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

by Mansell, Anna

  ‘I am home.’

  Jackson looked around. ‘Okay… so we’ll stay here.’

  Emily was stunned. ‘What?’

  ‘We’ll stay here,’ he said, swallowing. ‘We’ll stay here. Start a new life. Cornwall seems… nice.’

  ‘It is. But it’s also not New York.’

  ‘No, I know but… look, that’s how much you mean to me, Emily. I would be prepared to move, to change my life. For you.’

  ‘For me? And the baby.’

  ‘Of course, and the baby. I just need you to believe in me, to give me a chance. Emily, I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you. If that means loving you comes with an extra one, here in Cornwall, then so be it. I’m prepared to work at this, for you…’

  Emily looked at him. He held his arm out, gently taking her hand in his. His touch was familiar, his hands soft. ‘I love you, Emily…’

  Three Months Later

  Amanda

  ‘I’ll pop round later,’ shouted Amanda to George, closing the door behind her. He’d spotted she was nervous as she poured milk into his teacup. He patted her hand, told her to relax. That whatever was making her anxious might not be worth it. And if it was worth it, not to panic, because she was brilliant. He had no idea what she was about to face, but she appreciated his words of encouragement all the same. It didn’t stop the nerves though.

  She’d been nervous since Zennor texted asking for a meet up. It had been so long, she was desperate to resolve things. In the shower that morning, she’d finally let herself imagine the conversation, she’d thought what it might be like to be friends again, she’d let the water run across her face ’til she could barely breathe, stepping out of its flow to gulp at fresh air before diving back under. Anything to take away the feeling of being out of control of her destiny, because that’s what this felt like.

  She waited on the swings at Boscawen Park, somewhere she’d spent so much time when Zennor was young. The sun was just beginning to gain strength as they approached summer and Amanda turned her face to feel its gentle warmth. The number of times she’d sat here in years gone by, the time Zennor took her first steps over by the slide, just as a toddler came flying down and wiped her out. Or the time she’d brought a load of Zennor’s school pals down for a birthday picnic because she couldn’t afford to take them to Burger King or wherever it was that Zennor actually wanted to go. Or before that, when she was a teenager herself, she remembered that GCSE year, the long summer, spending a couple of days here with the girls because they’d wanted to come into town shopping but got distracted by some boys who walked in this direction, even though it was further out of town than they had planned to be. The illicit excitement of flirtation with boys probably a lot older than her when she’d managed to get the girls to follow her lead. She could still feel those brief moments of teenage giddiness. She took a deep breath, allowing her memories to come and go as a way to settle the nerves. Then the sun disappeared behind a shadow and Amanda instinctively knew she was here. It was time to face up to however this conversation was going to play out.

  ‘Hey,’ she said.

  Zennor didn’t say anything, but she didn’t scowl, as was the look on her face so many times before.

  ‘You cut your hair.’

  Zennor nodded.

  ‘It looks nice. You look nice.’

  Three months wasn’t all that long in the grand scheme of things and yet it was forever for Amanda, waiting for Zennor to decide if and when she would talk to her mother again. And in that time, it seemed to Amanda that she had changed somehow, she held herself differently, she held eye contact, she was beautiful.

  ‘I missed you,’ said Amanda, daring herself to stand and hold out her arms for Zennor. Her heart leapt when Zennor met her gesture halfway and they embraced. It wasn’t like the hugs she’d got in this park when Zennor was a child, running at her mum for her to scoop her up in her arms and squeeze as tight as she could. But it was contact, something she’d barely allowed Amanda to make since she hit her teenage years. ‘Funny, being back here…’ said Amanda.

  Zennor looked around. ‘Yeah, I figured it was neutral. And it’s a nice day.’

  ‘It is.’

  Zennor sat on the swing beside Amanda. A young mum arrived with a toddler on a scooter who whizzed past them heading straight for the slide, abandoning his ride to run up the steps and shout to his mum that he was the king of the castle. It made Zennor smile and Amanda could see the little girl in her, the one hiding behind the young woman who was beginning to emerge.

