The Secrets Women Keep (45 page)

She checked her BlackBerry. Her emails consisted of the usual battery of problems and queries that she would deal with that afternoon in a quiet moment. More interestingly, there was an
invitation to lunch from Nick Plowright, the charismatic MD of Touchlight Films. They had met a couple of weeks ago at an awards dinner. Recently over from the States, he’d said he
didn’t know London well, asked what she would recommend at the theatre. A musical? He loved them. So did she. They had hit it off immediately. What could she do but offer to accompany him? It
would have been rude not to. After all, it could be classed as networking, and networking was one of the things that kept her in business. You never knew what might come up. And here he was
suggesting lunch. She would go. Nothing would happen between them. Or would it? She wouldn’t be human if she didn’t occasionally think ‘What if?’

She flicked off her phone, put her clothes away, tidied up the bathroom and readied herself for the sun. Glancing in the mirror, her cherried sundress did all it could for her cleavage, which
was now glistening with suntan oil. Her toe- and fingernails gleamed in complementary shades of sherberty peach. Even she had to admit she looked pretty damn good for a woman of her age. She was
looking forward to the next few days.

E
verything was almost ready to take outside – plates and knives and forks on the tray, salad, more cheese, fruit – when Eve came into
the kitchen.

‘Terry’s gone straight to the pool – factor thirty-fived up. I thought I’d see what’s happening in here.’

‘You mean you want a glass of chilled white!’ Rose knew Eve too well.

‘Well . . . Oh, twist my arm.’ Eve smiled and went to the fridge door like a homing pigeon. ‘Actually, I’m being much better now. If Terry can give up the gambling . .
.’ She smacked her hand on the table. ‘Touch wood, anyway. I thought I might compromise a bit on my alcohol intake. But this is holiday . . . so it doesn’t count.’ She found
the bottle, took out a couple of glasses and poured the two of them a drink. ‘Cheers.’ As she raised hers to her lips, there was the sound of footsteps on the terrace outside. A shadow
crossed the doorway and a figure stood silhouetted there.

‘Hello, Eve. Good journey?’

Eve turned towards the voice, then stood apparently paralysed. ‘Simon!’ She gripped the back of the nearest chair and put her glass on the table. ‘What are you doing
here?’ She looked round to Rose for an explanation.

If Rose had wanted his entry to have an effect, she couldn’t have handled it better. ‘We decided at the last minute . . .’

He came into the room to put a white and green plastic Co-op bag on the table. ‘I think I got everything you wanted, but my Italian’s worse than non-existent.’

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine. I can always improvise if need be.’ She poured him a glass of wine. In the distance they could hear Terry splashing up and down the pool,
oblivious to the drama going on up at the house.

Eve hadn’t moved for a full minute before she pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘But I don’t understand.’

Rose glanced at Simon and they exchanged a smile. ‘I only invited him a few days ago. Bit of a spur-of-the-moment thing.’

‘I think I’ll go and put up the hammocks,’ he said. ‘I said I would and you two have obviously got lots to talk about.’

Eve’s eyes followed him as he went into the utility room and emerged with a hammer and the hammocks, obviously quite at home.

‘You know where they go?’ asked Rose, brushing a fly from the bag of shopping.

‘Between the olive trees? Where Dan was lying in that photo you showed me?’ He went to the door and pointed towards the spot.

‘Of course, I’d forgotten.’ Rose remembered the photos they’d pored over the previous evening. Her family’s past. She was aware of Eve watching them beadily.

As he left the house, Eve’s breath exploded out of her. ‘Well! I knew you were friends again, but I never expected him to be here. Why didn’t you say?’

‘I’m sorry. I should have told you he was coming. I did tell the girls, but you didn’t pick up when I tried and it was such a rush. And to be honest, I knew what you’d
say.’ The truth was, she hadn’t really wanted to have the conversation at all. ‘I was in London a few days ago on my way here. We often go to a concert and have supper. You know
that . . .’

Eve gave her a look, encouraging her to go on.

‘I really like my evenings with him. They’re so relaxing after life with the family in Cornwall. He’s fun to be with, he appreciates me and . . . well, it’s great being
able to go out with a man who isn’t interested in me, well, in
that
way. Makes everything so straightforward.’ She ignored Eve’s disbelieving grunt.

