Tell Me No Secrets (36 page)

I start to tremble. My knees give way and I sit down hard on the stool.
I didn't do it. I didn't kill Rose. It wasn't me
. I need some air and I push past Monica to the back door, breathe slowly and deeply. After a few minutes I go back inside and pour myself a glass of water. ‘Are you absolutely sure?' I say again and immediately visualise Rose's body, bloated and blue by the time I found her. I put my hand over my mouth, clench my teeth and concentrate on letting the wave of nausea recede.

‘Yes. For heaven's sake! I told the police that at the time.'

‘You did?' On the one hand I feel a lifting, an elation, a lightness, a disbelief, a need to laugh, a need to cry, a need to shout my innocence from the rooftops. On the other, I feel a crushing, debilitating sense of loss. Years of guilt and reproach and all for nothing. If only, at the time, I had gone to the police, they would have told me that it couldn't possibly have been me.

‘Grace, you married her father! You couldn't really have believed you pushed her to her death! She must have got up later and then she fell in the water. These things happen.' She sits down opposite me. ‘Now please! Can we talk about Orla?'

‘She has nothing on me,' I say. ‘Nothing.'

‘Yes, well . . . you're lucky then, aren't you?' Her face is pinched. She leans on the breakfast bar and stares at me. ‘Orla must not be allowed to stay in the village.'

‘Why not?'

She hesitates, doubt flashes across her face and then she says, ‘Do you promise this will just be between you and me?'

I nod, hardly breathing. I hear my phone beep with a text message but I ignore it, primed for what's coming next.

She looks beyond me. ‘I love Euan, Grace. Even when we were at school, I loved him. I know I didn't rate. I know I wasn't one of the in-crowd but he has always been, and still is, the only man I've ever wanted.'

I say nothing. I am grateful that she is not looking at me because guilt is written all over my face. I can feel it, shining like a beacon.

‘History repeats itself. When I was young, Angeline wrecked my family and now Orla will do the same to my children.'

‘I don't understan—'

‘She's come back for Euan,' she says quickly.

‘She's come back for Euan?' I almost laugh. I think of his face at the convent. He is not attracted to Orla. Not at all. I know he isn't. Sure, he had sex with her once, age sixteen, but never again. He said so and I believe him. I hold Monica's shoulders. ‘Euan and Orla? Never in a million years! If that's what you're worried about then I honestly think you've got the wrong end of the stick.'

She breathes deeply. ‘I know we've never really been friends but I need you to help me look out for him.'

To my shame, I nod. The irony of Monica asking me to look out for her husband is not lost on me but I want this conversation to be over. I want time to accelerate a month, six months, whatever it takes for me to get past this moment. I want to think and to appreciate and to bask in the knowledge that I didn't kill Rose. I want to make it up to Paul and I want to live in Melbourne and enjoy being with my family.

Monica is still talking. ‘She could ruin Euan's life. And for what?' Her mouth is trembling. I watch as she forces her lips steady. ‘It was Mo who told me. She said to me,
I have a bad feeling about that girl. This isn't the last you'll see of her
. And Mo was right, just as she always was.'

In a distant part of my brain a bell goes off. ‘What was Mo right about?'

‘Orla being a threat. Coming back for Euan. Not letting it drop.'

‘What drop?' The house is so quiet I can hear the sound of the sea through the double-glazing.

‘When she was sixteen—' She stops. Tears spill on to her cheeks. She lets them fall then pushes her shoulders back and says loudly, ‘When she was sixteen, Orla had an abortion. The baby was Euan's.'

I am too shocked to speak. My mouth is open. At first I don't believe it, everything inside me says that this can't possibly be true and then connections start to form in my head: Euan being so sure Orla's intentions were spiteful, their heated exchange in the convent, Orla spitting in his face.
Why didn't he tell me?
Slowly it sinks in. This isn't just about me. She is taking her revenge on Euan too. ‘When did she have the abortion?'

‘The end of August 1984.'

