My Sister’s Secret (28 page)

‘Why can’t
I
go to the launch?’ Willow asked for the hundredth time.

‘You’ll see the ship when we get back,’ Dan explained to her. ‘The cruise is for adults, darling, lots of boring wine and business talk. The best bit is the party when we get back. Now
that
you’ll love.’

‘The party with fireworks?’ Willow asked.

Dan pulled Willow into a big hug. ‘Yes, that’s right, darling, and you’ll be our most important guest.’ He looked down at her, brushing her dark fringe from her eyes. ‘I love you, Willow, my most precious beautiful girl.’

‘Love you too, Daddy,’ Willow replied, looking up at him with a huge smile on her face.

Charity watched them, her eyes filling with tears.

‘Better get packed then,’ she said, forcing her voice to be sing-song for Willow. ‘How exciting, an impromptu holiday!’

As Charity walked up the stairs to pack with Willow, she turned to see Dan standing at the front door, looking up at them both. He nodded once, like he knew why she was doing this – was grateful even – then let himself out.

Charity

Busby-on-Sea

April 1996

Charity stared out of the taxi window, watching the familiar sights of Busby-on-Sea flash past: the old abandoned ship in the middle of the town square, the art café that had been in her family for over thirty years; the cracked and filthy promenade.

Dan had called her, asking her to check in on the mansion. He’d not been able to sell it so it just sat there, empty and unused. She’d left Hope and Willow at the house playing a game of patience. Hope had taught Willow how to play it the night before and now Willow was obsessed, despite getting it wrong most of the time. It had been strange for Charity, arriving at her old childhood home the night before, peering up at the dark windows and remembering all the times she’d done the same after jumping out of Niall’s car…including on the night Faith died, no idea it had been her sister on that road just a few moments before.

She didn’t come to Busby-on-Sea much, desperate to avoid the memories. But when she did, they flooded back.

Charity pulled out the photo of Willow she kept in her purse.
Focus on your daughter, not the past
, she told herself. That’s what she’d been doing for seven years, each time dark thoughts about the night Faith died crossed her mind, focusing on the future, on Willow.

The taxi turned into the long road leading up to Dan’s house. It seemed smaller than she remembered, its white exterior now dirty, weeds poking through the once manicured lawns. It was being looked after by a local gardener and housekeeping couple. But it wasn’t the same without people actually living there.

‘This place has changed since I was here last,’ the taxi driver observed. ‘Dan North and his glamorous model wife.’

Charity couldn’t help but smile to herself. If only the driver knew Dan’s not-so-glamorous second wife was in the car now.

‘My brother knew him well,’ the taxi driver continued. ‘Used to edit the local paper, passed away last year from a heart attack.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘He was a good bloke, my brother. Had some interesting things to say about Dan North.’

‘Really?’ Charity asked, gripping the headrest to hear the driver better.

‘Yeah, he leaked some good stories to my brother. My brother told me last year, before he died. Stories about local business, politicians…good photo of that hit-and-run bloke who killed that poor girl on Ashcroft Road. Probably before your time, all that.’

Charity’s blood turned to ice as she thought of the photo of her and Niall that had appeared on the front of the local paper all those years ago on the day they found the submerged forest in Busby-on-Sea with Dan and Lana. The article had even revealed that she and Niall had been dating, something she thought only the three sisters knew.

‘You said Dan North leaked it to the paper?’ she asked.

‘Yeah.’

The uncomfortable things she’d learnt about Dan all those years ago came back to her: the way he’d tried to wreck Niall’s career, the methods he’d used to get the cottage. And now this? Plus Dan had implied he didn’t know Charity had a sister who died until she told him on the boat the day the article came out. But he must have known if he’d leaked that article!

‘You okay, love?’ the taxi driver asked. ‘I haven’t just put my foot in it, have I?’

‘No, it’s fine.’ She forced a smile and dug around in her bag for her purse, quickly handing the money over then stepping from the car. As the taxi drove away, she wrapped her arms around herself and stared up at the huge mansion her husband owned.

What games had Dan been playing?

That night, after dinner with Hope and Willow, she called Dan. The phone rang for a while before he answered, slightly out of breath. ‘Oh, hello, darling. Just been watering the garden. Heard the phone and had to run for it.’

Charity imagined Dan standing beneath the willow at the end of their garden, absent-mindedly watering the grass as he stared out into the distance. He’d be wearing those paint-splattered old green shorts he liked to wear outside, a white t-shirt, sleeves rolled right up to reveal his tanned shoulders, his blond hair tousled. She wanted to be there to wrap her arms around him and look into his eyes, ask him what the hell he was playing at.

