It turned out Branko and Mattie went to a lot of the same bars and nightclubs.
‘I can’t believe I’ve never seen you before,’ Mattie was saying.
Branko smiled mysteriously.
‘I don’t look so much like this when I go out,’ he said.
‘Ooh,’ said Natasha. ‘Do tell.’
‘I don’t tell, I show,’ said Branko, tapping his phone.
He scrolled through some pictures and then handed the phone to Mattie, while looking closely at her reaction.
‘You know this person?’ he asked.
‘No way!’ said Mattie, slapping her thigh with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone. ‘That is fabulous. You look amazing. Check this out, Natasha.’
She handed Natasha the phone and after she’d tilted her head a few times so she could make the picture out in the still bright daylight, she could see that the person in it – a beautiful woman, in elaborate make-up, with a full beard – was actually Branko.
‘Wow,’ said Natasha, ‘nice make-up. That’s a great lip.’
They all burst out laughing.
‘Thank you, Natasha,’ said Branko, looking thrilled, but a little shy. ‘I never feel I could tell you before, but I love your work … I follow on Instagram.’
Mattie and Natasha laughed again.
‘You too?’ said Mattie. ‘That was the first thing I told her …’
‘I get best ideas from there,’ said Branko.
He put his hand out for the phone again, scrolling through the pictures. ‘This one,’ he said, handing it back to Natasha, ‘you recognise?’
‘I sure do,’ agreed Natasha, looking pleased, ‘it’s my Roberto Cavalli show look, last season.’
Branko nodded. ‘This I like,’ he said.
‘Wow,’ said Mattie, leaning over to see. ‘You’ve done that shading really well where the eye colour comes down onto the cheek. Nice work. Are you going to go pro? You can be my assistant when I’m Natasha’s assistant.’
‘No,’ said Branko, shaking his head. ‘Is just for me.’
‘Why has Rachel never told me about this?’ asked Natasha.
‘She don’t know,’ said Branko.
‘Doesn’t she see you going out?’
‘I don’t change at house. She thinks I work in wine bar – I work in drag bar. I keep my things at friend’s place. Is better.’
‘Are you worried she’d mind?’
‘Not Rachel,’ said Branko, ‘the children. They might say to father that Branko wear high-heel shoe, he would not like and that would be bad for Rachel.’
‘You’re right about that,’ said Natasha, imagining Michael’s reaction to a cross-dressing manny – he’d given Rachel a hard enough time about her even having a male au pair. ‘That’s very considerate of you. I’m absolutely certain Rachel wouldn’t mind, but I respect your preference for privacy. I won’t say anything to her.’
‘Thank you,’ said Branko, ‘but I don’t ask you to keep secret, because I show you. My choice. I have no shame, or problem, but sometimes is better to keep different parts of life separate.’
Natasha turned her head to look at him, quickly. It was like he was speaking her own thoughts. Was he making some kind of point? No, she decided. He was just talking about himself.
Mattie was looking serious, nodding at Branko. ‘And could it spoil it all a bit if everyone knew?’ she asked.
‘I think yes,’ said Branko. ‘At home was impossible to be this way, I am used to two lives. Since childhood I was like this. I learned to keep that Branko just for me.’
‘Can I see some more pictures?’ asked Natasha.
‘Look at all,’ said Branko, passing her the phone.
She scrolled through, more impressed with every new look she saw. He wasn’t dressed as a woman, or as a drag queen, but as a very beautiful, slender man in what is considered women’s clothing, with very glamorous hairstyles and make-up. He didn’t wear wigs, but styled his own long, thick black hair in all kinds of intricate up-dos. The beard somehow just added to the overall effect.
Natasha handed the phone to Mattie and looked closely at Branko’s face. She reached out her hand and, holding his chin gently, turned his head from one side to the other. He had amazing bone structure.
‘Have you ever thought of modelling?’ she asked.
Branko laughed. ‘You joke? In suit I look like undertaker.’
He pulled a gloomy face to illustrate his point.
‘I meant womenswear,’ said Natasha.
Branko’s eyes widened.
