The Secrets Women Keep (35 page)

‘But haven’t you tried to talk to them?’ Rose was incredulous, unable to understand how a family could turn its back on one of its members. Surely the whole point of a family
was to support one another. The parents had to be the ones who set the example. The unresolved argument between Daniel and Jess flashed into her mind.

‘At the beginning I did,’ he explained, eager for her understanding now he saw he had her interest. ‘But if nothing else, my father was a stubborn man who never went back on
anything he said. Letters to my mother were returned unopened. Christmas cards too. If I called, they hung up the phone. Eventually I gave up and moved to Edinburgh. I never saw him
again.’

Rose wondered at the lack of affection in the way he referred to them as ‘mother’ and ‘father’, remembering the grief she’d witnessed at Daniel’s memorial.
How much of that had been for his father and his past, and how much for Daniel?

‘He died,’ said Simon. ‘An old friend from home contacted me in January. My family couldn’t even bring themselves to tell me. That’s how bad things are. When I
called, my brother told me they’d had the funeral without me. I wasn’t welcome. So there’s no going back for me. Not even now.’

‘And Daniel?’ Her voice hardened. ‘What has any of this got to do with him?’

‘Ah, Daniel.’ Simon’s shoulders dropped. ‘I don’t know what to say to you, Rose. We met. We got on. Perhaps he recognised something of himself in me. I don’t
know. We had a lot in common. A married man denying his bisexuality.’

She tried to protest. ‘Bisexual? That’s impossible. I would have known . . .’ But would you? cried a doubting voice inside her. The fact is, you didn’t.

He talked over her. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time, let’s face it.’

‘I guess you’d know,’ she snapped back. Cheap shot.

He considered her. ‘We had shared interests. We . . .’ He stopped, seeing that hearing about what they had shared would only hurt Rose more. ‘In exchange for him introducing me
to all that jazz he loved so much, I tried to introduce him to opera.’ He gave the same wry laugh as before, but this time it was threaded with sadness. ‘He tried, but he didn’t
really get it.’

She couldn’t bear the affection she heard there.

‘Did you have . . . sex?’ The question burst out of her. But it was what she was thinking. She didn’t want the answer, but she had to know if it would help her to come closer
to understanding the man she had loved for almost thirty-five years.

The question hung in the air as they heard a footstep on the wood floor.

‘Can I get you anything else?’ The barman had chosen that moment to arrive at Rose’s side, unannounced. He appeared not to have heard any of their conversation.

They declined together. He turned back to the bar, disgruntled, unnecessarily plumping up cushions, wiping the odd table, straightening chairs. When eventually he had retreated out of earshot,
Simon spoke. ‘He loved
you
, Rose.’ He sounded broken. ‘That’s the truth. Whatever happened between us isn’t relevant. Not any more.’

She so wanted to believe him, to agree that none of this mattered, that her memories could remain intact and unspoilt. But how could that possibly be?

‘And what about
me
?’ she asked, angry again. ‘What about Jess and Trevarrick? Why wasn’t Daniel enough for you? What were you hoping to gain from us?’

He gave a resigned sigh, long past defending himself. ‘I don’t know. Perhaps I was jealous. From where I stood, Dan had everything – a charmed life, if you like. Perhaps what
stopped us from having the partnership that I longed for was you and his family. Of course I’d already met Jess when we came down here . . .’

‘Of course.’ How she hated him for having intruded into their lives, entwining himself irrevocably with them.

‘When he died, Jess’s invitation to work up some designs for Trevarrick was a godsend to me. It gave me a way of staying close to him that I hadn’t looked for. I don’t
expect you to understand.’ Their eyes met at last, hers hostile, his full of regret. After a second, he looked away. ‘I hadn’t bargained on meeting you. I thought I would just be
working with Jess. Then it would be over. But she asked me to visit you and I was curious. When I came round that night, you were so sympathetic to the designs. I liked you. Simple as that.
I’d heard so much about you, but of course I would never have initiated meeting you in a million years. I asked you to take Dan’s ticket on the spur of the moment. There was something
that made me want to look after you.’ He saw her pull a face at the idea. ‘Or at least give you some support when you were having such a tough time. Perhaps I thought Daniel would have
wanted me to. I don’t know. Perhaps I wanted to make up in some small way for the damage I might have inflicted on your marriage. I didn’t expect to see you more than a couple of times,
but then we got on so well . . .’ He stopped, waiting for her.

