The Secrets We Share

by Emma Hannigan

  It did seem kind of strange all the same. And judging from the smiling faces and happy poses her father was pulling in the photos, he used to be a very cheerful and carefree type of guy. Whatever had gone on seemed to have affected him massively. Maybe, she mused, it explained why he was so uptight and emotionally closed a lot of the time.

  One of the photos showed him dumping a bucket of water over his father’s head. Max had such a mischievous look on his face as his poor unsuspecting father sat in a blue and white striped deckchair reading his newspaper. The shot had caught the water in mid air. Nathalie smiled. It looked like something she’d have done as a kid.

  Her favourite picture by far was one of Max when he must’ve been around ten years old. His face was covered in chocolate and he was brandishing a wooden spoon. He’d clearly licked the bowl from some baking. He had such vitality and impish glee in his grin, she couldn’t help joining in.

  As Clara cleared the dinner dishes, Nathalie walked over to the dresser and stared at the photo in more detail.

  ‘That was typical of your father,’ Clara said as she looked over her shoulder. ‘He was a scamp!’

  It was on the tip of Nathalie’s tongue to say that he’d turned into a complete control freak who rarely found anything to laugh about and that he’d have had a meltdown if she’d made a mess like that in the house.

  But then again, their home wasn’t a bit like this one. For a start, Amber wasn’t a baker; in fact she rarely cooked from scratch at all. Some of their oven trays were still encased in the factory packaging from ten years ago.

  Nathalie wondered what had happened to remove that carefree light from her father’s eyes.

  They loaded the small dishwasher in Clara’s kitchen. Their silence wasn’t strained. In fact, Nathalie found Clara’s demeanour almost intoxicating. She was naturally laid-back, with no sign of pretence. It was oddly refreshing, and in spite of deciding before she came that she was certain to hate it here, Nathalie was already beginning to feel less tense.

  ‘I remember the first time I got a dishwasher,’ Clara said happily as they finished clearing. ‘Gus arrived home with it strapped on to the roof of his car. There were no proper delivery trucks at that time. It was almost the size of our kitchen! It was a monstrous machine. Well, I thought it was the most marvellous invention ever!’

  Nathalie didn’t respond. Instead she walked back over to the table and pushed her chair in, ready to excuse herself and return to the solace of her bedroom.

  ‘Gus was a doctor,’ Clara ventured, as if trying to hold on to their time together.

  ‘Seriously?’ Nathalie said in astonishment. ‘I’ve applied for med school. But I had no idea that was a family tradition. Dad never mentioned my grandpa was a doctor too.’ Sadness replaced her anger momentarily as she wondered yet again why she’d never been introduced to this family. If her dad hated his own father so much, why did he follow in his footsteps? The more she heard, the less any of this made sense.

  ‘Well, you’ve taken the first step to changing all that,’ Clara said, as if reading her mind. ‘We’ll all get to know one another over the next while, and hopefully lots of questions will be answered.’

  Nathalie bit her lip and nodded.

  ‘So,’ Clara said brightly, ‘your aunt took over my business, which is a clothing boutique.’

  ‘Really?’ Nathalie said, unable to hide her curiosity. ‘You owned a boutique?’

  ‘Yes, dear. My mother and I set it up many moons ago. She was a talented seamstress and adored fashion. Ava is a fantastic businesswoman and the shop is her life. She’s single and doesn’t have children.’

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ Nathalie said, bowled over. ‘Your mom, as in my great-grandmother, opened a clothing store?’

  ‘Yes,’ Clara laughed. ‘It’s more a boutique than a store. Store sounds like a massive place to me. We both saw a gap in the market, so we went for it.’

  ‘So when was this?’ Nathalie asked.

  ‘Oh, now let me think … It was the same year I got married, so it was 1953 and I had just turned eighteen.’

  ‘You guys must’ve been totally ahead of your time! I’d say the locals thought you were from outer space.’

  ‘We were unusual, I suppose,’ Clara agreed. ‘But neither Mama nor I ever cared much about what other people deemed customary. We were both practical to a fault and realised that many women liked the dresses we’d been making. So a boutique seemed like a very logical step.’

