The Secrets Women Keep

by Fanny Blake

  But your friendship meant much to me, and I believe it was important to you too. Despite everything, I hope we might be friends again. This may be too soon, but perhaps time will heal the wounds we’ve caused and you’ll have a change of heart.

  I have two tickets for a concert at Kings Place – Brahms. Bought for you. Here’s one of them. I’ll be sitting in the other seat. I hope you’ll join me. But it’s up to you, of course.

  Simon

  She bent to pick up the ticket, turning it in her fingers. The date was a month away. She felt nothing. Moving like a robot, her brain numb, she slipped the letter and the ticket back in their envelope and put them in the drawer. There was no question of her joining him, but she would decide how to reply, if at all, later.

  She went to the bathroom, took a sleeping pill from the packet she’d been about to throw away, and returned to the bedroom. She took off her jeans, and without bothering to remove anything else, slid under her duvet, shut her eyes and waited for welcome oblivion to claim her.

  Another day, another restaurant, another potentially awkward encounter. But Eve was ready. She had been sure to arrive fifteen minutes early to make sure she was in her seat. She wanted Rufus on the back foot from the start. In the Ladies’ she made sure she was looking her best and most businesslike. Her suit was expensively tailored, her blouse ironed within an inch of its life and her heels appropriately high. She’d brought her briefcase even though there was nothing in it relevant to Rufus. As she was shown to the table, she was furious to find him in situ, coffee and toast already in front of him. Then she allowed herself a moment of amusement. He knew her too well.

  Crossing the room, she took in his appearance: hair on end, trademark odd socks and worn old trainers. Amy clearly hadn’t got her claws into him as thoroughly as Eve had anticipated. She couldn’t imagine her erstwhile colleague happy at being seen with someone so scruffy, however eccentrically or endearingly youthful others might find him.

  He looked up as she arrived. ‘Eve. Long time. This looks good.’ He poured them both coffee from the pot already brought to the table. ‘Something to eat?’

  She tightened her lips. A fully fledged blowout was not on her agenda. ‘I’m sorry, Rufus. I’ve had to schedule an unexpected meeting, so I’ll have to keep it brief.’

  He smiled. ‘I thought you might say that.’

  ‘What did you expect, after you’ve practically single-handedly sabotaged my agency? A warm handshake and a glass of champagne? I don’t think so.’ She pulled out her chair and sat opposite him, wrinkling her nose at the sharp undernote of sweat that overrode his aftershave. What was Amy thinking? She had never struck Eve as a woman who would let any husband of hers be anything other than perfectly turned out. Husband-to-be, she corrected herself.

  ‘Does it have to be like this between us?’ He leaned back, appraising her.

  ‘I think the short answer to that is probably yes,’ she said, beginning to enjoy herself. ‘I shall do all I can for your backlist, of course, in the most professional way possible, but I think our friendship is over. Don’t you?’

  ‘Not quite. I’ve missed your blistering backchat no end.’ He took a piece of toast and scraped on some butter.

  ‘Well you should have thought of that before taking off with my assistant.’ She stirred her coffee, quite calm.

  ‘That’s why I wanted to see you.’ He sipped his.

  ‘Not to ask me to be matron-of-honour, I hope.’ She allowed herself a grim smile at the thought.

  His laugh turned into a cough as coffee splattered from his mouth over his toast. He wiped himself down with a napkin. ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry. But you couldn’t be further from the mark, for once.’

  ‘Perhaps you’d better tell me, then.’ All of a sudden, Eve had an inkling that she might like what Rufus was about to say.

  ‘I’m wondering whether you might consider taking me back on your books.’ His boyish face beamed in expectation of her reaction as he reached for his coffee.

  She stared at him, silenced for once, as he licked off the cappuccino moustache on his upper lip. Eve thought carefully, aware that this might be some kind of Amy-led scheme. But she had no idea what Amy could want from her now. In any event, agreeing to represent her future husband would bring ramifications of a not entirely pleasant kind. ‘Rufus, if this is because you and Amy have had an argument, the answer’s no. Besides, I’m sorry, but I think her being your wife is going to make our relationship, if I were to take you back, extremely difficult. Too difficult probably. No, it won’t work.’

