The Secrets Mothers Keep

by Jacquie Underdown

“I’ve got you an audition.”

  A brow arches. “An audition?” Her heart races a fraction. No matter how many times she has heard those words in her career, she always has a physical response as though her body remembers the early days when each audition was like being handed a big, fat gold bar after starving for years.

  “Yes. For a rom-com. Claudia Hansen has already signed on.”

  Her heart gallops now. Claudia Hansen is the hottest young actress at the moment.

  “Keith Merrick has signed up to play her husband.”

  Keith Merrick is a lovely man—a fantastic method actor and a good friend of hers since they did a movie together twenty years ago. “And where do I fit in with this?”

  “You’re to play Keith’s mother.”

  Stunned silence. Lily-Rose gapes. A burning sensation stirs in the pit of her guts and intensifies as it moves upwards. “Keith’s mother? Did I hear that right? Because he’s fucking older than I am!”

  Mark clears his throat. “I know. I know. It’s not ideal, but it’s a great part.”

  A tremble starts in her hands and shifts to her lips. Her throat is tight as tears constrict her breathing. Every part of her wants to believe this is a prank. She almost asks if this is some kind of practical joke. But by this stage in her life and career, she knows, as revolting as it is, it is the reality of the industry.

  She swallows hard, catches her breath. “You know what, Mark, I’ve had enough. I am well and truly done. You can go back to the director—”

  “George Burgess—”

  “I don’t give a fuck who it is. I couldn’t care less if Jesus himself was fucking directing it. You can tell George Burgess to shove his movie up his tight fucking arse because I don’t want a bar of it—”

  “Take a deep breath—”

  “And you can tell him that if he thinks he’s doing women all around the world justice by casting a fifty-year-old actor to play husband to a toddler, then he can think again.”

  “Come on, Lily-Rose, this is the industry.”

  “That’s meant to be an excuse? Fuck you. Fuck the industry. And fuck this movie. I’m done. Thank you for your services over the years, but I won’t be needing you any further. Send me through whatever I need to sign to end this agent relationship because if you’re thinking this role is good enough for me, then you’re as bad as the rest of them.”

  “Take a few days to think this through. You’re in shock. You’re angry—”

  “Yeah, I am angry. I’ve been angry since I turned thirty-five and the roles dried up. Send me through an email with documents to end this now. I’m done.”

  “I’m going to give you a week, then I’m going—”

  “Send them through now or so help me, Mark, I’ll sue you for every penny you’ve made from me.”

  “Fine. Okay. I’ll get some documents drawn up, and I’ll email them as soon as they’re prepared.”

  “Good.” And she hangs up. She is shaking all over. Tears scald the back of her throat and eyes, but she will not let them fall. No way. She has shed enough tears over that industry; she isn’t going to spill more. Her head is hot. Her heart hurts.

  Pia takes a hand from the steering wheel and squeezes Lily-Rose’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Mum. You’re right, you were always too good for that industry.”

  She closes her eyes, squeezes the bridge of her nose. What the hell have I done?

  Pia parks the car outside a café they planned to meet at for morning tea before shopping. She pulls on the handbrake. “Are you right to go in?”

  With a sigh, Lily-Rose unbuckles the seatbelt, flicks the hair from her face. “I’ll be fine. A distraction will be welcomed. But please don’t tell the others. I’m not ready to hear what they have to say about it yet.” Especially Mum.

  Pia smiles sympathetically. “I won’t tell. You take your time first to come to terms with it all.”

  Lily-Rose manages a smile back, though it doesn’t feel quite like it’s real. “Thanks, honey.”

  Inside the café, her aunts and mother are already waiting.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Mum asks the moment Lily-Rose is in earshot. “You’re all flushed.”

  She shakes her head and takes a seat beside Pia. “Nothing. I think the heater was a little high in the car.”

  “Pia looks fine,” Mum says, appraising them both with her stern glare.

  “Does she? That’s good then. Maybe it’s an age thing. You know fifty is quite up there.”

  Mum tisks. “Leave the sarcasm outside.”

