Secrets We Keep

by Faith Hogan

  ‘Ta, Denny, I appreciate it, mate.’ Denny didn’t meet his eyes. They both knew if the band went on the road again, they could sell every venue three times over. Todd’s heart attack had prompted an outpouring of nostalgia and affection for the band. Todd could think of nothing worse than standing in front of a packed stadium, without so much as a fag for consolation. He had not been sober on stage in well over a decade, not that he would admit that to anyone else now.

  26

  Kate

  It was very confusing, Kate thought as she looked out into the frothing Atlantic waves. She woke earlier than usual, the odd sound of the wash against the wall beneath the bathhouse licking salt into the whitewash.

  ‘Multiple swells,’ Archie said when she saw him down on the rock beneath her window. ‘Happens occasionally, don’t worry, it won’t come near your door.’ Poor Archie, he looked sad all the time now.

  ‘Fancy a cuppa with me, Archie?’ she asked him and padded quickly downstairs to let him in. ‘You have a key, you know, I wouldn’t mind if you let yourself in, you could help yourself.’

  ‘Funny, but this place…’ he looked around and somehow, Kate realized, he would never be comfortable here without her. Perhaps the past held too much sadness; Archie liked the bathhouse in the here and now. ‘I’m glad you’re here, but you don’t want an old codger like me giving you a heart attack in the morning.’

  ‘Archie, you’re my favourite old codger around,’ she said, warming up a breakfast teapot and dropping in some loose leaves. She liked having Archie here, he felt a little like the grandfather she had missed out on. There were a couple of yesterday’s malted scones on a tray, so she popped them in the microwave and brought them to the table with a slab of the home-made butter she bought each week at the local country market.

  ‘You know he’s up to his tricks again,’ he said quietly after they had sat for a while eating the warm buttered scones and talking about the high tide. ‘He can’t be trusted, even now, you know that.’ Archie’s expression darkened.

  ‘Oh, Archie, it makes no difference to me anyway,’ she said and she thought she noticed the tower glint colder than usual at her in the sharp morning spray. Todd had hardly spoken to her since he returned to the tower a couple of days earlier. She spotted him, walking on the road behind the bathhouse, where before he would pass her door, usually around closing time so they could stroll along the beach together. The last few days, he moved quickly, his head lowered. He did not want to talk to anyone. So she backed away from the window, preferring not to be seen at all. It struck, oddly, that she missed their walks. She missed the banter that passed between them; uplifting and funny, as though the intervening years had been a glitch. A technical blip corrected now. She wondered, more than once if she was honest, if things between them physically would be the same. There was no doubt that there was still a connection between them on some level. Still, she’d learned an expensive lesson all those years ago and her heart would not be so easily broken again. She was determined that Todd Riggs would not get that opportunity.

  ‘I’m saying, he’ll break your heart again, dear.’ Archie broke into her thoughts and when she looked at him, she recognized that faraway look in his eyes. ‘All I’m saying is, you have your whole life to live and I think you could do better for yourself with someone who’s a little more…’ a small knot pulled in his long lined jaw, ‘loyal.’

  ‘Oh, Archie, you are so sweet.’ She reached out and covered his rough hand with hers. She loved Archie’s hands, they were big and manly and, it seemed to Kate, they carried as many tales as the depths of his eyes or the lines carved into his forehead.

  ‘You don’t believe me,’ his eyes were sad, lost between two worlds; one he tried to keep a grip on, the other pulling him back to a time long ago. ‘You don’t believe me, but I’ve seen him. I’ve seen him walk along the road to this place in the evenings, and you think that he has only eyes for you, but…’

  ‘Go on, Archie.’ She was indulging him. Todd never had eyes just for her; she had convinced herself of that many years ago. Hadn’t she only recently learned, he did not have eyes just for Claudia Dey either? If Claudia could not keep him from straying, well, Kate reckoned she had no chance.

