The Dangers of Family Secrets: From the bestselling author of The Ex-Wife’s Survival Guide

by Debby Holt

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Everything had gone wrong. With every smutty story Rory told, Tess was freshly aware of her own humourless, sexless self. She tried to smile politely but her facial muscles were frozen. She was like one of those actresses who overdose on Botox. How had she possibly imagined she might have a proper relationship with Jamie? As soon as she could, she made her excuses and left.

  The horrors did not let up. The next day she got back from work and her mother rang with some weird story about Jamie’s father who had apparently heard all about her and wanted Tess and her parents to come to some party in London which her mother thought would be fun. Tess said she was expecting a call and rang off. And then, as if to punish her for that lie, the phone did ring and it was Jamie who asked if she’d like to meet up that night. He and Rory were off to see their mother in Oban the following day and would be away for most of the week. He did not seem surprised when she made an excuse and he made no effort to suggest a future date.

  In Tess’s less rational moments she wondered if Fate hadn’t led Rory to his brother’s door at that particular moment, thus preventing her from leaping into the void. But she was bereft without Jamie’s company. In the last few weeks they had seen so much of each other. Without Rory, their friendship might possibly have ended abruptly. Now it seemed to have ended anyway. As the days went by, she knew Jamie had spoilt Scotland for her. In the evenings she played backgammon with Dr Knox, and Scrabble with Grandma and Sheila, her ears alert to the sound of the telephone. Whenever it did ring and turned out not to be Jamie she was torn between relief and disappointment.

  And then at last she had a rather formal call from him. Could he take her out to dinner on Thursday? He knew she’d be going home on Saturday and it would be nice to say goodbye. She said primly that that would be fine.

  She was ready and waiting by seven. Jamie was twenty minutes late and full of apologies. There’d been a crisis at the castle, something had short-circuited; she wasn’t sure what. She barely listened to his explanation, she was simply glad to be in his car with him again.

  He had chosen Burt’s Hotel in the centre of Melrose. It was an elegant place that was gloriously old-fashioned. Its walls were full of gilt-framed paintings, patterned carpets, impeccably starched white tablecloths and napkins, and staff who were unfailingly courteous.

  They were led to a table for two and after Jamie had ordered wine and water, he stared at her in that disconcertingly blank way of his. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d agree to come.’

  His candour and his shrewd understanding of her character shocked her. She could feel her face blush red. ‘I wanted to say goodbye.’

  ‘How was your last day in Gasterlethen?’

  She was grateful for the change of subject. ‘I think Mrs Talbot’s quite happy to see me go. She’s discovered she definitely doesn’t want to spend more time with her husband. She can’t wait to have the shop to herself again.’

  ‘Are you glad to be going home?’

  She swallowed. ‘No.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it. Tess?’

  He had put his hands on the table. She noticed a plaster round his index finger. She raised her eyes. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I think…’ He looked away and then reached for the menus. ‘I think we should decide what we want to order.’

  They both studied their menus with careful deliberation. Tess chose the chicken; Jamie went for the venison. The waitress arrived with their drinks. Jamie gave their choices. When the waitress left them, he poured out the wine. ‘I have some news,’ he said. ‘Next Sunday evening, I have a Very Important Person coming to inspect the castle. If she likes it – and it will be a very big If – it will be the focus point for a documentary series on England and Scotland. The provisional title is Intimate Enemies. Thanks to the referendum, it’s a hot topic.’

  ‘Jamie, that’s amazing!’

  ‘It will be if I can sell it to her. I’ll be working flat out till I see her. It’s a pity you can’t be there. You could impress her with the Walter Scott angle.’

  ‘I wish I could be. To think I’ll be back in London and…’ she stopped. ‘In fact I’m supposed to be at your father’s anniversary party next Saturday. He contacted my mother. I hear you told him all about me.’

  ‘I actually told him about your mother. I said he should use her services to research our ancestors. He’s invited you all, has he? He does things like that.’

  ‘My mother is determined we go. I think she’s making a point to Dad. It’s their wedding anniversary and he’ll be abroad on business.’

