This Secret We're Keeping

by Rebecca Done

She laughed. ‘Ah, that’s sweet. Some maths-speak to make up for the Plath. Do you feel better now?’

  He grinned. ‘Yeah, much. Thanks.’

  They walked a few paces further.

  ‘Hey, Jess – let me ask you something.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Do people ever talk about me when you’re around? I mean, do you ever overhear anything or get strange looks?’

  Jess thought about it. ‘Yes, sometimes. Not very often. Hardly at all now, actually. It was worse back then, straight after it happened.’

  He seemed to be mulling something over. ‘It’s just that I was out with Charlotte the other day, walking down the road to the playing field, and … there was this woman. She was on our side, but she crossed over when she saw us.’

  ‘Okay …’

  ‘The strange thing is, she was staring at me the whole time. Properly staring, like she knew exactly who I was. And it was almost to the point where I would have said something, but Charlotte was with me. Anyway, I carried on walking, but then I glanced back over my shoulder and I swear she’d just taken a picture.’

  Jess felt her heart begin to thump. Had Zak started spreading rumours?

  ‘It was creepy. I even picked Charlotte up and carried her, I was that weirded-out. Spent the rest of the night waiting for Natalie to get a strange phone call or for someone to knock on the front door.’

  ‘What did she look like – the woman?’

  ‘Hard to say. She had sunglasses on. Average height, non descript clothes. Almost too non descript, though – and absolutely enormous hair. If I didn’t know Sonia was dead, I’d have sworn it was her in disguise.’

  Jess felt her chest stiffen with fear. She shook her head, trying to override it. ‘Maybe she thought you were someone else.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Like Matthew Landley, circa 1994.’

  She took his hand, wanting to reassure him but knowing she’d have to follow it up with a conversation about Zak. She swallowed, promising herself she would do it as soon as they had finished their impromptu little tour of the school.

  They were approaching the far end of the hall and the cluster of buildings to its right, where the driveway fed into the large shingle car park. She used to scan the cars in it every day, feeling her heart thump with disappointment if she couldn’t see Matthew’s.

  Will grabbed her hand and steered her along the paved footpath that transected the shingle. ‘We don’t want to crunch,’ he whispered.

  Another minute passed, and they were almost in line with the back of the hall. The tennis courts lay dead ahead and to the left of them was the school playground, encircled by buildings housing the design and tech workshops, lecture theatre and music school. To their right was the drama studio, surrounded by the same shiny-leaved shrubbery as it had been almost eighteen years ago.

  ‘Wow,’ said Will. ‘Talk about a head-fuck. Being back here … it’s really, really weird.’

  ‘God, it is,’ she breathed. ‘I can just picture you striding about in your cowboy boots …’

  ‘… Sonia Laird boring holes into my brain …’

  ‘… making all the girls swoon,’ she teased.

  There was a pause. They reached the side of the drama studio and came to a halt. Around them, the air was as calm as something sleeping, not a whisper of wind to disturb them.

  Jess looked across to the shrubbery. ‘Let’s go in.’

  ‘In where?’

  ‘Secret footpath,’ she reminded him, and started walking, leading him down the side of the studio. Although still in existence, the footpath was no longer visible – it was completely overgrown by vast shocks of bold green laurel, and they had to force stiff clumps of foliage apart to make progress. Eventually they reached their little wooden bench, diseased now with creeping green moss and blue-grey lichen, completely encased in shrubbery.

  Will snapped a couple of branches to make room for them to sit. ‘Poor old Peggy,’ he said, reading from the little bronze plaque, blackened up from the years of weather and solitude. ‘She loved this place and now she’s got even less of a view than she had before. And she’s neglected her personal hygiene a bit.’

  Jess smiled. ‘Well, at least we’re here to keep her company.’

  ‘I think we’re the only ones who ever were. Hey, we should look her up, now we’ve got Wikipedia. Who was Peggy? What terrible crime against tap dancing led her to end up dumped and unloved in the middle of a laurel bush?’

  ‘Hadley Hall love triangle?’