  ‘I’ve seen him, he brings them here at night-time,’ he smiled a sad quiver of his lined mouth. ‘Different women, all the time.’ He shook his head sadly, ‘None of them like you. Not one of them is a patch on you.’ He set his knife down on the table, ignored the tea left in his cup. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, but I know you’ve had your suffering in the past, before you came here, and I just… well, you know how I, how we feel about you,’ a small tear was making its way down his cheek. ‘Must be off, letters to pick up, you know.’ He stood at the door a moment, pulling his jacket closer to his neck, looked back again sadly. Then his expression changed to one of confusion, as though the last few moments that had passed between them had somehow been sucked into the ocean outside. ‘Don’t be worrying about that swell, now Kate, it’ll not come near your door.’

  Kate sat for a long time after he was gone, thinking in the silence of the tearooms. It was not even seven o’clock. The visitors in the hotel would not be thinking of breakfast, the surfers would have to leave the waves for a few hours yet. Archie had unsettled her, with his talk of love and loyalty and whatever carry-on she had been blissfully unaware of.

  *

  ‘He says he’s not having it, not any of it.’ Rita was ashen, her eyes rimmed red and sunken deep in sockets that had aged overnight. ‘Can he do that, really, can he? I can’t be in the house with him for the next forty years; I just can’t, not like this, Kate. It’s awful.’

  ‘Not at all, of course it’s not up to him if you want to finish things.’ Kate knew Duncan Delaney was a piece of work; she’d known it that night that he’d shoved his way into the bathhouse. ‘He’s just a bully, trying to push you around and he has to learn that it’s not going to work.’ It was nine o’clock in the morning. The beach was empty, bar a couple that were making their way from the Armada point, perhaps considering a cup of coffee and croissants for breakfast. ‘Bugger that,’ Kate said and grabbed her jacket. She pulled Rita with her and put the closed sign on the front door. The couple would have to get their morning coffee elsewhere today.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Rita said, dazed at the speed she was being propelled along the narrow path towards the centre of Ballytokeep.

  ‘We’re going to show Duncan Delaney that he’s not able to buff you about the place anymore.’

  Kate’s strides were long and determined. They reached Rita’s house rapidly and she made her way to the kitchen. There, she found a roll of black refuse sacks and started ripping bags off one at a time.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Rita’s voice was high-pitched with excitement.

  ‘We are helping Duncan to pack, like any good wife does. I am surprised actually that you have not already helped him.’ Kate shook her head in mock seriousness, ‘Now where would he like to stay? Hotels are always good, but let’s not inflict him on Iris and Archie, okay?’ She handed the phone to Rita, ‘Well, book him in somewhere; you don’t want him actually homeless, do you?’

  ‘No, I suppose I don’t.’ Rita put through a call to a hotel in the next town. It was near enough for work, but far enough away so she did not have to run into him every day. Between them, it took less than two hours to commit Duncan’s life in the little house they shared to a half dozen refuse bags and load them into a taxi destined for the luxury hotel suite that Rita booked on Duncan’s personal credit card.

  ‘We haven’t packed up everything, you know that.’ They both eyed the underwear drawer full of Duncan’s finest.

  ‘No, we haven’t, have we.’ Rita laughed. She would love to be a fly on the wall as he searched through each bag to find clean boxers the following morning. ‘I wonder, will he ring the cab company to see if they have them,’ she said as she emptied the drawer into the kitchen bin a
nd purposefully tied the top before dumping it in the rubbish outside.

  ‘Well, that takes care of that, you have your home to yourself now,’ Kate said, ‘remind me not to cross you anytime soon.’

  ‘You’re quite safe, and thank you for helping me. I really didn’t know what to do. But here we are, Duncan’s gone and we’re only giving him a taste of the misery he’s dumped on me these last three decades.’

  ‘And they say true love is forever.’ Kate shook her head. As a divorce lawyer, she had seen much higher prices of revenge than a drawer full of underwear, but never with such satisfaction.

