Tell Me No Secrets (12 page)

He has the wits to look sheepish.

‘Well, did you or didn't you?'

‘I think I might have. Well, not behind the bike sheds . . .'

‘You
think
you might have?'

He sighs. ‘I did.'

‘You never told me that. God, Euan! What the fuck?'

He tries to touch me but I move out of his reach. ‘It meant nothing to me and even less to her, believe me. Anyway, what difference does it make?' he shouts.

‘Keep your voice down!' I look behind us, up towards the steps but all is quiet. ‘When exactly did you have sex with her?'

‘It was twenty-odd years ago! I was a virgin. I was horny.'

‘When exactly, Euan?'

He shrugs.

‘Was it before Rose died?'

‘I don't remember.'

‘Well,
try
!'

‘What is this?' He reaches for me, strokes the goose bumps on my arm. ‘What's going on?'

‘Please.' I force myself to stay calm. I wonder why Euan and I have never discussed this before. And then I know. Because I believed her. I believed her the next day when she said she had made it up. She didn't have sex with Euan. Why would she? ‘Just try.'

He looks off into the distance, thinks for a few seconds. ‘It was when we went potholing in Yorkshire for geography O-level. We stayed in tents in a field next to the youth hostel. Usual thing, no mixing with the opposite sex after lights out but we did and then' – he raises an eyebrow – ‘somehow Orla and I fell on to the sleeping bags together. The others were outside messing around. I was having a bit of a grope.' He stops. ‘She seemed to know what she was doing. Guided me inside her. It was—'

‘She planned it,' I tell him. ‘She knew how much I liked you.' I start to pace up and down past the bins, counting off the dates on my fingers. ‘So in March you turned sixteen. In April you went potholing. On 5 May we started going out. Rose died on 15 June.' I sit down on the bottom step because my legs are not going to hold me up. ‘Why didn't you have sex with me?'

‘You didn't do geography.'

‘I don't mean then
exactly
,' I say. ‘I mean at any time. Back then,' I add.

‘Grace.' He looks at me sadly, reaches his hand towards me but I am too far away and it drops into the space between us. ‘When Rose died? That was it.' He shrugs. ‘You were off on a mission.'

He's right but it hurts to hear it out loud. I can't look at him. ‘I'm going to the loo.' I climb the steps, smile my way past a couple of teenagers and go into the bathroom. When I'm washing my hands I see myself in the mirror. I look like I haven't slept in days. My eyes don't stay still. They are darting from side to side as if I'm working out in which direction to run. Why is it that the course of my life ended up hovering on such a mundane decision: geography or history? If I had been there Euan wouldn't have slept with Orla. I'm sure of that. And then there would have been nothing to argue about.

But even if he had, what about the night Rose died? If it hadn't been raining so hard, I'd have heard the splash as she fell into the pond and I'd have dragged her out again. If Miss Parkin had put her in another girl's patrol, Monica's or Faye's for example, she wouldn't have come looking for me. If I'd had flu – it was doing the rounds – and missed the camp or if I'd never joined the bloody Guides in the first place, Rose would still be alive.

A series of incidents, a series of choices and finally a consequence so appalling that it has haunted me the whole of my adult life.

I go back outside again and find Euan still there. ‘We were arguing about you,' I tell him. I rest my head back against the cold stone of the wall and lean into him until my shoulder touches his upper arm. ‘She said that she'd had sex with you. And then the next day she denied it. Said she'd only been winding me up.'

‘She was always a good liar.'

‘I tried to tell Paul yesterday.' The memory fills me with a new sort of terror and I start to hyperventilate. ‘I couldn't bring myself to say it, but if I can't change her mind then I'll have to tell him before she does.'

‘Don't. Don't even
think
about going down that road.' He grips my shoulders tightly and steadies me with his eyes. ‘First we have to talk to her.'

‘I handled it really badly, Euan.' I feel empty, like there's no fight left in me. ‘You know what? Maybe it's time for me to stand up and say I made a horrible, horrible mistake. I pushed a little girl over and she died.'

