The Guilty Secret

by Margaret Pemberton

  I lay staring at the ceiling in Aunt Harriet’s bedroom. What was it Nanette had said? ‘I wish John had been here tonight. You would have got on well together’ and I remembered the ecstasy of our lovemaking and then the nightmare of his face as he spat the words ‘murdering little bitch’ at me. The agony within me was more than I could endure. There was no-one else in the room, only the sound of voices downstairs. Slowly I reached for my handbag and my tablets and mechanically took one, two, three, four … until my hand fell slackly to my side and the bottle was empty.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was Phil who found me and subjected me to the ignominy of forcing salt water down my throat and making me sick.

  ‘You idiot! You absolute idiot!’

  I buried my face in a towel, dazedly wiping at my mouth, trying to focus properly.

  ‘Do you mean to tell me you did this because of Crown? Don’t I mean anything? Doesn’t Aunt Harriet? Haven’t you put us through enough already without making it worse?’

  Dimly I registered that there were tears in his eyes as he carried me back into the bedroom, laying me on the bed and covering me with a sheet.

  ‘Dear God, Jennifer … promise me you won’t do anything like this again. Promise me!’

  I said dully. ‘I promise.’

  His hand gripped my shoulders his eyes pleading with mine. ‘Marry me, Jennifer. Please.’

  I shook my head. ‘It’s no use, Phil. I love him.’

  ‘But it’s over, Jennifer.’

  ‘I know. But it doesn’t stop me loving him or being unable to love anyone else.’

  I covered his hand with mine. ‘ Were you the friend who told Jonathan to come to Northern Portugal if he wanted peace and quiet?’

  ‘Yes.’ He bent his head, a sigh racking his body. ‘I’m sorry, Jennifer.’

  ‘It isn’t your fault, Phil.’

  He got up without speaking and left the room. I sank back against the pillows, my brain too fuzzy to think clearly. Thanks to Phil it seemed no-one else knew of my stupidity, but minutes later even this comfort was taken away from me.

  Jonathan’s voice said harshly:- ‘Drama seems to run in the family,’ and then there was the slamming of a door. I struggled out of the bed. He was going. I would never see him again. As I swayed at the top of the stairs, Aunt Harriet rushed upwards and caught hold of me.

  ‘I must see Jonathan. I must speak to him before he leaves …’

  ‘He isn’t leaving. He’s staying in Miles’ villa. The best place for you is bed,’ and very firmly she turned me round and led me back into the bedroom.

  Like a child I allowed myself once more to be tucked up, saying dazedly:- ‘He’s staying?’

  ‘Yes,’ Aunt Harriet tried to sound her usual brisk self and failed. ‘You forget that he’s a friend of Tom and Mary’s. And myself. Rozalinda asked him if he would like to stay on for a few days and he said yes.’

  ‘I don’t understand …’

  ‘Neither do I. Phil came downstairs like a man demented and punched Jonathan firmly and squarely on the jaw. Said you’d tried to kill yourself by taking an overdose.’

  I turned my head to the wall with a groan. ‘He also told him what had happened after the accident. Your mental breakdown … everything. And that you had no idea he was Nanette’s widower.’

  ‘But Jonathan knew that!’

  Aunt Harriet shook her head. ‘He said if this was an example of your sadistic humour then you were psychotic and should have been given life for murdering Nanette and Sarah.’

  I stared wildly at her, feeling mentally unhinged.

  ‘He can’t … he couldn’t think such a terrible thing. I love him!’

  ‘He’ll be more rational tomorrow and so will you. This whole holiday has turned into a nightmare.’

  Her skin was ash-grey.

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. I should never have come.’

  ‘Nonsense. What happened between you and Jonathan couldn’t have been helped. Other things can.’

  She looked suddenly old and frail as she sat on the edge of my bed.

  ‘What is it? What’s the matter?’

  Tears brightened her eyes. ‘Rozalinda is having an affair with Tom.’

  The room see-sawed around me. ‘You can’t know that. She’s just flirting with him to make Miles jealous. Mary said Tom had agreed to go home.’

