Love Is a Secret

by Sophie King

  ‘I know that.’

  Mandy glared at her. ‘You probably know quite a lot of what I’m telling you but it doesn’t hurt to go over it again. This room carries more responsibility than any other room in the nursery.’

  Lisa thought longingly of Daisy. ‘I don’t think you can say that. Surely every child is important.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right. But babies are particularly vulnerable. Last year a nursery not far from here was prosecuted because a baby with a rare allergy was given the wrong kind of powdered milk. The nursery had to pay thousands of pounds in compensation and was forced to close.’

  ‘And the baby?’ She could hardly bear to ask.

  ‘It died. Now, let me tell you where we keep clean liner . . .’

  The baby died. The words lumbered heavily round her head as she followed Mandy to the linen cupboard. Mandy might have kids, but she didn’t know what it was like to lose one.

  ‘Mrs Smith! I didn’t see you today. Where were you?’ Daisy ran up as Lisa was putting on her jacket to go home. ‘I missed you. Joe pushed me off the slide and Mrs Perkins wouldn’t let me paint.’

  Lisa bent down and put her arms round the little girl. ‘I was in the baby room, Daisy, but next week I’ll be back with you. I missed you too.’

  She stroked her curls. ‘What a pretty hair-slide. I used to have one like that when I was your age.’

  ‘You must be Mrs Smith.’

  Lisa looked up to see a large woman with slightly greasy hair tied back with a rubber band. She was puffing as though she’d been running or walking fast. ‘Daisy’s always talking about you. I’m her mum. You usually see my husband, don’t you?’

  Lisa nodded. Daisy’s dad was a smallish man who dropped off his daughter without hanging around and was always on time to pick her up. Not the type to stop for a chat, like most of the other parents. Then she saw Daisy’s mum’s bump.

  ‘Sorry I’m late.’ The woman sat on a chair to catch her breath. ‘It was my last day at work.’ She pointed at her belly ruefully. ‘Not long to go now.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ Lisa heard herself say. ‘Daisy, you didn’t tell me your mum was having a baby.’

  ‘She’s not. She’s not.’ Daisy flung her anorak on the floor.

  The woman sighed. ‘Now, duck, we’ve been through this before. You know I’m having a brother or sister for you. We’ve felt it move. Look, it’s kicking now to say hello to you.’

  ‘No. Tell the stupid baby to go away.’

  Daisy’s mum smiled awkwardly. ‘We’re hoping she’ll change her mind when it gets here. Trouble is, she’s the youngest. I’ve got two others and she’s used to being spoilt.’

  Four? How could this woman have four while Lisa had none?

  The woman yawned, revealing large silver and black fillings that made Lisa wince. ‘God knows how we’ll manage. I’ve got to keep on working with the mortgage, so when it’s three months old it’s coming here like Daisy did.’

  ‘Don’t want the baby coming here.’ Daisy jumped up and down, pulling at her mother’s coat.

  ‘Stop it now, Daisy, you’re hurting me. Well, nice meeting you at last, Lisa. Come on now, duck. Let’s get back for tea.’

  MESSAGE TO FREDDY SUMMERS

  No one likes you at school. Face it.

  EMAIL FROM LISA SMITH

  Hi Mum. Your probably wondring how I’m getting on. Not long now and you’ll be a nan. It would be nice to see you sometime.

  LETTER FROM MARK

  Dear Hilary,

  I thought you might like these photographs of the kids . . .

  EMAIL FROM CLIVE HASTINGS

  Dear Mark,

  Thank you for your explanation. However, I am deeply concerned that if you send wrong messages to me, you might do so to others. Please ensure such mistakes do not happen again.

  Yours (please do not take this literally),

  Clive

  CV – DRAFT ONLY

  Susan Thomas

  Age: 36

  Experience: Telesales, Voluntary care worker, estate agent assistant

  Now looking for similar post. Flexible hours, if possible.

  LETTER FROM CAROLINE

  . . . so you see, I feel as though I’ve lost a kind of 22-year marital no-claims-bonus but, at the same time, found something I never knew was out there. Does that make sense? I wish you weren’t so far away, Janie. And make sure you tear up this letter before anyone else reads it.