  ‘I’ve thought a lot about this. Us meeting,’ said Amanda. ‘I’ve tried to think of all the things I need to tell you to try and help you to understand who I am and what I do.’ Zennor swung gently as she spoke. ‘And I don’t think there is anything I can say that makes it okay with you, if you’re not okay with the idea of it in the first place. I mean, I can well imagine it’s weird for you to think of me as anything other than your mum and I know I never did that in quite the way you wanted.’

  Zennor’s face stayed poker straight but that she was listening gave Amanda hope.

  ‘I don’t think I’m this way because I was young when I had you… I think this is just who I am. And maybe that means that I could never have been the type of mum who did the whole sensible, grown up persona thing, but…’

  ‘You did the best you could.’

  Amanda’s breath caught in her throat. ‘I did. Zennor, I really tried.’

  Zennor nodded, though watched the toddler as he ran from slide to sand pit to seesaw back to sand pit.

  ‘It took me a long time to be okay with me. To accept that the things I was happiest doing were not the things that society expected of me. And I wrestled with it, I felt guilty. I felt like I’d let you down, or maybe even womanhood down. But I realised something, probably after I’d started the sex work.’ Zennor flinched at the mention but Amanda knew that if she was to get through this, they were just going to have to be transparent about it. ‘It was after you went to live with your dad, I’d never done it whilst you were at home. I remember that first client. I was terrified. I wondered what the hell I’d set myself up for. God, I was almost sick with nerves but he was so gentle, so in need of care that we sort of saw each other through it.’ Amanda paused, giving Zennor a breather. ‘And when he paid me, he thanked me. He hugged me and I knew that what I’d done was made him feel something special, for just a short time. It was something he needed and that made me feel good. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops because I felt proud.’

  ‘Proud?’

  ‘Yes. It felt right. And the more clients I saw, the more confident I became. In my body, in me. It felt like I’d been wasting my time all the years I’d jobbed in pubs, the shop and cleaning. Not because there’s anything wrong with those jobs, but because I loved my new career. I could pick and choose when I wanted to work. I could select clients. I was never doing anything I didn’t want to do.’

  ‘But isn’t it dangerous? Don’t you get men who take advantage?’

  ‘Yes. It happens. Just as it happened in many other jobs I had. And I don’t want to play that down, sometimes I’ve been scared. Sometimes they’ve assumed they can treat me badly because of what I do, but I’ve got stronger. In many cases, I can spot which ones are likely to be that way and don’t entertain it. And if it does happen, I know I have a support network to get me through it. Maybe I take a few days off for some self-care. Report them if needs be. Give my friends and peers a heads up that there’s someone like that doing the rounds.’

  Zennor shifted to straddle the swing, looking at Amanda. ‘Are you safe?’

  ‘Of course. This is my body, my livelihood. Safety is paramount. I go for regular testing, I always use condoms. There are certain acts I refuse to do and if they want that kind of service there are other women they can see.’

  ‘But aren’t they exploiting you?’

  ‘I don’t happen to believe so. I know there are women who are ex
ploited. There are women who aren’t able to keep safe. And there are men who don’t care about rules or boundaries, but that’s not generally my experience of it.’

  ‘I was so embarrassed,’ said Zennor, fixing her mum with a glare. ‘Billy was fascinated. Each time we met he kept asking me questions.’

  ‘I told you to steer clear of him.’

  ‘I didn’t want to. I liked him…’ She looked down to the ground. ‘Turns out, he only liked me because of you.’

  Amanda’s heart sank for her baby. ‘I’m sorry. That’s…’

  ‘Men for you?’

  ‘Some of them. Not all of them.’

  They sat in silence for a while. Amanda wanted to ask all of the questions of her daughter, desperate to know how things were, what she’d been up to. She sensed, however, that time and patience was needed.