  ‘You should go. I’m sorry I can’t be there. You’ll like my father. People always do. His wife’s a nice woman.’

  She gave a little shrug. ‘Well, if we do go, I’ll let you know what it’s like.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Are we to keep in touch then?’

  He seemed determined to wrong foot her. ‘Don’t you want to?’

  He sighed. ‘I have a confession to make. It’s an embarrassing one. You may well decide as a result that you don’t wish to see me again. The trouble is, if I don’t tell you, I don’t think I’ll want to see you. It would be too difficult.’

  Tess had the weirdest sensation that her brain had been taken over by two voices. One cheered Jamie on, the other advised her to shut him up now before he got any further. ‘In that case,’ she said slowly, ‘you’d better tell me.’

  ‘Right.’ He glanced round at the other guests as if seeking their approval. Then he put his elbows on the table and stared at her. ‘The first evening we met, you came into the room surrounded by your three elderly companions and… I was transfixed. That doesn’t happen very often. I told myself, Jamie, you do not walk up to a strange woman and assure her she should spend the rest of her life with you. I was cool. I refrained from going over to you for at least thirty minutes and when I did…’ He smiled slightly. ‘You have a beautiful voice, you know. It’s quite husky and every now and then you sound as if you’re going to cough but you don’t. It sounds like it’s wrapped in caramel and sometimes you get near the nut in the middle… I’m sorry, this must be very boring for you.’

  ‘How can it be boring to hear I have a nice voice?’

  ‘Well. I chatted away and you were charming and gave no indication that you had any idea of the momentous event that had taken place. And then you went back to London and I spent long, bitter hours thinking that being cool was overrated.’

  The waitress came back. The venison was off, she said apologetically. Jamie ordered the fish and followed her departure with a slight cough. The voices in Tess’s brain had gone silent. For now, all that mattered was to hear the rest of Jamie’s confession.

  He pressed his palms together. ‘The miracle happened and you came back. I’d been given a second chance. Eventually, I invited you to supper to express my feelings and then Rory arrived – and by the way I could cheerfully have killed him in any number of ways. I noticed that you ate very little and left as soon as you could with what I could only observe was almost indecent speed. She doesn’t like me, I thought, I will keep away. So I do but then I think: if I tell you what I feel, at least I’ll have tried and if I don’t try I might spend the rest of my life wondering what might have happened and so…’

  ‘Listen, Jamie…’

  ‘Please, I have to finish this. If you find it all excruciating and embarrassing, you only have to say so and I’ll tell you I understand and we’ll have dinner and talk about castle worksheets or something and at the end of the meal I’ll take you home and I will thank you for being honest with me.’

  When she said nothing, he threw up his hands. ‘Actually,’ he said. ‘I can see I have finished. Tell me what you think. Please take as long as you like. I’ll just sit here.’

  He gazed at the wall on their left and began to study with apparent fascination a painting of a stag on the hillside. Tess drank her wine, aware that her heart was racing. ‘This is silly,’ she said at last. ‘I’m not eve
n sure what you expect me to say. The idea of a… a romantic relationship is totally impractical. You live up here and I live in London. You must see that.’

  He shook his head. ‘It’s only impractical if you don’t want a romantic relationship.’

  ‘What if I were to tell you I do find this excruciating and embarrassing?’

  ‘I would ask you very politely to tell me why.’

  ‘That’s not what you said before.’

  ‘I know,’ Jamie said. ‘Sorry.’

  She had never felt so helpless. ‘Jamie,’ she said. ‘I like you so much. I’m incredibly fond of you.’

  Jamie nodded. ‘Oh dear,’ he said.

  ‘I mean it. You’ve become a good friend but…’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I understand now.’ He gave a short, polite smile. ‘I’d like to say thank you for all your hard work this month. You’ve been the best of good company and I… I shan’t forget you.’

  ‘So this is it?’ she asked. ‘We say goodbye tonight?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t do the friends thing with you. It wouldn’t work. I wish it could.’

  It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right. She was overcome by an acute case of panic. Life without Jamie would be dullness incarnate. She said, ‘I think I’m going to have to tell you something. You see you’re not the only one who has a confession to make.’