  OCTOBER

  WHAT MUMS KNOW

  JOIN OUR ONLINE DISCUSSIONS ON:

  Should couples stay together for the sake of the children?

  The best internet filters for kids.

  CHUCKLE CORNER FROM PUSHY PRINCESS:

  Why does it take one million sperm to fertilise one egg? Because the sperm refuse to stop and ask for directions!

  TIP FROM MESSY MUM

  Don’t clean up until the end of the day or it will get messed up before your bloke gets back.

  THOUGHT TO KEEP YOU SANE FROM BIG MUM

  If you don’t like what someone is doing to you, change your reaction to them.

  ONLINE DISCUSSION ON BULLYING

  From Earth Mother To Mimi: Educational psychologists talk twaddle. Trust me. I was married to one. Your gut instincts are more reliable – and cheaper.

  From Expectent Mum To Mimi: Your the one who shud see someone. You must be doing something wrong if your kid is STILL being a dick. No wonder hes being bullied.

  36

  Accept it. She wasn’t returning his calls because she didn’t want to see him any more. And she was right. They were both married, for crying out loud. But it hurt so much – it was a real physical pain, not being able to talk to her, touch her, be with her, ask her what she thought about the hurtful reply from that stupid woman on What Mums Know, which served him right for asking advice from strangers.

  Supper. Starving children – well, irritable ones, anyway. Concentrate. Mark examined the circle of sliced gammon suspiciously: ‘Peel back for cooking instructions.’

  Peel back? Mark tore at the unyielding plastic with his fingers and then his teeth. The pain momentarily relieved the ache in his chest. Blast! The label had torn and the instructions were illegible. He’d head for a compromise and grill them on medium.

  There was time to do a bit more work until school pick-up . . . or he could try ringing her just once more. Second thoughts, maybe it was better to email. Less invasive. Less like stalking. Allowing her to reply, if she wanted to.

  From: Mark Summers

  To: Caroline Crawford

  Please ring. Urgent.

  Receiving mail.

  He waited, heart pounding, as a message pinged up but it wasn’t from Caroline: it was another brief from a client and . . . what was this?

  From: CBX Baby Nests

  To: Mark Summers

  As from November, we will no longer be requiring your services.

  He stared at it, stunned. Then, galvanised into action, he reached for the phone, which, unlike emails, couldn’t be ignored.

  ‘Mark, I’m sorry.’ The girl at CBX sounded genuinely regretful. ‘They instructed us to use that wording. You know we’ve been taken over by that American firm?’

  ‘But you said it wasn’t going to change your marketing strategy.’

  ‘That’s what we were told. But now they want us to use a London PR firm they’ve used before.’

  So they wanted a glossy flagship rather than a one-man band in Oxford.

  ‘To be honest –’ she dropped her voice ‘– lots of us aren’t happy about the changes. I’ve got an interview next week and – sorry, Mark, got to go.’

  He sat still for a while, staring at the email. He’d need to find more clients if Freddy and Florrie were going to stay at Coneywood.

  The phone! Grateful for an interruption to his dilemma, he seized it, hoping it was Caroline.

  ‘Mark. Clive here from EFT. Have you seen the magazine?’

  It took him a second t
o register. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘They’ve got a price wrong.’ Clive’s voice was clipped. ‘We’ve already had two retailers ringing in to complain. I want you to get the magazine to print an apology, making the price clear. And I want another photograph too. We’ve just paid a huge amount of money for an advertorial. They’d better not have messed that up too – unless, of course, it was your fault.’

  The implication was that because he’d sent one email to the wrong place he might make another mistake. Mark felt sick. Dimly, he could remember Caroline ringing him in Boots when he’d been sorting Florrie out. Had he been so flummoxed that he’d given her the wrong price or had the mistake been hers?

  ‘I’ll sort it,’ he said firmly, glancing at the clock. He needed to leave for the school pick-up but this was more urgent. Now, too, he had a bona-fide excuse for getting hold of Caroline. Hastily he dialled her number.