‘You mean you felt sorry for me?’ So that was it. Pity, and a connection to the man he had loved.

He looked towards the darkness again. ‘No. You didn’t ask for that. At first, being with you made me feel close to Dan again, but then everything changed. I realised we had more in
common than just him. This place, for example. Our enjoyment of great music. The meals that took so long because there was so much we wanted to say. You were alone and so was I. We had fun,
didn’t we? And we’ve helped each other through such a difficult, dark time. I hated myself for not being honest with you. But what would I have said? I
am
sorry. I really am. I
wish you hadn’t found out.’

‘Why? So you could get away with your grubby little secret? I’d have been left forever wondering what I’d done or hadn’t done to make Daniel have an affair, wondering who
she was. I assumed it was a woman, of course.’ However much of what he said was true, she couldn’t forgive.

‘No, that’s not why. Because Dan would never have wanted you to know. If I hadn’t encouraged him, he would never have let anything like this happen. It had been too
long.’

‘Then why the hell did you?’ she yelled. ‘Why?’ She felt her control begin to slip, although she resisted the impulse to reach out and slap him. Physical violence was
never the answer. She raised her hand to signal to the barman, who had begun to come in their direction, that everything was all right. They didn’t need him.

‘Because I’d never met anyone like him. Because I knew he was tempted and I wanted to be the one who seduced him.’

‘You make me sick.’ She was disgusted by his self-justification. Then she remembered what he had just said. ‘And what do you mean, it had been too long? Too long since
what?’

‘Since he’d slept with a man . . .’

Rose stared at him, aghast. Simon wasn’t the first. Was that what he meant? Could that be true? It couldn’t be. She felt as if she was sinking beneath a fast-flowing current that was
carrying her away from everything she had known.

‘Are you all right?’ The words came from far away, but she felt the touch of his hand on her shoulder. That was enough to propel her towards the surface, flinching at the unwanted
contact. ‘Don’t touch me,’ she whispered. ‘Just get out of here . . .’

‘But that was years ago, when he was a student . . . He hadn’t . . .’ Simon spoke urgently, realising what he had done, anxious to impress on her the truth.

But Rose had heard enough. ‘I’m not interested, Simon. You’ve said plenty. Please, go . . . and don’t come back here again.’

‘But the renovations, the hotel . . . I’m needed here,’ he protested strongly, but he looked lost and frightened.

‘Not any more. I’ll speak to Jess. I don’t know, perhaps we’ll bring someone else in on the job, or we can use one of your partners if we have to. You can think of
something to tell him.’

‘You’ll tell her?’ His eyes widened.

‘I don’t know what I’m going to do.’ She swigged the rest of the whisky. It caught the back of her throat, making her cough. ‘But right now, I’m going to my
room. Just make sure you’ve gone by the time I’m down tomorrow morning.’ As she crossed the room, she turned to take a last look at him. He sat, staring out at the night, clasping
his glass, a crushed and disappointed man. ‘I’ll make your excuses.’

T
he stone bench was chilly. Eve leaned against the back wall of the folly, rubbing her hands together, her feet cold in her sandals. Having brought
her here so purposefully, Terry was struggling to find whatever it was that he wanted to say. He remained leaning against one of the pillars, staring out towards the path cut by the moon across the
sea.

Finally he broke the silence. ‘I proposed to you here.’ He sounded wistful. ‘Do you remember?’

‘Of course I do.’ How could he imagine that she would have forgotten? Had they grown so far apart?

‘Long time ago.’

