The Secrets Women Keep (28 page)

‘Yeah. Said some client meeting had been cancelled. So he’ll be at St Austell at about two.’

‘I’ll pick him up then,’ Rose volunteered, eager for a task that would take her away from the pre-party tension.

‘You sure? I could send the minibus.’ But Rose could hear Jess wasn’t keen on the idea.

‘No, no. Dave’s got enough on his plate tonight, ferrying people to and from their B and Bs. I’ll go.’

A couple of hours later, Rose was in the Citroën, crawling behind a great green tractor almost as wide as the road. The drive towards the main Truro–St Austell road always gave her
pleasure but never more so than at this time of year, when the hedgerows were so crowded with wild flowers. The daffodils were long over, the bluebells were on their way out but instead froths of
cow parsley set off the red and white campions. In the distance she could see fields containing drifts of buttercups bruised with bluey patches of speedwell. But none of this could keep her mind
from the object of her drive.

She tapped the steering wheel in time to Figaro’s aria from
The Barber of Seville
, the second opera she and Simon had seen together. Simon. It was a long time since she had met
someone with whom she had felt such an instant connection. Their separate situations had thrown them together: she newly widowed, needing support; he new to town, with few friends. He was
impulsive, amusing, intelligent – qualities he shared with Daniel. Like Daniel, he was genuinely interested in her opinion without being afraid to offer one of his own. They enjoyed
discovering the similarities in their tastes, often being entranced or left cold by the same paintings or pieces of music. They could talk about anything together – and did. She had begun to
look forward to their outings.

Only the previous week he had taken her shopping, something Daniel would never have contemplated. They had been talking about Eve and Terry’s imminent celebrations. ‘Perhaps I could
wear this,’ she’d thought out loud, staring down at Daniel’s favourite black dress, now on its fifth outing in as many weeks.

‘No,’ Simon had said, gentle but firm. ‘You need something new, summery. I know! I’m going to take you shopping. I know just the place.’

Against her better judgement she had let herself be persuaded. He even anticipated her second thoughts by arranging to pick her up and take her there. Dreading the hell of a busy department
store, Rose had been pleasantly surprised when they fetched up at a small shop off Westbourne Grove. ‘I know the owner,’ Simon explained as he swept her inside. On either side of the
poky space were two rails so crammed with clothes Rose immediately felt panicked by the amount of choice. But when she suggested they went out for a coffee before they began, Simon had been
adamant. ‘Oh no you don’t. We’re not leaving until you’re sorted out. I’ll introduce you to Jan, who’ll get you started, and then I’ll go out and bring the
coffee to you.’

Her escape tactics comprehensively thwarted, Rose had no choice but to give herself up to the two of them. In the changing room Jan sized her up as if she was a heifer going to market, then
disappeared. Five minutes later she was back with an array of dresses, soon followed by Simon and the much-needed coffee. Then came the excruciating experience of the fashion parade. Rose had to
hand it to Simon, he’d been brilliant: decisive, matter-of-fact and helpful. At first she emerged from the changing room in a sweat of self-consciousness, wishing she’d never got
herself into this, but his businesslike approach to the matter in hand meant her embarrassment soon vanished. Lounging back on the red velour sofa, he was quick to give an opinion: ‘No. Love
the colour, but too short.’ ‘No. OK, but the neck’s wrong.’ ‘No. Almost, but the colour’s not quite right.’ Each time, Jan had happily scurried off to find
something else more suitable as the choice was fast narrowed down. Finally, when Rose emerged wearing a sophisticated but simple number in cerulean blue and green printed silk, he said: ‘Yes.
That’s the one. Great shape and brings out the colour of your eyes. Perfect.’ And he was right: it was.

As she pulled into the station car park, she saw him standing by the ticket office. In his suit, with his neat overnight case, he stood out among the holidaymakers, anoraks over their shorts and
T-shirts, lugging overfilled cases into the waiting taxis. He resembled the eye of the storm, quite still while everything else was a whirl of activity around him.

