Her Best Friend's Secret: A gripping, emotional novel about love, life and the power of friendship

by Mansell, Anna

  ‘I know. I know what we said…’

  Jackson looked from her eyes to her belly. He glanced out of the window then down to his glass. He twisted the stem and wine swilled. He shook his head, he rubbed his hands through his hair.

  ‘Jackson… say something…’

  Jackson silently stood. He stared at her for what felt like an age. Then he turned and walked out of her front door without a single glance back.

  Jess

  Jess flung on the lights at home, catching sight of her reflection in the black of her kitchen window. She stared at the whitewashed walls and clutter free surfaces. Her home was the polar opposite of Amanda’s, it was stripped back, bare. She had no photos or mementos from the past. She opened the cupboard to reach for a glass tumbler. She’d never been one to take photos, never mind stick them to the inside of her cupboard doors, maybe she should start. She pulled out a new bottle of her favourite Cornish gin, a gift from a client. Peeling the faux wax from the lid she felt a puff of pride at a job well done, before her heart dipped. These were her photos and mementos, gifts from clients… it was so one-dimensional, so basic.

  Which was her all over.

  What was she doing with her life? She was forty and she’d achieved nothing of significance, apart, perhaps, from buying her own home. Matt had a girlfriend. They had a life together, couple friends. They had kids and Jess marvelled at how he was with them, a brilliant, warm and funny dad. Her parents had completed steady but successful careers and were now enjoying retirement in their garden, or mini-cruises to places they’d never seen. She thought about Lolly and her little family. How desperate she was to expand and how important it was to her to experience the love from a mother to a daughter. Had Jess ever felt anything intense and life-affirming?

  But she didn’t need to answer because she knew she had. And she knew she’d walked away from it.

  Was it time to make some changes and, if so, where should she start? Was leaving work running away from things or the chance to start something new? She didn’t really think she wanted children, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want a family of sorts. A partner. Maybe a dog. Maybe friends who had family. People she could care for. Were the girls in her future? Emily? Could she be friends without telling her what happened when they were teenagers? Did she ever suspect anything? The party had been at her house, after all. Opening up to the girls today, Jess certainly felt they could be in her life, whether she told Emily everything or not. Did they feel the same? The way Amanda kicked them all out, she wondered. But what was it Amanda said? It was complicated. What was complicated?

  Jess flipped open her laptop. Facebook stared back at her. People’s lives splashed in the form of photos, updates, memes. Jess rarely posted anything, was always more of a lurker than a sharer. Maybe that’s the first change she should make, update her status. She thought for a moment, then tapped out:

  Met up with old friends today. Where does the time go? Was so great to see them.

  She clicked post then sighed at how dull it was. Almost immediately Matt posted, Fuck me.

  You have friends?

  She wanted to laugh because he always could poke fun and it did generally make her smile, but this time, somehow, it stung. With the exception of the girls – three women she’d not seen in twenty years – her friends were colleagues. Often colleagues that were significantly younger than her. People her own age had disappeared over time, usually as they got married, had children, moved their lives on from pickling in alcohol before passing out in front of Sex and the City reruns. Her hand rested on the gin stopper. Something had to change. She had to change. Not change because she wasn’t good enough but change because the life she had was not the life she wanted any more. Maybe it had never been the one she wanted, maybe it had been the life she’d happened upon because she didn’t know what else to do. She didn’t remember having hopes and dreams as a teenager. Or in her twenties. She hadn’t had dreams since she was fifteen. As a kid, she’d wanted to be a singer or a hairdresser or a nurse or a vet. As she got a bit older, she’d told her parents of a plan to have a small holding for all the dogs and horses and pandas she’d rescue. How quickly those dreams dissolved. Replaced with an emptiness. Not once had young Jess dreamed this life: at home with another bottle of alcohol and few plans for the coming weeks other than work, work and more work. Her phone rang, Matt’s number flashed up.

  ‘Hey, loser. How was it?’

