The Art of Keeping Secrets

by Rachael Johns

  They ate lunch at Stella’s, which was amazingly good for a restaurant inside a department store. Somehow Neve managed to eat half her di verdure salad and sip a glass of prosecco as she confessed to thoughts of chickening out. She couldn’t even find the right word to describe her level of panic.

  ‘This is the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I barely slept last night for imagining scenarios about what might happen. What James might say or do when I tell him he has a son.’ Her mouth went dry again but this time she reached for the sparkling water. She took a long drink and then continued. ‘What if he’s so angry he wants to sue me or something? Is that possible?’

  ‘I could ask Max, I suppose,’ Emma offered, although she didn’t sound enthused by the idea.

  ‘I’ve never heard of anything like that,’ Flick said. ‘You’re not the first person who hasn’t told a man she’s pregnant. And you had good reason not to.’

  ‘You think?’ At the time James being married with a young family had seemed like reason enough, but now she wasn’t so sure. If the tables were somehow turned, would she see that as an acceptable excuse? Could she ever forgive someone for keeping her away from her son?

  ‘Anyway, we’ll be there tonight for the show and if it makes you feel better, we can stay with you while you talk to James,’ Flick offered.

  Emma nodded her agreement.

  ‘Thanks guys, but I think this is something I need to do by myself.’ Hopefully she wouldn’t run for the hills the moment she saw him. ‘Now all I need to do is work out what to wear.’

  They spent the rest of lunch going through Neve’s options, but she wasn’t excited by any of the outfits she’d packed. Although she didn’t admit it to her friends, she wanted to look good—better than good—when James laid eyes on her for the first time in eighteen years. It might make her a bad person, but she wanted to see that flicker of interest in his eyes that had always been there in the past.

  ‘I guess there’s only one thing for it then,’ Flick said, after they’d tipped their waiter and were on their way out of the restaurant. ‘Let’s go shopping.’

  They felt much more at home at Macy’s. Even Flick, who generally wasn’t a huge fan of shopping, couldn’t resist the bargains in the handbag department. And Emma tried on a pair of shoes that looked like they were made especially for her.

  ‘They’re much higher than I usually wear and I really can’t afford any luxuries at the moment, but…’ She eyed the sparkly black high-heeled sandals, pointing and flexing her toes as she did so.

  ‘That’s what Mr Visa is for,’ Neve finished. Only while encouraging her friends to shop did the crazy fluttering in her belly ease a little. She almost forgot why they were there until they turned their attentions to the clothing department with the specific goal of finding her an outfit for that evening.

  Then, all her apprehension and anxiety returned. She could barely bring herself to flick through the racks.

  ‘You always look good in pink,’ Flick said, plucking a dress off a rail and hanging it over her arm along with others she’d already selected.

  Emma nodded. ‘Yes, you do. It makes you look really feminine. Not that you necessarily want that,’ she added, her smile turning into a frown. ‘And it might be a little revealing.’

  ‘But,’ Flick reasoned, ‘if she looks good, James is less likely to want to kill her.’

  Bile crept up Neve’s throat. ‘Can we please not talk about killing. Pink is fine,’ she snapped, feeling as if the small amount of lunch she’d managed to eat might not stay down after all. She snatched the pile of dresses from Flick and spun around, charging off in the direction of the fitting rooms.

  A sales assistant nodded towards the pink dress at the top of the pile as she approached. ‘Ooh, that’s a pretty colour. I bet it’ll look fabulous on you.’

  Neve glared at her and disappeared into the change rooms. She yanked off her sundress and almost tore the first dress from its hanger. As the silky material slithered over her bare skin, she shivered and then reached around to pull up the zip. The sundress hadn’t required a bra and neither did this frock. Puffing out a breath to try and regulate her breathing, she eyed herself in the full-length mirror. The colour did suit her skin tones. The material glistened under the fluorescent lights and she had to admit that she’d always had a penchant for sparkly clothing. The dress’s only downfall was that it was perhaps a little too short and hugged her figure in a way that might be considered inappropriate for the objective of her evening.