  ‘Editorial.’

  It wasn’t Caroline’s voice.

  ‘Zelda? This is Mark Summers.’ Briefly, he outlined the problem.

  ‘Oh dear. Hang on a minute and I’ll check her copy.’

  He waited tersely, watching the clock hands move round. Already he was ten minutes late for school. He’d have to ring the kids on the mobile to say he was coming.

  ‘Looks like she’s put the wrong price, I’m afraid. I’ll send an email to the editor.’

  ‘My client wants an apology showing the correct price. He also wants a picture.’

  ‘A picture?’ Zelda sounded bemused. ‘I’m not sure about that, but I’ll let you know.’

  And that was that. No proper ‘sorry’. Funny. Caroline seemed too organised to make a gaffe – although everyone did from time to time: his life was full of them.

  ‘Clive? It’s Mark Summers. They’ve made a mistake their end.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘They’re probably going to print an apology.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet.’

  ‘I want to know by the close of tomorrow. Otherwise, Mark, I may have to consider terminating our contract.’

  Shit. Shit! ‘I’ll sort it. Don’t worry.’

  Without bothering to shut the windows or check that the back door was locked, Mark raced to the car. He was twenty minutes late. In just a month, he had been unfaithful (if not technically) to his wife and lost two clients. How bad could it get?

  37

  ‘Doing anything nice today?’

  Caroline glanced up from the computer at Roger, who was about to set off for work. ‘Tennis with the girls.’

  ‘How nice,’ he said.

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘The usual. Meetings all morning and video conference this afternoon. I’ll probably be late. Enjoy the tennis.’

  They’d had these conversations before and they were so wearying. The more frenetic Roger’s life at work became, the more he envied her own, more flexible schedule. In the past, she’d felt guilty about this but, somehow, Mark’s attentions had made her stronger.

  ‘I will.’ She glared at him. ‘I work too, you know. And it’s not as though you haven’t had your share of fun in the past.’

  He stared at her stonily. ‘If you can’t put it behind you, Caroline, we don’t stand a chance.’

  ‘If you hadn’t done it in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this bloody situation,’ she said testily.

  ‘Goodbye, Caroline.’ For a moment, he looked as though he was about to move forward and peck her cheek, but she turned back to the screen. ‘Do try to keep Georgie off the computer tonight, will you?’ he said tersely from the doorway. ‘I’ve told you before, it’s interfering with her homework. You ought to be more strict. If we get another report like the last one, she should be banned altogether.’

  ‘If you were at home more,’ she said, ‘you could help me enforce the rules. It’s not easy, you know.’

  ‘The reason I’m not at home more is because I’m the poor sod who’s out there earning the money.’

  ‘So do I!’

  ‘But you’re at home more than me so it’s up to you to make Georgie work.’

  She could have argued back but there was no point. He always got the better of her, always made her feel inadequate. ‘Fine.’

  He picked up his briefcase. ‘There’s no need to be sarcastic, Caroline.’

  She clenched her teeth. Just go.

  She waited until the door had slammed before breathing a sigh of relief. Right. She was nearly ready. Put on trainers. Grab a bottle of water. Extra jumper because it was sharp outside. Find racquet. Go to loo.

  Afterwords, the soap made her wedding ring rise up her finger. How odd. It had never done that before. Caroline looked at the thin gold band. She had never once removed it – that might have brought bad luck – yet suddenly she had an overwhelming desire to take it off and see how it felt.

  Don’t be daft. Dry hands. Set burglar alarm. Get out of house before she did something completely mad. What had come over her? she wondered, as she walked briskly down the road to the club. It was just as well that she had one of her weekly tennis sessions: they made her feel alive, just like the kiss that she couldn’t get out of her head.

  Stop right there. The price of breaking up the family was too great. After all, wasn’t that why she had begged Roger to stay?

  The other three were on court already, even though this time she wasn’t late.

  ‘Hi.’

  Ginny, whose girls were at boarding-school and who passed most of her time at the tennis club, glanced at her watch. ‘We’re going to have a quick run round the outside to warm up.’