  ‘It was good. It was nice. I mean… they were all lovely and it was nice to catch up and I hope we’ll stay in touch. I think you were right.’

  ‘This is not news.’

  ‘Don’t be smug.’

  ‘Come on then, what was I right about?’

  ‘You were right that it’s time I made some changes.’

  ‘Like what?’

  Jess thought for a moment. What could she change? What in her life had any capacity to be different? There was so little variation, so few options to choose from. ‘I’m going to leave work.’

  ‘Oh, Jess! We’ve talked about this. You can’t walk away just because of Jay.’

  But Jess realised, in that moment, that this wasn’t about Jay. This was about her. Totally and utterly about her. Young her who’d had dreams. Teenage her who’d had them taken away. ‘It’s not because of him, it’s because of me. Because I deserve better from my life. Because I want more from my life.’

  ‘Christ, who are you and what have you done with my sister.’

  ‘I mean it, Matt.’

  ‘I believe you, I just wonder where it’s all come from.’

  ‘I don’t know. Meeting the girls, it made me think. Maybe I should go travelling again.’

  ‘You hated that.’

  She flicked on the kettle, staring out of the kitchen window. ‘True. Maybe I should retrain.’

  ‘Better. What have you always wanted to do?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what I’ve always wanted to do. And maybe that’s all the more reason to sort this.’

  A small voice mumbled in the background of Matt’s phone line. ‘Look, I need to get off, it’s my turn to bath the kids. Do some research. Dream big, little sister. Just don’t make any rash decisions until you’ve talked them through with a sensible grown-up.’

  ‘Well, that can’t mean you then!’ she said as he put the phone down.

  Jess sat down at her table, pulling her laptop round to face her. She pushed all the work papers out of reach before sitting with a Google search on her screen.

  Finding yourself at 40

  she typed. She scrolled and read, she clicked and clicked through pages and pages of advice. The only thing that stuck out was something on Psychologies that said she should sit and listen, be aware of all that was around her because the universe was speaking if she were only prepared to take note of the hints. The adverts, the people she met, songs on the radio. So she sat, and she listened. And it was silent, so she went over to the window ledge and switched on her radio, excited to hear what song might play, how it might determine her future, how it might inspire the next phase of her life… and as the music kicked in, Jess realised BBC Radio Cornwall were playing the worst of all Madonna songs ever recorded, ‘La Isla Bonita’.

  She was going to have to listen harder.

  Lolly

  Lolly stood in the shower, enjoying the sting of red-hot water. She ran her hands through her hair, tipping her head forward to massage her neck and shoulders. She missed that kind of sex, the kind where it was just about the two of them, living in the moment. No need to worry about the kids coming in, or one of them coming too loudly and waking them up. It felt good. She dried her hair with a towel, padding down past the framed family photos on the staircase. She paused on the one of them on their wedding day, stood before the window in the tiny hotel room they exchanged their vows in, his head bent down to kiss her full on the lips. The only wedding photo they had on view. How life had changed since they got married, and not just because of the a
rrival of the boys. Kitt’s work had taken him away, then back home, then away again. Her own work had got more stressful as the department faced cutbacks and the number of patients per physio increased. Life was stressful, and that was before they’d got to the bit about paying the bills. The constant lurch from one month to the next, wondering if they had enough income to cover the outgoings. That had been one of the reasons Kitt had given as to why they shouldn’t have any more children, back when they first started discussing it, she’d persuaded him it’d be fine, but she didn’t really know for sure herself. She just knew she couldn’t let something like that be a reason not to try.

  And though that was still the case, she had to stop being so one-dimensional about a baby. If the last hour had taught her anything, aside from the fact that sex just was more comfortable in a bed these days, it was that she’d lost sight of what she and Kitt needed for a happy life together. Some balance. Some time for them. Some time when she wasn’t just thinking about getting up the duff. She took a heavy breath in; the house was full of the smell of roast chicken and garlic. She could hear him clattering in the kitchen, bringing the last of their meal together. His infamous roast potatoes, garlic oil drizzled Mediterranean veg, the proper gravy that he was always so good at, no granules when he cooked. And she smiled because she loved that he cooked, she loved that he cared enough to try when things got too close to bad. She loved him, she always had. And she knew that he loved her, they were a team.

