Bryony nodded and swallowed with an obvious effort. Before bursting out, ‘And then there’s the secret family thing – Mum, what’s been going on?’ Her eyes were as dark and shiny as Galaxy Minstrels. ‘When Dad phoned me to tell me I was, like, so pleased that there was some kind of explanation that meant he wasn’t having a scuzzy affair. And he’d had this mega accident in a helicopter and I got all emotional because he could’ve been killed. But in the next few days I couldn’t stop thinking, and it seemed really strange. It is strange, isn’t it? He’s got this family and he kept us secret from them. I mean, you call them his secret family but I think we were the secret. Is he ashamed of us?’ She discarded the plate on the bedside and it wobbled around in a noisy circle before settling.
Moving up the bed, Diane reached out to stroke Bryony’s pillow-matted curls. ‘I don’t think you need draw that conclusion, darling.’ She searched for a way to soothe her. ‘You have to remember what an underprivileged upbringing Dad had. In those days being poor meant more hardship than it does now. Benefits weren’t plentiful, especially not for single mothers. Granny and Dad did everything humanly possible to keep the family all under one roof. Wendy worked hard but women earned less than men.’ She knew the story by heart; Gareth had chewed over and over his childhood until his words ceased to have an impact.
But, for the first time for years, she felt touched by those old troubles. She remembered the worn but clean home, furnished with second-hand bargains. And that was the Jenner world well after Wendy and Gareth between them had hauled the family away from the breadline.
‘But we’ve always been poor, Mum, we know about it.’
‘Sweetie, we’ve never been poor! We’ve had to be careful; we’ve not been well off. But we’ve never gone hungry, never been without shelter. How can you say we’re poor when you’ve spent all that time working in Brasilia and seen what real poverty is?
‘I think that when Dad eventually met his father and sister, he didn’t know how to react. When Harold wanted to make things up to Dad financially … well, it was such a huge amount of money to Dad that he literally didn’t know what to do with it. For a while he just kept the knowledge to himself. And,’ she hesitated, ‘he has always thought that I betrayed him by not challenging my father’s will. That I’d cheated him – and you – out of a more comfortable life. He feels that what he did was no worse than what I did.’
Bryony snuggled her head into the crook of Diane’s neck like a child, arm around her waist. ‘That’s a crock of shit. You refused money your parents didn’t want you, or him, or me, to have. I don’t think I would’ve wanted it, either. But he’s lived a double life and kept us hidden so that he could keep all his money to himself.’
Diane couldn’t think of a reply.
‘So that girl is Dad’s half-sister’s daughter?’
‘That’s right. Tamzin. I’m making her a load of clothes.’
‘And her folk are rich, I suppose.’ She wriggled herself into a more comfortable possession of Diane’s shoulder.
‘By our standards.’
‘What’s her problem? Is she anorexic, or something?’
‘Something. Unhealthily thin. She’s suffered from depression for the past couple of years. She’s going through a good patch, at the moment.’
‘Is she … is she George’s girlfriend?’
Diane’s arms tightened around Bryony’s body. Not a frail, bony body, like Tamzin’s, but a warm, fleshy, curvy young woman’s shape, on the verge of plumpness. Diane had always been too busy and too short of money to gain weight but Gareth’s mother had been a size in the last couple of decades of her life. She hoped Bryony wouldn’t go the same way. It would be so bad for her asthma.
‘It looks like it. Although they’ve only just started seeing each other.’ She hesitated. ‘I expect it took you by surprise, her being here.’
‘I felt so stupid. I crashed in expecting a big hug but George had his arms full of her,’ Bryony complained.
Diane continued absently to stroke her daughter’s warm back as she had done a thousand times when shocks, fears and spills had brought Bryony into the sanctuary of her mother’s arms. A lost toy. A scraped knee. Not getting the part of Angel Gabriel. A fickle friend. A fickle boyfriend.
And soon she felt the telltale hot wetness against her neck and the tiny shudders of the body pressed against hers. ‘Darling,’ she murmured. ‘Everything will be fine when you’ve settled back at home and decided what you want to do next. If you don’t want to go back to Brazil, you could probably go to university now.’ Some good might as well come out of Gareth’s money.
