The Art of Keeping Secrets

by Rachael Johns

  Flick plucked a stuffed olive from the plate and popped it into her mouth, but Neve’s appetite had all but vanished, the thought of New York making her stomach tumble-turn.

  ‘Seriously, try not to worry about Emma,’ Flick said once she’d finished her mouthful. ‘She’ll come round. So, New York. You’re actually going? How are you feeling about it?’

  ‘I’m terrified’, Neve admitted. ‘What if I can’t find James? What if I do and he refuses to talk to me? What if he’s so angry he turns Will against me?’

  She’d imagined every possible scenario over the last week and the majority of them weren’t good. Would James still look at her the same way after all these years? Would he still make her spine tingle and her body crave for his touch? Would he still be attracted to her? This last thought caused a little panic. Yes, she looked after herself and had aged well, but perhaps her appeal to James had been that she’d been young, her body lithe and unsullied by pregnancy and birth. She immediately chastised herself for thinking such a thing. It didn’t matter what James thought of her or her body.

  ‘It’s natural to be nervous, but you’re doing this for Will. Remember that.’

  Neve nodded, swallowing. ‘What if I can’t even get off the plane?’

  Flick rolled her eyes and grinned. ‘You know the advice they give to people who are scared of public speaking? Just imagine everyone naked.’

  ‘Trust me, imagining James naked is not going to help in this situation.’

  Flick snorted. ‘That is not what I was going to say. When you board the plane, think of it as just a well-deserved holiday. When you get off, think about staying in a hotel room by yourself for … How long are you going?’

  ‘A week.’ Neve panicked at the thought. ‘Do you think that’s long enough?’

  ‘Think of all the good things,’ Flick said, ignoring the question. ‘Room service, shopping, art galleries, strolls in Central Park, food—I’ve heard the food in New York is out of this world.’ She pointed at her drink. ‘Cocktails! Carrie and her friends were always drinking cocktails.’

  ‘Okay, okay, I get it. I’m lucky to have good reason to go to New York.’ So why did she feel like anything but lucky? ‘I just wish you were coming with me.’

  ‘Hmm … now that would be fun. When do you leave?’

  ‘Two weeks from today.’

  For the next half hour, Neve filled Flick in on all the details. She wasn’t sure if talking about her imminent trip made her feel better or worse. ‘I finally told Mum and Dad the whole story. I had to because they’re going to keep an eye on Will when I go to New York. They reprimanded me for not telling them years ago and then told me to stop beating myself up—water under the bridge.’ She sighed again, wishing she could forgive herself as easily as her parents had. ‘Do you think he’ll believe that I’m going over for work?’

  Flick tugged on her earring and looked blankly at Neve. ‘Who? Will?’

  ‘Who else?’

  ‘Sorry.’ Flick smiled half-heartedly and swished her straw around her empty glass.

  ‘I’m so sick of secrets, you know? But it’s strange. No matter how terrified I am about facing James, and then Will, there’s also a weird lightness inside me now I’ve started telling people.’

  Flick made another noncommittal sound and Neve was suddenly conscious of the fact she’d been talking non-stop about herself.

  ‘I’m sorry. Am I boring you with all this New York talk?’ She nodded towards Flick’s glass. ‘Shall I get you another drink?’

  ‘No, thanks. But I’ll buy yours if you want one.’

  Neve shook her head. It was no fun drinking alone. ‘Is something wrong?’

  Flick didn’t answer immediately, instead picking a serviette off the table and twisting in her fingers. Fidgeting was very un-Flick like.

  ‘Wrong?’ Flick dropped the serviette like it was burning her and blinked at Neve. ‘What could possibly be wrong? Maybe we should have another drink. My shout.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Emma

  At ten o’clock on Saturday morning, Flick turned up on Emma’s doorstep. Emma had been expecting a visit. In their nearly five years of friendship, she could count on one hand the number of times any of them had missed their fortnightly Friday-night rendezvous. It was an unwritten law that ‘tired and busy’ wasn’t a good enough excuse and Flick was the last person to let things lie.

