It Started with a Secret: The feel-good novel of the year, from the bestselling author of MAYBE THIS TIME

by Jill Mansell

  Shedding a few tears, it turned out, was cathartic. Who knew? Once the pent-up grief was out of his system, he wiped his eyes and checked his watch. Much as he wanted to call Lainey and tell her he needed to see her now, the reason for her coming up here with him was because she was paying a visit to her grandmother.

  The thought of calling her – which he mustn’t do, not yet – belatedly reminded him of the phone call that had got him kicked out of the retreat.

  Or enabled him to escape.

  It had been from Grace, mother of Ned, Stevie and Bay, and he knew why she’d wanted to speak to him – today was Ned’s eleventh birthday and he’d sent him a box of Star Wars Lego.

  Time to call her back.

  Once the effusive thanks were over, Grace said cheerily, ‘And are you still up there in the Cotswolds, or are you on your way home now?’

  Seth was amused. ‘And how do you know where I am today? Or has Ned fitted a tracker to my car?’

  ‘You aren’t the only one who sent him a present, you know. Lainey had a T-shirt specially made, with Ned’s face in amongst a load of Star Wars characters on the front, and I don’t think he’s ever going to take it off. I called to thank her and asked if she’d like to come over for tea, to see the boys. That’s when she told me you’d given her a lift up there so she could visit her Granny Ivy.’

  ‘Ah, right. Yes, I did. It wasn’t out of my way.’

  ‘Don’t you just love the sound of that place, Goosebrook? Oops, don’t do that, Stevie! I’d better go,’ said Grace over the sound of clattering furniture. ‘Tell Lainey to be careful and not go falling out of any trees! And thanks again for Ned’s Lego . . .’

  The call had ended, but Seth was still staring at the phone in his hand.

  Finally he looked at Google Maps and saw that whilst the journey from Cirencester to the spa retreat was more or less a straight line, Goosebrook was several miles over to the left.

  Goosebrook.

  Surely not . . .

  He drove into the village forty minutes later, remembering random familiar details as he spotted them: the pub sign swinging in the light breeze outside the Black Swan . . . the cobalt-blue paint on the propped-open door of the village shop . . . the huge domed chestnut trees casting pools of shadow across the grass as they stood sentinel on either side of the whitewashed village hall.

  How long was it since he’d last been here? His mother and her boyfriend at the time had rented a holiday cottage bordering the village green, and he’d been forced to spend a weekend with them. It must have been twenty years ago, Seth worked out. He’d been twelve.

  Now, he parked at the roadside and climbed out of the car, taking a more detailed look at the buildings lining the high street. The Old Schoolhouse, Bay Cottage, the B&B with a trellis of white roses around the door. Over there on the other side of the green were the grand Cotswold-stone pillars flanking the entrance to Fox Court, and to the right of them stood the church, with its tree-shaded higgledy-piggledy graveyard.

  A tall woman in her sixties, with a black cat walking at her heels, was heading along the pavement towards him. Her eyes narrowing at the sight of a stranger, she regarded him with suspicion. ‘Are you looking for someone?’ Clearly checking in case he was a burglar intent on breaking into one of the houses in the vicinity.

  Actually, why stop at one? May as well go through the whole lot, see what he could get.

  But nothing now could spoil his mood. ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ he said good-naturedly. ‘Going to have some lunch in the pub. Beautiful cat.’

  The woman’s sharp features softened in an instant. ‘Thank you.’ She made her way past him with the cat swishing its tail alongside her, then stopped and turned. ‘By the way, they do a good chicken pie.’

  From her manner, it sounded as if she wasn’t quite used to being friendly but was doing her best.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Seth.

  The woman hadn’t been wrong: the home-made chicken pie was excellent. By the time he left the Black Swan, it was half past three. Setting out on foot, he explored the rest of the village, recalling more details of his previous visit along the way. Reaching the outskirts, after crossing the brook and following a narrow path, he came to a field with sheep in it. And yes, there behind a high dry-stone wall at the other end of the field was the cottage he remembered so well.

  He could still be wrong, of course, but somehow he sensed he wasn’t.

  Taking out his phone, he rang Lainey’s number.

