About the author
Valerie Attard was born and raised in Malta. Following a career in Journalism and Finance, Valerie took the leap and has written her first novel following the birth of her third child. The novel is set in Nailsea in the UK, where Valerie lived for a brief period during her childhood.
Valerie Attard
Julia’s Secret
Vanguard Press
VANGUARD E-BOOK
© Copyright 2018
Valerie Attard
The right of Valerie Attard to be identified as author of
this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All Rights Reserved
No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication
may be made without written permission.
No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced,
copied or transmitted save with the written permission of the publisher, or in accordance with the provisions
of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended).
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to
this publication may be liable to criminal
prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblances to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is
available from the British Library.
ISBN 978 1 784654 00 9 (paperback)
Vanguard Press is an imprint of
Pegasus Elliot MacKenzie Publishers Ltd.
www.pegasuspublishers.com
First Published in 2018
Vanguard Press
Sheraton House Castle Park
Cambridge England
ain
Dedication
To my beloved children Emily, Alexander and Julia.
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank all the staff at Pegasus Publishers for their support and professionalism in helping to shape this novel. I would also like to thank my husband Adrian and my three children without whom this book would never have been written.
Chapter 1
The truth, she dare not share,
The lies, she cannot bare.
Julia looked down at the faded handwriting. It had been scribbled in haste so many years ago, on the thick back cover of an old, used diary. She immediately shoved the diary to the back of the large, heavy drawer. She brushed the niggling thought aside in her mind and attempted to laugh at her f eeble effort at writing poetry so many years ago. From the year, printed in gold lettering on the front of the floral diary, she calculated that the verses must have been written almost ten years ago. So much had happened in that decade. It was as if those written words belonged to another world, another person entirely.
At that time, at the start of her marriage, she had so much time to express her thoughts and jot down her memories and feelings in diaries, journals and scrap books. It had almost become an obsession. It was as if the act of writing down her thoughts, somehow gave them a sense of reality and permanence. It concretised that which was intangible and without form or shape. All of these documented memories were now hidden at the back of drawers and cupboards, long forgotten and only remembered when they resurfaced on spring-cleaning days such as this one. That had been the period in her life where all her daily worries, problems and concerns were dealt with almost systematically. She loved to write down her feelings and list her many worries in life, and very often, whilst sipping her umpteenth mug of coffee and chewing her nails, she would stare at the words, figuring out the best path to take. She found this almost therapeutic in itself. The notebook doubled up as an imaginary friend, and instead of a real-life conversation she would find the solution in between the pages and lines of what she had written.
Even now, these memories made her remember what a terrible introvert she had always been. As a child, teachers had harshly pointed it out during countless parents’ meetings. Her parents had desperately devised several strategies to draw her out of her shell and later on, of course came the series of boyfriends, each in turn with their own ways and methods of seduction attempting to unveil her hidden soul, until finally she had met the one, her man, her better half, her soul mate, her Ben.
She could still recall with extreme clarity, the days of the marriage preparation courses where, as a fervent Catholic, she had listened to the irony of the inexperienced priest outline the joys and blessings of marriage. She had always pictured marriage as a child’s wooden jigsaw puzzle, made up of two big wooden blocks which could only ever fit together with its matching block to create a perfect synergy: where two individuals brought out the best in each other. As a child, she had seen such blocks in the children’s section of a science museum somewhere in Bristol and she remembered her frustration at her hopeless attempts at joining the blocks together. No amount of banging and throwing them around could make them fit together, but then, somewhat miraculously, one of the staff members had shown her how it was done, in an almost inexplicable manner and Julia remembered her childish astonishment at how simple it had all really been. Wasn’t this why people referred to getting hitched as finding one’s better half? As having found one’s soul mate? It was the search for the precise fit. It was the fit which promised to ease one’s path in life and lighten one’s load.
As a confused teenager, having dated a whole succession of immature boys with only one thought on their minds, she was left feeling disillusioned and unfulfilled. Surely, there must be more to it than this? She had often caught herself thinking that maybe it was because she had not yet found her true love. Her romantic notions of what constituted true love had not entirely been erased yet. But what if there was only one true love, one unique soul mate? What were the odds of stumbling into that person out of all the other people in the world? What if her path with her true soul mate would never cross? What was it that caused a person to find this one person that would make their life complete?