  ‘And Ava took it over from you?’ Nathalie asked.

  ‘Yes. I’m delighted really. It’s lovely to see it evolving and surviving.’ Clara’s eyes crinkled as she smiled.

  At that moment Ava arrived. Well, shot in the door at high speed in a wave of hair-flicking and hand-on-hip attitude, to be exact. She halted, clearly shocked as she eyeballed Nathalie. In turn, Nathalie stared open-mouthed at Ava.

  ‘Oh sweet Jesus,’ Ava said. ‘Wow, you look so like … me,’ she trailed off. ‘I … I wasn’t expecting that.’

  ‘We really do look similar,’ Nathalie said. ‘Oma told me that was you in the pictures.’ She pointed to the dresser. ‘I couldn’t believe how alike we were as kids. And Dad never thought to mention it. Not surprising,’ she said with sarcasm.

  Ava rolled her eyes. ‘That sounds typical of my darling little brother.’

  ‘Wait a minute, he’s not that bad,’ Nathalie said, feeling suddenly disloyal. ‘He’s just not much of a talker, so I guess he chose to keep shtum about this freaky thing.’ Her heart began to beat wildly. Ava was looking pretty intimidating.

  ‘Listen,’ Ava sighed. ‘I know none of this is your fault. I’m not trying to get at you. You’re just a kid and your father’s behaviour has no bearing on you. But he’s an idiot and nothing he says or does surprises me.’

  ‘Hey, he’s a good father,’ Nathalie said. ‘Obviously you just don’t know him any more.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right there. And whose fault is that? We haven’t gone anywhere. It’s not as if he didn’t know how to get in touch. Listen, I get it that you’re going to try and stick up for your old man. But believe me, kiddo, he’s a waste of space.’

  ‘For the record, I didn’t get a choice about coming here. My mom read Oma’s letter and shoved me on the next available flight. It’s for my own good apparently. I don’t actually want to be here, so you can—’

  ‘Sometimes mothers know best,’ Clara said hurriedly. ‘I think your mother was aiming to break the ice that has formed over the years.’

  ‘How did your father take the news that you were absconding to the dark side?’ Ava asked pointedly.

  ‘Ava!’ Clara shot her a stern look.

  Nathalie glared back. ‘Well, as I said, my mom organised the entire thing. Dad came back from the hospital and had a total freak and acted as if it was all a conspiracy to get to him.’

  ‘Yup.’ Ava nodded. ‘That’d be Max. Seems the years haven’t changed him too much.’

  Nathalie knew it was pointless to say anything further.

  ‘Are you sitting down?’ Clara asked Ava. ‘I have chocolate cake.’

  ‘No thanks, Mama, I’m going on a date. Besides, your chocolate cake is total diet suicide.’

  ‘You know how I feel about diets,’ Clara scoffed.

  ‘I do, so don’t waste your breath. I’m going. It was … surreal to meet you, Nathalie.’

  Nathalie swallowed hard, relieved that Ava was leaving. She felt as if she’d been hit by a whirlwind. In fact, she realised, she was totally wiped out. The emotion and the travelling had all caught up with her.

  ‘Why don’t you go and get your night things on and I’ll bring you a nice cup of cocoa?’ Clara suggested.

  Nathalie didn’t like the idea of cocoa and was so full she felt she could burst, but Clara looked so eager about the whole thing, she agreed. Besides, her Oma was genuinely trying to make her feel at ease, unlike her father’s sister. They might look alike, but Nathalie knew she never wan
ted to end up as bitter as Ava.

  She climbed the stairs with weary legs and found a nightshirt in her bag. She pulled it on, then made her way to the bathroom and brushed her teeth. Her mom had thoughtfully tucked a packet of wet wipes into her washbag. Sighing with gratitude, she cleansed and returned to her room. Oma was there, sitting on a little wicker chair cradling a mug of hot chocolate. Nathalie climbed into the fresh bed and held her hands out to receive the mug.

  It didn’t take long for her to totally change her mind about not wanting hot chocolate.

  ‘OMG! What is in this?’ she asked, licking her lips.