‘You mean like Andrej Pejic?’ he asked. ‘But he is blonde, very pretty – and he is now actual woman. I have heavy beard and shoulders of a man. I like dresses, but I am still a man.’
‘I’m not sure what I mean, Branko,’ said Natasha, ‘but you’re something special and I’d like to introduce you to some people I know.’
Branko threw his arms wide. ‘This I love,’ he said and the three of them clinked their glasses in a toast.
Branko downed his wine in one go and after catching Mattie’s eye and grinning, Natasha did the same thing.
‘Hic,’ said Mattie, also draining her glass.
‘Shall we have some more?’ said Natasha. ‘It is Friday.’
‘I get it,’ said Branko, standing up and heading back towards the house.
The two women sat in silence for a moment after he walked away, paddling the water with their toes and Natasha turned her face up towards the sun, relishing a rare moment of complete relaxation.
It was very unlike her to drink more than one glass of anything, she couldn’t risk her mental faculties being dulled the next morning, not even at the weekend, and it felt really good to let up on her cast-iron self-discipline for once.
Her eyes snapped open when she felt drops of water splash on to her face. Mattie was smiling at her.
‘Hey, sleepy,’ she said. ‘I don’t want you to nod off and fall in.’
‘I’m just really enjoying doing nothing,’ said Natasha.
‘Do you not allow yourself much downtime?’ asked Mattie.
Natasha sighed. ‘I guess not,’ she said. ‘Always got my eye on the next thing.’
‘Well, there’s a reason you’re as successful as you are,’ said Mattie. ‘Slackers don’t get to work for American Vogue and do the Cavalli show.’
‘That’s true,’ said Natasha, ‘but I do sometimes wonder if I shouldn’t let myself have a bit more fun.’
Mattie didn’t say anything, but looked at her steadily, a smile tilting her lips. It really was a beautiful mouth, thought Natasha, and she considered herself a connoisseur of them.
‘It was really fun hanging out with you today,’ she said quietly.
‘Yeah,’ said Mattie, ‘it was. Loads of fun. We should do it some more.’
And not taking her eyes away from Natasha’s, she reached over with her toes and stroked the top of her foot.
Rachel was counting on her fingers again. Five kids, three sisters, her mum, Tom and add another two for Branko and Mattie, who she’d been quite surprised to hear was also staying for dinner, that made the twelve Tessa had mentioned, but she hadn’t known about Mattie. So if Simon stayed that would make it thirteen. That was the last straw. He wasn’t meant to stay. He mustn’t stay.
‘What did Simon say about dinner?’ she asked her mum casually.
She’d stupidly blurted out her horror at the idea to Tessa, but she was now safely upstairs having her lie-down and Rachel knew she must be more discreet this time. It was always easier to get your own way if people didn’t know what you were up to.
‘Sorry, Rachel, what did you say?’ asked Joy, clearly having to make an effort to bring her consciousness back to the earth plane. She and Tessa were permanently astral travelling as far as Rachel could tell. Neither of them had a mortgage to worry about, which probably made it easier.
‘I was just asking if Simon was staying for dinner,’ said Rachel. ‘Tessa mentioned you’d
asked him.’
‘Oh yes,’ Joy replied, her face lighting up in a way which made Rachel’s heart sink. ‘He’s so charming and I thought it would be good for him and Tessa to have a chat about her murals, but I haven’t seen him for a while. Is he still here?’
Rachel nodded. ‘He’s playing skittles with the kids,’ she said, partly for the sheer amusement of saying the words.
Joy smiled broadly. ‘How lovely,’ she said, ‘I think he needs a bit more light-heartedness in his life.’
Great, thought Rachel. Joy had known Simon for about five minutes and was already full of bright ideas about how he needed to change his life. She’d be helping him to open his heart chakra next.
Damage limitation was getting more urgent by the moment and there was no point in reminding Joy or Tessa that this was a career issue for her, neither of them would get that. Joy’s catering and yoga teaching had always been cash-in-hand stuff, not a proper career trajectory with planned goals. And Tessa’s idea of work was painting another stoat on the library wall.