  She went into the lounge to put some lights on, drawing the curtains on the dark skies. Kitt’s phone lay on the coffee table, so she picked it up. He was still listening to Gary Barlow and she knew he’d prefer some of his own music. So she pressed her thumb on the home screen, trying to remember his password. And then her heart stopped at the sight of a message from a number not stored in his phone.

  It’s clear you have no respect for me, and I couldn’t care less. But your wife? Perhaps it’s time you told her the truth.

  Amanda

  Pete waited at the top of the stairs for Amanda. ‘Don’t panic, she’s going to be okay.’

  ‘Where is she? What did she take?’

  He pulled her in for a hug, squeezing her tight. ‘It sounds like she didn’t take anything, more likely her drink was spiked.’

  Amanda pulled back, her hair catching in Pete’s beard leaving them connected for longer than either intended. ‘Spiked! What the hell? Why do people do that sort of thing? In the middle of the day too. Jesus!’ She followed him through the double doors and down the winding corridor to Zennor’s ward. ‘Oh god, did she… was she…’

  ‘No! No, we don’t think so. Becky found her slumped in a corner of the pub. She’s just through here, sleeping it off.’

  ‘I told her to keep an eye on her drink,’ said Zennor’s friend Becky, her face pale, her eyes red from crying. ‘It happened to one of our mates, we know people do this. I can’t believe she put it down.’ Becky looked to her feet. ‘I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to say.’

  Amanda sat down beside her. ‘Don’t worry. It’s not your fault, nor your responsibility to keep an eye on her.’

  ‘And she’s going to be fine, they said so, didn’t they?’ said Pete, taking up the seat on her other side. ‘It could have been so much worse, had you not been there. You did all the right things.’

  Becky sniffed, then nodded.

  ‘Look, get yourself home, love,’ said Amanda, opening her purse to find some cash. ‘Here, take this, get a taxi back. We’ll take over from here, okay?’ Becky looked up, unconvinced. ‘Go on, go home. Her dad’s here, I’m here. She’s going to be fine.’

  Becky sniffed again then pulled her coat around her, taking the money Amanda held out. ‘Thank you, if you’re sure you don’t mind.’

  ‘Course not.’

  Amanda watched Becky wander off down the corridor, turning to face Pete who was watching her. ‘Poor lass, she must have been terrified.’

  ‘Dunno what she was more worried of, the fact it happened or the fact she had to tell us.

  ‘Poor thing, I bet she was terrified. Shit, my head.’ Amanda searched in her bag for painkillers, her head beginning to throb from a combination of stress and alcohol. Amanda stretched her arms, then scratched at her head and neck.

  ‘You alright?’ asked Pete, moving up to sit beside her.

  ‘Nope.’ Amanda knew there was no point pretending otherwise with Pete, he always knew, even when she did her very best hiding.

  ‘Wanna talk about it?’ he asked, taking the blister pack from her fumbling hand and popping two tablets into her palm.

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘That’s what I always admired about you, your ability to really open up to your feelings.’

  ‘Shut your face and don’t be a dick.’

  Amanda knocked the tablets back, swigging the last remnants of warm, flat Coke from a bottle in the bottom of her bag. She let out a sigh.

  ‘She is going to be fine!’

  ‘I know, I know. It’s not that really…’ The tablets were stuck in the back of her throat and she could taste the bitter, acidic chalk as they began to break down. ‘It’s just been one of those days. And this has topped it off nicely.’

  ‘I know what you mean. I was just about to watch Poldark, imagine how pissed off I was to get the call.’

  Amanda let out a laugh. ‘You were not.’

  ‘How do you know? Maybe Aidan Turner drives me wild with desire too?’