Bryony’s sobs only increased.
‘Or travel somewhere else? Or get a job here?’
The rounded shoulders heaved. ‘No I can’t. Oh, Mum – I’m pregnant! The father’s name is Inacio, he doesn’t know about the baby and I don’t know where he is. And one of the other girls says he’s married!’
Chapter Twenty
‘I have to tell you something.’ Diane sank into the visitor’s chair. She had rung Ivan and Melvyn and told them she wanted the evening visitor’s slot, and sorry if it cut across their plans. They hadn’t minded. There was an athletics meeting on Sky Sports.
Gareth’s still-bloated head turned her way, brown and purple in the pouches and furrows as if he’d been washed carelessly. The bladder infection had disappeared almost as suddenly as it had come and the electric fan was gone. ‘I think I’d better go first. It’s quite important.’
What Diane had to say was pretty important, too. But then she remembered Gareth’s text. No doubt he assumed that she’d travelled in specifically to discover what he had on his mind. Not long ago she might have done that very thing.
But now she was different. Deceived, betrayed, hidden; she was the kind of person who made choices unhampered by unearned loyalty. She’d made James her lover and, today, under the guise of taking a walk in the sunshine, she’d called him for the comfort of hearing his voice as she tramped the matted verges, whilst Bryony recovered from her storm of weeping in a hot bath.
James’s voice had been deep and warm and full of pleasure. ‘When can we be together?’
‘Bryony’s home.’ But she couldn’t resist adding, ‘Though I’m planning to go to Cambridge on Wednesday.’
‘I’ll clear my diary. I’ll drive you. I want you.’ His voice was dark and rough, making the hair on the nape of her neck stand up.
I want you sent her giddy; images of them in the back of his car flashing across her mind. The heat, the laughter, the stroking of his hands. ‘I’ll meet you there because I’ll have my car packed with sample garments. I’m seeing a woman who owns a boutique.’
‘Pity. I love having you in my car,’ he said, deadpan.
Her laughter rose up into the sunshine, above the country lane. It was almost an hour before she’d ended the call, hot with joy at the prospect of a few hours with him. She’d hugged the thought to her ever since, dreaming off into space whenever she had five minutes.
‘The most important thing,’ Gareth was saying, reclaiming Diane’s attention, ‘is that I’ve ended things with Stella.’ His pause was heavy with significance.
Diane raised her eyebrows. ‘It’s wonderful how many people do end their affair the instant it becomes untenable to continue.’
He managed to look injured. ‘You don’t think I’m ending it just because I’ve been found out?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s not like that. You’re not looking at it from the right angle. I never realised how much I might hurt you until I saw how it made you feel to discover –’
‘It made me bloody angry,’ Diane interrupted, dispassionately, deciding that now would not be a good time to leap onto her high horse about fidelity. ‘What hurt was that you hid me from your new, wealthy, desirable family and luxuriated alone in your lovely cottage.’ She jumped up and prowled to the window to gaze out of the window at the lawns, conscious of having to inhale the swe
etish disinfectant smell of hospitals instead of fresh cut grass. ‘But none of it’s particularly important at the moment.’
‘Of course it’s important.’ Gareth sounded peevish. He shifted on the bed, pinned by the paraphernalia of his injuries. ‘I realise that I acted badly. Like a child that’s had too many presents on Christmas Day and doesn’t want to share. I realise, I realise.
‘But now it’s all out in the open I feel relieved. You were right – I was paying you back for what happened over your dad’s will.’ His voice dropped. ‘We can start again, move to a nicer place. You can give up your dressmaking.’
Slowly, Diane returned to her seat. Gareth held out his good hand to her but she pretended not to notice. ‘Gareth, you’re insulting my intelligence with this sudden munificence. All that’s important about the money is what it’s made you become. You’re only beating your chest in case I make you share your horrible filthy bank balance.
‘But I can’t worry about what’s left of our marriage right now. I came here to tell you what Bryony told me this morning – because, believe it or not there are things more important than money. Even your money.’