‘So is it all work for Simon?’ Joy asked, in an insistent tone Rachel was all too familiar with. There was a real risk of Simon becoming a ‘project’.
‘He is pretty focused on the business,’ said Rachel, ‘but he goes to the country every weekend, so I think he gets his downtime in a concentrated two-day burst. That’s why I was wondering if he was staying for dinner tonight, because he’s normally well on his way to Herefordshire by this time on a Friday.’
‘Is that where his family are?’ asked Joy.
‘I’ve no idea,’ said Rachel, now getting seriously bored with the subject. ‘He keeps his personal life very private. His husband may be getting his dinner ready at this very moment, for all I know.’
‘Oh, he’s not gay,’ said Joy, with utter confidence.
Rachel couldn’t be bothered to argue. No one knew what the set-up was at Simon’s country pad. Despite all their best attempts to find out through the old school network and heavy hints that they were weekending in the west Cotswolds themselves, none of the women in the office had come up with anything useful. One of them said she’d heard he visited his parents, but that sounded unlikely to Rachel because he never mentioned them and he didn’t strike her as a mummy’s boy.
‘Well, I’m working out numbers, so the kids can start laying the table. I’ll go and ask him what his plans are,’ said Rachel, happy to see Tom coming back after seeing off the magazine crew. Good timing. He could sit and talk to Joy and she wouldn’t be tempted to go into the house to persuade Simon to stay.
Simon was lining his eye up for the crucial shot of the game when he was suddenly distracted by a shape approaching on the other side of the French window. He knew it was something he liked, but it took a moment for him to realise it was Rachel, silhouetted against the low evening sun. The curve of her hips had become so familiar to him it was almost totemic.
The ball slipped from his hand and dribbled pathetically towards the skittles.
‘Aw, Simbo,’ said Archie. ‘What are you doing, man? That was well lame.’
‘Noooooooo!’ wailed Daisy.
Finn, Ari and Hector were whooping with victorious joy, but Simon didn’t notice any of it. He’d completely forgotten about the game and his feet were carrying him over to where he had seen that familiar figure.
‘Ah!’ said Rachel, acting surprised to find him there as she opened the glass door. ‘There you are. I didn’t know if you were still here.’
Simbo, she wanted to add.
‘Oh,’ he said, raking his hand through his hair and suddenly feeling half naked without his jacket. ‘I was just, er, playing …’
‘Simbo lost us the game, Mummy,’ said Daisy, appearing at his side and looking up at him accusingly. ‘You totally nixed that last shot, Simbo. What happened?’
Shit, thought Rachel. This was no good – and a very good reminder of why she had to get him the hell out of there and fast.
‘Come and have a drink, Simon,’ she said loudly, making a death-threat face at Daisy behind his back. ‘We’re all sitting in the garden. It’s still so lovely …’
If it wouldn’t have been grossly inappropriate, she would have grabbed his hand and dragged him out, but the best she could do was to start walking purposefully and hope he followed. He did. He could get his jacket later, he told himself. Right now the only thing that mattered was staying as close to Rachel as possible.
‘I didn’t know you liked bowling,’ she was saying.
‘Ah, well, I heard the pins going down when I was walking through the hall earlier and I couldn’t resist having a go,’ he said, ‘and once I start playing a game, I tend to get rather involved.’
‘Well, you’re very honoured my oldest nephew gave you the time of day.’
‘Finn?’ said Simon. ‘Good man, Finn. Quite a fine bowler.’
He really was the oddest mixture, thought Rachel for the second time that day, relieved as they turned the corner of the house and she could see Joy and Tom still sitting at the table, with Natasha, Mattie and Branko approaching from the opposite direction.
‘Here we are,’ said Rachel. ‘Would you like some sangria, Simon? It’s just red wine and lemonade, no brandy, but then, you’re driving aren’t you? Perhaps I could get you a soft drink …’
She watched as her poison dart hit home. The relaxed expression left his face and was immediately replaced by the slightly tense look she was more familiar with. He glanced down to look at his watch, before realising he’d left it in the library with his jacket.
‘It’s about twenty past six,’ said Rachel, trying not to let an edge creep into her voice. Time you were off, matey.