‘She may not have died because you pushed her, Grace.' He's said this to me before and like all the other times I wish I could believe him but there's too much room for doubt.

‘I'm just so tired of hiding this. Really and truly, I am.' I start pacing again. ‘Don't you think Paul deserves to know the truth? She was his daughter, Euan. His
daughter
.'

‘Confession may be good for the soul but it's not always good for your relationships. Think about what would happen.' He looks at the ground then back at me. ‘You love Paul, don't you?'

‘Yes.'

‘So you have to preserve your marriage,' he says flatly. ‘Your love for him and his love for you. The girls' happiness. Your family has to be your priority.'

He is right and it does me good to hear it. I nod, pull my shoulders back and take a few breaths. ‘So how can I stop Orla?'

‘Let me help you. Two heads are better than one.'

Relief floods my bloodstream and is quickly followed by a reminder, a warning. Euan and me: we're not always good for each other. ‘You're sure?'

‘Yes.' He stands opposite me and says softly, ‘We're friends, aren't we?'

His leg is touching mine and I move away at once, almost trip up in my haste to keep my distance.

‘We have to keep this kosher.' I try to make my voice light. ‘You know—'

‘I know,' he cuts in and his eyes narrow for a second. ‘We had an affair. But that was years ago.' He shrugs. ‘It's all behind us now.'

‘Okay.' I put my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. ‘I just don't want us to misunderstand each other.'

‘Orla is threatening you and you need help. That's it.' He shrugs again. ‘That's all. No ulterior motives.'

‘Then I appreciate your help.' I give him a quick hug. ‘Thank you.'

‘You're welcome.'

‘So how? How can we stop her?'

‘We'll think of something.' He throws out his arms. ‘Whatever it takes.'

Several feet apart, we stare at each other for what seems like minutes and then I catch the sound of Paul's voice behind me and I shift away from Euan and start to tie a bin bag, my shaky hands more thumbs than fingers.

‘I think she's just outside. Yes, here she is! Grace!' He's smiling broadly. ‘Look who I found.'

Orla appears out of the back entrance of the hall and stands on the top step next to Paul. I stop breathing and stare at her for the longest moment until I am forced to inhale. She is smiling down at us, and then she runs down the steps, has her arms around me, hugging me to her like we are long-lost sisters. ‘Grace! It's so wonderful to see you!'

I keep my arms flat to my sides and say nothing. Truth is I am too shocked, too completely blindsided to have any idea what to say.

She lets me go and throws her arms around Euan then steps back and looks him up and down like she's about to buy him. ‘Euan Macintosh!' she says. ‘Hasn't life been treating you well? You haven't changed a bit!'

‘Orla? What a surprise!' He gives her a half-smile. ‘What brings you to the village?'

‘Oh, you know how it is. I've always loved a party and I was passing through, reacquainting myself with old haunts when I met Daisy outside. One look at her and I knew she had to be Grace's daughter!' She grins at me. ‘It was like going back in time.' She lets go of Euan and grabs hold of my hands. ‘It seems like only yesterday that
we
were both sixteen.'

I pull my hands away. There is bitter saliva in my mouth. I can't look at her. I know that if I do I will grab her hair and shake her, rattle her until her teeth fall out and her spine is reduced to jelly.

Paul searches our faces, sensing the tension. ‘So, I'll leave you three to catch up, shall I?' He looks at me enquiringly.

I look back. I want to protect him. I want to hold on to him and tell him that whatever Orla says he's not to believe it, that he's not to be alone with her, that she is the worst sort of person. That she will pretend it's all for the sake of honesty and closure.

I take hold of his arm and push him ahead of me. ‘I'm coming inside too.' We climb the steps and find the girls milling around in the kitchen.

Ella gives a shriek when she sees Paul. ‘I wondered where you were! Come on, Dad, you're allowed a dance.' Ignoring his protests, she drags him off and Daisy, already flushed from dancing, turns to me.

‘Your old friend seems really nice, Mum.' She drinks back a glass of Coke. ‘Dad's invited her to lunch Sunday week.'

‘He's
what
?'