  ‘Yes?’ She sounded cautious.

  ‘Grace called me. She said your Granny Ivy lives in Goosebrook. Where are you now?’

  Silence. Then, ‘Goosebrook.’

  ‘Why did you let me drop you in Cirencester?’

  ‘I didn’t want to take you out of your way.’

  ‘Idiot.’ He smiled into his phone. ‘Look, I’ll see you there at four thirty. I’ll be waiting on the bench outside the village hall, OK?’

  Still cautious, Lainey said, ‘OK. You sound . . . different.’

  ‘Do I?’

  ‘Hang on, how do you know there’s a bench outside the village hall?’

  ‘Google Maps. See you there,’ said Seth. ‘Don’t be late.’ And he ended the call.

  Chapter 44

  She was early. It was still only 4.15 when he saw her making her way down the street before crossing the village green and heading towards him. It felt like a good sign.

  Reaching the bench, Lainey said, ‘You were already here when you called me, weren’t you?’

  Seth nodded and indicated that she should sit down next to him. ‘I was.’

  ‘Is your mum OK?’

  ‘She’s fine. Very . . . detoxed. And how’s Granny Ivy?’

  ‘Brilliant. Ninety years old and probably going to live until she’s two hundred.’ Lainey was watching him intently. ‘You still sound different. And you look different too. Something’s happened. What’s going on?’

  Oh, nothing much. Just got my life back, that’s all.

  He took a deep breath. ‘It’s about Matteo.’

  When he’d finished relaying the whole story, Lainey raked her fingers through her hair, pushing it back from her forehead. ‘My God, I can’t believe it. Two Matteos. So for the last three weeks you’ve been going through hell. I can’t imagine what that must have felt like. And now . . .’ Her voice trailed away as she searched his face.

  ‘I feel like the luckiest person in the world. I don’t have to worry about it any more.’ And as he held her gaze, Lainey’s eyes filled with tears.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘but I really need to hug you.’

  ‘Not nearly as much as I want you to hug me.’

  He wondered if it would feel awkward, but it didn’t; it was the opposite of awkward. The sensation was intoxicating, everything he could have wished for. He could feel Lainey trembling as she wrapped her arms around him. Inhaling the scent of her skin, her hair, he closed his eyes and held her tight, committing every tiny detail to memory. The urge to find her mouth with his own was intense, almost overwhelming, but he mustn’t do it, not yet, not quite yet. There were small children racing around the village green and a group of teenagers stretched out on the grass, chatting and listening to music. The first time had to be perfect, and whistles and catcalls from easily amused teenagers wouldn’t help.

  He drew back finally, sensing that Lainey was as reluctant as he was to let go.

  Which was good.

  She was still trembling too.

  ‘When did you find out about the disease?’ There was a catch in her voice. ‘I mean, when exactly?’

  ‘The day after Dawn saw us on the beach.’ He knew she was putting two and two together. Just when the next stage of their relationship had seemed inevitable, his world had come crashing down and for both their sakes he’d had to step away.

  ‘Right.’ Lainey nodded slowly. ‘I thought it was me, getting it wrong. Or I thought I’d done something wrong.’

  There was no po
int in pretending otherwise; they both knew what had been on the verge of happening between them.

  ‘Neither of those,’ said Seth.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ She smiled and ran an index finger lightly over the back of his hand.

  ‘There is one thing, though. Something I do need to ask you.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘When you were six or seven, did you have one of those toys where you pull a cord and the fairy flies up into the air?’

  Confused, Lainey said, ‘I did, but . . . that’s not the kind of question I thought you were going to ask.’

  ‘This fairy of yours. Was it green and pink?’

  ‘Yes . . .’ She hesitated, and her eyes slowly widened in disbelief. ‘Oh no, you can’t be . . . no . . .’

  ‘You’d flown the fairy out of your bedroom window and it got caught in the branches of the tree,’ Seth reminded her.

  ‘But . . . but it can’t have been you!’

  ‘And you were so desperate to get it back, you climbed out of the window into the tree. Then found out you were stuck and couldn’t get down or back inside.’

  Her eyes were like saucers now. ‘There was a boy in the field behind the house, and he jumped over the wall . . .’

