One Secret Summer

by Lesley Lokko

  ‘On Friday. There was nothing … nothing.’ Julia’s mind was racing. Amanda’s testimony, far from being the crowning moment in her client’s defence, had practically sealed the door on her fate. Her own mother? Julia couldn’t believe it. Amanda’s responses to the questions they’d rehearsed time and again were astounding. No, she’d never seen her stepfather hit her mother. No, there was no history of violence in the family. Her mother was a liar; always had been. She was cheating on her stepfather, too. She had a boyfriend. He was the one who’d hit her, more likely. Julia listened to the lies coming out of the young woman’s mouth with a growing sense of incredulity and anger. It was rubbish! Utter rubbish! But why? Why now? Why hadn’t she seen it coming? She had a brief, unwelcome glimpse of Aaron Keeler’s face at the meeting that morning. Don’t mean to be a snob, he’d said, pointing at the file Julia had laid out before them. But these types … God knows what’s been going on in that household. There’s more to the stepfather and Amanda Taylor than meets the eye, I promise you. She felt positively nauseous as she crossed the Great Hall in the opposite direction and headed for the barristers’ entrance. With any luck the bulk of the press would be outside the main doors. Aaron had been right. But how the hell could he have known? And how had she missed it?

  A few hours later, alone in the safety of chambers, Julia still didn’t get it. She’d turned down all offers to join the rest of her team at the pub across the road from the Old Bailey and instead walked back to her office. She shut the door and leaned against it for a minute, fighting back the urge to cry. Three weeks’ worth of work wasted. On a silly, immature young woman with a crush on her stepfather … or worse. The truth would eventually come out, Julia knew, but at that moment, she couldn’t even bring herself to think about the reasons for Amanda Taylor’s abrupt about-turn. She shrugged off her jacket and kicked off her shoes. She reached behind her desk for the bottle of Château Faugères that Dom had given her on his last visit and picked up a glass. She sank down into her chair and stared unseeing at the picture of her parents that sat to the left of her desk.

  She was just about to take the first sip when there was a sharp knock at her door. She put the glass down, frowning. What now? It was probably Chris, in a last-ditch attempt to get her to come to the pub. She got up, crossed the room in her stockinged feet and yanked open the door. But it wasn’t Chris. It was Aaron Keeler.

  ‘Look,’ he began without preamble, holding up his hands in front of his face in a mock gesture of defeat. Julia’s blood pressure rose. He’d come to laugh at her. ‘I know it’s late—’

  ‘What the hell do you want?’ she snapped, annoyed that she’d lost the advantage of heels so that she was forced to look up at him even further.

  ‘Nothing. I just came to see how you were. I bumped into the others in the Eagle and Chris said you were here.’ He looked down at her with an expression that certainly wasn’t mocking – he actually sounded sincere.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said tightly. She pointed to the glass of wine on her desk. ‘Absolutely fine. Glass of wine, crackers and cheese in the fridge. A party, in fact. So you can trot back to the Eagle and report that to everyone, OK?’

  There was a few seconds’ silence as they stared at each other. ‘Jesus, why are you so damned defensive all the time?’ Aaron asked her suddenly.

  Julia was momentarily taken aback. ‘Defensive? Me?’

  ‘Yes, you. You speak to me as if you’d rather stick a knife in me.’

  ‘I … I do not.’

  ‘Yes you do. You know you do. Look, if it’s the whole Oxford thing you’re still mad about—’

  ‘I’m not,’ Julia interrupted him quickly. She didn’t like the path the conversation was taking. And she certainly didn’t like standing in her almost bare feet, looking up at his hopelessly handsome face – she could have kicked herself for even thinking it, but there was absolutely no getting away from the fact. When he wasn’t frowning or overtaken by pomposity, there was a sensual, almost feminine beauty in his face. She found herself staring at the blond hair that covered his forearms and the darker hair that escaped the collar of his shirt. He’d loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves; standing there, one arm raised above his head, leaning against the door jamb, she almost had to put out a hand to steady herself. There was something so wonderfully reassuring about his physical presence – an unexpected, sweet rush of longing to be held swept over her so forcefully that she had to turn away and walk back to her desk. Yes, he was handsome. He was also an arsehole.