  ‘But you don’t understand,’ he protested, putting his cup down.

  ‘Explain it to me then.’ Yes, she was definitely enjoying this. Let him work for what he wanted. She looked pointedly at her watch.

  ‘Amy and I, well . . . it hasn’t exactly worked out.’ He dabbed at the coffee on his plate. Anything rather than look at Eve.

  ‘Which? Your professional relationship or the personal one? I can imagine she might not be experienced enough for the first, though of course I couldn’t speak for the second.’ This was getting better and better.

  ‘You know perfectly well what I mean.’ His features creased into a puckish grin that disappeared as quickly as it came. ‘It’s over. I know that’s quick, even for me, but she was so livid when I refused to invest in her company. I thought it was too soon, and would bind our interests too closely, but she didn’t see it that way. She said some terrible things. She made me realise that I was being roped in to some weird desire she has to outdo you. She’s so impatient for her own success. That’s what she really loves – not me.’ The voice of a disappointed child got to Eve. But business first.

  ‘So if I agree to represent you again, you’re saying that Amy will have nothing to do with our agreement or whatever deals I set up for you?’

  ‘Nothing.’ He shook his head, miserable. ‘I know how bad it will look for her agency to have her first big client returning to its original fold, but I have to do this for my own sake. For my books. If you’ll have me.’

  An author could be relied upon to put their career before almost anything else. Rufus as much as anyone. His aberration with Amy was over and he’d seen sense before it was too late. Eve was tempted to play him along for a little longer, getting her own back for the damage he’d caused. But she couldn’t leave him hanging when her answer was bursting from her. ‘In that case, of course I’ll represent you again. I’d like nothing more.’

  As she stood up, he followed suit and they hugged awkwardly across the table. Eve was unable to hide her delight. If you’re patient, what goes around sure does come around, she reflected. Amy’s loss would be her gain. And once she had announced Rufus’s return, there were one or two others who doubtless would want to follow him. She could image Amy’s frustration and disappointment. Eve’s day couldn’t have started better. She couldn’t wait to tell Rose, and then when they’d done with shopping, she had lunch with the editorial director of Perfin Books, who was, without question, one of the biggest gossips in the business. All she had to do was entrust to him the secret of Rufus’s change of heart. By the end of the afternoon, most of the world of children’s publishing would have heard. How very satisfying that would be.

  31

  Two days later, Rose walked out of the Tate into the sunshine. Although she’d come to a temporary halt with her own painting, she still found inspiration and pleasure in the work of other artists. The Munch exhibition had been eye-opening and, to her relief, with The Scream nowhere to be seen. That howling skull was a little too close to her own feelings for comfort. Since Daniel’s death, she had felt like hanging on to her head and letting rip more times than she cared to count.

  Eve had said goodbye four hours ago. She would be on the train to Bath by now. To her surprise, given the circumstances, Rose already missed her, even though her sister-in-law had brought more problems with her than she had made disappear. She had descended on her almost a week ago, bowed down unde
r a bunch of lilies, her case, a couple of bottles of wine and a box of hand-made truffles. She had brought a frenzy of plans for occupying Rose, but they had rather fallen apart under the pressure of business meetings and the failure of her resistance to Will, impervious to Rose’s disapproval. The promised action-packed time of distraction had taken a back seat to Eve’s own dramas. But what had Rose expected?

  In fact, the visit had cheered her no end. She hadn’t needed the consolation of the cinema or theatre. Eve’s belief in the healing power of retail therapy didn’t work for her either, even though she was happy to trail along as adviser and even bag carrier. Just having someone at home to talk to had been fun. She wasn’t even angry about Eve seeing Simon. Her irrepressible love of meddling was to be half expected. In fact, it had been clever of Simon to think of her. For once, instead of acting on impulse, he’d thought through what he was doing.