  *

  Iris told Kate not to mind him. Nevertheless, she looked uneasy. ‘He’s not always operating in the same decade as the rest of us first thing in the morning, dear,’ she said and Kate could see the deep loneliness return to Iris’s eyes. She was losing him, just a little every day, and Kate couldn’t imagine what that must feel like for two people so devoted to each other. ‘Sometimes, I feel as if it’s not Archie anymore. I mean, he looks like my Archie and he speaks like him, but he doesn’t have the same substance to him and I think when he looks at me he thinks the same. He can’t remember me sometimes. Then I feel I’m losing him before my very eyes,’ she told Kate as they sat in the warm dark kitchen of the hotel. Somewhere, children ran through corridors, excited and squawking in their unfamiliar surroundings and the sound reminded Kate of the holidays she never had as a child. ‘Robert was lucky in that way, I suppose,’ Iris said under her breath.

  ‘How’s that?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Well, he’ll always be young and vibrant, won’t he? Like your rock star, Todd Riggs? He’ll always be what he was back then to you and maybe you’ll be that to him too, who knows?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that, I can see Todd’s wrinkles and those flaws he had back then, I have a feeling that they’ve only deepened.’ Kate realized the thought was slightly depressing. Perhaps she wanted him to be a better man after all this time. Oddly, his revelation that he’d been unfaithful to Claudia with a stranger had disappointed her. It was obviously true: some people don’t change.

  ‘Maybe,’ Iris said and then she held Kate’s eyes for a little too long, as though there was something she wanted to say, but she was undecided if she should.

  ‘What is it, Iris?’

  ‘Ah, don’t mind me, I’m an old woman, what would I know?’ She smiled sadly. ‘Life passes by us very quickly, you only realize it when you’re like Archie and me.’

  ‘Oh?’ Kate did not want to hear about Todd’s antics again. She knew enough already and it unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

  ‘I’m saying don’t let something pass you by because you think you know the whole story. We’re all the same, Kate, all trying to be the best people we can be and if we’re not perfect, I think that as we get older we try to be better people. We’re none of us is what we were in our twenties.’ She shook her head, that sad smile playing about her lips once more. ‘Life has its way with all of us. It changes us whether we want it to or not. Could you ever have imagined Todd Riggs settling down in Ballytokeep in a draughty tower and never setting foot inside a pub from one end of the week to the next?’

  ‘I suppose,’ Kate smiled, ‘but then, I never imagined I’d settle for it either.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Although her voice was low and feeble, it held within it wisdom and truth far greater than any expert might ever manage.

  27

  Iris, 1957

  They were lying in his bed, high over the ocean waves below. At their heads, the open window blew in a gentle billowing gust that smelled faintly of bracken, but mostly fresh sea salt. Iris felt sure that she would remember this night forever, whatever the outcome of this time.

  ‘So, this time tomorrow,’ she began, hoping perhaps that he might say something to send the conversation where she so wished it could go.

  ‘This time tomorrow,’ he murmured and dragged long and contentedly on his cigarette. She loved the feel of his strong arms about her and now, in the moonlight, she watched the shadow of his outline above her, his hand angled elegantly when he held the glimmering cigarette to his lips. ‘There’ll be lots of dancing, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Will we make enough for Oisín? To send him to London, do you think?’

  ‘I think we’ve already made enough, to be honest, what with cake sales and collections, but we can’t very well send them all back, so we may as well have our dance.’

  ‘Have we?’ Iris sat up in the bed, its familiar springing sound reminding her that she should move more gently or he would think she was a huge heifer of a woman. ‘But it was over a thousand pounds, we couldn’t have anywhere near that?’

  ‘Gemma.’ One word, it was meant to explain everything. ‘Gemma and her country set friends. She’s rounded up a fortune through personal donations.’

  ‘That’s…’ she searched for the word. She didn’t want to think about Gemma. She certainly did not want to talk about her. ‘It’s impressive,’ she managed in the end.

  ‘Yes, well, she’s very well connected.’ He mimicked Gemma’s voice and they both laughed at that.

  ‘Tomorrow night?’