  ‘You know what I’m talking about.’ To her consternation, he followed her into the room. ‘I’ve forgotten all about it, don’t worry.’

  ‘I shouldn’t worry?’ Julia was speechless. The arrogance of the man!

  ‘It was ages ago, Julia. Are you going to be mad at me for ever?’

  The oddly plaintive note in his voice rendered her completely speechless. She was suddenly aware of the blood pulsing in her veins, of the sound of her heart thudding as they stared at each other. Something had changed; there was a new tension in the air. He’d unsettled the space between them. She had to say something to break the silence. Something. Anything. ‘I … this isn’t about Oxford,’ she said quickly, her feet going to her shoes that lay beneath her desk. She slipped one foot in, then the other.

  ‘So what is it all about? I know you can’t stand me. Shit, Julia, everyone knows it. You’ve hardly kept it a secret.’

  ‘I …’ Julia’s voice faltered suddenly. Now that the time had come to explain just what it was about him that set her teeth on edge, she’d lost her nerve. She who was afraid of nothing! ‘It’s …’

  There was silence for a few seconds. He continued to stare at her with those deep blue, almost violet eyes. ‘It’s what?’ he prompted gently.

  To her horror, she felt the unfamiliar salty welling of tears in her throat and eyes. She put a hand up to her face, absolutely mortified at her response. She struggled to control her voice. ‘I—’ She stopped and turned away. She couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing her cry.

  It was too late. All of a sudden he was standing beside her. She sensed, rather than felt, the pressure of his hand on her shoulder. The temptation to turn and press her head against his chest was overwhelming. ‘Hey,’ he said quietly. ‘So you lost the case. It won’t be the last time, you know.’ His voice was gentle. ‘Even for someone like you.’

  She shook her head, unable to speak. ‘It’s not the case,’ she said at last in a strangled voice, hating herself for being so weak.

  ‘Then what is it?’ He still had a hand on her shoulder, but the touch was caring, not calculating, as if trying to gauge her mood. He turned her slowly until she was facing him. ‘What is it, Julia?’ he repeated, his voice sounding just above her ear. The question broke the surface of her thoughts. How could she explain? That no one had laid a hand on her shoulder in such a manner since her father had died? That she missed her parents more than she could ever put into words? That this – the office, her work, the case, her reputation – was all for the two people who would never see or hear of it? A small noise struggled in her throat. She tried to clear it, embarrassed. She was almost unable to breathe. In her confusion, she turned away from him.

  He lifted his hand from her shoulder leaving an almost unbearable ache behind. ‘Look, I’m sorry,’ he said, also turning away. ‘I didn’t mean to impose—’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Julia interrupted him, struggling to bring her voice under control. ‘I’m fine. You’re right. It was just … the case. Losing it like that.’

  ‘It happens.’

  She looked at him. He’d moved a few paces away. She was suddenly outside the dangerous orbit of his charm again. She nodded, trying desperately to bring her feelings back into line. He’d unleashed all sorts of unfamiliar longings in her and she had no idea how to control them, what to do. It was deeply unfamiliar territory; suddenly she was the one who was unprepared. ‘I … I’m fine,’ she stammered.

>   ‘If you say so.’ His voice was neutral. He’d disappeared back into himself. He opened the door, gave her a brief, inscrutable look and then the door closed behind him. She put her hand up to her face. It was still hot and damp. She’d blown close to something she couldn’t even name. She picked up her glass of wine and drained it in a single gulp.

  PART FIVE

  45

  JULIA

  London, February 1997

  Just as before, in the days and weeks that followed her strange moment of intimacy with Aaron Keeler, Julia found herself inexplicably at sea. She couldn’t explain it to anyone, least of all herself. Nothing had happened, yet everything had changed. She had suddenly become aware of him in the most unnerving way. Catching sight of him walking down the corridor or hearing his voice from across the table in a meeting, it felt as though the air around her had changed; a sudden drop in the barometric pressure or a temperature shift from hot to cold. He appeared oblivious, of course. He gave no indication whatsoever that anything was different. But for Julia, it was as though she’d been offered something rare and precious, only to have it snatched away again before she could take hold.