  ‘It’s made with real melted chocolate,’ Clara smiled.

  ‘I’m going to be the size of the White House by the time I leave here,’ Nathalie said. ‘This would probably be illegal in LA!’

  Clara laughed and nodded, reiterating that she had no time for faddy diets or the idea of deprivation.

  ‘I cannot express how wonderful it is for me to have you here, Nathalie. I know this is all very difficult for you. But I promise I’ll make it as easy as I can. I know what it’s like to be in a strange environment with people you don’t know. I’ll try not to impose on your privacy too much. But please let me know if you need anything.’

  ‘I will, thank you, Oma.’ It was kind of cool being able to call her Oma. It was so much less awkward than Grandma.

  ‘Good night, dear. My room is just across the hall. Don’t hesitate to come and find me if you need me. Feel free to go to the kitchen or do whatever you like. My home is your home and I’d like you to feel comfortable here.’ She blew a kiss before walking out of the room and closing the door gently.

  Nathalie was intrigued. What did Clara mean, she knew what it felt like to be in a strange environment with people she didn’t know? This woman was different to anyone she’d ever met before. Much as she wanted not to, Nathalie had to admit she liked her Oma a whole bunch already. There were so many questions zooming around her head it made her dizzy. Right now, she needed to sleep. But one thing was certain: she wanted to find out what the hell had gone on with Dad.

  What didn’t fit was why her father seemed to hate Oma so much. She could totally appreciate why he wouldn’t want to talk to Ava. If she never met her again, Nathalie felt it would be too soon. But Oma was different. If she absolutely had to stay here for a bit, Nathalie figured she might as well try to uncover the secrets of the past.

  Ava pulled up at the five-star hotel in central Dublin. She needed a drink. That Nathalie was a right little brat. Ava pitied her mother having to deal with her. Well, she was going to keep a close eye on her. Clara wasn’t getting any younger, and the last thing she needed was that little fireball storming in and turning her world upside down. How bloody typical of Max to go AWOL for twenty years and then send his teenage daughter to unhinge them.

  Handing the valet her keys, she rushed to the bar. The guy she was meeting was a friend of a friend and she’d been assured he was fun, wealthy and looking for a partner. Ava wasn’t in the market for a husband. She’d given up on that notion years ago. But she’d welcome someone who could show her a good time without wrecking her head.

  ‘Ava?’ said a slightly balding man in an expensive suit and ridiculously shiny shoes.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, groaning inwardly. This was going to be a long night.

  ‘Harry. Pleased to meet you. Can I get you a drink? Champagne, or a cocktail perhaps? I’m having a margarita and it’s pretty good.’

  She couldn’t bear men who drank girlie drinks. ‘Sounds good,’ she said, smiling falsely.

  After the second cocktail, Harry seemed less dweeby and she’d warmed to him somewhat. He was clearly very impressed by her. Ava adored being adored, and the strong cocktails were making her relax.

  There was no shortage of conversation as she talked about her clothing designs and he counteracted with anecdotes from the accountancy firm where he worked. While she knew she didn’t want to see him again, Ava needed to feel a man’s arms around her, just for a few hours.

  She took the liberty of ordering a bottle of bubbly while he was in the gents’. An hour and a half later, they were writhing beneath the Egyptian cotton sheets in one of the hotel’s executive suites. Harry was eager to please and certainly seemed delighted to have made it into bed with her.

  ‘You’re amazing,’ he whispered some time later, as she returned from the bathroom and climbed back into bed.

  ‘Hold me,’ she said, closing her eyes. Drifting off to sleep, she imagined he was someone else. Someone she had loved once upon a time; someone she’d thought would share her life. Someone who had let her down and broken her heart to such an extent that she’d never been able to settle in a relationship since.

  Ava had been quite successful at convincing herself that she didn’t need a permanent partner. Most of the time she was fine. It was only at times like this that she allowed her imagination to wander to the past. While sober, the door to that corridor of her mind stayed firmly shut.

  The room was spinning. She’d drunk far too much alcohol. She groaned, disgusted with herself for getting into this state again. It used to only happen from time to time. But lately she’d been hitting the bottle and taking strange men to bed a little too often. Hearing her murmur, Harry held her closer. The drink helped her sleep so she could block out her loneliness and allow her dreams to take over.