Daisy laughs. ‘Chill, Mum! What's with the yelping?'

‘Dad invited her to lunch?' I say, hoping I heard her wrong.

‘Well, she kind of invited herself really. She said something about wanting to catch up with you and perhaps we could all have a meal together and Dad said she was welcome to pop in some time and then she said how about Sunday and Dad said okay.'

My mouth is slack. I can hardly believe it. Orla has wheedled her way into an invite to Sunday lunch and that will be exactly ten days since we met in Edinburgh. She means it. She means to tell Paul about that night. For the first time I realise just how serious this is. Dizziness spreads through me in a powerful wave and I fall back on my heels, bump my head on the cupboard door.

Daisy pulls me upright again. ‘What's up with you, Mum?' I am holding my hands across my temples and she moves them away so that she can see my face. ‘Is everything okay?'

‘Fine. I'm sorry.' I take a deep breath and make myself smile. ‘Dad and I are going to walk back home soon. Leave you both to it.'

‘Cool. Want to come for a dance first?'

‘No, you go on though. Give your dad a run for his money.'

I follow behind her and stand in the shadows watching her join Ella and Paul. They have a quick conversation, the girls laughing and excited while Paul shakes his head and makes his most reluctant face. Undaunted, Daisy shouts a request to the DJ and a rhythm and bass beat brings most of the teenagers on to the floor. The girls hold one of Paul's arms each and begin to teach him some dance steps. Within minutes, he's picking up the moves but he looks awkward and lumpy and the girls stifle their giggles and pull him this way and that until he gets the hang of it.

I want to join them but I know I can't. I don't deserve them. My hands are shaking and I force them into the pockets of my jeans. Immediately the tremor spreads to the muscles in my thighs, down my legs and into my feet. This is my family. I am a wife and a mother but I am hiding a secret so huge that if it comes out it will negate everything good I have done these last twenty-four years, and to expect Paul's forgiveness would be to expect the moon to drop down on to my doorstep.

I watch my family and I know, in this moment, that I will do anything to preserve this. I go to the back of the hall to find Orla again. She is in the kitchen with Euan and Callum who was at school with us.

‘But what about marriage and children?' Callum is saying. ‘Won't you feel like you're missing out?'

‘My spiritual life is everything to me. I really feel like I've found myself.' She laughs self-consciously, looks over at me.

I can't meet her eye. I want her to leave. Plain and simple. My fists clench and unclench by my sides and I feel like I'm ready to use them.

‘I spent a lot of time roaming,' Orla continues. ‘I was lost. I lived with men who were . . .' She pauses, looks at Euan as she searches for the right word. ‘Unsympathetic. So much time trying to make the unworkable work, and the unthinkable palatable but now, at last, I have a fit. In the convent.' She smiles like the revelation has come to her afresh. She has the same look on her face that she had in the restaurant. Like she's in love.

‘So what about sex?' Ordinarily a shy, amiable bear, I'm guessing Callum is emboldened by a couple of Special Brews. He's leaning on the counter top, staring at her, seemingly memorising each of her features in turn. ‘What are you going to do for nookie?'

She gives him a motherly look. ‘There's more to life than sex, Callum.'

‘I'm not saying it's the be-all and end-all. But it's an important part of life. Expressing yourself as an adult. Keeping all parts in good working order.' He holds up his hand. ‘Not that
I
would know that much about it. Being divorced. Lead a simple life, I do. Not much time for play.' He's dissembling now and Orla laughs, clearly amused by him. ‘What do you think, Euan?' He turns to Euan and winks. ‘Back me up here, pal.'

‘I think it's up to the individual,' Euan says. He is standing to the left of me. He has a sausage roll in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. ‘You never struck me as someone who would be attracted to a life of self-denial, Orla.' He shrugs and smiles at her. ‘But each to his own.'

‘I know!' She gives a giddy, girlish giggle. While not exactly flirting – she's not quite the old Orla – she's clearly loving the attention. ‘I've finished with all that worldly striving and competing and aiming and for what?' She throws out a challenge. ‘A faster car, a bigger house, a room full of gadgets?'