  She blows out her breath. Calm down, Lily-Rose, it’s not Mum’s fault.

  The waiter comes over—a well-timed distraction. “Have you had enough time with the menus?”

  “I haven’t even looked yet,” she mumbles, grasping for a spare menu.

  “We three will have the mud cake with ice-cream and a pot of black tea with milk and a pot of green tea with a small side-cup of cold water.”

  “I’ll have the same, but with a decaf coffee,” Pia says.

  Lily-Rose narrows her eyes as she gazes at her daughter. “Decaf? Since when?”

  “Since now,” Pia says and crosses her arms over her chest.

  “Lily-Rose will have the mud cake too,” Mum says to the waiter. “A coffee, Lil?”

  She shakes her head hard. “I can’t eat bloody mud cake.”

  “Of course you can,” Aunt June says.

  Aunt Grace leans closer, elbows on the table. “You should. You look like a stick at the moment.”

  “She’ll have the mud cake and a latte,” Mum says, handing back the menus. “We can’t be here all day waiting for you to order a salad.”

  “Fine,” Lily-Rose says. “Skim milk in the latte please.”

  Aunt Grace smirks. “I can never understand that. You’re going to be eating cake. Why not get the full-fat milk?”

  “It tastes better,” Lily-Rose says.

  “It does not taste better.”

  Firstly, Lily-Rose is taken aback by the fact that Aunt Grace has said more words in the last thirty seconds than the entire time she has been in Tasmania. Secondly, Aunt Grace is right. Lily-Rose can’t stand skim milk. It makes the coffee bitter and gives her heartburn. But, an actress has got to make those kinds of sacrifices.

  “I can’t afford to get fat.”

  “Fat?” Aunt Grace says. “There’s nothing of you.”

  Instead of answering, Lily-Rose opens her internet search engine on the phone and googles the latest images of her at the airport where she was being sniffed by beagles. She hands her phone to Aunt Grace. “See that. That’s why.”

  Aunt Grace rummages through her handbag for her reading glasses and places them over her nose. She holds the phone closer to her eye and the corners of her mouth twitch. “Oh my goodness, that is a horrendous photo. They’ve caught you mid-blink.”

  “Give me a look,” Aunt June says, snatching the phone. She spies the image and laughs. “That is an unfortunate picture.” She hands it to Mum. “Take a look at this.”

  Mum stares at the screen and even her mouth curls at the corners. “You look like a bloody murderer.”

  Pia dissolves into giggles. “Give me a look.” Like pass the parcel, Lily-Rose’s phone is shuffled along the line of women to Pia. Pia bursts into laughter. “Oh my god, Mum, this one has to be the worst.”

  Her phone dings with a message and the smile falls from Pia’s face.

  Lily-Rose’s stomach sinks. “What is it?”

  She hands the phone back. “It’s Dad. He’s wondering why it’s taking you so long to sign the divorce papers.”

  Lily-Rose doesn’t look at the text. “How dare he interfere with my time like this, embarrassing me in front of my family?” she mumbles as she shoves the phone into her Gucci handbag.

  “Well, you can hardly blame him,” Mum says light-heartedly, but it holds the sting of admonishment.

  She glares at her. “No, I can’t blame him, but it’s not th
e point. I’ll sign the papers when I’m good and ready.”

  “Sign them and be done with it,” Mum says.

  “I agree,” says Aunt June. “Sign them. Give him a bit of distance. Best way to make him miss you. If that’s what you want, of course.”

  “I don’t know what I want.’

  Aunt June laughs. “No, I’m sixty-five, and I still don’t know what I want either.”

  The waiter comes back with the cakes and a tray of drinks. He places them on the table in front of each of them.

  Lily-Rose doesn’t even hesitate as she spoons a big mouthful of moist, rich chocolate cake into her mouth. “Oh my god.”

  Aunt Grace smiles. “Chocolate cake is the perfect remedy for a broken heart. I’m one to know.”

  Lily-Rose takes another spoonful.