  ‘Good morning,’ Emma said, smiling sheepishly as her friend handed her a takeaway coffee from the local café. She could do with a drink—her throat was thick with guilt after bailing on her friends last night, but she just couldn’t let go of her irritation at Neve.

  Not waiting for an invitation, Flick stepped into the house. ‘Did you get a good night’s sleep?’

  Emma’s instinct was to say yes, but Flick had a lie detector like a psychic cop, so she didn’t bother. ‘Not really. I never sleep well in an empty house. You’d think I’d be used to it after all these years.’

  Flick squeezed Emma’s shoulder. ‘I doubt you ever get used to being separated from your kids.’

  Emma walked through to the kitchen and gestured to the bar stools that nestled under the bench. ‘Take a seat. Can I get you something to eat? I’ve got Tim Tams or two minute noodles.’

  ‘No thanks.’ Flick smiled. ‘While part of me believes it’s never too early for chocolate, I’m trying to be good. I overindulged a bit last night.’

  Although Emma had decided not to go out the night before for a number of reasons—one being that she didn’t want to be a wet blanket about the Max/Hawaii thing—she couldn’t wait a second longer to get it off her chest. ‘You’ll never guess what my ex-husband has done now.’

  Flick clasped her hands together and leaned forward. ‘This should be good.’

  ‘Oh, he’s really excelled himself this time.’ Emma paused to build suspense. ‘He’s taking everyone to Hawaii for Laura and Louise’s birthday.’

  Flick’s eyes bulged as she almost choked on her last mouthful of coffee. When she recovered, she said, ‘Everyone? As in you as well?’

  ‘Hell, no! Can you imagine? I can’t think of anything worse than going on a holiday with Max and Chanel. I’d have to bunk in with the kids or sleep on a sofa bed.’ Although horrified, she couldn’t help but laugh.

  Flick rubbed a hand down the side of her face. ‘So, he just landed this on you as a done deal?’

  ‘Pretty much. I don’t know why I’m surprised. That’s his style after all.’

  She recalled the day he’d told her he was leaving her for Chanel. She’d been folding washing at the kitchen table after a long day volunteering in the scorer’s tent at the twins’ school sports carnival. Max had been there too, cheering his girls on and going off to buy coffees and snacks whenever Emma needed them. She and the girls had come straight home when the carnival finished and collapsed in front of television to watch Tangled but he’d gone into work, claiming he had some things to deal with that couldn’t wait. When Caleb came home after band practice, she’d been too exhausted to cook and the kids were stoked when she suggested they order pizza. Max was late as usual but they were getting used to eating without him, saving him leftovers, which he never ate anyway.

  But that night he’d come in even later than usual. It was almost midnight when she heard his key turn in the front door. He strode down the hallway, whistling to himself like the happy dwarf in Snow White and did a double take when he walked into the room and saw her.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d still be awake,’ he stated in an almost accusatory tone.

  She shrugged. ‘The washing won’t fold itself and I have work tomorrow.’ In those days, she’d worked part-time—the perfect home/work balance.

  ‘I guess.’ He went through into the kitchen. She heard the fridge door open and he returned a moment later with a bottle of beer.

  ‘You didn’t think I might like one too?’ She nodded towards the bottle as he lifted it to his lips.

 
‘Listen, Em,’ he said as he took a seat at the table. ‘You’re the mother of my children and you’ll always be special to me, but I’ve fallen in love … with someone else.’

  Before she had the time to get her head around the shocking snippet of information, he landed the next blow. ‘I want a divorce.’

  ‘What?’ Her grip tightened on the jocks she’d been about to fold. His jocks. Tight black boxers, the only type he ever wore. She blinked and shook her head. Perhaps this was a nightmare and she’d fallen asleep in the never-ending pile of washing. But the bitter cold that was spreading throughout her body suggested otherwise.

  ‘Look, these things happen.’ Max shrugged and took another sip of his beer. ‘We both know we only got married because of Caleb.’