  ‘Good-looking boy, aged twelve,’ Seth prompted. ‘And it was a pretty high dry-stone wall.’

  ‘He rescued me,’ whispered Lainey. ‘He climbed the tree, helped me down . . .’

  ‘And he rescued the flying fairy, don’t forget that. Total hero.’

  ‘Then he called me an idiot.’

  Seth raised an eyebrow. ‘Maybe he was right. If he hadn’t spotted you, you could have broken your neck.’

  ‘Was it really you?’

  ‘As soon as Grace mentioned Goosebrook, I remembered the name of the place. I came here with Mum and one of her boyfriends for a weekend getaway. Then Grace said on the phone to tell you not to go falling out of any trees . . . and that was it. I knew.’

  ‘I always remembered you,’ Lainey marvelled. ‘It was like my brain took a picture of your face. I can see you now, helping me down the tree, with the sun behind you, shining through the branches . . . and your eyes . . . and the way you looked at me when you called me an idiot. Then you gave me back my fairy, climbed over the wall at the end of the garden and disappeared.’

  Seth nodded. ‘We left the next day, went back to London.’

  ‘I was terrified you might turn up again and tell Granny Ivy what I’d done. She still doesn’t know to this day.’

  ‘Promise me you’ll never climb out of a bedroom window again.’

  ‘I won’t.’ Playfully she added, ‘Not unless you’re there to catch me.’

  ‘Try not to do it anyway.’

  ‘I’ve just remembered, the first day we met you at Menhenick House, I felt as if I knew you from somewhere.’ Lainey shook her head. ‘And I did. It was here, it was you all along. Wow.’

  Seth took her hand, interlinking his fingers with hers, revelling in the sensation and recalling the last time it had happened. ‘This thing. You and me. Just so you know, I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think it was going to last.’

  ‘And if it all goes horribly wrong, you’ll sack me.’ Lainey’s mouth twitched. ‘So I’m kind of hoping it works out too.’

  They made their way back to the car. Once inside, Seth drew her towards him and kissed her for the first time. It was everything he could have hoped for and definitely worth the wait.

  He had a feeling this was going to work out.

  Eventually they heard a bark and broke apart. Observing them from a few metres away was a man of roughly his own age, with dark hair and electric-blue eyes, walking an ancient whiskery dog on a lead. Breaking into a dazzling grin, the man winked at Lainey before continuing on down the high street.

  Cheeky sod.

  Over on the village green, Seth discovered, they were also now being watched with interest by the group of teenagers. He said drily, ‘I feel like a tourist attraction. Time to go.’

  Her eyes sparkling, Lainey gave his arm a squeeze. ‘How weird is it that a few months ago I’d never even heard of St Carys? And now all I want to do is go back there with you.’

  Chapter 45

  A fortnight later, the stage was set to celebrate Richard’s eightieth birthday. Always up for a party, he’d invited over two hundred people to Menhenick House. Thankfully, after three cloudy, drizzly days in a row, the skies had cleared, the sun was now blazing down and the garden, thanks to Kit’s loving attention over the course of the summer, had never looked better.

  The guest list comprised an eclectic assortment of family, fellow actors and arty types, and friends acquired over the decades, ranging from long-ago to those made more recently during his time here in St Carys. Even a couple of ex-wives – the calmer ones who could be trusted not to make a scene – had been invited along to join in with the celebrations.

  ‘You’ve done wonders. Everything’s perfect,’ said Majella as they surveyed the scene. Lainey had strung coloured bunting around the garden, along with garlands of fairy lights to come on later when it grew dark.

  ‘Seth helped me. I couldn’t have done it without him.’ Just saying his name still gave Lainey a warm glow, not to mention the thought of that magical first weekend they’d spent together at his flat in Bristol. The last fortnight had been the happiest of her life.

  ‘And we couldn’t do anything without you.’ Majella squeezed her arm and whispered, ‘How’s it going? All OK?’

  Lainey smiled, because although Majella had tried her best to be pleased for her and Seth, at the same time she had been worried that if the relationship didn’t work out, it would make life at Menhenick House difficult for all concerned. She’d explained apologetically that she couldn’t bear the thought that if it went wrong, Lainey might up sticks and leave.