  “No woman goes through life without at least one broken heart, darling,” Aunt June says. “We’ve all been where you are. Even Pia.”

  Pia nods.

  Mum keeps her expression expertly expressionless as she says, “It will get better with time.”

  Lily-Rose does a double-take when she hears the same tone of voice she learnt to identify as a lie all those years ago when they watched the pretty girl dance. But Mum isn’t looking at her anymore; instead, focused on pouring herself a cup of tea.

  She narrows her gaze as she appraises her mother for a while longer. What a strange topic to lie about.

  Chapter 20

  Pia

  This morning is a particularly bad day for morning sickness and Pia hasn’t rolled out of bed yet except to vomit into the upstairs toilet as quietly as possible.

  Aunt June brought her up a plate of toast with Vegemite and a cup of tea and, since then, the world has brightened somewhat.

  By ten-thirty, she manages a quick shower and dresses. Best to head downstairs before suspicions are raised. She is meant to be meeting with Luca to give him all the family’s purchasing decisions to ensure nothing gets lost in translation.

  Mum and the rest of the family are in the living room when she finds them. A shoebox-sized timber chest is on the coffee table. Photos are scattered across the table top.

  “She finally decides to grace us with her presence,” Nan says, lifting her focus from a photograph in her hand.

  A bashful warmth fills Pia’s cheeks. “Sorry, I had a sleep-in. I barely got a wink all night. I think from all the excitement of shopping.”

  “Come, join us,” Mum says. She is dressed in a plain T-shirt and a pair of shorts, no makeup, and her hair is clean and tidy but not styled. Maybe she is taking this quitting-acting decision seriously.

  As long as it makes Mum happy, Pia agrees with the choice. Besides, they have this new business to embark on now together.

  “I’d love to, but I’m meeting with Luca to run through our purchases.”

  They nod and smile, but are much too absorbed in flipping through the photos. She grins and heads out the back.

  All morning, there has been the sounds of clanging and banging, nail guns and power tools. There are five workmen, a big skip bin filled with odd bits and pieces of timber, crates, paint tins and boxes left behind from long ago. The scent of sawdust fills the air.

  Luca is on the roof of the stable, crouching, with a nail gun in his hand as he fires it in quick succession into a piece of timber. She watches him from below until he notices her and he meets her eye.

  He wipes sweat from his brow and smiles, two perfect dimples forming in his cheeks. “Good morning, Pia.”

  She grins wide and her chest flushes with warmth from those few simple words. “Good morning. How’s everything going?”

  “We’re getting there.”

  “I can see a lot of progress in these two short days.”

  He winks. “We don’t muck around.”

  “No, I can see that.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  She holds up the notes she jotted down from yesterday. “I was hoping to run through all our decisions with you, so you can start ordering what you need.”

  “Perfect. You all obviously had a busy day yesterday.”

  “We did.”

  He steps carefully to the end of the roof where a ladder is perched against the guttering. With well-practised movements, he descends, his arm muscles flexing with each step.

  He strides to her, and she inhales sharply, still amazed at how her body reacts to this man.

  “How are you feeling? No more rose-garden nausea?” he asks.

  Pia laughs. “No. No more.”

  “Good to hear. So where would you like to chat?”

  “We can take a seat on the patio if you like? I can make us a cold drink and some morning tea.”

  His smile is broad. “Sounds perfect. I’ll run out to the car to grab my planner.”

  “Sure,” she says, unable to keep the flirting tilt from her lips. His gaze falls to her mouth and when he peers into her eyes again, there is so much heat she may need to sit down.

  Luca is waiting for her on a chair at the outdoor setting when she returns with a tray of drinks and a savoury bun.

  She places the tray in the centre of the table. “The other guys won’t get jealous?”

  “They probably will. But they’ll get over it.”

  His smile is so heart-warming. She has always been a sucker for a man with a great smile. The type of smile that’s full-bodied, shows lots of white teeth and is genuine.

  Ben’s smile always looked too small as though he was holding himself back from her. Looking at how it ended between them; that’s exactly what he had been doing.