  Freya supposed she should be feeling aggrieved about the coming weekend. Felix had, after all, chosen to be away for their thirtieth wedding anniversary. But actually, she was looking forward to her own small adventure. She had rung Tess earlier this evening and they’d had a nice chat. Tess said she loathed being back in London and was looking forward to being cheered up by her mother. Which was lovely since Freya often felt uncertain about her daughters’ feelings towards her. Pam had a theory that the whole point of children was to bring uncertainty and self-doubt into one’s life. Pam maintained this was a good thing since one should guard against complacency as one grew older. As Freya pointed out at the time, she had quite enough self-doubt without her children adding more.

  She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the clothes on the spare-room bed. She had selected her black trousers and silk shirt for tomorrow and Sunday and her shirt dress for Saturday. The Glamour Dress would do for Neil Lockhart’s party. She had not taken up Felix’s offers of a brand new outfit and two nights in a hotel. She had told him they were an unnecessary expense. She wanted him to know she could not be bought off so easily.

  She had planned her London trip with care. Tomorrow she would visit the Society of Genealogists and the London Metropolitan Archives. She would arrive at her friend Sylvie’s in time for a large gin and tonic. On Saturday she would attack Oxford Street and find a gorgeous dress for Tess who would otherwise, almost certainly, turn up to the party in one of her black sacks. On Sunday she would take the girls out to celebrate her wedding anniversary. They would drink champagne and later, back at home, she would take great delight in calling Felix and telling him what an enjoyable anniversary weekend she’d had.

  On the other side of the bed she had set out Felix’s clothes: six freshly ironed shirts, the linen suit he had bought two years ago, underwear, pyjama bottoms and a couple of T-shirts. He was catching a plane from Bristol this evening and even as she thought he was cutting it a bit fine she heard his key in the door and she called out, ‘I’m upstairs!’

  When he joined her in the room, he was already taking off his tie. His eyes registered the neat piles on the bed and he said, ‘You’ve been busy.’

  ‘Do you want me to help you pack?’

  ‘No, no, you’ve done quite enough. It won’t take me long. Give me twenty minutes and then we’ll have some tea together.’

  ‘Do you want something to eat?’

  ‘I’ll grab a sandwich at the airport.’

  There was a febrile energy about him today. He was not a fan of modern air travel and was always stressed before a journey. It was best to leave him alone to sort himself out.

  When he came downstairs he had changed into cotton trousers and a polo shirt. He said, ‘I’m ready.’

  ‘Passport? Boarding card? Book for the plane? Reading glasses?’

  ‘All present and correct.’

  ‘Come and have some tea then.’

  ‘They sat at the table. She poured him a cup. ‘Can you relax for a while? You have almost twenty minutes before you have to go.’

  He glanced at the kitchen clock. ‘Freya,’ he said, ‘there’s something I have to tell you.’

  She smiled. ‘You sound very serious.’

  ‘I am. There isn’t a good way of saying this. I want us to separate.’ His tone was quiet, almost conversational. ‘I want to stop living with you. I’m so sorry.’

  Freya had the weirdest sensation that the world – the literal world – was crumbling about her. She gripped the table with her hands. Her eyes filled with tears, obscuring her vision. She wanted to say something but she couldn’t. Her stomach felt as if it were falling away but in fact her entire body was shocked into a frozen stillness.

  ‘I was going to wait until I came back but I think it’s better to tell you now.’

  His eyes were sympathetic and he sounded apologetic, as if he’d forgotten to buy some ingredient she needed for a recipe. Still, she couldn’t speak. If she simply sat and waited, perhaps he would tell her she had misunderstood what he was trying to say.

  ‘What I suggest,’ he said, ‘is that when I come back next Wednesday we discuss what to do. I’ve looked at our finances. You can stay here and I’ll rent a flat in Bristol until we sort ourselves out.’

  She found her voice at last. ‘Why have you stopped loving me? Is there someone else?’ Even then, she hoped he would assure her he did love her and offer some unimaginable explanation that they could sort out together.