  Caroline’s heart sank. Normally she arrived too late for this. She hated jogging, but there was no escape. Conscious that she was trailing behind, her breasts thumped up and down. And she’d forgotten to wear a panty-liner. She gritted her teeth and clenched her pelvic floor muscles as she ran.

  ‘Right!’ Ginny’s face was glowing with the wind. ‘Mind if I partner Laura? It will give us some practice for the tournament next week. Rough or smooth?’

  It was rough. Just her luck. ‘Want to serve, Caro?’ asked her partner Jill, a thin, wiry girl who ran the local branch of the Twins’ & Multiple Births’ Association. ‘I’ve still got problems with my wrist.’

  She always said this but it seemed to work a lot better than Caroline’s when it came to backhand. Caroline got her first serve in but then her mind wandered. She hadn’t slept with Mark – and she wouldn’t. She’d make sure that Zelda dealt with him in future. And she’d continue to ignore his mobile messages.

  ‘Out,’ called Ginny, triumphantly.

  Caroline cast an apologetic look at Jill. That was the trouble with doubles. You were responsible for someone else’s points. Just like marriage. When the other failed, you were dragged down with them . . .

  ‘Isn’t that your phone?’

  They were swigging water after the third game, which Caroline and Jill miraculously won, despite Caroline’s inability to concentrate. Each had placed her mobile on the bench in case a child’s school needed her.

  ‘Sorry. Hello, Caroline speaking.’

  ‘Caroline, it’s Mark Summers.’

  Why the formality, unless he, too, regretted the kiss?

  ‘Sorry to bother you but I’ve got a problem.’

  She listened, perplexed. ‘But I rang you to check the price. I remember.’

  ‘I know. I remember too.’

  ‘I don’t get things wrong.’ She felt cross.

  ‘Well, one of us has.’ He sounded polite but firm. ‘I’m afraid EFT wants an apology.’

  ‘Diana won’t like that. Look, Mark, I have to go. I’ll talk to Zelda in the office and get back to you.’

  ‘Thanks. And, Caroline?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘When will I see you again?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ She was aware that three pairs of eyes were on her. ‘Look, must go. ’Bye.’

  She had been right. She knew it. The pric
e in the copy was the same as she had written in her notebook when Mark gave it to her on the phone.

  ‘Look at this!’ She thrust the page in front of Zelda. ‘That EFT chap’s moaning because he says I put the wrong price for one of his toys in the educational-toys piece. He wants an apology, can you believe it, when it was his mistake?’

  Zelda made a little face. ‘Actually, I’m afraid it might be my fault. I rang to double-check the price just before it went to Production and the EFT salespeople told me it had changed. I thought I’d corrected it but it looks as though I didn’t.’

  ‘Oh, no! Diana will go mad.’

  ‘I’m really going to get it this time. I’m so bloody exhausted that I just can’t think straight about anything.’

  She did look shattered, poor thing. ‘Look, we’ll say it was both of us. Make up something about a muddle when one of us was off.’

  ‘Can we really?’ Zelda brightened. ‘I’d be so grateful. Diana’s always on the warpath – no, not the phone again!’

  ‘I’ll get it.’

  ‘Caroline, it’s me.’

  Mark’s assumption that she knew who ‘me’ was both annoyed and delighted her. ‘I’ve just found out something that might clarify matters. We were both wrong. The price of that toy had changed but they hadn’t told me. They did, however, tell your colleague Zelda when she rang to check.’

  ‘So I gather,’ said Caroline, grimly. ‘Unfortunately, it didn’t get altered.’

  ‘So can I tell my client we’ll get an apology?’

  ‘I can’t promise anything until I’ve spoken to the editor. I’ll get back to you.’

  ‘All right. Look, Caroline, I really need to see you. Can I take you out to lunch next week?’

  Her hand shook. For the first time she could, ironically, appreciate how Roger had been carried away by his feelings for that woman. But could she do what he had done? Before, it had all seemed romantic, unreal and flattering. But now it was getting serious and her knees were knocking. How could she throw away her children’s security because this man could turn her insides to water?