  Aunt Harriet said bleakly. ‘It was late last night. I couldn’t sleep and I went for a walk in the woods. Rozalinda’s Daimler was parked far off the track and I was fool enough to think some local boys had taken it for a joyride.’ She paused unable to go on, when she did, her voice was choked. ‘Like a fool I went over to it, I could tell someone was inside because the windows were steaming up …’

  ‘And it was Tom and Rozalinda?’

  She nodded. ‘I couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe that Rose could behave like that. She was laughing …’ She hugged her arms around her thin body. ‘ They didn’t hear or see me. A bomb could have gone off and neither of them would have noticed.’

  ‘Have you spoken to Rozalinda?’

  ‘No … I laid awake all night wondering what to say to her, what to do. Then Mary knocked and said Jonathan had arrived and dragged me over here. There’s been no chance yet for me to speak to her.’

  ‘Then no-one else knows? Not Mary or Harold?’

  ‘No, thank God.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  She squared her shoulders with an effort. ‘I’m going to tell that young lady exactly what I think of her, and Tom Farrar too. I don’t know which of them is most to blame. When I think of Mary and how she idolises him …’

  I remembered Mary’s face the night of the party, her worry over Tom’s whereabouts.

  ‘You don’t think it’s something that’s been going on for some time, do you?’

  ‘Dear God, no. How could it?’

  ‘It’s just that Mary has been looking worried and unhappy for a long time now. Perhaps Rozalinda isn’t the first.’

  ‘If she’s ever suspected Tom of being unfaithful she’s never let it show. But then Mary wouldn’t.’

  ‘Do you think Miles is aware of what is going on?’

  ‘Miles? Why should it matter to him?’

  I remembered too late that Aunt Harriet hadn’t known of Rozalinda’s previous love affairs.

  ‘No reason,’ I lied. It was no good. A dreadful look of weariness filled her eyes.

  ‘Not Miles as well?’

  My awkward silence confirmed her fear.

  She rose unsteadily to her feet. ‘I’m too old, Jenny. Rozalinda has broken my heart. Don’t you do it as well by doing anything stupid.’ Her eyes were on the empty bottle of tablets.

  ‘No, Aunt Harriet. I promise.’

  She bent over and kissed me on the forehead. ‘I’m going back to my villa for a sleep. Afterwards, when I feel a little stronger, I shall speak to Rozalinda.’

  But afterwards was too late. By eight-o-clock, when Aunt Harriet knocked on Rozalinda’s bedroom door and entered, Rozalinda was dead. Shot through the heart, Harold’s pistol only feet away from her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When I awoke it was just after mid-day and I could sense that the villa was empty. The events of the last few hours came back with sickening clarity. It was impossible to follow Aunt Harriet’s advice and wait till the morning before speaking to Jonathan. If he was still at the enclave I had to speak to him at the earliest opportunity. Not to try to re-awaken the love he had briefly felt for me. I knew there was no hope of doing that. But I had to do what I had wanted to do ever since I had regained consciousness in the hospital. I had to tell Jonathan Crown that I was sorry. That there would never be a day in my life when I wouldn’t grieve for Nanette and Sarah. And I had to say goodbye to him.

  He had himself well in check. His eyes devoid of expression. His face a mask of tight control.

  I said:- ‘I had to come … I had to see you again …’r />
  A nervous tic appeared at the side of his jaw.

  ‘After the accident, I wanted to see you, wanted to tell you then, but you had gone back to America …’

  ‘Tell me what?’ His voice was curt and indifferent.

  I said, knowing how agonisingly inadequate the words were and yet knowing no others:- ‘That I was sorry …’

  ‘Sorry!’ His eyes blazed with sudden anger and hatred. ‘Sorry! You butchered my wife and child and have the insult to walk in here and say you’re sorry!’

  ‘But I am, Jonathan! I never saw them that night! I couldn’t help it! Dear God, I’d been with them only minutes earlier. I know you’ve suffered, but I’ve suffered too! I’ve suffered the torments of hell since that night!’

  It wasn’t remotely what I had meant to say and when I had finished I was sobbing heartbrokenly. He said coldly, the surge of emotion once more icily controlled.

  ‘You’ve said it now,’ and then, ‘I believe you.’