  He feigned outrage. ‘Not at Hadley. Never at Hadley.’

  They settled down against Peggy’s inscription, their little hideout carrying the intense aroma of rich soil and green leaves. Tipping her head back, Jess could see a smattering of stars decorating the dark sky. They looked as if they had been shaken across the canvas of it like glitter.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ Will remarked quietly. ‘You know, I’m quite the amateur star-gazer these days, Jess. Turns out insomnia and cloudless nights are perfect partners.’

  Recalling his comment in the cafe about craving outside space, Jess was struck by an image of him alone across the years, sitting out the dark in London parks. And then she remembered how carefree he used to be, and the futility of it all tugged at her somewhere deep inside.

  ‘The last time we sat here, I was trying to finish with you, I think,’ Will said then, into the still of the night air. ‘Before it had even begun. I had a speech prepared and everything.’

  She shut her eyes, attempting to remember what he’d said to her. ‘Your opener was, “Saturday night was a mistake, Jess.” ’ She dropped her voice into baritone to imitate him.

  He laughed. ‘Surely I was more creative than that?’

  ‘No, you definitely weren’t. I remember laughing heartlessly at you when you said it.’

  ‘That sounds about right.’ He smiled.

  A few moments of silence ensued.

  I have to tell him. I have to warn him about Zak.

  She frowned. ‘Look, Will, I need to tell you something.’

  He looked across at her. ‘Something-like-herpes or something-like-you-don’t-think-we-should-do-this-any-more?’

  She smiled. ‘Well, which would you prefer?’

  ‘Herpes,’ he said, without missing a beat. ‘Definitely, herpes. Go on. Please. Hit me with the full extent of your various undisclosed STDs.’

  ‘Zak … still wants me to move to London with him,’ she said, and then tried to work out how to say what she needed to say next.

  He nodded. ‘And what do you want?’

  She hesitated. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the swish of a car passing by on the road. The sound of it was strangely comforting, a little reminder that nobody knew they were here. The lack of scrutiny felt luxurious, something intoxicating she could happily have drunk.

  He looked away from her then, up to the scattering of stars in the sky, and decided not to wait for her answer. ‘Okay, look. I’m aware that I have no right at all to say this, but I really hope you don’t.’

  ‘Move in with him?’

  ‘Think about it, move in with him – any of it.’

  She waited for him to elaborate, wondering at what point she should stop him.

  ‘He just doesn’t strike me as a very nice guy. And I know that’s coming from me, so you can laugh and disregard everything I say, but –’

  ‘Oh, I will,’ she said. ‘I mean, you’re the worst.’

  He stuck an elbow softly into her ribs. ‘Listen, Jess – I’m sure he’s okay, but I don’t think you should be with someone who’s only okay, who’ll do because he’s got a house and you haven’t. I think you should be with someone who really and truly loves you.’

  Someone who really and truly loves me – like you? she desperately wanted to ask him, but she didn’t, because deep down she was afraid of what his answer would be. Instead she said, ‘Well, I always think principles are great, provided you can afford them at the time.’ He�
�s blackmailing me, Will.

  He shook his head. ‘Okay, that’s just bullshit. For the purposes of nothing else but preserving your dignity, I am telling you that in this instance you can afford them, okay? In fact, I shall personally go out and purchase some lovely principles for you. Just … leave it with me. I’ll think of something, I promise.’

  She swallowed, thinking maybe she’d try a different angle.

  ‘Will … have you ever felt … on the edge? Like you wanted to just … end it all?’

  He frowned at her. ‘What?’

  ‘No! Not me. I just wondered if you’ve ever …’ She trailed off, hoping he might choose this moment to tell her about the overdose, and then she could tell him about Zak.

  ‘Are you thinking about your mum?’

  ‘What? No.’ She hardly ever allowed herself to think about her mother.

  ‘Is being here bringing back memories?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Not like that.’

  From somewhere in the trees behind them, the gentle call of a tawny owl drifted through the air.

  ‘I blame myself,’ he said quietly. ‘For what happened with your mum.’