Euan told me he'd only slept with her the once when they went potholing for geography O-level. That was towards the end of April. By August, she would have been more than sixteen weeks pregnant. That would explain her erratic behaviour at Guide camp. She must have known then. And I suppose that's what was in the letters. The ones I never read.

‘Euan has always been convinced that the baby wasn't his,' Monica says. ‘That was one of the things that set Orla off. The fact that he wouldn't believe her. You know she attempted suicide?'

I nod.

‘Remember when Euan went off to live with his uncle?'

I nod again.

‘Orla was causing him loads of problems, phone calls, letters, turning up at the door. They moved to England but still it carried on. She sent him pictures of dead babies in the post and wrote to the headmaster at school. So Euan went to live in Glasgow where she couldn't reach him.'

I am speechless. How could I not have known about this? Euan and I were closer than most siblings but I was oblivious to the fact that he was in trouble. I was so wrapped up in what happened to Rose that I didn't see any of it. I can hardly believe it and yet, at the same time, it rings true. Orla is out to punish both of us because neither of us helped her and the fact that we're now having an affair has made it all the richer.

‘You will keep this just between us, won't you?' Monica says.

‘Of course.' I wish Euan had told me about the abortion but I am the last person to condemn anyone for keeping secrets.

I put the bracelet into my back pocket and stand up. I need to find him, tell him that Orla has nothing on me and in truth – what does she have on him? Perhaps he didn't support her the way she wanted him to but so what? Even if she publishes the truth in the newspaper it can't damage him much. He's a grown-up and, me aside, the way he's behaved since then has been exemplary. He is well respected and well liked. Orla can't put a dent in that.

17

No secrets. For the first time in twenty-four years I have nothing to hide. There won't be a knock on the door. I won't be marched off to the police station. I no longer have to protect my family from what I thought was the truth.

I didn't kill Rose.

I sit on the step outside Monica's house and stare straight ahead. The air smells salty and wet. The wind is whipping in from the sea and I pull my coat around me. Random thoughts and pictures pass through my head: Rose at the bottom of my bed, lily of the valley soap, Mo's voice telling me that my eyes are green as summer grass, seeing the jacket in the water, holding my girls for the first time, running after Euan along the beach, Paul on our wedding day.

I didn't do it. My adult life has turned on an event that didn't happen. I walk back to my car and settle into the seat. ‘All these years I thought I killed her and I didn't,' I say out loud. ‘I didn't kill Rose.'

It's impossible to describe how much of a weight has lifted and I'm enjoying the feeling of light and air inside me. My marriage is still in trouble – I haven't forgotten that – but adultery is the lesser crime.

Euan. I can't believe that he didn't tell me about the abortion. I don't understand it. He was only sixteen: the age for mistakes. I would have helped and supported him. For almost two weeks now, I have been banging on about Orla and motives and the fact that this was my problem, not his, and all the time he was keeping a hefty secret of his own.

A ginger tom jumps on to the bonnet of the car. Silent and sleek, he sits licking his paws then rubs behind his ears. He is perfectly in sync with himself. He stops washing and stares through the windscreen at me. ‘My marriage is in meltdown but at least I didn't kill anyone,' I tell him. ‘It's all relative.'

For the first time since Orla got back in touch, I have lost the sense of impending doom. I watch the cat. He's walking backward and forward across the bonnet looking ahead into the street. Every so often he gives a plaintive meow then suddenly he jumps off and slithers through the hedge into the neighbouring garden.

Before I start the engine, I remember to look at my phone. There's a text from Euan. I check the time he sent it and then look at my watch. Forty-five minutes ago. I try to phone him but his mobile is switched to message service so I drive to Orla's house. Euan's car isn't there but there are lights on inside. It's only three in the afternoon and yet the sky is dark with clouds. It's raining a few miles out to sea. Wind heralds the rain's approach and the waves are jumping skittishly as if they know what's to come. The air vibrates as gulls flock together, beaks open, wings flapping and gliding, before coming to land, feet perched precariously on inches of ledge.

I knock on the door. Orla answers it. ‘Well! Look who's here!'