  Through a blur of tears I gazed across at him, wanting with every fibre of my being to take him in my arms, to comfort him, to love the hurt and the pain away. I said brokenly:-

  ‘And I’m not sorry for what has happened this last week. I loved you, Jonathan. I love you now and I will always love you.’

  He made no move towards me. ‘ I came to say goodbye.’

  His lips tightened even further and he swung round, his back to me. Blinded by tears I rushed out of the villa and slap into Phil.

  With a strength I never suspected he possessed, he swung me up in his arms and back into my own villa. Silently he deposited me on a settee and began to make coffee in the kitchen while I cried until I could cry no longer.

  Finally he said:- ‘If you want to leave in the morning I’ll come with you.’

  ‘Thank you, Phil. I think it would be best if I did. If we all did.’

  ‘All?’ he raised his eyebrows.

  I said wearily. ‘Aunt Harriet discovered Rozalinda and Tom making love last night.’

  ‘And her eyes have finally been opened.’

  ‘Don’t sound so harsh. There’s a good side to Rozalinda as well.’

  ‘If there is she doesn’t often show it.’

  ‘She paid for my barrister and for the fees at the clinic and my expenses in coming out here.’

  ‘Money,’ Phil said, shrugging her generosity to one side. ‘ Why the hell had she to pick on Tom Farrar.’

  ‘Because you wouldn’t play.’

  ‘Because what?’ he asked incredulously.

  I felt drained, no longer caring. ‘Mary told me ages ago that Rozalinda and Miles were having an affair. By her behaviour this last few days the affair is obviously over and being Rozalinda she needed another man to boost up her ego in front of Miles. She’s really interested in you. Always has been. But you were your indifferent self and so it had to be Tom.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said dryly. ‘ So this mess is because I haven’t fallen into bed with her.’

  I smiled wanly. ‘ Yes.’

  He shook his head. ‘You’re wrong, Jennifer. Things haven’t been right with Tom and Mary for some time. Whether it’s been Rozalinda or not I don’t know. Whatever it is, my falling for Rozalinda wouldn’t have helped the Farrar’s marriage one jot and how long have you been under the impression that Rozalinda had designs on my manly virtue?’

  ‘Since you were about five.’

  He smiled. ‘Then she’s been wasting her time for nineteen years. There’s only ever been you, Jennifer.’

  ‘Correction,’ I said gently. ‘There’s only ever been your music.’

  ‘There’s room for both.’

  I looked at him tenderly, knowing how much I loved him and knowing that it was the wrong sort of love.

  ‘We’ve always been like brother and sister, Phil. It’s too late to change now.’

  ‘You could do me a favour and think about it. I want to marry you, Jennifer.’

  ‘No …’ looking at him, hair tousled, eyes sincere it seemed impossible that he could be feeling an iota of the agony I was feeling at losing Jonathan. If he had then perhaps it would have awakened some response in me. I stood up wearily.

  ‘I’m going for a walk, Phil. I want to be by myself for a while.’

  ‘Jennifer,’ he said warningly, rising to his feet.

  ‘Don’t worry, Phil. I’m not going to do anything stupid. What happened earlier was a temporary aberration. I’ll see you at dinner.’

  Reluctantly he watched me as I walked down the shallow flight of moss covered steps that led through the garden into the woods. I made instinctively for the beach. Staring down from the top of the dunes to two sets of footprints that led to a sheltering bank of sand. The sand still bore the marks where our bodies had ploughed deep into it in the ecstasy of our lovemaking. So little time ago … Tears blinded my eyes as I walked slowly to the spot, letting the sand run gently through my fingers. I don’t know how long I stayed there. When at last I rose to my feet the breeze had taken on a cold edge and I was shivering. The beach was still deserted, but in the distance two figures walked from the depths of the pines towards the villas. Rozalinda’s hair streamed away from her face in the wind and Jonathan had his head bent, as if listening intently. They were walking very close together. Another emotion seized hold of me. One I had never experienced before. Jealousy.