  Jess swallowed. ‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘You know what she was like.’

  ‘But the whole thing – it must have tipped her over the edge.’

  He was right, she supposed, but it was hardly his fault. By the end, her mother had been so riddled with addictions and demons that she barely knew which way was up on the vodka bottle.

  ‘I think she wanted to go,’ she said, feeling an unexpected sting of emotion in her throat. ‘She was looking for reasons, Will. She was tired of …’

  The tawny owl called out again, a pleading song in the stillness.

  ‘Of what?’

  In the end, it had been simple, really. ‘Of living.’

  Will looked down at his hands and frowned. ‘Why do you always want to make me feel better about everything, Jess?’

  ‘Would it help if I made you feel bad instead?’

  ‘Well, it wouldn’t help me, but it might help you. You should try it sometime.’

  ‘God, why?’ she said then, into the cool gloom of the darkness. ‘I love you.’

  There was a long pause before he spoke again, and when he did, he picked through his words carefully, like he was weaving around broken glass with no shoes on. ‘We need to figure this whole thing out, don’t we?’

  I need to tell you about Zak. Just let me find the right words.

  But she couldn’t find a way to begin. ‘Any ideas?’ she ended up asking him weakly.

  ‘None. You?’

  She shook her head. ‘Zero.’

  ‘Excellent. Well, that’s a good start, then.’

  She offered him a smile and he took it, his eyes grateful. She was happy to enjoy the fantasy for a few minutes longer that they would somehow find a way to be together.

  ‘Maybe if I go away and think about it, and you go away and think about it,’ he suggested, ‘between us we might actually come up with something.’

  There was a brief moment of contemplation, and then she remembered. ‘Oh, I got you a birthday present,’ she said, reaching into the pocket of her jacket and handing it to him.

  He smiled. ‘Thanks, Jess, but I don’t think you’ll be able to top the last one you gave me,’ he said softly. And then he looked down at the gift-wrapped package and shook his head, like he was her teacher all over again and she’d just presented him with her latest attempt at trigonometry. ‘Hang on though. A CD. This could be good – your music collection’s got some gems.

  She smiled back at him as he unwrapped it.

  He laughed. ‘The Best of UB40. Thanks, Jess.’

  ‘Well, you didn’t seem overly familiar with their work, so …’

  He reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. ‘And thanks for your birthday text, too.’

  ‘Oh. No problem.’

  She’d wanted him to know she was thinking of him, and after hovering guiltily over the ‘send’ button for a while she’d eventually persuaded herself that a single text was harmless in the same way that alcoholics tell themselves half a pint at lunchtime never hurt anyone, when what they’re actually thinking is that they’d quite like to just crack on with a massive three-day bender.

  In the end he’d responded only with Thank you and a solitary x, presumably (understandably) to be deleted from his sent box straight away. She could appreciate that blowing virtual kisses on his birthday to the girl he ran over might be tricky to explain.

  ‘Sorry if my reply was a bit – you know. Brief. I tend to mark my birthdays now by getting absolutely shit-faced.’ He half smiled. ‘Luckily Natalie thinks I’ve just got a pathological fear of middle age. Avoids getting me cards with any reference to scaling hills or counting candles. If she knew the real reason …’

  Thinking sadly of Will’s fortieth, and how Zak had laughed about him being wheeled into A & E with half-digested paracetamol all over his face, Jess decided that she finally felt ready to say what she needed to say. And once she’d done that, perhaps she would carry on talking and finally make her confession, get it over with. Unearth the little grub of guilt that had been writhing like a maggot inside her since the day he ran her over.

  But as she started to speak, so did he, and he hadn’t seemed to hear her. ‘I should get going. There’s only so long you can legitimately claim to have spent in Tesco at this time of night.’

  She nodded, but inside she had shrunk slightly. ‘Especially with lichen on your T-shirt,’ she pointed out.

  He twisted round, pulling the fabric to reveal where it had rubbed bright green against his shoulder.