  Yet, despite common sense telling her to try on something a little more staid—okay, a lot more staid—she’d fallen in love with this dress. It made her feel like herself. It made her feel confident and sexy, and if she felt good tonight then she’d be more able to deliver her announcement without floundering or losing the plot.

  ‘Neve? Are you in here?’ Flick called from outside the fitting room.

  ‘Yep,’ she replied. ‘And I think I’m going to go with that pink dress you spotted.’

  ‘Show us,’ Emma demanded.

  ‘Not yet.’ Neve shook her head even though they couldn’t see, then unzipped the dress and was more careful as she took it off than when she’d put it on. She hung it on the coat hanger—knowing she didn’t need to try any of the others—and then put on her own dress again. She hadn’t even looked at the price, but she didn’t care; money was the least of her worries right now. ‘You’ll see it tonight.’

  ‘Spoilsport,’ said her friends, and then they laughed. ‘Snap!’

  ‘What do you want to do now?’ Flick asked when Neve came out of the fitting rooms. ‘Shall we keep wandering and exploring or do you want to go back to the hotel and rest a bit?’

  Emma sighed as if tired, but there were still a few hours until they were due at the theatre and Neve didn’t want to spend them bouncing around their hotel room, watching the clock and trying to stop herself from having a nervous breakdown. Finding the right dress had calmed her a little but if she had too much time to think, she’d start questioning herself again. Not simply about her outfit, but about coming to New York in the first place. And even about whether or not she’d made the right decision all those years ago to keep James in the dark. Argh!

  ‘Why don’t we go do something touristy?’ she suggested, kicking her thoughts to the kerb. No good had ever come from playing the What If game.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Emma

  Looking down from the Top of the Rock, Emma had to summon everything she’d ever learnt about acting—which was minimal—to keep her agony from the others. It wasn’t just her splitting headache, but that the place held too many memories. The other time she’d been here, she’d been with Max; the last holiday before he’d left.

  When Flick had suggested going to the Rockefeller Centre, Emma had contemplated suggesting something else, anything else, but then decided that it would be good for her to go somewhere she’d been with Max and create new memories, better ones. But now, all she could remember were the lies he’d fed her as they explored the exhibits together. Thinking about it made her feel like such a fool.

  ‘This view is pretty amazing,’ Flick said, looking out over Central Park. ‘Is that the Statue of Liberty in the distance?’

  ‘Yes,’ Neve mused, ‘but you gotta admit the view from our hotel room is pretty damn special as well and we don’t have to pay to see it.’

  Flick laughed. ‘I didn’t know we were getting the accommodation for free!’

  While her friends walked around the observatory deck, snapping photos and exclaiming over the skyscrapers, Emma looked longingly into the indoor area and the comfy couch-like seats. How she longed to lie down and close her eyes, even for a few seconds. She should have told the others she’d rather go back to the hotel and rest before tonight, but not wanting them to know she had another headache, she’d soldiered on through the day, shopping and sightseeing. Neve had enough to think about and Flick had been so generous that Emma didn’
t want to ruin either of their holidays. Hell, she didn’t want to ruin her own night—she’d dreamed of seeing Mamma Mia! on Broadway for years.

  ‘I’d kill for a coffee,’ Flick said after she and Neve had forced Emma into a selfie.

  ‘Good idea.’ Neve glanced at her watch. ‘And then I guess we’d better head back to the hotel and start getting ready.’ She went a little green as she said this and looked a lot like Emma felt.

  Back on street level they went into the first café they found. The decor was very modern—lots of bright furniture with sharp angles—and the food smelled divine, but when Emma’s friends lifted their coffees to their lips, they both frowned and spluttered.

  ‘What is this?’ Neve exclaimed, holding her takeaway cup away from her and glaring at it like it contained poison.

  ‘Welcome to New York.’ Emma lifted her own cup and took a sip, immediately making a face. She’d forgotten how terrible the coffee was here. There might be a Starbucks in every hotel and on every street corner, but like fast food, fast coffee did little, if anything, to deliver her desperately needed caffeine hit. In addition to her premenopausal headaches she could now add caffeine withdrawal to the mix.

  ‘I suppose caffeine is caffeine,’ Flick said with a sigh.