  He looked down at his feet. ‘No. No, there isn’t. I suppose it’s been a gradual understanding. We’ll talk about this when I come back.’

  ‘Is this why you arranged the Spanish trip?’

  ‘No, but…’ He rose to his feet. ‘I was happy to go along with it.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’m sorry. I must go now.’

  She didn’t move. She watched him walk out of the kitchen. She remained in her chair until she heard his car drive away. Then she stood up. He hadn’t touched his tea. She took his cup and saucer and threw the warm liquid down the sink. She felt she’d been thrown into some terrible nightmare. Felix, kind, gentle, loving Felix had taken less than a minute to tell her he was leaving her. She held up the cup and, hurling it across the room, watched it splinter into pieces.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Anna had chosen obstetrics for the very good reason that it was the one area of medicine where the majority of patients weren’t ill. They had interesting conditions which, most of the time, led to euphoric conclusions in which doctors were showered with praise. There were the occasional desperately sad tragedies, just as there were more frequently difficult mothers-to-be and mothers.

  Mrs Halligan was one of these. A pale-faced woman with bottle-black hair and intense brown eyes, she had, she told Anna, a low pain-threshold which in her case meant she was a self-indulgent prima donna. This morning she’d cried that there was no way she could be allowed to go home tomorrow. Anna thought she could detect a trace of real fear in Mrs Halligan’s eyes and agreed that perhaps she could stay at St Peter’s for a further two days.

  And now Miss Diamond stood at Mrs Halligan’s bed, surrounded by her usual tribe of medical students and fellow trainees. When Mrs Halligan announced that Doctor Cameron had said she could stay on, Miss Diamond sighed. She then launched into a clear, concise and extremely graphic account of the Caesarean procedure. ‘You see, Mrs Halligan,’ she concluded, ‘it would be very odd if you did not feel sore after an operation like this. Indeed, if you weren’t sore, I would be extremely worried about you. It is far better for you to leave us this afternoon and begi
n your convalescence in your own home where you can relax and be comfortable. You are a lucky woman. You have a beautiful baby boy. Go home and enjoy him.’

  In the face of her consultant’s comprehensive display of professional expertise, Mrs Halligan was silenced. Anna’s admiration lasted up until the moment Miss Diamond gathered her acolytes round the nurses’ station. In a light, clear voice that Anna knew could be heard by the nurses behind them, she said, ‘I have tried for some time to work out what is the point of Doctor Cameron. I think she must exist in order to show the rest of you what not to do. The NHS has very little money and we cannot afford to fill our beds with nervous hypochondriacs. Mrs Halligan is easily frightened and ready to tumble into hysterics at any moment. By concurring with her entirely unnecessary demand to stay here, Doctor Cameron simply proved to Mrs Halligan that she was right to want to do so. If we all behaved like Doctor Cameron, the NHS would be bankrupt within the year.’

  Anna did not try to defend herself. Miss Diamond was right to rebuke her but wrong to take such pleasure in doing so. When she finally got away, she wished she had William here to do his usual brilliant magic of transforming a demoralising experience into an interesting one. Well, she thought, she was not going to give up on medicine, however much Miss Diamond might want her to. She was not going to give up on William either. She had maintained a lofty silence for over two weeks now and it had got her nowhere. For a moment, as she walked down the corridor, she thought she saw William coming towards her but it was just a man with curly dark hair. Anna came to a stop. She pulled out her phone and looked at it. Then she sent William a text: PLEASE CAN WE TALK?

  * * *

  Freya woke late the next morning after a troubled night. She limped downstairs at midday and put the empty bottle of Merlot in the recycling bin. She was glad she hadn’t cancelled Sylvie. She couldn’t bear to stay in a house full of happy family photos on the walls. If she didn’t leave soon, she would pull them all down and destroy the lot of them. She would tell Sylvie everything. Sylvie would be furious. They would spend the whole evening assassinating Felix’s character. And then, on Saturday, she would see Tess and would tell her nothing. She would leave to Felix the pleasure of telling his daughters what he had done. She and Tess would go to the party in the evening and have fun.