  ‘Not sure how I’m going to explain that one. There isn’t too much randomly exposed lichen in my local Tesco.’ He turned to her. ‘Hey, I have an idea.’

  She waited.

  ‘Something nice we can do for Peggy. She deserves it after all these years.’

  So between them they carried Peggy out, hulking her across the damp grass and towards the line of poplars, with the idea that at least she would be able to enjoy the grand vista of the sweeping lawn and hall as opposed to the arse end of a laurel bush.

  But as they approached the halfway point, they heard voices, and then footsteps – both of which sounded as if they were mid-sprint – followed by the jolting beam of a torch light. They set down the bench and turned to see two portly security guards streaking surprisingly rapidly towards them.

  ‘Bollocks,’ Will breathed. ‘Run.’

  So they did, abandoning Peggy where she was. It wasn’t a bad spot – halfway across the lawn at the edge of the main driveway. At least she’d have a bit more social interaction.

  Will was quick, and Jess fitter than she’d thought. It must have been all her hikes across the salt marsh with Smudge, who himself was something of a fast mover. They were leaving the security men for dust.

  ‘Go, go, go!’ Will shouted at her as soon as it became clear they would outrun them. He started laughing then, which set her off too, and she began to lose ground; but it didn’t matter, because they were approaching the low wall of the boundary.

  Will scrambled over it first, and then, breathing hard, turned round and extended his hand, bright green from where it had been gripping the bench. ‘Come on, Daley Thompson.’

  She laughed and grabbed it. He hauled her over in one quick movement and, landing safely, she glanced back over her shoulder, her heart hammering, breathing hard. ‘Shit, they’re still coming.’ She bent down briefly to let her diaphragm recover from the unscheduled sprint, resting her hands on her knees.

  Will swiftly flicked the lock to the car. ‘Well, this is probably the most excitement they’ve had all year.’

  Afterwards, as he was dropping her back off at the cottage, Jess turned to him and said, ‘Will, I really need to tell you something.’

  He frowned. ‘What’s up?’

  A long silence.

  Just tell him. Tell
him now.

  She’d been mentally collating all the words she would need, attempting to assemble them into some sort of order, but just as she finally started to speak, Will’s phone began to buzz.

  Fuck it.

  He glanced at the screen. ‘I’ll call her back.’

  Okay, enough now. Just come out with it. Time’s running out.

  ‘Will, I really have to tell you something. I’ve been trying to tell you all night and I keep fucking it up …’

  He looked concerned. ‘What’s wrong?’

  The phone cut off. Jess took a breath to speak – and then it started to buzz again.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, frowning. ‘I should probably get that. Natalie’s not normally one for repeat ringing. If she can’t get hold of me the first time round she usually just likes to cut my bollocks off after the fact.’ He tapped the screen. ‘Hello?’

  From where she was sitting, Jess could hear Natalie’s voice erupting from the phone, frantic, gabbling, like a cassette tape on fast-forward.

  ‘I’ve been in Tesco,’ Will said, in answer to something. His voice sounded hollow, fearful. ‘My phone was in the car.’

  More gabbling. More. More.

  Jess watched Will as he listened, his face tightening up with disbelief.

  ‘Okay, where are you?’

  Gabble. Gabble.

  Suddenly: ‘Okay, Natalie, I get it! JUST TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE!’

  A last eruption of noise, and then silence. Will tapped the phone and turned straight away to Jess, but he was looking almost through her.

  ‘Charlotte’s eaten peanut. It’s serious. I need to go.’

  Jess was propped up in bed with a bowl on her lap and Smudge snoozing soundly on her arm, the tip of his nose a comforting damp warmth against her skin. After Will had dropped her off she’d felt the urgent need for comfort food, so at midnight had found herself in the kitchen whipping up a black cherry clafoutis, a sweet sort of toad-in-the-hole – clouds of pillowy yellow batter and liberal scatterings of fat violet cherries, which she’d finished off with a plentiful dousing of vanilla bean custard. Outside, it had begun to rain, gentle patters on the windowpane that along with the sugar from her pudding had finally lulled her into a state of half-dazed calm.