She paused to give him a moment to refocus, to switch his mind to his daughter. ‘Gareth, Bryony’s pregnant. She doesn’t think she’ll be seeing the father again, and she needs both of us on her side for a while. So let’s worry about that, rather than balancing the scales of retribution.
‘That’s what I came to tell you,’ she continued unemotionally, though she saw the colour had drained from his face. ‘The father’s name is Inacio, he’s a Brazilian that Bryony saw for a few weeks. He’s about 27 and, apparently, is “well fit, with black eyes that send you funny”. She fell hard for him. She thought it was the start of something. But he stopped phoning and when she called his mobile he was offhand.
‘It took her a few weeks to realise that she was pregnant. Then somebody told her that Inacio’s married.’
Gareth drank from his spouted cup before he spoke again. ‘Bastard!’ he hissed, a clammy sweat of fury on his forehead. ‘Wait till I get my hands on him, that shit –’ He halted, glancing down at himself, pinned together like a mannequin, plastered into immobility, muscles wasting with disuse. ‘What’s she going to do?’
Diane sat back with a sigh. ‘She won’t contemplate abortion and I think she’s possibly too far on, anyway.’
‘Will she keep it?’
‘I think so. I’ve made her an appointment with Dr Cooke tomorrow. She’ll need to have a check up and be put into whatever the programme is now for pregnant women. Tests and scans.’ Pregnant women. It was only a minute since she’d been her little girl, with merry dark eyes and a giggle that rang out like a xylophone.
‘Is she all right, do you think? She wasn’t herself yesterday but I put it down to tiredness.’ His voice was gruff.
Diane nodded. ‘Anxious, of course, and shocked. But she seems healthy.’
‘I must see her, talk to her. I feel so helpless lying here.’
‘I’ll bring her tomorrow afternoon. She’ll be living with us for the foreseeable future, I think. There’s the money for you to give her a car now, isn’t there? It’s murder living in Purtenon St. Paul without one.’
His face flooded with colour. ‘I’ll arrange to have some transferred to you –’
‘Arrange it with her,’ she said, flatly.
He hesitated. ‘Are you all right for money, Diane? Are you managing?’
A smile crooked her mouth and she gazed at him with curiosity. ‘You’ve lain here with all that money at your fingertips and that’s the first time you’ve bothered asking. Your boss phoned to check I was getting your sick pay, your union rep asked if I’d like to draw from the welfare fund, Harold offered help and Freddy wanted to send me a cheque. Thanks, Gareth, thank you for finally bothering about me but I’m OK. For now, your sick pay’s covering the mortgage and I’m meeting everything else myself. I’ve even got in all the money Trish Warboys and Maria Cuthbert owed.’
Silence. Then, ‘I still love you.’
She made a rude noise. ‘Words are cheap.’
Fresh sweat broke out on his face. ‘We can get through this. I’ll have counselling. Some people don’t cope well when they have a big windfall. They go on the spree. I just did the opposite, that’s all –’
‘How did it happen?’ she interrupted.
‘What?’ The afternoon sun slanted low into his window, making him squint.
‘When Harold got in touch with you. Did he write? Phone? Just turn up one day when I wasn’t there?’
She watched the expressions chase across his face – indecision, guilt, guile. He cleared his throat. ‘A bloke waited outside for me one day. I sent him on his way.’
‘Why?’
He grinned. ‘I thought that Melvyn or Ivan had got in bother with a loan and maybe got a bit creative with my signature and put me down as guarantor. You know how those lads expect my help.’
‘Yes, I do.’ She didn’t smile.
‘Then a letter arrived at our house. It was directly from my father. I was … flabbergasted. Blown away. You can’t imagine – ’
‘Was I there when you read it?’
His eyes flicked left and she knew he was searching for the politically expedient reply. Probably he knew that the wrong answer would ignite her simmering fury. ‘It was a Saturday, you were upstairs in your workroom when the post came. I don’t think I meant not to tell you. But it was unreal. That’s it, honestly – unreal. I didn’t know what to do. He said that the agency believed that I was born to Wendy Jenner and he was likely to be my father. And he would very much like to meet me.