She found a space by the platform wall, jumped out of the car and waved, shouting his name. He turned, his face immediately lit with a smile, and bent to pick up his case. At that moment, one of
the seagulls perched on the station roof took to the air with a loud squawk. By the time Rose reached Simon, he was busy trying to wipe off the bird droppings that adorned the back of his jacket.
Beside him, several schoolchildren were hunched in hysterics. She couldn’t help smiling at this slight to his image.

‘Isn’t this meant to be lucky or something?’ he asked, to the renewed sniggers of his audience.

‘I hope so, for your sake.’ Rose exchanged kisses with him. ‘Give it to me. We can put it in the hotel laundry. Don’t worry.’

‘I don’t want to be a pest.’ Reaching the car, he folded himself into the passenger seat. ‘Jess must have enough on her plate with the party and everything.’

‘So much that a bit of bird shit isn’t going to make the slightest bit of difference. Wait till you see the old place. Everything’s just as Daniel planned it last year, and the
place is crawling with Eve and Terry’s friends. I haven’t a clue who anyone is, so it’s good you could come.’ She reversed the car out and turned up the hill towards the
road out of town.

‘I feel a bit of an intruder, but I want to be here on Monday anyway to meet the contractor. We’re already behind schedule. I’ll have to crack the whip if we’re to get
the dining extension and the deck done before the school holidays. They’ll start the pool and the snug in late September as we agreed.’

‘Honestly, one more person won’t make a difference. We know how much you love the place, and it’s a glorious time of year. It’ll be fun. Anna’s already been
swimming.’ She circled the roundabout above Asda, then put her foot down as they hit the dual carriageway. After a few minutes she said, ‘I thought we might try to escape to St Ives
tomorrow. It’s one of my favourite places. I want to take you to the Tate and Barbara Hepworth’s house.’

As she turned the car into the winding road that took them to Trevarrick, he turned from the window towards her. ‘I’d like that.’

Back at the hotel, she showed Simon to his room and left him to unpack. The first person she bumped into as she went back downstairs was Terry.

‘Sis, I need to talk to you urgently.’ He grabbed her arm and pulled her through the French windows and across the terrace to an isolated table that was sheltered by the corner of
the building. Out at sea, a couple of tankers moved slowly against the horizon, while closer to home several sailing boats skimmed the wrinkled sea.

Rose had been looking forward to this weekend for ages. The occasions when the family got together were few, and this year, for the first time, they had decided not to go to Italy. None of them
could face it so soon after Dan’s death. Instead, Casa Rosa was let for the summer. So this weekend was to be cherished. However, she had a nasty feeling that Terry was about to spoil the
enjoyment. She fished her sunglasses out of her bag, stretched her legs out in front of her, feeling the sun on her skin, and waited.

‘This isn’t easy.’ He shifted in his seat, screwing his eyes up against the sun.

She didn’t imagine it was. The last time they’d spoken, he’d promised to find the nearest branch of Gamblers Anonymous and attend a meeting – for her sake, if no one
else’s. Of course, he’d made out the whole situation was under control. She’d trusted him then, but now she wondered whether he had kept his word.

‘I . . . er . . . I need just a little bit more money. Just a little.’ He stared out to sea.

‘Why?’ She was at her most chilly, regretting that she’d given in to Anna’s impressive powers of persuasion and sold the Canonford before Terry had kept his side of the
bargain. ‘The sale gave you more than enough to straighten yourself out. What’s happened?’

‘I’ve been a complete idiot. I told Eve I’d put the money in a holding account for the children until we decide what to do with it. And I have,’ he added hastily in
response to his sister’s glare. ‘She’s been so wrapped up in work that she didn’t ask for details. But she will. At the time she was just glad to hear there’d be
something for them. I’d kept two hundred K back and was about to square things when I was given a couple of tips . . .’

Rose stiffened.

‘. . . but they didn’t come home.’ He waved his hand in the air as if that was the least of his worries. ‘So I’ve had to default on another mortgage repayment, and
the bank are on my tail. Rose, you’ve got to help me. You’re the only person I can ask.’