She said nothing, seeing how hard this was for him. Better to leave him to build up to whatever he had to say. She shivered. More than twenty-five years ago, he had inveigled her here on the
pretence of looking for Doggle, the ancient hotel tabby cat who been missing for a day. She’d had no idea that the folly even existed. Back then, under the care of Terry’s parents, the
original mock temple had been all but forgotten. Completely overgrown, the domed roof leaked, and inside, the stone seat had been broken and weeds grew up between the cracks in the tiled floor.
Even so, it had still breathed romance. She had followed him inside, calling out the cat’s name, startled to discover a tartan rug spread on the floor, wild flowers in milk bottles arranged
on the remains of the broken seat, a bottle of champagne in a cooler beside a huge bowl of strawberries and a jug of cream, bowls and spoons. He stood proudly beside his handiwork as she took it
all in. Only later did she learn how Rose had encouraged him – partners in crime for once. But then, sinking to one knee, sticking to the script that he had written for himself, he’d
asked her to marry him. And, touched by his thoughtfulness, the care he had taken, excited to have found a man she loved after thinking she never would again, with whom she shared so much, and
whose sister was her closest friend, she had accepted. They had married almost a year later. For better, for worse.

‘Terry . . .’ She stopped. For a wild moment she was tempted to confess to her affair with Will, clear the air. But she checked herself in time. There was no point in saying anything
until she had made up her mind where her future lay. Otherwise she would hurt him unnecessarily. ‘Perhaps we should go back.’

‘No, no.’ Her suggestion seemed to galvanise him. ‘I’ve got to tell you something. Rose says I must.’

‘Rose?’ He’d confided in his sister first, and yet Rose had said nothing. Eve bristled, uncomfortable at the thought that there might be secrets between the two of them. If
anything, Dan’s death had brought her and Rose closer together than ever. She had told her friend everything, and she thought Rose had reciprocated by confiding in her about her growing
friendship with Simon.

‘I had to ask her to help me with the money,’ he said, as if that explained everything.

‘What money?’ She rubbed at the goose bumps prickling on her arms.

‘You’ve seen my credit card bills . . . you must have wondered.’

‘No.’ She was mystified as to where this could be leading.

‘But I stupidly left them on the kitchen table a few weeks ago. You tidied them up.’ A note of impatience had entered his voice, as if she was being deliberately obtuse.
‘I’ve been waiting for you to say something.’

She shook her head. ‘I didn’t look at them. I wouldn’t.’ Actually, she would, but she must have tidied them away without thinking.

‘But you’ve been so distant,’ he said, perplexed. ‘I thought that must be why. You must have guessed.’

‘Terry, I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. Just say whatever you’ve got to say and let’s get back. We really should.’

‘This is even harder than I thought it would be.’ He leaned his head back against the pillar.

‘If you can tell Rose, you can tell me,’ she encouraged.

He turned to face her, his arms folded across his chest, his left heel kicked back against the stone. His face was in shadow but she could sense the tension there.

‘I’ve got myself into a bit of trouble.’ He hesitated before diving in, the words coming in such a rush that Eve had to struggle to make sense of them. He lost her near the
beginning when he started explaining how his betting had become something much more serious. At first, she didn’t understand why this deserved quite such a momentous presentation. He’d
bet on the horses for years and never got into any serious trouble. He was too cautious or tightfisted for that. Sometimes a flutter or two too many, the odd loss, but nothing more. And the losses
had never been anything that couldn’t be quickly absorbed. But then he wasn’t talking horses any more but other sports, all of which were being played all over the world at all times of
the day and night. How easy it was to place a bet without her realising. How he started small but then things escalated. A couple of credit cards she didn’t know about. A mortgage. The sums
of money he was quoting spun around her head, not computing. At last he drew to a close. ‘So,’ he concluded, his voice dropping to an ashamed murmur, ‘I ended up owing two hundred
K.’

There was a silence as she took it in.

‘But that’s almost quarter of a million,’ she said incredulously, as if he must have made a mistake. The night air felt even cooler. She rubbed her arms vigorously as she
recalled the modest earnings of the agency that month, the minimal salary she would have to draw, the absence of his income, and at last the implications began to hit home. ‘Terry, you
can’t have. How the hell are you going to pay that sort of money back?’

‘That’s the point. Telling you is the start. I was going to earlier on in the bedroom, but I didn’t know how to start, and then, what with your reaction to the bracelet, I
couldn’t.’

‘But you could now, in the middle of the party?’ Hysteria edged into her voice. ‘For God’s sake, Terry. What were you thinking?’ But she knew that he had only done
what she had done so often, had a glass or two for Dutch courage. He had screwed up his nerve until he couldn’t wait any longer.