  Having tried to hide how excited she was at the prospect of her night away with Will, Eve had failed so miserably that the two women had spent several awkward moments during their last couple of days together in which neither had known quite what to say. Their friendship had been stretched to breaking point over the inconclusive Will/Terry debate. Nonetheless, having Eve around was preferable to the yawning emptiness of the house that was waiting for her now.

  As Rose passed the beds of silver birches on her way towards the Millennium Bridge, her friend remained foremost in her mind. Although family ties dictated that Rose side with her brother, she was sympathetic to Eve. Terry couldn’t have been the easiest of husbands, and right now he must be one of the worst. She could hardly blame Eve for grabbing a bit of excitement when it came her way. Attention and great sex – a seductive combination. She wondered for the nth time what Terry would say if he knew. Would he really be surprised, given that he too was so caught up in his own problems? Rose was guilty of not phoning him recently in case she said something that would give Eve away, although she knew he needed her support. But the sale of the Arthur was going through, and Terry knew that the money would soon be realised to clear the remaining debt. Beyond that, he had a hard struggle ahead. But at least he had finally admitted that his gambling had got way out of control and that he needed help. That must be surely half the battle. That, and taking the steps to stop himself.

  As she reached the bridge, she heard her ringtone. Glad to talk to someone, she dug her phone out of her bag, delighted to find her younger daughter on the line.

  ‘Jess! How are you?’

  ‘We’re all fine. Dylan’s talking all the time now; just constant chatter. I can’t wait for you come down and see him again.’

  Rose was looking forward to that too, being part of a family. But Jess sounded rushed. Phoning during the working day meant there was a purpose to the call. Rose waited.

  ‘I’ve had awful morning sickness but it’s getting better now. Adam’s been great, though he’s using every spare moment he can to finish the bowls for the Plymouth exhibition. Mum, we need you!’

  This was music to Rose’s ears. ‘I’ll be down in a couple of months or so, but I’ve got to give the classes I’ve committed to and tie up a few loose ends.’

  ‘You should think about doing something like that when you get here,’ Jess suggested. ‘I want you to have your own things going on too.’

  And so did Rose. Although she relished her role as grandmother, and was looking forward to helping out when needed, she wanted her independence too. ‘I’ll think about what I might do,’ she said. ‘But first I need to find somewhere to live. I can’t stay in the hotel for ever. Incidentally, how’s the building going?’

  ‘That’s really why I’m calling.’ A deep breath travelled down the line.

  Rose readied herself for the worst. She had stopped just as she reached the beginning of the bridge’s span. As she looked at the familiar landmarks on either side of the Thames, she realised how much she was looking forward to this new start Jess was offering her. She would find herself a cottage near Trevarrick, and have a studio flat to return to in London when she wanted. She could not abandon all this completely.

  ‘Mum, it’s dreadful. Roger, the project manager, doesn’t get it at all. It was bad enough during the first stage of the work, when he was unfamiliar with what was happening, but now he keeps trying to change the plans. I know work’s not starting until the end of October, but he’s suggesting we change the orientation of the swimming pool and use different tiling, something much lighter than the slate, that’s much more expensive. He doesn’t think the glass we’ve chosen for the snug is the best for the job. Apparently there’s some German-manufactured glass that’s better. Look . . .’

  She hesitated, and in that second, Rose knew exactly what she was about to be asked.

  ‘We need Simon to see it through. We really do. I can hardly bear to suggest it, but Trevarrick matters so much to me now. It’s everything Dad left behind—’

  ‘Not quite everything,’ Rose butted in.

  ‘You know what I mean. But Simon’s the only architect I’ve met who really gets the place. I don’t want him here either, but we do need him, just until the work’s finished the way Dad would have wanted it. You won’t have to have anything to do with him. I’ll keep contact to the bare minimum, don’t worry about that, but he does understand what we both want and what Dad would have wanted too.’

  Rose stood stock still, unable to believe her ears.

  ‘I know it’s hard,’ Jess went on. ‘And I never thought I’d be asking you this. But he wouldn’t need to be here all the time. Just a couple of visits or so to oversee things again.’

  ‘That’s out of the question,’ said Rose, feeling her blood pumping. ‘I’m amazed you’ve even asked me. I know you and Anna think we should try to move on, but I thought you were with me on this.’