‘Gosh, is it that late already?’ he said. ‘I better get going. Hopefully I’ll miss the worst of the traffic going from here.’
Rachel wanted to punch the air. Yes!
‘Oh, aren’t you going to stay for dinner, Simon?’ piped up Joy. ‘I’ve made some lovely curries.’
Rachel dug her nails into her palms.
‘I would have loved to,’ said Simon, with genuine warmth and regret, ‘but I have to get off. I’d completely lost track of the time.’
‘Come down again,’ said Tom. ‘It was really interesting what you were saying earlier about us getting some separate press for Hunter Gatherer, I’d love to talk to you some more about that.’
‘Perhaps the three of us could have lunch, to talk about it, in London,’ suggested Rachel, accidentally putting too much stress on the last word and hoping no one had noticed. London. Not my sister’s house, full of my family.
‘Good plan,’ said Simon. ‘Let’s make that happen. Well, thanks so much for the delicious food today, Joy. It was a pleasure to meet you.’
He leaned down to kiss her, and Joy couldn’t resist the opportunity to put her hands on his shoulders and keep the contact for just that extra little moment.
‘Such a shame you haven’t caught up with Tessa,’ she said.
‘Perhaps she can join us for the lunch,’ said Simon.
Not if I can bloody help it, thought Rachel. Business and family should be kept as separate as possible. This was a one-off aberration.
‘Good idea,’ said Tom. ‘We set up the salvage business together, so she should definitely be there.’
Even if she does very little with it now, he thought. But maybe this could help change that.
‘I’ll show you out,’ said Rachel to Simon, before someone suggested Joy needed to come to that lunch as well and Daisy.
With all thank yous and farewells finally made, Simon and Rachel walked back to the house together, entering via the library, so he could pick up his stuff. The kids were still in there, fooling about and just as Rachel was leading him through to the hall, a great wail went up.
She turned around to see Ari holding her head, her face doing a good impression of Munch’s The Scream. Daisy was holding a skittle in both hands, seemingly frozen with guilt and fear.
‘
Daisy hit me with the skittle …’ Ari sobbed out, and Rachel dashed straight over to them, Simon forgotten.
He stood by the door for a moment wondering what to do. Should he wait to say goodbye to Rachel? It seemed rude just to walk away, but Daisy was now crying too and it seemed intrusive to stand and watch as Rachel tried to calm the girls down, pulling Ari into a hug, her other hand holding tight to Daisy’s upper arm.
At least it got him over one problem, thought Simon, quietly closing the library door behind him. He’d been wondering whether it would be right for him to kiss Rachel goodbye, as he would have anyone else in this situation, which was now, by any standards, entirely social.
But he made a deliberate point of never socially kissing his staff, even though they were the kind of people who greeted virtual strangers with two cheek pecks, so it would have seemed odd to do it to Rachel this one time.
But he so wanted to. To get that close. To be able to smell her hair.
Pausing by the front door to check he had his sunglasses and car keys, he heard footsteps on the stairs behind him and turned to see a dark-haired woman coming down them. A really beautiful woman, who looked rather familiar. She had curves like Rachel, slightly fuller, but with that same differential between the waist and hips he found so alluring.
Her face was a little like Rachel’s too, but it wasn’t that which made her familiar, he was sure he already knew her from somewhere.
‘Oh, hello,’ he said, walking over with his hand extended. ‘I was just leaving. You must be Tessa.’
‘Yes,’ she said, her green eyes widening as she looked at him. She reminded him of one of the animals peeping out from the library walls.
‘I’m Simon Rathbone,’ he said, as their hands clasped. ‘Er, Rachel’s boss.’
So you are, thought Tessa. You’re Simon. That Simon.
And you’re that Tessa, thought Simon, realisation crashing over him like surf as he suddenly remembered where he knew her from and dropped her hand, which he realised he had held rather longer than a normal handshake.
Tessa felt her cheeks growing hot. How many years ago had it been? A twenty-first party, a marquee in the garden, a house in the loveliest Devon countryside.
Secret Keeping for Beginners Page 11