She sat on the bench, squeezing its edges with her hands to keep focus. ‘I had a really disturbing chat with a taxi driver today.’ She paused, took another deep breath. ‘His brother edited the local paper here. He said
you
leaked that photo of me and Niall to him, the one that was on the front page all those years back?’ It came out in a jumble, words tripping over each other.

Dan didn’t say anything. All she could hear was his breath down the other end of the phone.

‘He’s lying,’ he said eventually.

‘I don’t believe you.’

Dan sighed. She imagined him putting his hand to his head, massaging his temple as he closed his eyes. Maybe the sun would be setting in the distance, dipping over the hills as it did, casting the kitchen in a soft orange glow. ‘Who do you believe more, a random taxi driver or me?’

‘I’m sorry, Dan, but the truth is, I don’t know. Once the launch is out of the way tomorrow, we need to talk.’

Then she put the phone down and walked back into the kitchen. ‘Everything okay?’ Hope asked her.

‘I just need some fresh air,’ Charity said. ‘Go get your bucket and spade, Willow sweetheart.’

An hour later, as Willow occupied herself digging up pebbles and transferring them to her bucket, Charity thought about the times she’d come here with Faith, Hope and Niall, all three lying on the pebbles, exhausted from an afternoon searching for the forest.

‘Come on,’ she said to Willow. ‘Let’s walk farther up, there’s a rock pool, we might see some fish. You can pick some shells up on the way to make Daddy a special gift later.’

Willow’s eyes lit up and she jumped up with her bucket, pebbles clanging against the sides as she ran down the beach ahead of Charity, picking up shells and examining them.

As Charity strolled along the beach, a dark figure appeared in the distance. As he drew closer, she recognised him. It was Niall. She felt a sense of panic, heart faltering. She glanced at her daughter who was crouched down and examined a pile of shells a few metres ahead.

She knew there was always a chance she’d bump into him when visiting her sister here, his father was still alive after all and surely Niall visited him, despite their difficult relationship. But after years of not seeing him, she’d grown secure in the hope that she never would.

But now here he was and he was quickening his steps towards her. Her breath caught in her chest at the sight of him after so long apart. His dark hair was cropped again, hints of grey in it. He looked leaner, his facial features more defined. His blue eyes looked tired.

‘Charity,’ was all he said.

‘How are you?’

He stared at her, blinking. Then he seemed to compose himself. ‘Good.’

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I’m back to take more photos of the forest, a kind of retrospective.’

Charity smiled. ‘I hear you’re quite a success now.’

‘I hear you married Dan North. Are you happy?’

‘Very.’

Charity quickly peered at Willow. She was now sitting on the pebbles putting a large shell up to the sun and squinting at it. She caught her eye and smiled. ‘Mummy,
look
at this shell!’

Niall frowned as Willow ran towards them, arm outstretched, a large shell in her hand.

‘I didn’t know you had a kid,’ he said.

Charity took Willow’s shell, her heart thumping horribly in her chest. ‘How beautiful, darling. Look, there’s a whole pile there,’ she said, pointing to a collection of shells and pebbles nearby. ‘Maybe you can find some more? Then we can get some ice cream from Aunt Hope’s café.’

Willow nodded then jogged towards the shells, looking back over her shoulder again and frowning at Niall.

‘She’s beautiful. How old is she?’ Niall asked as he watched Willow sit cross-legged on the side of the promenade, leaning over to examine the shells.

‘Five,’ she lied.

‘Her eyes, they’re very blue, aren’t they?’ Realisation dawned on his face. ‘My friend has a five-year-old. Your daughter looks older than five.’

‘She’s got Dan’s height. So tell me more about—’

‘Jesus, Charity. Is she seven? Could she be mine?’

‘Of course not!’ Charity snapped.

He took a step towards her. ‘If there’s a chance she’s mine, Charity…’

‘She isn’t. Okay? She
isn’t
.’

‘You’re lying. I can tell. You don’t know, do you? You don’t know whose she is. Just tell me the truth,’ he said, his face pained.

‘Okay,’ Charity said, sick of carrying this secret around each day. ‘I have no idea whose she is.’

‘Then why the hell didn’t you just tell me?’

Charity didn’t say anything.

‘I see,’ Niall said. ‘You thought Dan would be the better father because of his money.’

‘It wasn’t just the money, Niall. You always said you didn’t want kids. And you’re always travelling.’

‘I said that when I was seventeen, for Christ’s sake. If I knew I had a daughter, I’d have given all the travelling up, you realise that, don’t you?’

‘I don’t,’ Charity whispered.