  ‘Yes.’ He was getting bored; she could hear it in his voice.

  ‘Archie and I? He’s going to make that announcement, tell everyone that we’re engaged.’ She could feel the familiar cold sweat of denial and guilt draw through her. She loved Archie before this, but now what she felt for him had shrunk into something guilt-laden and pitiful. She still loved him, but it was nothing like what she felt for Robert. ‘I can’t…’

  ‘Then tell him. For God’s sake, it is simple, Iris: either you want to marry him or you don’t. There are a million more men just like Archie out there for the picking.’

  ‘So that’s it? You don’t care if I marry your brother. You have absolutely nothing to say about it.’

  ‘What do you want me to say? At this stage, I’m sick of the whole thing.’ He shook out another cigarette, examined it for a moment, set it to his lips. He was quiet for a few seconds and Iris thought the silence might eat her up. She wanted to scream, cry, thump something or at least stamp her foot crossly. She wanted to marry Robert, not Archie. It was as simple as that, but now she was not sure she could marry either of them. Robert turned towards her and placed the cigarette on the night table. ‘Look, I know it’s a mess, but seriously, we can still do this. We can still be together. Marry Archie, stay in Ballytokeep. You and I, we were meant to be here together, Iris, I have never met anyone like you.’

  ‘And Gemma?’

  ‘Gemma is different, it’s not like this. She’s not like you, she’s…’ he ran out of words, but he did not need to say anymore. He took Gemma to the local picture house, but he took Iris to his bed.

  ‘She’s the one you’ll marry, whereas I’m just the one you’ll sleep with?’

  ‘Iris, we had fun, didn’t we?’ He was only saying what she knew all along, deep down. They were not meant for each other, no matter how she tried to reason it out.

  ‘Oh Robert’ She had been a fool. Once more, Iris knew, she had been a fool and to make things worse, she’d known it was wrong from the start. What was the matter with her? But she already knew the answer to that. This was not about Archie, nor about Robert – this was about Mark. She was trying to fill the void with something that would take over her body and soul. Robert and this mess distracted her from the longing that possessed her since she left Paris. There was nothing for it. This would be her lot, guilt and regret and longing for the rest of her days – it was as much as she deserved, she was convinced of that.

  She gathered up her clothes and made her way out into the soft night. The road seemed brighter tonight than she’d ever seen it before. In the distance, a lighthouse seemed to call out his name. Mark. Mark. Mark.

  When she arrived back at the hotel, Iris still had no idea what she would do about Archie. She pulled off her clothes as quickly as she could, hop
ped into the freshly made bed. When she turned the light off, she could have sworn she heard the thud of the front door. Later, as she tossed and turned for yet another sleepless night, she imagined footsteps in the hall, Archie’s footsteps, and the soft hum of what sounded like someone crying. When she woke in the morning she forgot all of this, because that was the morning that everything changed.

  *

  Present

  ‘You know,’ Archie said to her one morning over breakfast, ‘it will be sixty years this Friday.’ He shook his head sadly, as though it came as a surprise to him. ‘Sixty years since the dance, and father’s fall and of course Robert’s…’

  ‘I know. I had wondered if you’d remember it too.’

  ‘How could I forget,’ his voice had grown harsher in the last few days, as though there was something bubbling inside him trying hard to break free. ‘He was my brother, after all was said and done.’ He looked at her, and once more she wondered exactly what he knew about that night.

  ‘We should do something, maybe visit the grave and bring some flowers, maybe some hydrangeas?’ They were his favourite, odd for a man. Iris thought it was even odder still that they were the flower Kate had planted in large crates all around the bathhouse.

  ‘There was a letter for you,’ Archie said.

  ‘When, dear?’ she said, mindful of bringing too many painful memories to the surface. They didn’t need them now; it was all in the past, so long ago, wasn’t it?

  ‘I found it in the hall, on the desk. I put it somewhere, can’t for the life of me think what I did with it.’ He scratched the back of his hand, an old nervous habit, it had returned with the dementia.