  ‘Not Rozalinda,’ I whispered under my breath. ‘Anyone else, but please God, not Rozalinda …’

  I stood watching them as they walked slowly to the gates of the main villa, heads close together. Then on the wind came the faint tinkle of Rozalinda’s laugh and she turned, going into the villa and leaving Jonathan standing at the gate.

  My heart was pounding painfully in my chest, my throat dry as he turned, looking out to sea. Then, hands plunged deep into his pockets he began to climb down the dunes and across the windswept beach to where I stood.

  He stopped three yards away. I licked my lips nervously, seeing by the set of his shoulders that the savagery of the morning had burnt itself out. At last he said:-

  ‘Jenny, I’m sorry that I hit you. I’m sorry it had to end like this.’

  ‘Yes,’ I averted my face, unable to look at him, powerless to hide my longing.

  ‘Phil told me what happened after … afterwards. We’ve both suffered, Jenny. I don’t want us to part in anger.’

  I don’t want us to part, I wanted to yell. Not now. Not ever! Instead I said with difficulty. ‘No …’

  He raised a hand as if to reach out and comfort me, and then stifled the impulse.

  ‘It’s no use, Jenny. There would always be the ghosts of Nanette and Sarah … It’s no use …’ I kept my head lowered, the tears falling ceaselessly as he turned on his heel and strode back over the sands and away from me.

  No use. No use at all. I stared after him till he was out of sight, but he didn’t look back. My legs felt incapable of movement. I stood on the lonely beach, feeling as if I would never have the strength to leave it.

  ‘Hi there!’

  Shaken out of my thoughts I turned my head. Tom stood on top of the dunes, waving. With sinking heart I saw him begin to scramble down and come towards me.

  ‘Phew, it’s a bit chilly now, isn’t it? This old Atlantic breeze doesn’t give you much of a chance to get a tan.’

  ‘It’s still early in the year.’

  ‘Suppose so. Say, are you all right? You look as if you’ve been hit by a bus.’

  ‘I’m all right,’ I said flatly.

  He looked sheepish. ‘Bloody silly thing for me to say under the circumstances. You must be feeling deathly. Would talking help.’

  ‘No, Tom. I don’t think it would.’

  He rubbed his hands together looking uncomfortable.

  ‘I came down to borrow one of the boats and go for a row. It’s a bit rough but I like it like that. Especially when I have something on my mind.’

  For the first time I managed to drag my tormented thoughts from
my own problems to Tom’s.

  ‘Like Rozalinda?’

  He stopped rubbing his hands and stared, his face paling. ‘ How the hell would you know if it was?’

  I shrugged. ‘We’re a small community, Tom.’

  ‘Hell!’

  The expression on his face was one of genuine anguish.

  ‘Don’t worry. It isn’t common knowledge.’

  He looked sick. ‘I think I’ll definitely go out for a row. Want to come? Nothing like it for getting things in perspective.’

  ‘Even murdering your lover’s wife and child?’ I said bitterly.

  ‘Steady on, Jenny. You make it sound as if you did it on purpose. Let’s get the boat.’

  The boat was a disused fishing boat, looking remarkably spartan to be Rozalinda’s property. Together we heaved it down to the shore line and floated it. I raised my head, looking at the sea.

  ‘It’s pretty rough, Tom.’

  ‘It’ll need to be with what I’ve got on my mind,’ he said darkly.

  The rearing waves and thundering spray answered something deep in my own soul.

  ‘You’re right. I’ll come with you.’

  I’d seen a couple of fishing boats out early in the mornings and they had made rowing amidst the Atlantic swell seem comparatively simple. It took me all of three minutes to find out that it wasn’t. Between each wave the boat pitched so low I thought it would never surface.

  ‘Do you do this often?’ I yelled over the thunder of the crashing surf.

  ‘I’ve done it a couple of times lately.’

  ‘And has it helped?’

  ‘Well it sure as hell doesn’t give you much time to think of anything else until you’ve got where you want to be,’ Tom said with something of his old vitality.

  He was still pulling strongly on the oars, water slopping over us with each pitch and fall of the boat.

  ‘We’re hardly dressed for it.’ I yelled back.

  He grinned. ‘Another five minutes and we’ll give her her head. You can see the whole of the enclave from here.’