  She raised her eyebrows and dropped his boxers back into the basket. ‘Oh we do, do we? Because I recall that even before we found out I was pregnant, you were declaring that I was the love of your life.’

  And she’d sure as hell thought he was hers!

  ‘And perhaps you were, but things change. People move on.’

  Emma felt heat rush to her cheeks. ‘So, how long since you … moved on?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘It does to me,’ she said through gritted teeth, wanting to scream and shout but not wanting to wake her children.

  ‘A couple of months. I thought it was just sex at first, but then I realised I wanted more with Chanel. We’re going to get married.’

  Funny how the mention of marriage hadn’t even registered at the time. Instead, her stomach had revolted at the thought of her husband making love with someone else and then coming home and sticking it in her as well. Although when she’d analysed it from every which way later, their sex life had diminished over those last few months. Like the dumb, trusting wife she was, she’d stupidly put it down to him being tired and busy at work.

  ‘I guess I don’t need to ask how you feel about this?’ Flick said, and Emma, lost in her reverie, took a moment to work out what they’d been talking about.

  ‘Oh, right,’ she said, coming back to the present. Hawaii. ‘I want to murder him and bury him in that corner of the backyard where next door’s cat always does her business.’

  Flick smirked. ‘That’s my girl. If you need any help, you know Neve and I are always available for the disposal of dead bodies.’

  She tried to smile but at the mention of Neve, Emma’s jaw tightened.

  Flick, being her annoyingly observant self, noticed. ‘So it’s true, then?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I thought maybe you didn’t come last night because you were depressed, but Neve reckoned it might have been because of her.’

  Emma glanced down and studied the marble pattern on her benchtop. ‘Maybe that was a small part of it.’

  ‘Emma.’ Flick sighed. ‘I know you’re angry because of your situation and to be honest, I feel a little upset that she never trusted us enough to say something before, but we can’t let this ruin our friendship. You and Neve mean the world to me. I’ve never had such good friends before. Please, try and get over this.’

  ‘I will. I know you’re right. Patrick said the same thing.’

  ‘Who’s Patrick?’

  ‘My boss.’ Emma tried to sound nonchalant. She didn’t want Flick to suspect she had a stupid crush on him or she’d never hear the end of it.

  ‘Ah, right.’

  ‘I guess Neve told you she came into the travel agency?’ When Flick nodded, Emma continued. ‘Well, she mentioned we were friends and then Patrick wanted to know why I didn’t serve her. He’s very perceptive.’

  ‘She was really hurt that you didn’t,’ Flick said, her tone not judgemental, simply direct.

  ‘I know.’ Emma’s stomach felt heavy at the thought. ‘It was just too soon. And I know her situation is different to mine. I’ll get over it.’

  ‘I hope so.’ Never one to lament things for too long, Flick moved on. ‘When exactly is Max taking the kids away?’

  ‘In thirteen days.’

  And three hours and about thirty-two minutes, not that Emma was counting.

  ‘I know those days will fly by and then the time they’re actually away will drag. I’m going to ask Patrick if I can work Saturdays as well while they’re gone.’

  ‘Hey!’ Flick eyes lit up. ‘That’s when Neve is going to New York. You should go with her. Better than sitting at home and sulking. That’ll show Max.’

  ‘Oh yeah.’ Even if things were right between her and Neve, it would be impossible. ‘If I could afford to flit over to NY at the drop of a hat, I could afford to play Max’s game of Who Can Buy The Best Birthday Presents.’

  Flick tossed her a look of reproof. ‘Now that would be stupid and you know it. You give your kids everything they need and put more thought into gifts than he ever does. They’ll realise heart trumps materialism eventually.’

  ‘I hope so.’ Emma sighed, her heart heavy again at the thought of being without them. She dreaded the day one of them would tell her they wanted to move in with their dad and Chanel. That would break her heart even more than Max had when he’d told her it was over.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Felicity

  Flick looked at the baby quokka on her workbench and sighed. She’d been so excited when she’d been commissioned to create this display and glad of the opportunity to give this little creature whose life had been cut tragically short another chance to shine, but today she simply couldn’t concentrate.