  ‘Dad and I talked, when he first came back. I was really angry with him, I was bitter. I wanted to scream at him, when he first came up and introduced himself. I couldn’t believe he had the audacity to be so brazen. And I did get angry, on one particular day, I did scream at him.’

  ‘And how did he take that?’ Amanda was genuinely curious. They hadn’t really talked about Pete coming back, or Zennor opting to move out to be with him.

  ‘He waited until I stopped being angry. Then he told me he couldn’t turn back time. That he made bad choices. That he wished he could do things differently, better. He told me he wanted to build a relationship with me, that he loved me, that he would give me all the time I needed and that he would never do anything to hurt me again.’

  ‘I don’t know that I can stop doing what I do, Zennor. I’m happy. It earns me good money. I mean… I suppose if our future were to depend on it, maybe I’d have to—’

  ‘I’m not asking you to.’ Amanda felt a pang of guilt at the relief. ‘I guess I’m just saying that he had to tell me all of those things when he came back because he’d not been around to tell me them when I was growing up. He never showed me how he felt. You though… you’ve always been around. You’ve always told me how you felt and you’ve always shown it… just in your way.’

  ‘You are the most important person in the world to me.’

  ‘I know.’

  Zennor stood, blocking the sunshine from Amanda’s eyes again. ‘I don’t like what you do, Mum, but I don’t like being angry with you.’ Amanda held her breath. ‘And I want you in my life, just… maybe… don’t talk to me about it.’

  ‘Of course I won’t. If that’s what it takes, if that’s what you want.’

  ‘I want to take it slowly and see what happens. I want to learn how we do us again.’

  ‘On new terms. As two women.’

  ‘But you’re still my mum, we’re not mates.’

  ‘I know. I’m your mum. I get it.’

  Zennor half smiled. ‘I have to get back. I’ve got an interview this afternoon. For a college course. Photography.’

  ‘Oh, Zennor, wow! That’s… that’s brilliant.’

  ‘I’ll call you.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll wait, I guess… unless…’

  ‘I’ll call you.’

  ‘Okay.’ Zennor started walking away and the overwhelming surge of love for her daughter took Amanda’s breath away. ‘I love you,’ she shouted after her.

  ‘I know you do,’ she answered, and Amanda thought she could hear her say I love you too.

  Emily

  Jackson busied about the nursery, finishing off the paint job that he’d taken off Mac because what was the point in spending money on someone to do something he could do equally as well. Emily was downstairs making them tea. She studied the twenty week scan of their daughter, taken weeks ago and now pinned to the inside of her cupboard door along with the twelve week and a card from Lolly that said how thrilled she was for her.

  Jackson’s phone rang. It hadn’t rung for days. The first few days after he’d moved himself in, it would ring constantly. Day and Night. People wanting to know where he was, when he was due back. To begin with, he’d made grand gestures of solidarity. ‘I’m staying here. I’ll be back to sort out a few things, but then I’m moving to Cornwall permanently.’ ‘You’ll have to find somebody else.’ ‘I’m so sorry to let you down, but this is important. I need to be here.’

  Emily couldn’t work out quite why she felt the way she did about these declarations. It felt weird, uncomfortable. She figured it was probably because she had never known him to dedicate his life to her in the way he was apparently doing, but even still, it was strange.

  He stayed for two weeks then went home for two. He packed up a load of things and when he arrived back, he had a whole host of things that he’d organised to be shipped over. Emily had ignored the niggle, the irritation at his return. Mac had finished building the wardrobes for the baby and Jackson promptly filled them all up with his stuff. He was noisy. Just his presence, after a couple of weeks on her own, save for Jess’s occasional visits – which she now knew was only slightly to do with seeing her and a lot more to do with hanging around to see Mac – he took up space. He loomed large. She figured she’d get used to it. At least, she hoped.