She and Simon had been in her tiny one-bed flat, at the table in the corner of the living room. Rose had moved in only a matter of months ago and there was a distinct whiff of new paint in the
air that not even her cooking and a couple of scented candles would disguise. In a corner was a stack of pictures waiting to be hung; the ones she hadn’t taken to her Cornish cottage. Simon
had spent the last half-hour advising her on the art of hidden storage. He had seen several possibilities where she saw none. Suddenly the potential of her rather poky London bolt-hole was looking
better. While he talked, she had put the finishing touches to their supper, then brought it to the table. They began to discuss their separate plans for the summer. As she talked about hers for
visiting Casa Rosa, the whole venture seemed too much to bear.

‘I can’t go.’ She’d said the words quite firmly, her mind made up.

‘Go where?’ Simon was picking the meat out of a mussel with a fork.

‘Italy. I thought enough time had passed and that I was brave enough to face it, but I’m not.’

He looked up from his plate as if she was stark staring mad. As well he might, since she’d just told him the whole family were depending on her being there when they arrived. Between them
they had decided to revive the old holiday tradition for one more year, and then they would decide what to do with the place.

‘What’s happened? I thought you wanted to go back.’ His brow furrowed as he tried to follow her train of thought. He leaned over to pour a glass of the red wine he’d
brought with him.

‘I did. I do. But it’s too much. I must have some time to myself there before they come. I want to get used to everything first so I can help Jess and Anna when they arrive. But I
don’t think I can bear it. I’m sure they’ll all understand. Perhaps we could do it next year.’

Simon put down his fork and took her hand. As he looked straight at her, she was touched by the concern in his eyes. ‘Listen to me,’ he said. ‘The longer you leave it, the
worse it will be. Remember how you dreaded going back to Trevarrick? And yet it’s worked out so well there for you. You’ve got the cottage, you’re close to the grandchildren and
you’ll soon have the shop. It’ll be the same with Casa Rosa. You’ve got to face the fear and go, or you never will. Besides, the others are expecting you. Aren’t all the
tickets booked?’

‘Oh God, I know they are.’ As she slumped in her seat and took a sip of her wine, an idea struck her. ‘You wouldn’t . . .’ She stopped, then continued tentatively.
‘You wouldn’t come with me, would you?’

‘Me?’ He’d looked flabbergasted. ‘What would they say?’

‘Yes, you,’ she said, warming to the idea by the minute. ‘Just for a few days. And we’ll get over whatever they say. They’ve grudgingly accepted the idea that we
see each other again anyway, even though it’s taken time. I’d love you to see the place and I could face it with you – if that doesn’t sound too crazed.’

‘I’m not sure.’ He had hesitated, weighing up the implications of her suggestion.

‘Please.’ The more she thought about it, she more she realised that having someone with her who cared about her would make all the difference. Not that her daughters didn’t,
but they would have their own demons to battle with first and she wanted to support them, not lean on them. And so it had been decided.

When she’d finished explaining, Rose was surprised to find herself wrapped in one of Eve’s bear hugs. When she was finally let go, Eve was beaming. ‘I’d have come with
you if you’d said. But I can see that him being here sort of makes this easier for you. I can’t say I exactly get what’s going on, but I’m trying, and if it’s what you
want – then great. How did the girls take it?’

‘Not quite as well as I’d hoped.’ Rose remembered Jess’s reaction with a sinking sensation. ‘I should have thought it through, I know.’

‘You’ve invited Simon!’ Jess had erupted down the phone. ‘He’s not family. Why him? Of all people.’

Rose didn’t answer immediately. Then, ‘I know it’s difficult for you to understand, but whether you like it or not, Simon’s been a rock to me.’ She heard the tsk
and ignored it. ‘What was it you said to me? Something about taking what you want from the past for the future. That’s all I’m trying to do.’

‘God, Mum! I was talking about hiring him back on the job, not bringing him on our family holiday. The first one since Dad died. Isn’t that a little bit insensitive?’ In the
background, Rose could hear Dani banging something on the table.

‘I don’t think so. Not after all this time. We have to do things differently now. And I think Dad would be happy with the way things are. Although he didn’t mean me to meet
Simon, now that we have, he’d rather we got on than not. I’m sure of that. Isn’t that enough for you?’