  ‘It’s awful,’ she said to Dom over the phone when she simply couldn’t bear thinking about it any longer. ‘I don’t know what’s come over me. I’m being silly, I know I am. But I can’t help it.’

  ‘But you’ve always hated him,’ Dom protested.

  ‘I know. I still do. Well, I mean … I don’t hate him, as such …’

  ‘Oh come off it. You do. You’ve always loathed him.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘You suppose so? What the hell’s come over you, Burrows? Wait, don’t tell me … are you … ? Have you two … ?’

  ‘Don’t be silly! Of course I haven’t. He just … we just talked the other week, after we lost the Taylor case. He stopped by my office and we just talked for a bit, that’s all.’

  ‘Burrows.’ Dom’s voice was firm. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

  ‘Nothing! I swear. It was just that he was different. I can’t explain it.’

  ‘Oh God. You women. Unbelievable. You’re all the bloody same!’

  ‘Oh, Dom,’ Julia said weakly, inexplicably close to tears. ‘It’s not like that at all.’ She reached for a tissue. She hated herself for even contemplating telling Dom – after all, he’d had the most monumental crush on Aaron himself for as long as she could remember. But Dom didn’t seem to mind.

  ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Look, I’ve got to run. Some serf’s waiting to see me about the bloody gardens. When are you coming?’

  Julia suddenly longed for the expansive peace and space of Hayden Hall. ‘C … could I come this weekend?’ she asked, blowing her nose.

  ‘You come any time you want, my love,’ Dom said, his voice suddenly gentle. ‘Shall I pick you up from the station?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘Consider it done. Come up on the early train. That way we’ll have the whole of Saturday as well.’

  ‘Th … thanks, Dom.’

  ‘You look after yourself, Burrows. It’s Hades you’re about to enter. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Julia said, her voice suddenly very small.

  ‘Then you might as well go in prepared. You’d better talk to Mother. I’ll see you on Saturday.’

  ‘I always forget how beautiful it is here,’ she said, the following Saturday, as they got out of Dom’s car. She wrapped her arms around her and turned to face the gardens. ‘I know I say it every time I come here, but I can’t imagine what owning all of this must feel like.’

  ‘A right pain in the arse,’ Dom said, lifting her small overnight bag from the back seat. ‘Come on. Mother’s in residence. Father’s down in London for the weekend. She’s been looking forward to your visit all week.’

  ‘Dearest Julia! How lovely to see you.’ Lady Barrington-Browne rose as soon as they entered the drawing room. She gripped Julia’s hands tightly. ‘Dominic only told me you were coming on Monday. Very naughty of him. I’d have organised something, a dinner party or a luncheon at the very least.’

  ‘Oh, Mother. That’s the last thing this lovesick pup needs,’ Dom said, looking at her fondly. ‘And although I’ve told her she’s allowed to speak to you, I intend to monopolise her all weekend. You can have an hour, no more, all right?’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’m just popping up to the cottages. I’ve got to see Mr McFayden about this film crew that are supposed to be coming.’

  ‘Film crew?’ Julia looked at him questioningly.

  ‘Oh, it’s too dreadful for words,’ Lady Barrington-Browne interjected, rolling her eyes. ‘Dominic seems to think it’s worthwhile. Financially speaking, that is. I think it’s a dreadful inconvenience. They’re here for weeks on end. D’you remember the Americans last summer? My dear.’

  ‘Mother.’ Dom gave her a withering look. ‘Do stop complaining. They pay the bills. Handsomely too, I might add. Now, I must dash. I’ll be back to collect her in an hour. Make the most of it.’ He winked at Julia and disappeared back through the impossibly high doorway.

  Lady Barrington-Browne looked at Julia fondly. ‘Do come and sit next to me, my dear. Tell me all about your life in London. Is it very exciting?’

  Julia smiled. Lady Barrington-Browne was of the generation that regarded London as a necessary but annoying inconvenience. They had their sumptuous London townhouse, as did most of their aristocratic neighbours, but she genuinely disliked the hustle and noise of the big city. She was infinitely happier in the countryside. ‘So much more civilised, don’t you think?’ Julia never knew quite what to say. She’d never really been in the countryside until Dom started inviting her to Hayden. For her, it meant the occasional walk on the hills surrounding Newcastle or the odd day-trip to the beach. The idea of actually living in the countryside was about as foreign to Julia as Newcastle probably was to Lady Barrington-Browne. ‘No, not very exciting, I’m afraid,’ she said apologetically.