  And then he’d get the calls that he took outside. Or upstairs behind a closed door. The pings on his iPhone of emails that he had to tend to straight away. That was when she’d realised that no matter what he had said when he arrived on her doorstep – in fact, no matter what he wanted to try and become – he just couldn’t leave the hustle. Agenting. New York. L.A. Work. It was all in his blood, he was showbiz. He pretended that wasn’t the case. She’d let him get close but told him it would take a little longer for her to trust him fully, to be with him, to let him hold her. She’d caught sight of him studying her body one morning in the bathroom and she felt shame at the stretch marks knitting a web across her pregnant belly, shame at the new flabbiness of her bum and hips. How her boobs had begun to swell beyond what she knew he liked. It wasn’t his fault, she’d told herself at the time. He was a product of an industry that desired airbrushed perfection, not pregnant reality. But still, the scrutiny hurt.

  So this morning’s phone call, in which she blatantly heard him say that he wouldn’t be too much longer, was the end. It was the moment she realised he couldn’t be the man he was presenting. And even if he could, she wasn’t sure he was the man that she wanted. In fact, she wasn’t sure she wanted any man at all. The more time she’d spent with Amanda, the more she’d realised that it was possible to raise a child alone. That it was going to be hard, but parenting was in any case. She was privileged, she had money. She had friends. She had a community that spread from Cakebreads Village Stores across the whole village. Betty had checked in with her weekly since she found out the news and was giddy. There were plenty of kids up at the top of the village, but somehow Betty told her she felt this one was special. She said she couldn’t imagine a time when Mac would have children so if Emily didn’t mind, she might quite like to take on the role of surrogate grandmother. She’d said it when she’d just baked scones and Emily would have agreed to anything at that point in time, but the more she thought about it, the more love Emily felt for both Betty and the village as a whole. They’d embraced her once again when they knew she was to become a mother, and they’d done their very best to embrace Jackson too.

  But he couldn’t embrace Cornwall. And he couldn’t embrace Emily’s choices in life. And he seemed to have a real problem with Mac despite the fact that it was obvious Mac had eyes for nobody except Jess.

  Emily climbed the stairs to the nursery.

  ‘Hey, baby,’ Jackson said, loading up the roller for another patch of baby blue wall. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to do this pink?’ he said, for what was probably something like the fifteenth time and Emily wondered how she’d ever fallen for a man with such simplistic gender assumptions.

  ‘Blue’s fine. It’s calming. It matches the sea and the sky out of her window.’

  He shrugged, applying the paint to the wall, pressing on as
he rolled.

  ‘We need to talk,’ said Emily, sitting on the stool he’d been using to reach the corners.

  ‘Oh dear. That sounds ominous,’ he joked. ‘Hang on.’ He picked out his phone, which had rung in his pocket. ‘I’ll call them back,’ he said, as if doing her a favour, just as he had several times in this last month or so. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘This,’ she began. ‘This is what’s up.’

  ‘I thought you liked the blue?’ He looked around the room, confused.

  ‘I do. It’s not the paint. It’s us. I don’t like us.’

  Jackson froze.

  ‘I’ve tried to give it a go, when you came back, you seemed so certain you could make things work, make things right and, I don’t know, I didn’t have the heart to tell you I didn’t think it was possible. But I’ve tried. You’ve tried. And it’s not going to work.’

  ‘But I’ve moved to Cornwall.’

  ‘Have you?’

  He went to open the cupboard doors. ‘My stuff is in your cupboards. My apartment is on the market!’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Well, it will be. Very soon.’

  ‘But that’s just it. Yes, you have some stuff in the baby’s wardrobe, but you don’t want to be here.’ He went to disagree, but Emily knew there was nothing he could say. ‘I left because I didn’t want that life any more. And I know you can’t just leave it behind. I left because I was getting old and the industry didn’t want me to be anything other than a twenty-something yes-girl. That’s not me…’

  ‘You could have pretended. You still can.’

  ‘But I don’t want to. I’ve pretended for too long. I’ve compromised since before I realised what compromise was. I’ve gone along with whatever anybody wanted, and it was usually a man—’

  ‘Oh right! This is some feminist shit, is it?’