  Neve shook her head. ‘No, it’s not, but right now, it’ll have to do.’

  They sipped their coffees as they walked back to the hotel. With just over two hours until they were due at the Broadhurst Theatre, they could tell Neve was a basket of nerves. Emma still didn’t approve of her affair, but it was impossible not to sympathise with her friend’s tricky situation and both she and Flick wanted to do everything they could to help.

  This began with a bottle of wine in their room, but as much as Emma wanted to have a drink, she steered cleared so as not to make her headache any worse.

  Finally, when Neve and Flick disappeared into the bathroom to get ready, Emma snuck over to her handbag and popped a couple of Panadol, chasing them down with a couple of Nurofen.

  Didn’t doctors say it was okay to take both together? Maybe they meant a few hours apart, but drastic times and all. Her head felt as if it might explode at any moment, so waiting wasn’t an option. Collapsing onto the sofa bed for a few seconds of rest, she held her cool water bottle against her head and took a deep breath.

  ‘Emma?’ She awoke to Flick gently shaking her shoulder. ‘It’s almost time to go.’

  Emma looked up and blinked, disorientated for a moment. ‘How long was I asleep?’

  ‘We let you nap as long as we could,’ Flick apologised.

  Embarrassed, Emma shot up and glanced down at her dress, now crumpled. Dammit. ‘Thanks. Guess the jet lag is getting to me.’

  Flick patted her hand to her mouth and feigned a yawn. ‘Me too. But I’m sure we’ll wake up once we get to Broadway.’

  Emma glanced at her watch. They needed to leave ASAP. ‘I’ll just go do my make-up.’ This consisted of a bit of foundation, some powder over the top, a few swipes of blusher on her cheeks, a little mascara and, as it was an evening event, some experimentation with eye shadow. Oh, and lipstick—the same brand and colour she’d been buying since her early twenties.

  Usually Neve would fix Emma’s make-up as well, but it was testament to her anxiety that she didn’t even bat an eyelid when Emma emerged from the bathroom. ‘I guess it’s time.’ She looked as if she were about to throw up or wet her pants. Maybe both.

  ‘You’ll be fine.’ Emma crossed over to her and gave her a hug, showing the support she perhaps hadn’t showed properly until now.

  ‘We’re here for you,’ Flick added, joining them in a group hug. ‘Now, let’s go break a leg.’

  Neve made a sound something between a laugh and a sob. ‘I think that only applies to the actors.’

  Then, their arms linked, they left the room. They weren’t even at the elevators when Neve first freaked out.

  ‘I can’t do this,’ she said, breaking free. ‘I’ll just tell Will I found out James died or something.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Flick said tersely. ‘I never picked you as a coward, Neve. The worst thing that can happen is James is furious with you and doesn’t want to meet Will. Then you tell Will the truth and ask him for his forgiveness.’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say. You’ve had everything easy your whole life,’ Neve snapped.

  ‘Really?’ Flick recoiled, her voice not more than a whisper but her tone incensed. ‘You don’t know everything about me; I’d hardly say losing my mother to a fire when I was a kid was easy.’

  Emma opened her mouth to try and calm the sudden storm, but Neve got in first. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, her eyes watering. ‘That was uncalled for. I’m just so … petrified.’

  ‘I know.’ Flick reached out and pulled her close again. ‘And because you’re not yourself, I’m going to forgive you. But remember why we’re all here; to get you through tonight. And whatever James’s reaction, we’ll be here for you.’

  ‘Besides,’ Emma said, attempting to lighten the mood, ‘worstcase scenario is we get to watch Mamma Mia!’

  Neve nodded, but despite her acquiescence, they had to keep a firm hold on her all the way to the theatre and as they queued up out the front, waiting in line for the doors to open.

  When they were finally inside, Neve darted her head from side to side as if expecting to see James in the crowd.

  ‘Won’t he be backstage?’ Emma whispered, squeezing Neve’s arm.

  Neve couldn’t even manage a reply; she just shuffled forwards between them like a robot.

  ‘We should get some drinks and nibbles,’ Flick suggested as they came near the bar.