  ‘No? What a shame! I was so looking forward to a bit of gossip. I can’t stand the place myself, as you know, but one does like hearing all the tales.’

  ‘It’s mostly just work,’ Julia said. ‘There’s no time for anything else.’

  ‘Oh, you young things. That’s all you do nowadays. Work, work, work. In my day, let me tell you, things were quite different. Shall we have tea? I’ll ask Fowler to bring it up. And some scones? You look dreadfully peaky. Beautiful as ever, of course, but peaky. Oh my dear … whatever is the matter?’

  To her absolute horror, Julia found she suddenly couldn’t speak. Her throat was completely constricted. She put her hands to her face and shook her head. ‘N-nothing,’ she whispered, mortified beyond belief.

  ‘Nothing? I think not. Come, my dear … tell me all about it. It’s a man, isn’t it? Oh dear. I thought so.’

  The temptation to talk to someone – especially another woman – was overwhelming. At fifteen, Julia’s relationship with her mother had just been on the cusp of changing when it had ended in the cruellest way possible. Now a fully grown woman, she missed her dreadfully. There’d been no one to turn to for advice or help, no one to share the pangs and pains of growing up, no one to talk to, and worst of all, no one to listen. Fortunately for both of them, Lady Barrington-Browne was both wise and experienced. She simply let Julia talk.

  ‘It’s quite simple, dear girl,’ she said when she had finished. ‘You’re in love. Oh, I don’t mean that you love him – how can you? You barely know him. But the attraction’s there and that’s what matters.’

  ‘B … but I can’t be,’ Julia stammered. ‘I’ve hated him for as long as I’ve known him.’

  ‘Oh, fiddlesticks. Love, hate … practically the same thing if you ask me. I’m always mixing them up. No, the thing is, you’ve met your match. Very dangerous, especially for a woman. What you want, my dear girl, is someone considerably weaker than you. If you want an easy life. If you don’t, well, that’s another matt
er altogether …’ She lifted her hands helplessly.

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Men are simple creatures, Julia. They’ll try endlessly to persuade you otherwise, but the truth of it is, they’re creatures of habit and instinct, I’m afraid. The problem lies with us. We’re the ones who complicate everything. Especially your generation. The demands!’ She put a hand to her throat. ‘Impossible!’

  ‘Wh … what demands?’ Julia was truly bewildered.

  ‘Oh, they’ve got to be caring as well as strong. Good at listening and good at talking. I read the magazines, you know, all the latest ones. The problem is, you can’t have both. They’re either talkers or listeners; very rarely will you meet a man who can do both. And yours – what’s his name again? Aaron? Classic product of overachieving parents, if you ask me. Poor boy’s struggling to live up to their expectations of him. What a strain. But give it time, dear girl. He’ll come to his senses soon enough. All you have to do is sit tight and wait.’

  ‘Wait? For what?’

  ‘For him to make the next move, of course.’ Lady Barrington-Browne seemed surprised at the question. ‘You’ve got to give him time to work it out on his own. I know you know what’s happening between the two of you. Of course you do. You’re a very clever girl, Julia. But don’t be too clever, there’s a dear. Don’t want to frighten him off.’

  ‘But I’m not trying to catch him,’ Julia protested.

  ‘Of course you’re not. What a dreadful thought. Still, from what you’ve said, men like Aaron don’t pop up all the time, do they? Just sit tight, my dear. Now, shall I call about that tea?’

  Despite laughing about the conversation later that afternoon with Dom, Julia did feel calmer after speaking to Lady Barrington-Browne.

  ‘She’s actually really perceptive,’ she said to him as they walked down towards the lake at the bottom of the hill. The pale stone façade of the Great Hall dissolved in the late afternoon mist just as dusk began to waver away the cool blue surface of the lake. The air was chilly; she wound her scarf around her neck and tucked her arm into Dom’s. ‘I’m always surprised by her.’