‘I couldn’t get my head round it. Didn’t want to be made a fool of by it turning out to be some crackpot joke.
‘I had to answer a load of questions about Mum’s age, height and colouring and the names of her parents and siblings. I had a meeting with somebody from the agency, then I had a meeting with my father.’ His voice shook. ‘It was at the Great Northern Hotel. You know how swanky that is.’
‘Yes. I haven’t been there since before we were married, of course.’
The eyes dropped again, uncomfortably. She so rarely alluded to the fact that marrying him had sent her finances hurtling downhill as fast as a bob sleigh. ‘We met for dinner. He was there, waiting for me. I was nervous, didn’t know what to expect. I’d bought a new white shirt so that I didn’t feel like a tramp in that swish dining room. I dropped my spoon in my soup and was so concerned with checking my new shirt that I didn’t realise I’d showered his suit. I felt such a berk! The waiter looked at me as if I’d come in on his shoe. But Harold just laughed and told me not to worry.’
‘Did you have blood tests?’ Diane felt a creeping sensation of unreality that Gareth, her husband, could have been living in the same house as her yet keep hidden all these momentous developments in his life. Was she blind? Complacent? Stupid?
‘Yes. Neither of us wanted to find later that we’d believed in something that wasn’t true. Diane, he’s a really good bloke and we get on well.’
‘Yes, he’s a gentleman.’
‘Then he took me to meet Valerie, and we hit it off, too. She took me out in her sports car and up in her helicopter. I mean – a helicopter. My relationship with her is all novelty. Not just the flying, not just that she’s a sister instead of a brother – but because she doesn’t expect me to make her decisions for her.’
‘And it was all just too nice to share?’
He sagged wearily on his pillows, hunted and grumpy. He was being honest(ish) and she was still responding with her sour little comments, not cutting him any slack at all. In a minute he’d lose his temper and ability to apologise and this cautious, uncomfortable conversation would be wasted. Implacable, angry Diane was wearing to deal with. The normal Diane, the one who liked a quiet life, was easier to manipulate. He studied his wife. She looked half her age today in cropped jeans with a red and gold cuff at the bottom. He tho
ught, irrelevantly, that he’d forgotten how blue her eyes were. Blue steel.
But maybe it was time for a controlled offensive. ‘You know how I feel about what you did to me about your parents’ money. And you know what lies are like. Suddenly, I was creating a whole new life for myself. For me. Not for you, not for my brothers or mum.’
‘Nor for your daughter,’ she added, helpfully.
He hesitated. Thought about Bryony and the baby. ‘I’m going to make it up to her.’
‘Put her in your will, do you mean? So she’ll have to wait about 30 years, but if there’s anything left, she’ll get it?’ Diane laughed.
Abruptly, the hold on his temper snapped. ‘Oh, fuck off!’
‘Good idea. I’ll drop Bryony off to see you tomorrow afternoon.’ And she sauntered out of the door, humming.
He seethed out at the sky and the treetops for a long time. It wasn’t fair of her to stroll out on him when he couldn’t chase her!
And … it was worrying that she didn’t seem to give a bugger for his opinion any more. He had never actually wanted his marriage to end or he would’ve ended it. It was just that his feelings for Diane had been coloured for such a long time by resentment.
He sighed, wondering how long it was since he’d had sex with his wife.
See, that was a bit of carelessness, to get out of that habit. Just because he was being nicely looked after by Stella he’d sort of let things slide with Diane during the cold war and, once intimacy had lapsed, it could be bloody awkward to make it routine and natural again.
Sex was a great destroyer of barriers. Which was probably why he hadn’t wanted sex with her, because he wanted the barriers up, to punish her. But he’d expected her still to be waiting at the barrier when he chose to haul it aside.
The crash had mucked everything up. He’d had everything under control until then but now he had the feeling that nothing was under control. Particularly Diane.
He picked up his mobile and pressed the speed dialler. ‘Guess what?’ he said. ‘I’m going to be a grandfather.’
His sister’s precise tones were amused. ‘Good God! I didn’t know your daughter was in a relationship.’
Want to Know a Secret? (Choc Lit) Page 18