Julia’s dilemma was not solved by the marital relationships which surrounded her life. She had always been mesmerised by the strong bond between her maternal grandparents. In her mind her grandparents were eternally old and she could not bring herself to picture them otherwise. It was as if God had placed them on earth as two geriatric beings, frail and sickly. Despite this, they were gifted with the love they had for each other and for the simplicity in their lives. They had always done everything together, like inseparable lovers, whether this was sharing a daily cuppa or watching the telly together. She clearly recalled that if upon visiting them she found her grandad out in the garden pottering about, her grandma would be by his side collecting the ripe fruit. If her grandma was busy baking in the kitchen, her grandad would be seated at the kitchen table sharpening the knives. They slept together, ate together, went for walks together and probably shared the boredom of their lives together. From Julia’s inexperienced eyes, their marriage centred on an existence of sharing these trivial moments which they somehow managed to glorify by giving some hidden meaning to them.
Julia’s parents had a relationship which was totally at variance to her grandparents. Her parents’ relationship could only be described as a whirlpool of events, activities, emotions and feelings all rolled into one. It was like baking a cake and throwing in all the contents of the kitchen cupboards. There were infrequent peaks of insane love where all the family would thrive on this crest of bliss and happiness. In such a time their love would shine through all the hardships and lows of the terrible fights they would have where, as a child hidden under the bedcovers in the bedroom she sha
red with her sister, she had often feared the worse. What if they didn’t stop fighting? What if it went on and on and got worse and worse? What if they killed each other and she and her sister ended up orphans? Julia’s dreams back then had often been built on her heroism in running away from an inhumane orphanage and saving her sister in the process. However, those were also the childish thoughts which tormented her throughout her childhood.
Once she approached her teenage years and started experimenting with her own relationships, she came to realise that some relationships were just like that. It was as if there were pre-existing patterns and you could knock in the relationship into one of them. Some were like a plateau of emotions, but in these cases the relationship never really progressed and she would find herself drifting away; others were just like her parents had been. At times she had felt she would die if the relationship ended like some modern Romeo and Juliet and at other times she hated her boyfriend for making her feel like that, so fragile, so mixed up, so incomplete without him. Later on she realised it was never the person she had actually hated, but rather the power they had managed to wield on her when she had fallen head over heels in love, again and again and again until she finally met Ben.
She immediately knew that Ben was different from the string of boys she had previously dated. Ben was definitely the one. She had never had any doubts about it. Ben was the one she would marry. Ben was the chosen one. He would become her lover and the father of her children. He would be the one she would grow old with. She decided this the very first time she met him, not because she fell head over heels in love with him, but because he somehow completed her life by quelling all her troubles and fears. It was as if he had managed to put a stop to all her hidden, deepest, tormenting thoughts. Yes, that was primarily the reason why she had married Ben. He was her rock. Not some smooth rock used decoratively in the garden, but a huge, rough boulder she used to tie up her weary vessel to. She was the fragile boat, bobbing up and down in the rough sea, saved by her mooring. She was the lonely mermaid swimming in the vast ocean filled with perilous creatures and hidden dangers, but she could always swim safely back to her rock: wet and glistening invitingly in the morning sunlight. Ben would always be there.
Julia knew of course that she would have to abide by the strict rules of the game. Rule number one was definitely no cheating. She had understood this in the early days of their courtship. Ben was definitely not one to be messed around with. To be fair his expectations were not too high. He didn’t expect or want to marry a glamorous girl. He certainly wasn’t into wealth, materiality or power, so he was not seeking to marry for monetary gain or career advancement. Her Ben would never stoop so low. He was a man of solid principles. He was a man who firmly believed in his religious upbringing, his political beliefs and in the institution of marriage. He was a man in search of a loyal wife with unquestionable faithfulness. She had to be a young Catholic girl with a good steady job, but not too ambitious or career-minded. She had to be a girl who would easily find a balance between her job, her role as a mother to their many kids and her wifely duties. Julia had fitted this role like a glove.
Julia’s looks, though far from plain, were clearly far from striking. She was the girl who blended into most scenarios. With her dark black hair and her expressive brown doe-like eyes, she was considered by many as a natural beauty. She was proud of the fact that after three kids she still managed to squeeze into her size 12 jeans. Her dark olive skin coupled with her dark straight hair reflected her Mediterranean roots and now camouflaged the faint stretch marks on her belly. Boys had been attracted to her in an almost fatherly manner, having realised that this girl needed protection and care. Her vulnerability shone out like Sirius. She was the apparently, flawless pearl in an oyster; fragile and pure who needed a man by her side. Having completed her Bachelor’s degree and then gone on to pursue a Master’s degree she was safe in the knowledge that her career prospects were secure. So, even though she had reluctantly given up her high-flung job in Finance to bring up the kids, she knew that one day, sooner or later, she would return. She yearned to be back in the office. She yearned to break away from the family for just a few days and travel once again on business trips. She yearned to be able to meet up with new people at work and face new challenges. She needed to feel that once again she was an assertive woman, with her own life and her own career. She could be just Julia again and not always be seen as Julia the wife, or Julia the mother. However, she had to be patient, all in good time.