  ‘My shout.’ It was the least Emma could do after Flick had paid for everything else.

  ‘Okay, thanks.’ Flick nodded towards Neve, who looked like dementors had sucked out her soul, leaving only a human shell. ‘I’ll get her settled. Here’s your ticket.’

  Emma took the ticket. ‘See you soon.’

  She waited at the bar with what felt like a hundred other people, hoping she wouldn’t miss the start of the show, until a barman who looked about half her age asked ‘What can I get ya, babe?’

  Emma blinked and then looked past him at the menu, ordering three champagnes and an assortment of chocolates.

  ‘Single or double drinks?’

  She blinked again, having never been asked such a question in relation to champagne. He grinned and held up a plastic tumbler with Broadway pictures and logos all over it. ‘Doubles means you won’t need a refill till intermission.’

  ‘Double then, please.’

  He named an exorbitant amount and her heart clenched as she counted out the notes and handed over half of the US money she’d converted at Perth airport. Holy hell.

  ‘I was beginning to wonder if you got lost,’ Flick said when Emma finally arrived at the seats. She handed over two of the drinks and rescued the chocolate bars from where they’d been wedged under her arm.

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘Not good.’ Flick thrust a tumbler of champagne at their silent friend. Neve’s fingers closed around it but the expression on her face didn’t change at all as she lifted it to her mouth.

  Emma wondered if it had been a mistake getting Neve an alcoholic drink—she was already in a trance state.

  ‘What is this?’ Flick hissed, scrutinising the tumbler.

  ‘The most expensive cheap champagne you’ll ever drink. Cherish that cup; I paid gold for it.’

  Flick laughed and took a sip as Emma got comfy in her seat. ‘Check out the playbill,’ Flick whispered, handing it across Neve to Emma. ‘There’s a picture of James on page six.’

  Emma couldn’t flick through the pages fast enough and when her eyes found him, she whistled quietly in appreciation.

  ‘I know, right?’ Flick smiled, wriggling her eyebrows as she nudged Neve. ‘If he looks that good at fifty, imagine what he looked like in his prime. You can see why this one fell for hi
m.’

  Indeed Emma could, but how many other women in the industry had fallen for him over the years? Will could have siblings all over the world. She pushed that thought aside and nodded. ‘And at least we know her sources led her to the right place.’

  ‘Would you two stop talking about me as if I’m not even here,’ Neve snapped.

  ‘Oh, my!’ Flick palmed one hand over her open mouth theatrically. ‘It speaks.’

  Neve shook her head, grabbed the playbill off Emma and then looked down. ‘Oh God.’ She let out a long breath. ‘He is still gorgeous. Can you see Will in him at all?’

  Emma found it hard to look past all that dark curly hair and chiselled jawline to see if the boy who hung out with her son bore any resemblance, but she had to concede he did.

  ‘Yep,’ she and Flick said at the same time.

  ‘He’s got the same unruly hair and distinguished chin,’ Flick added.

  ‘So you think if I show him a picture of Will, he’ll be able to see the likeness?’ Neve asked, her tone anxious.

  ‘Unless he’s blind,’ Flick replied just as the lights dimmed above them and an instrumental medley of ABBA’s hit songs blasted the theatre.

  Even if Neve wanted to ask for further reassurance, she wouldn’t have been heard over the orchestra or the audience’s enthusiasm. It was impossible not to grin and dance in their seats along with the rest of the buzzing crowd—impossible for everyone but Neve, that is. While Emma and Flick bopped their heads and swayed along to the music, their friend barely paid any attention to the stage. Instead, her eyes remained glued to the photo of her lover in her lap. Emma reached over and squeezed her hand.

  ‘Try and relax,’ she whispered as the curtains peeled open. After that, although she never let go of Neve’s hand, Emma lost her thoughts in the action and music in front of them, smiling through every second of the high-energy production. She even managed to forget the constant pain in her head for a couple of hours.

  Occasionally, she tore her eyes from the stage and glanced at Neve, wishing she could do something to help her relax. She supposed her friend—being in show business—had seen Mamma Mia! and hundreds of other musicals before, but it didn’t seem right to not even blink an eyelid at the action in front of her.