Jess was only half listening to her; she sounded as if she was giving Dani a bottle. The banging stopped immediately. If only Jess could be so easily pacified.

‘Well, it should be,’ Rose went on, not giving Jess a chance to say any more. ‘He’s a good man, even if he has come into our lives in rather an unconventional way. Please
try for my sake, if nothing else.’

Jess’s attention was back with her. ‘Unconventional? That’s one way of putting it. It’s just so difficult . . .’ The rest of the sentence was lost as Dani started
crying. In the end, they’d had to cut the conversation short. They hadn’t tried again before leaving.

‘Of course it’s difficult for her,’ explained Rose to Eve. ‘But having anyone new here would be difficult whoever they were. She’ll come round,’ she added
confidently, despite the fact that everything was telling her it might not be that simple. Perhaps she should talk to Adam. But no, that wouldn’t be fair on him. They could only wait and
hope.

‘Well I certainly hope so.’ Eve took the tray and headed for the door. ‘Or it’s going to be a difficult few days.’

Rose consoled herself with the fact that Anna had been more accepting. As time had gone by, her older daughter had slowly come round to what had happened. ‘It’s kind of weird that my
mum’s friends with my dad’s gay lover, but at the same time it’s kind of cool, I guess.’ She held up her ring so the light flashed through it. ‘Jess won’t like
him coming, though,’ she warned.

‘Jess hates change,’ said Rose, considering each word before she spoke. ‘It will be unbearable without Daniel at first. But Simon will prop me up—’

‘You don’t need to say any more,’ Anna interrupted. ‘I just want you to be happy. And Jess does too, except she wants you to be happy with someone she approves of. With
someone you’re having sex with, I suppose.’

‘Anna, please!’

‘Oh come on, Mum! You’re the one who wanted everything in the open. I’m only being honest.’

That was true: Rose had wanted there to be no secrets between them and had told them so. If she hadn’t shared Daniel’s secret, perhaps things would have been easier, but she could
never have lived with the lie. Deceiving her children was out of the question. To her, that was so wrong now that they were old enough to try to understand their father. Far better to be working
things through together. Dan would have wanted that too, she was certain. Time. That was all that was needed. Everything would work out.

‘What’s up?’ Terry walked into the kitchen fresh from the pool, a towel around his waist, hair on end. He looked over his shoulder. ‘We met down at the pool.’
Simon, just behind him, had obviously followed his example of cooling down after his exertions with the hammocks.

The physical contrast between the two of them was marked: Terry clearly hadn’t seen the inside of a gym since he was at secondary school, and put beside Simon’s, his face was
undistinguished.

‘How was your swim?’ Eve asked, getting out a choice of drinks for lunch from the fridge.

‘Every bit as good as I remember it. I’ve missed being here.’ Terry picked a piece of salami from a plate and put it in his mouth. ‘Delicious.’

The sound of the phone in Terry’s other hand interrupted them. He checked the caller ID and shook his head. ‘Bloody Flying Mango Books. I told them quite clearly I was on holiday.
Hang on a minute.’ He stepped back outside to have the conversation in private.

Rose looked surprised. ‘But Terry doesn’t work on holiday. That’s never happened before.’

‘That’s because he’s never worked for me before,’ Eve said proudly. ‘You know the Rutherford Agency never sleeps, even when on holiday. He’s about to find
that out the hard way.’

‘At least he’s working again.’ Rose picked up the jug of iced water, taking it out to the table, Eve beside her carrying the bottle of wine and some apple juice.

‘And enjoying it,’ added Eve. ‘Next to hiring May, hiring him has been one of the best decisions I’ve made for the agency. He’s brilliant with the money and the
contracts, especially all that small print. I trust him completely. The two of them deal with all the back-room stuff between them, which means I can concentrate on what I love doing best.
I’ve signed up two new authors this year, and I think I’m about to pull off a film deal for one of them, which is really exciting. And it’s great for us to have something in
common again apart from the children.’

‘So things are OK between you?’ Rose hadn’t dared broach the question before.

‘They’re fine.’ Eve leaped to reassure her. Whatever happened in her life, she had resolved to be more circumspect about confiding in Rose. She had put her in an unforgivably
difficult position when she was seeing Will and didn’t want to repeat that. ‘The grass may be a bit dried up on this side of the fence, but there are enough green patches to keep us
going.’