A little of Rose had gone on hoping that Terry’s insistence that he could easily quit was justified and that he would get himself out of financial disaster. She didn’t want to admit
the truth to herself. But she had been wrong. Her brother really was a gambler. An addict. He needed serious help. Not hers. She knew what they said about addicts. Leave them to reach rock bottom,
wherever that was, and even then they must want to help themselves. However much she might want to believe in him, Terry still hadn’t reached that point. All she could do was reinstate the
conditions she had originally set, not even considering how to find more money for him until he at least kept his word and sought professional guidance.

‘Have you done what you promised me you’d do?’ She hated how schoolmistressy she sounded, but what else could she be?

‘Not yet.’ His knee jigged up and down so fast, she put out a hand to still it. He stared at her hand on his leg. ‘I meant to, but I’ve had so much on my
plate.’

‘Really?’ She removed her hand. ‘Enough time to gamble, but not enough to try to quit or talk to Eve?’

‘I think she may already have guessed. I left my Visa statements on the kitchen table and she must have seen them.’

‘What did she say?’ Rose couldn’t imagine Eve keeping quiet about something like this.

‘Nothing, yet.’ He waved away an approaching waiter. ‘But you don’t understand.’

‘I understand completely. Although I wish I didn’t.’ Rose got to her feet, impatient. ‘I really believed you when we last talked about this. More fool me. So let me spell
it out to you for the final time. I’m not going to release any more money, whether by selling the Arthur or making you a loan, until you tell Eve everything, and take some steps towards a
cure. End of.’

He laughed, but it was the sound of a trapped animal. ‘Cure! What are you talking about? This isn’t an illness.’

‘That’s exactly what it is, Terry.’ Rose was beside herself with rage and frustration. ‘And until you stop thinking like that, you aren’t going to get over it.
Please tell Eve. Please.’ Once Eve knew, they could at least put the mortgage repayments through her without giving Terry direct access to the money. Whatever Eve was planning to do with her
life – and perhaps finding out Terry’s secret would colour that – at least she could surely be relied upon to do the right thing until his gambling was under control.

Rose left her brother there, sitting staring out to sea. Instead she went in to find Simon, to see if he’d like a walk on the cliff path before they might be needed to help with any
last-minute panics. What she needed was distraction from her family, and the sea air would clear her head.

E
ve knew she was driving Jess mad by constantly checking that everything was going to plan. But she had to do something with her time while she
waited for Rose’s return. She had just left the pink-swagged marquee where Anna was beginning to arrange the armfuls of wild flowers she had picked into delicate centrepieces for each table.
Eve’s offer to help was met with a brisk dismissal. This was Anna’s job, and only she could do it properly. The way she took her new career so seriously was a pleasure to see. Eve
should be with her guests. But the thought of them, her and Terry’s dear friends who had made time to come down here for the weekend, made her ashamed. Only she and Rose knew that this whole
performance was a bloody sham. But the arrangements had been too far advanced for her to call a halt without hurting too many people. Suddenly she wanted the reassurance of her oldest friend.

‘Remember me on Friday,’ Will had said, as she had left his apartment earlier that week.

‘Why then?’ she queried, still heady from their lovemaking. ‘I think of you all the time.’

‘It’s four months to the day since we met.’ He pulled her close, and she felt him hard against her. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, his tongue nudging at her
lips. Just his touch was enough to make her feel she was twenty again. When she was with him, nothing else mattered. When she wasn’t, she thought about him all the time, wondering where he
was, who he was with, what he was doing, when he’d next call. Everything conspired to make her want to stay with him, but however much she wanted to, she couldn’t. She had to leave
Terry. But not quite yet.

He ran his finger down the length of her nose, tapping the bump where she’d walked into a lamppost many moons ago. ‘Don’t go. Not just yet. I can think of plenty of things to
amuse us this afternoon.’

‘I’m sure you can,’ she laughed, knowing those amusements would take place almost exclusively in the bedroom. ‘I’m so, so tempted, but I’ve got to go home.
Terry’s expecting me back and I’ve got some work to do.’

‘What? Reading? Can’t it wait?’ He kissed her again, pulling her with him towards the bedroom door. ‘They’re only children’s books. They won’t take you
long.’

Momentarily incensed by this dismissal of her work, she extricated herself. Then she laughed. ‘I’ve been putting them off for too long. You’re a bad man, Will Jessop. A very
bad man indeed.’