  Her hand rests on her lower abdomen. Will their child have his smile? She hoped not.

  “All okay?” Luca asks.

  She plants a grin on her face, quickly lifts her hand above the table top. “Sure. I was just thinking about …” She looks around. “Calculations of flooring.”

  “Now you’re speaking my language.” He chuckles. “Another few months and you’ll be working for me.

  “No thanks. I’d much rather watch.”

  He holds her gaze for a heartbeat, two, three, as that innuendo expands between them. After a short moment, he looks away. “So, what did you all come up with yesterday? I’m not going to cry myself to sleep tonight with a metre-long list of additions, am I?”

  She laughs. “Only from my mother. But what more can you expect from Lily-Rose Freedman, right?” She unfurls the sheets of paper—five of them, one for each family member. She starts with her own, running through the order codes for the items.

  “There will be one addition for me,” she says. “Mum wants to buy me a bath. So I chose one that’s quite a bit larger than the dimensions you noted. It fits two.” She runs her tongue over her lip as images of sharing this bath with Luca flash in her mind. Is it suddenly hot out here? “The sales assistant gave me measurements and an alternative smaller one if this won’t fit in with your plans.”

  He holds his hand out and she gives over the measurements. With his folder open to her apartment’s plans, he performs quick calculations. “It should be fine. Just.”

  She blows out a long breath. “Good because I really would love that bath.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  For the next hour, she takes him through the orders for the rest of the family, leaving Mum until last. That takes longer and requires quite a few calculations to see if the installations fit. Many items won’t.

  “I’ll let her know. It looks like another day of shopping is in my future.”

  Luca smiles. “That’s why I wanted this sorted early.”

  “Good foresight.”

  “Let’s put it down to many years of experience.”

  “How long have you been building for?” she asks.

  “Eleven years. Since I was seventeen.”

  “And why heritage housing?”

  He shrugs. “Tasmania is full of them.” He laughs. “And I love the history and the long-ago stories within the walls
of old houses.”

  “Do you know the history of this manor?”

  “I know a bit—it was built in 1857 by Sir Richard Rivers, a local politician. When he passed away, his only son Donald Rivers lived here with his wife for four decades until Mary and her late husband inherited the property in 1963.”

  She arches a brow. “Wow. Okay. I think you may know more than I do.”

  “Superficial details. You’ll be privy to all the best details—the stories and secrets that always live inside old buildings like this. And a renovation of this size manages to dig up at least one or two.”

  Goosebumps spread along her arms and up the back of her neck. “Now I’m intrigued. I can’t imagine Nan having any secrets. She’s such a straight shooter. But I can’t speak for the families that came before her.”

  “Most people at most times are hiding at least one thing.”

  Her hand floats towards her stomach again, but she stops herself. “I guess that’s true.” She gazes at him with slightly narrowed eyes. What could he be hiding?

  But instead of probing, she reaches for the last piece of bun at the same time Luca reaches for that same piece, and their hands gently collide.

  His hand is big, warm and rough from using them for hard, practical work. She laughs, and he laughs.

  “You can have it,” they chorus at the same time and dissolve into laughter again.

  “I’m going to leave it there and let you have the last piece,” she says, still smiling.

  “Thank you.” He takes the bun and bites into it. “Grace is a great cook—”

  “Luca, can I see you inside for a moment please?” comes Nan’s voice from the back door. She is casting daggers their way.

  Luca shoves the remaining bun in his mouth and dusts his hands off on his shorts as he stands, the chair noisy as the legs drag against the pavers.

  They both head inside and follow Nan to the staircase.

  Nan turns her full glare on Luca, brows lowered. “I’m worried about this bannister.” She rocks it back and forth and the entire structure wobbles. “I know we decided to leave inside renovations until after the stables, but I think, for safety reasons, this needs to be attended to immediately.”

  Luca performs a quick assessment, moving the bannister at certain points as he observes the spine of the bannister where it meets the stair supports. Pia watches as he bends and examines with complete focus. How he touches, pushes and prods with his hands is so damn sexy.