She is dressed up to the nines. She is wearing a red satin dress that grips tightly over her breasts and hips and has a thigh-high split up one side. There is a black, beaded choker around her throat and matching earrings that drop almost as far as her collarbones. Her hair is piled up on her head in a seemingly random manner but curls escape at just the right places to highlight her cheekbones. I wonder whether she knew Euan was coming.

‘I'm not here to see you,' I say. ‘I need to speak to Euan.' I can see him standing beyond her.

He doesn't look pleased to see me. He comes outside and we move away from the house a few feet. ‘What are you doing here?'

‘I found something out just now. It was Monica who told me. I couldn't possibly have killed Rose,' I say breathlessly. ‘She came back to the tent before I did. She was in her sleeping bag when I climbed into mine.' I expect him to be pleased but he shows no emotion. It's as if he hasn't heard me. ‘Euan?' I shake him. ‘Did you hear me?'

His face is expressionless. ‘Is Monica sure?'

‘Absolutely! She was there. She remembers it clearly. And you know Monica; she doesn't get stuff wrong. Isn't it brilliant?' I shake him again. ‘Euan?'

‘Yeah, it is.' He says it without enthusiasm and looks beyond me to where the storm is gathering pace, coming across the sea towards us.

I feel the first spots of rain land on my hair.

‘Don't you see what this means?' He is still staring at the horizon, preoccupied. ‘We can both walk away from this.'

No response.

I reach for his hand. ‘You could have told me.'

His eyes snap back to mine.

‘The abortion,' I say. ‘I wish you'd told me.'

His jaw relaxes. If I didn't know better I would think it looked like he was relieved.

‘I didn't think we had any secrets from each other.' In this light his eyes have darkened from cornflower blue to the lilac-blue of verbascum. It makes him look sad. ‘I'm the last one to criticise anyone for keeping secrets but I never had any from you.'

He clears his throat. ‘It was a long time ago and I never really believed the baby was mine. I wasn't the only boy she had sex with. You know how much of a liar she was.'

I nod. ‘I understand. It was a heavy price to pay. Like you said, you only slept with her once.' I pause and try to catch his eye again. I have a feeling there's something he's not telling me. ‘It was only once, wasn't it?'

‘When we went potholing.'

‘You know . . .' I hesitate. The rain is falling steadily now and I'm tired and I'm desperate to go home. I want to get right away from Orla, but first, I need to tell Euan that it has to be over between us. ‘I have always loved you and a part of me always will.' I hold his hand. ‘I want to stay married, Euan. I want Paul to forgive me.'
And we're moving to Australia.
‘I want to make things right again.'

‘This sounds like goodbye.' He tries to laugh. ‘What's going on?'

‘We have to move on.'

‘From each other?' His expression merges hurt and scepticism. ‘We've tried that before.'

‘I know. But Monica loves you and you love her. I know you do. This thing between us?' I shake my head. ‘There's nowhere for it to go.' I breathe in. ‘I'm hoping that Paul will forgive me and that we can be a family again. He's taking a sabbatical year in Melbourne. We'll be moving there in August.'

He steps backward and then almost immediately towards me again. ‘Grace?'

‘When we were young we had our chance. We didn't take it. Nothing can make this right.' Wind is whistling around our ears. I lean in towards him. ‘If we sleep together the guilt eats away at us and if we see each other every day but don't sleep together then it's a different sort of torment. We have to get right away from each other.'

‘The kids are almost grown—'

‘We've talked about this!' I am almost shouting. ‘Neither of us wants to let our partners down.'

‘Grace.' He puts a hand under my chin. ‘I love you.'

It would be a lie to pretend that I'm not tempted just to give up the fight, leave Paul and set up home with Euan. But in my heart, I know that this would be foolhardy. These things rarely end well. The children are teenagers but still they need parenting and stability. And there is nothing wrong with either of our marriages. I can't leave Paul, I love him and anyway, I don't want Euan if he has to break Monica's heart to be with me. I want to move on. I want to start over in a new country where I can be a better version of myself. ‘We have to give each other up.'