  She glanced at the clock on her studio wall, disgusted at how little she’d achieved. Usually when she stepped inside this space, the rest of the world disappeared and she lost herself in her work, but thoughts of Seb kept encroaching. Over the last week, things had been growing more tense between them. Being a bloke, he probably hadn’t even noticed, but the knowledge he wanted to tell their children about his cross-dressing left her uneasy.

  He’d kept it a secret for so long, why did he suddenly want to let it out now?

  This question, alongside her speculation over what such an announcement might do to her kids—and, if she were honest, herself—had had her insides in knots all weekend. She’d almost decided to tell Emma and Neve on Friday night, but when Emma hadn’t shown, she’d chickened out.

  Part of her desperately needed to talk her worries over with someone, but another part simply wasn’t ready to admit to the intricacies of her married life. Confessing you didn’t have the blemish-free relationship that everyone believed wasn’t easy. And as much as it irked her sometimes that everyone thought Seb so bloody marvellous, the alternative appealed even less. It wouldn’t simply be him coming out, but her too. What would people think? Besides, with Neve full of New York nerves and Emma with moron Max, she didn’t feel right dumping her issues on them as well.

  Maybe she should confront Seb—have it properly out with him—but fear that this might speed things up held her back. If she acted as if everything was normal, then maybe he’d just forget about it.

  Footsteps approached from outside and she picked up her scalpel and feigned intense concentration on her work just as the door was flung open.

  ‘Hey, Mum.’

  ‘Hi honey.’ She downed her tool, glad of the interruption. ‘How was your day?’

  ‘Yeah, okay.’ Toby took a seat in the comfy old leather armchair she called her ‘pondering’ chair. She noticed he’d collected the mail from the letterbox. ‘I got ninety-eight percent in my physics test.’

  ‘Wow.’ She cracked a smile in genuine pride and delight. He wanted to be a pilot and studying physics was a requirement to get in. It didn’t come easy to him and she knew how hard he’d been working. ‘That’s awesome news.’

  He beamed, exactly the way he’d done when he was just a little boy and excited over something.

  ‘I think we should celebrate,’ she said. ‘I know it’s almost dinner time but how do you feel about ice-cream sundaes?’

  She half expected him to tu
rn down her offer—after all, ice-cream with your mum was something you did in primary school, right? But to her relief and joy, he nodded.

  ‘Sounds great, Mum.’

  Relieved to have an excuse to stop flogging a dead horse and in dire need of some ice-cream therapy herself, she followed Toby outside, switching off the lights as she left.

  ‘Here you go,’ he said, thrusting the bundle of letters at her as they headed for the house.

  ‘Thanks.’ She flicked through them. As usual they were mostly bills but a plain white envelope addressed to Seb caught her attention. She turned it over but there was no return address.

  ‘I’ll get the ice-cream,’ Toby volunteered as they entered the kitchen.

  ‘Okay,’ she replied, staring the envelope. After all Neve and Emma’s talk of extra-marital affairs, it unsettled her. She dumped the windowed envelopes on the kitchen bench and then stared a little longer at the plain white one. Her index finger hovered over the opening—should she? shouldn’t she?—but when Toby arrived beside her with the ice-cream, she tossed it back on top of the pile and reached into the overhead cupboard to grab two bowls instead.

  Toby scooped ice-cream into the bowls, all but drowned his with chocolate sauce and then loaded it up with an array of lollies they kept in the cupboard for special occasions. Flick followed suit, although she went a little lighter on the topping—she didn’t have his youthful metabolism—and then they sat down at the table.

  She dug her spoon into the ice-cream and then lifted it into the air. ‘To you acing your test.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum,’ Toby said before shoving his first spoonful into his mouth.

  ‘So, how’s everything else going at school?’ Flick asked, taking this rare moment of alone time with her son.

  Before he could reply, the front door opened, then slammed shut and footsteps hurried down the hallway. ‘Mum? You home? Can I borrow your computer?’ Zoe finished this question as she appeared round the doorway. ‘Hey guys.’