‘I can’t believe this,’ Niall said. ‘Can you get a test done?’

‘No,’ Charity said, shaking her head. ‘Willow loves Dan, I couldn’t do that to her.’

‘And what about me?’ Niall said, tears welling in his blue eyes as he grabbed her arm. ‘Do you know what it’s going to do to me knowing I might have a daughter with you?’

There was a loud clang as Willow’s bucket fell to the ground, pebbles and shells scattering everywhere. ‘Mummy?’ she asked in a scared voice. Niall let Charity’s arm fall to her side, face flooding with emotion as he looked at Willow. Charity took one last desperate look at him then jogged over to her daughter, leaning down to pick up the pebbles and shells she’d dropped. ‘It’s okay, darling,’ she said. ‘Shall we go and get that ice cream?’

‘Why did that man grab you, Mummy?’

Niall flinched, turning away.

‘I nearly tripped over!’ Charity said, trying her best not to cry in front of her daughter. ‘You know how clumsy I am. It was very nice of him to help me. Now, let’s go, shall we?’ She took her daughter’s hand and led her towards the café in the distance, turning just once to contemplate Niall. He was standing in the same spot, watching them with a tortured look on his face. She felt sick to her stomach and full of guilt. He had every right to be upset, what a thing to keep from him! But she’d had no choice.

She rushed into the café and ordered two strawberry ice cream sundaes from the pretty teenager behind the till, then took them to a small table by the window, peering back out towards the spot where Niall had been.

He’d gone.

Their ice creams were brought over and Willow tucked right into hers as Charity continued staring out of the window. She looked at Willow, her pretty face smeared with ice cream. Had she made a mistake cutting Niall out of her life when she found out she was pregnant?

‘Come here,’ she said to Willow, reaching into her bag for some wet wipes.

‘Daddy’s ship,’ Willow said, pulling the brochure Dan had produced for the launch from Charity’s bag. She’d heard Dan reading from it to Willow as he’d tucked her into bed a few nights before.

Willow flicked through it as Charity watched her. She couldn’t disrupt her life. She was happy in the cottage, with Dan. And so was Charity. She just wished she didn’t keep discovering these strange things about her husband.

‘Grandma,’ Willow said, pointing to a photograph of Dan’s mother, an attractive grey-haired woman with Dan’s green eyes. She was sitting on an opulent red chair, hands crossed delicately on her lap, a distant smile on her face.

‘Ah, yes,’ Charity said as she looked at it. ‘That painting’s going to be hung up inside the ship.’

‘Daddy says I look like her.’

Charity smoothed her finger over the woman’s face. Maybe she did, a bit. Then she noticed something, a necklace hanging from his mother’s neck. She picked the brochure up, peering closer.

A distinctive anchor pendant hung from it covered in sparkling jewels.

Faith’s pendant.

How did Faith get Dan’s mother’s pendant?

There was only one explanation. He must have given it to her. Her stomach dropped. No, that wasn’t possible. Surely he would have told her if he knew Faith? What if he sold it when he was young and Faith bought it?

She thought of the way Faith used to fiddle with it over dinner each evening, staring wistfully out of the window. Or the careful way she clasped it around her neck in the mornings, tilting her head to look at it in the mirror.

It meant something to her. It wasn’t just some cheap trinket she’d found in a shop.

Could Dan have given it to her?

That night, as she kissed Willow goodnight, Charity remembered what Hope had said all those years ago: all that mattered was her daughter.

‘I love you, darling,’ she whispered to Willow. ‘See you in a week.’

She took one last look at her beautiful daughter and then walked out of the room, going downstairs.

‘I hope you have some armour packed in there,’ Hope said as she looked at Charity’s bags in the hallway. ‘Sounds like you and Dan have a lot to spar about.’

Charity hadn’t told Hope about the necklace, she needed to get the facts first. But she had told her about the taxi driver’s revelations.

Hope sighed. ‘Look, all I want is for you to have a normal relationship, Charity. If you’re not with the man who killed our sister, you’re with a prolific millionaire liar. Can’t you just settle down with an accountant or something?’

‘Or no man at all,’ Charity said.

Hope looked away, no doubt thinking of Peter, her editor. Things had seemed to fizzle out with Peter after Hope decided to forgo their plans to spend more time with Charity when they were in Kazakhstan. Charity always wondered whether, if Charity hadn’t flown out there, things would have worked out between them. At least Hope had a poetry book coming out soon, something she’d wanted for years.

‘Whatever happens between you and Dan,’ Hope said, her face serious all of a sudden, ‘I’m here for you and Willow. This house is yours too, remember. You’ll never be alone.’