  ‘Oh Mum, I am.’ Jess’s sympathy was audible. ‘You know how upset and furious I’ve been with Dad, and I would never do anything to hurt you, but I need this to be done properly. And face it, so do you. You loved the original plans too.’

  For a moment, Rose was back in her kitchen, going over them for the first time with Simon, listening to him talk so enthusiastically and knowledgeably, forging a new friendship, sharing a vision for the future of Trevarrick. ‘Yes, I did,’ she conceded. ‘But things have changed.’

  ‘No they haven’t. Not really.’

  ‘How can you say that?’

  A young woman pushing a Rolls-Royce of a buggy slowed down as she heard Rose’s raised voice. Rose forced a smile to show everything was all right, waving her free hand to indicate a problem that would be easily resolved. The woman shrugged her shoulders, reciprocated the smile and walked on.

  ‘I can say that because I want to remember Dad as he was.’ Jess sounded absolutely sure of what she was saying. ‘I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. Don’t think I haven’t. I’ve talked and talked to Adam so much about what’s happened, and he’s made me look at things differently. I was devastated at first, but he’s right. We can’t undo the past, but I don’t want to be constantly wondering whether our family life wasn’t what it seemed. It was what it was. I really believe Dad loved us all, even if he did have a bit of an odd way of showing it sometimes. That temper!’ She gave a little laugh. ‘And he loved you. I know he did.’ She hesitated over what she was going to say next. ‘I don’t understand his friendship with Simon. I don’t even want to think about it, but we should try to remember him the way we can, not torture ourselves with what might or should have been.’

  ‘It was more than a friendship.’ Rose started walking again, keeping to the right, looking downriver to Tower Bridge. Where had her daughter found this new maturity? She guessed they had Adam to thank.

  ‘But Mum, it doesn’t matter what it was now. Don’t you see that? Dad’s dead.’

  ‘I know that.’ She spoke sharply. ‘I think about him every day.’

  ‘Of course you do. But we can’t live in the past. Do you know what
Adam said? Of course you don’t. Well, he said, “The best thing to do with the past is to take what you want from it to make your future and leave the rest behind.” He thinks you’ll never lose by doing that. Think about it, Mum. All I’m doing is asking you to reconsider. Please.’

  ‘Perhaps we should talk again when I’m not walking outside.’ Those wretched tears were threatening yet again, and a crocodile of gabbling schoolboys were making it conveniently hard to hear. Rose said a brisk goodbye and tucked her phone back in her bag as she continued towards St Paul’s.

  An hour later, she was at home. Throughout her journey she had thought of nothing but what Jess and indeed Anna had said. Perhaps they were both right. Perhaps she should take their lead, let go and move forward. But how was that possible? How could she ever get her mind round what had happened? Yet Adam’s advice to Jess still rang in her ears: ‘The best thing to do with the past is to take what you want from it to make your future.’ If she was to have a future at all, perhaps she should listen.

  She made herself a mug of tea, then went upstairs to her bedroom. She opened her wardrobe and took out the dress Simon had helped her buy, unworn since the party. Holding it in front of herself as she stood by the mirror, she saw again how spot-on his choice had been for her. What a successful day that had been: shopping, then lunch and laughter. Returning the dress to its place, she sighed, then opened her bedside drawer and took out Simon’s envelope. She sat on the edge of her bed and stared at his writing for a long time.

  Will had been in Bath all day, so Eve travelled down on her own. A bit of her was relieved to get away from Rose for twenty-four hours. The drip-drip of badly disguised disapproval was beginning to get her down. She knew exactly what she was putting at risk and who she might be hurting. If she wanted a guilt trip, she was more than capable of sorting one out for herself without her sister-in-law breathing down her neck. Rose was only looking out for her brother, but that irked Eve, given that her own relationship with Rose was much closer than Rose’s with Terry. As adults, the two siblings had increasingly little in common. In fact, sometimes Eve thought she was the glue that kept them together. So it was rich that Rose had come out on Terry’s side.