake on the other side of the wall, and could only hope that he was as tormented as her, and that sleep wouldn’t come easy for him either. He would have to talk to her the next day. She would make sure they found a moment.

  9

  Eve was up early the next morning, planning her last day in the sun. An early-morning swim would banish the slight headache that hovered behind her right eye. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she wrestled on her ‘comfy control’ swimsuit. ‘Eight pounds lighter in eight seconds’ boasted the ad. How anyone got the damn thing on that quick was beyond her. With a final tug she got it over her bust and slipped her left arm through the one armhole.

  Throwing open the doors of the stables, she stood there disappointed. Instead of the blue sky and the heat that they banked on at this time of year – goddammit – she was confronted by a sky thick with grey cloud that obscured the sun completely. Drops of rain shimmered on the pale blue flowers of the
plumbago that grew up by the doorway and on the scorching red geraniums in the pots beside her. Broken twigs and windfalls from the fig tree were strewn across the path where puddles had gathered between the stones. She shivered in the breeze and pulled down the bottom of the suit; despite its body-firming and controlling properties, it did little for her bum. She returned inside to cover-up.

  Terry snuffled and turned in the bed when she tiptoed into the bedroom. To her huge relief, he had been sound asleep by the time she’d finally gone to bed, so they hadn’t had to speak. She had stayed up, determined to change her flight home. Having succeeded, the adrenalin flooding her system meant she was wide awake, so she fired off a few emails to her most precious clients, assuring them that any rumours about her impending retirement were no more than that. She had never been more in the saddle than she was now.

  In the cold light of day, she was annoyed with herself for reacting so precipitously and taking too seriously what were probably only Chinese whispers. She began to wonder whether she had been too hasty in changing her ticket. Belinda had probably got her wires crossed in that other-worldly way she had. But Terry had wound her up, making her overreact. Too late now.

  As she took a change of clothes from the wardrobe, the metal hangers rattled, waking Terry, who rolled on to his back. His arm emerged from under the sheet, then fell across her side of the bed. ‘C’m ’ere.’

  Eve stopped dead. What was he suggesting? Sex? In the morning? In his dreams.

  In the beginning, they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other, but that early passion had given way to babies, years of broken nights, then the morning frenzy of getting children off to school. Once the kids could look after themselves, the two of them had taken to sleeping as long as they could, then leaping out of bed in a rush, anxious about being late for work. The pleasures of early-morning sex had vanished along with their youth. But wasn’t reviving the flagging libido what holidays were for? She took a step towards the bed, quite tempted for once. As she moved, the constricting powers of her swimsuit reminded her of its presence. Its removal would take for ever, killing the moment completely. Suddenly self-conscious, she stopped in her tracks. Instead, she bent over to add her flip-flops to the armful of clothes she was holding.