  As it turned out, she conked out for a couple of hours and woke with a spongy, sour-tasting mouth and a thumping headache. Glancing to her right, she stared at the man in the bed.

  What the hell had happened? She gazed around the dimly lit room and tried to recall what had gone on.

  She thought of Nathalie and her cheeky little stance, and poor Clara running around after her. Irritation stuck in her gullet as she held her breath and slid out of the bed. She was relieved to make it to the privacy of the en suite. Seeing as this debauched behaviour had become a bit of a habit of late, she’d become quite astute at preparing for eventualities: she always had a change of underwear, a rolled-up jersey wrap dress and a basic washbag tucked into her shopper-sized handbag.

  Using the hotel shampoo and body wash, she freshened up, then applied her make-up. She’d happily have climbed out the bathroom window and avoided any conversation with that guy. But seeing as they were on a particularly high floor, she resigned herself to an awkward few minutes. Praying he’d be asleep, she cursed silently when she pulled the bathroom door open to find him sitting up in bed, still naked, checking his phone.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, smiling widely. ‘You’re up early. Are you heading off this second?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said, feigning disappointment. ‘Much as I’d love to spend the day together, I’ve got to get to work.’

  ‘But it’s the weekend,’ he said. ‘Come back to bed.’ She closed her eyes and racked her brains. What was his name again? John? No. Simon? No.

  ‘Weekends are my busiest time,’ she said, swiftly losing patience.

  ‘I thought you were the boss! Call in one of your minions and we can get to know one another a bit better.’

  She took a deep breath before speaking. ‘It was a lovely evening. I’ve no doubt you’re a great guy, but we don’t have a future together. There’s no chemistry between us. I don’t believe in leading people on for no reason, so I don’t see any point in us swapping phone numbers. I’ve a lot going on in my life at the moment. I don’t have room for any more shit.’

  ‘Oh, OK.’

  She exited before things could get any trickier. He looked utterly astonished at being left there naked and vulnerable in the bed. By now, Ava was used to that bewildered and dumbstruck look from men. It used to make her feel immeasurably guilty. She’d walk about in a daze for a couple of days feeling like a mean and horrible person. But she’d come to the conclusion over the years that they all moved on seamlessly. None had ever come looking for her again, and she was happier with that.

  She’d wanted the marriage-with-kids
package when she was younger and more naive. But now that she was in her early forties, she knew it wasn’t for her. She liked her apartment, loved her job and embraced the freedom of being single. She never had trouble finding dates, and most men were more than willing to jump into bed with her when the mood took her.

  She used protection and was never too inebriated to not ensure she practised safe sex. As far as she was concerned it was a win-win scenario.

  That was until last night, however. Last night had been bad. She was blind drunk by the time they fell into bed. Even she could see that things had been on a bit of a downward spiral lately. She needed to get it together a bit more. Her method would only continue to be successful if she didn’t mess up royally by getting pregnant or putting herself in danger. Feeling cheap and pretty scuzzy, she asked the valet to find her car and sped off to open the shop.

  It was sod’s law that the shop was busier than it had been for months. It seemed the entire population of Dublin and their daughters were on the hunt for a dress. She and Ruth were flat out, so it took her until mid morning to phone her mother.

  ‘How is everything going with Little Miss Attitude?’

  ‘Fine. There’s no sign of her yet, so I’m leaving her to sleep. She must be exhausted.’

  Her mother’s ability to ignore a rising argument had always irked Ava. Today wasn’t the time to take her to task over it, however.

  ‘OK, let me know if it’s brain-wreckingly awkward. I could meet you both for an early bird once the shop closes this evening.’

  ‘Well it might be a nice idea to do that anyway. I don’t anticipate any brain damage, mind you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t hold your breath on that one. Nathalie is trouble, I’m telling you.’

  ‘How about I bring her over and we’ll spend a bit of time together later? Don’t make up your mind about her just yet, Ava. Remember, she’s only a child. You’re the adult here.’