  ‘So far, so good. In fact, better than OK.’

  ‘Well make sure you keep it that way, please.’ Majella gave her arm another squeeze. ‘And I am starting to relax, just so you know. I’ve never seen Seth so happy. I mean, when he was with Dawn they seemed to get on well, but he was still . . . separate, you know? This time it’s different. He can’t stop looking at you and his eyes light up in a way I’ve never seen before. It’s like you truly belong together.’

  ‘I hope so.’ Secretly, Lainey felt it too.

  ‘Ooh, I haven’t had a chance to tell you.’ Majella brightened. ‘Guess who I saw when I popped into the post office at lunchtime?’

  ‘Hugh Jackman?’ Well, you never knew; maybe Richard had given his good friend Hugh a call, casually made a last-minute addition to the guest list.

  ‘Dawn! Sitting outside Paddy’s Café! And you’ll never guess who she was with?’

  ‘Umm . . . Kate Winslet?’

  ‘No! Niall.’ Majella pulled an eek! face and strummed an imaginary guitar. ‘I couldn’t believe it! And it didn’t look like a first-date scenario either . . . she was draped all over him, as if they knew each other really well.’

  Lainey boggled. ‘Wow, we’d heard she’d started seeing someone.’ Which had been good news as far as she and Seth were concerned. ‘But we didn’t know who it was.’

  ‘Let’s just hope he’s nicer to her than he was to me. Anyway, Dan’s going to be here soon.’ Majella beamed and patted her heart. ‘I still can’t believe it’s happened. Honestly, he makes me feel like a teenager again.’

  ‘Things are looking up around here,’ said Lainey.

  ‘For us. But not for India.’ The smile faded from Majella’s face, because India continued to worry them and was flatly refusing to confide in anyone about whatever it was that was clearly still troubling her. She was quiet and withdrawn, not her usual exuberant self at all, and over the last few days had become noticeably more on edge whenever anyone had mentioned today’s party. Which, to be fair, had happened a lot.

  ‘We’re keeping an eye on her,’ Lainey’s tone was reassuring. ‘It’s all we can do.
Whatever it is, we’ll get her through it.’

  Although quite how, when they were so in the dark about the problem and India flatly refused to talk to anyone or consider any kind of professional help, she wasn’t entirely sure.

  People started arriving at six, and by seven the garden was filling up nicely. Lainey carried out plates of hors d’oeuvres and began offering them to the guests, helped by Nerys, who was still adamant she didn’t want to be introduced to anyone as Richard’s daughter. ‘Oh no, really, I couldn’t be doing with the attention.’ She winced at the hideous prospect. ‘All those people giving me the once-over and coming out with ridiculous questions . . . it’s not my cup of tea at all. If anyone asks, just say I’m a friend of the family, that Mum and Sir Richard worked together years ago.’

  Which just went to show, Lainey realised, that some secrets were better coming out whilst others were far happier staying hidden.

  Oh, but she still wished she knew what was troubling India.

  A cry of ‘Wyatt!’ went up behind her, and Lainey turned to see Majella and Richard greeting the latest arrival. When Kit had mentioned that Wyatt was coming down to Cornwall this weekend, they’d insisted he be invited along to the party. And being Wyatt, and partial to an over-the-top gesture, he was carrying a dramatic arrangement of tropical flowers.

  Kit embraced him as Lainey made her way over to them. Richard, rakish in a cobalt-blue linen suit worn over a bright pink shirt and with a pink rose in his buttonhole, said, ‘Flowers for me, young man? Most kind, but I’d have preferred something I could drink.’

  ‘Which is why these are for Majella.’ Wyatt presented them to her with a gentlemanly flourish, then turned back to Richard. ‘I couldn’t manage to carry yours out here because it’s a crate of Perrier-Jouët. It’s sitting in the kitchen.’

  Richard landed a smacking kiss on each of Wyatt’s cheeks, and declared expansively, ‘Did I ever tell you you’re my favourite American?’

  Wyatt’s cheeks glowed as he turned to include Lainey and Kit in the conversation. ‘Actually, I’ve got a piece of news for you two. Think you’re going to like it.’