  ‘I happen to know that he’s lacking a few crucial accoutrements for your taste.’

  ‘Oh but that stubble,’ Pete said, with mock desire.

  Amanda had always liked Pete’s ability to shift her mood. It was never in that excruciating, give us a smile love, it might never happen, kind of way. More just gentle poking until she relented. He hadn’t changed, in all the years they’d known one another. He barely looked any different either, which irritated her.

  ‘The nurse said they’d keep her in overnight, just to be sure. You don’t have to stay, if you don’t want to.’

  ‘No, I know. I guess I’m here now though, not sure I fancy going home either.’

  ‘So what’s up then?’

  Amanda thought for a moment. ‘If you knew something about someone that you thought they had to know, but you knew that telling them would really hurt them, would you still tell them?’

  ‘You’re sleeping with Aidan Turner?’ Amanda shot him a look. ‘Okay, okay. Sorry. Erm… would I tell them? I don’t know. I guess it depends.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘On if they really would be better for knowing or if I just thought they might.’

  ‘They would definitely be better off for knowing. But it will completely ruin them.’

  ‘Then I don’t know I’d want to be the one to do it. Can’t someone else tell them?’

  ‘Someone else should!’ she said, ‘but someone else definitely won’t have the bollocks to.’

  ‘Ah, so it relates to a man.’

  ‘Doesn’t it always?’

  ‘No. Not always.’ Pete got out his tobacco tin and started rolling a cigarette.

  ‘Crash us one, would you?’

  He rolled his eyes, but she knew he would. She always loved his roll-ups. ‘Come on, walk with me. I believe it’s frowned upon to smoke in hospitals these days.’

  She hooked her arm through his. ‘Bloody smoking bans.’

  Outside, they leant against the road sign facing onto the side of Homebase at the retail outlet. It was unusually quiet, only the occasional car leaving the hospital car park. Amanda yawned, exhausted.

  ‘Long day?’ asked Pete.

  ‘I guess you could say that, a lot has happened, that’s for sure.’ Pete smoked quietly, one hand stuffed into his jean pocket. ‘I met up with some old friends from school. Not seen them in years. Do you remember me talking about Jess, Emily and Lolly?’

  ‘Course.’

  ‘So, Emily’s moved back here and it’s been so bloody long
since we saw each other, we had a catch up.’

  ‘Nice.’

  ‘It was. We had a good chat. I mean, life’s moved on for us all, you know.’

  ‘Well you’re all old now, aren’t you?’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘So, you had a nice time with them, but presumably know something that one of them needs to know?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘So why can’t you just tell them?’

  ‘Because it would incriminate me too!’

  ‘Ah…’ Pete pushed off the road sign to turn and face her. ‘And we don’t like to incriminate ourselves now, do we?’

  Amanda let out a groan because when he put it like that, it did sound pretty selfish. And she wanted to talk to Pete because she had told him loads of secrets in the past and he’d never once judged. But this was different. And if he judged her for this, she didn’t know what she’d do. It wasn’t like his opinion mattered to her… but his opinion mattered.

  ‘Look, don’t worry. I’ll work it out. Now, why don’t you go home and get some rest, I’ll stay here with Zennor.’ Pete looked at her, presumably wondering if it was a good idea to leave given their daughter’s current opinion of her mother. ‘Go, please. I’ll be fine. She probably won’t wake up until tomorrow now anyway and then you can be here and make like you never left her bedside.’

  ‘I’d never do that.’

  ‘I know. Go.’

  Pete gave Amanda a kiss and went as if to leave. ‘You know, I’m always here if you wanna talk.’

  ‘I know you are. I don’t want to. Not just yet.’

  He shook his head. ‘I will never work you out, Amanda Kenwyn.’

  ‘If it’s any consolation, I suspect I won’t work me out, either.’

  As Pete walked away, Amanda resisted the urge to call him back and tell him everything. This was her mess, she needed to sort it. No man had bailed her out before, she wasn’t about to let them now.