At the moment, Julia was still focused on her maternal duties with three kids aged ten, eight and four; her life was an endless battle with mountains of laundry waiting to be ironed, ferrying kids to school and all their extra curriculum activities and household chores which never seemed to end. Emma was her eldest, then there was Andrew the naughtiest by far, and finally little Laura. Her life was like some magician’s box, where the more you take out, the fuller it seems to get. Just when you think you’ve completed the day’s chores, it’s a new day and it’s back to square one. The fridge is empty once again, just begging you to go shopping, the laundry basket is overflowing with an assortment of dirty clothes, the beds are one huge unmade heap, there’s a thin layer of dust all around the house, utility bills are waiting to be paid, children expecting to be fed and entertained, plants to be tended to and watered, the dog waiting patiently with its leash by the front door waiting for its turn.
At times like this, Julia felt physically and emotionally drained. Everyone just wanting, wanting, wanting: it was more than she could bear. She felt as if everyone around her needed something done for them. It was never ending. Give, give, give, they all seemed to shout in tandem. She felt that she was just an empty vessel dishing out requests. She had become a weary Father Christmas passing round presents, her arm having gone numb from the repetitive movement of fishing in the large sack for even more presents. There were the tiresome teachers who constantly wanted to discuss her kids’ progress, always overanalysing each utterance their children said, her husband wanting her opinion on daily activities and her undivided attention, dealing with the intensity of her three children’s emotions and her friends craving her limited company. Deep down it made her feel wanted and appreciated but on the surface of it all it was all so exhausting.
At times like these, she felt alone and disillusioned with life, with her marriage, with Ben in particular and even with the children. She hated herself for feeling like this but she couldn’t help it. Perhaps the truth of the matter was greed. She was in reality a greedy, selfish person who craved for more. The more she thought about this the more she felt ashamed that with such a loyal husband, three healthy kids and a beautiful fully-paid house she really couldn’t expect more. What more did she want? So, she forced herself to trudge on. She tried to focus on her husband and her family. Wasn’t she to be envied after all? She was safe and secure in the knowledge that her husband loved her in his own way. He would definitely never cheat on her. She was sure about that. In his own ways, he carried out his side of the bargain, trying to express his love through small but thoughtful gifts. He had certainly kept his side of the marriage contract. He attempted to do his fair share of household chores, although she often redid much of the work he had done by refolding the clothes or redoing the beds so that they looked just that little bit neater, she did appreciate that she could have been much worse off.
Julia’s life wasn’t exciting, glamorous or adventurous, but it was good, safe and pure in its love. Her marriage wasn’t tempestuous, like that of her parents. Their quarrels, although frequent, never escalated to physical violence or hate. They were both caught up in the daily routine of life. Their lives had become ten times busier when the kids had arrived, but she was proud of the fact that all three children had been very much wanted by both parents. They were now complete as a family of five. In her mind she always pictured their family as a pentagon, each member forming an angle in the simple shape. Together all five formed one complete
shape. Not a very beautiful shape, not a complex shape like some double-helix as she had studied in chemistry at school so many years ago, but nonetheless a complete shape. Everything they owned, felt and loved was contained within these five lines. Everything she knew, everything she wanted and desired was within this shape, and when her thoughts strayed beyond this, she had trained herself to limit herself to what was contained inside this shape. She wanted it to be this way, so when it wasn’t this way, she would try to remodel her thoughts to what she expected them to be. She was secure in this knowledge. This was her safety net. These were her limits, her boundary wall. Venturing beyond was dangerous, so she should never dabble with what was beyond.
This was how it was for the first twelve long years of her marriage, until an event occurred that was to change this in a way that she could never have imagined or foreseen. It was the day when the safe boundary wall around her was blown to smithereens. It was a day that would remain etched in her memory forever. That was the day when Sophia entered her life and all that she had ever known was shattered into a million pieces. It was the day when everything she had ever known ceased to be real and true. Sophia pushed open a locked door which could never ever be closed again. Julia would never return to the status quo of the familiar, safe and secure pentagon she had lived in. Sophia powerfully opened a dangerous Pandora’s Box which neither of them would ever have the strength or ability to close again. It was the unleashing of that which should have remained enclosed. The pivot which had been loyally pointed to the known world of innocence was now veering towards the unknown world of experience. The small snowball which would cause the terrifying avalanche had been set in motion. There was no turning back now.
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