Our Little Secret (25 page)

Running under the rotors, my hair whipping around me, my shirt flapping, we sprint over to a guy in a golf cart, who slaps Edward on the back and hugs him warmly. He’s in his fifties and has that rugged outdoorsy kind of look that people who are on boats all the time must get.

The guy – I think it’s Roly, but I don’t catch his name properly, as there’s such a racket from the helicopter – is obviously old friends with Edward and, as they bend their heads together to chat, it occurs to me that I haven’t asked about the plan for the day. I’ve slept so little, and been so swept along with the excitement of the helicopter, that it didn’t occur to me to ask. But Edward was already going sailing before he asked me. He must be meeting friends. What if I’m just a spare part all day? How will he explain what I’m doing there? And will Roly be sailing with us?

I quell my childish disappointment. For one heady moment, I thought I might be alone with Edward for the day. But that is not going to happen. and even if it did, after the sauna incident, could I really trust myself with him?

We set off in the golf buggy towards the boats in the marina. Edward chats to the guy in the front and I hear them laughing, whilst I sit in the back with the picnic bag. I watch the helicopter rise into the air, and the ripples on the water.

Ten minutes later, we’re bumping along a wide-slatted harbour jetty and I gawp at the power-yachts lined up on either side of us. I watch a small boy on one of the yachts fishing. Seagulls cry in the distance. It smells briny and of petrol, too.

Edward’s yacht is moored at the end. It’s a proper sailing dinghy with neatly folded navy sails and lots of shiny wood. Two deckhands are polishing the gleaming handrails on the deck. They jump onto the jetty and greet Edward warmly. I think they’re going to come with us, but then I watch as Edward pays them both in cash and they stay on the jetty.

I get out of the golf buggy with the help of Roly, who respectfully takes my hand. He has kind, twinkly, sea-dog eyes.

‘Have a great day,’ he tells me.

‘You’re not coming too?’

‘Oh no,’ he laughs. ‘There’s been a change of plan.’

Has there? He nods down towards Edward.

‘You’ll be in safe hands, don’t you worry.’

Edward is already on the yacht. I take off my flip-flops, seeing that his yacht-shoes are still on the jetty. He holds out his hand and I jump down towards him. I feel the hot teak boards beneath my feet. Edward waves to the deckhands as they throw up the rope that’s mooring us. I sit in the small cockpit with the bag, marvelling at how competent Edward is, as he starts the engine and takes the tiller.

Oh my God. It’s just us.

53

The breeze blows in my face as we move away from the jetty.

‘Miss Henshaw, would you mind putting the wine in the fridge?’ Edward calls to me, nodding to the door in the cockpit.

I open the small gates and negotiate my way down the three wooden steps into the galley below.

I know nothing about yachts, but I can tell this must be an expensive one, from the plush finish. It’s all pale wood and there are blue-and-white cushions on the little benches next to a table. I search through the built-in cupboards until I find the fridge and unpack the picnic Edward has brought. I see that there’s a lobster salad in a Tupperware pot. It looks delicious. There are also two bottles of white wine. I make a mental note not to get drunk, but then, who am I kidding? Against all my expectations, I’m alone with Edward in the sunshine for a day.

I can’t even begin to work out how I’m feeling about last night and what happened with Marnie, but again I got the wrong end of the stick. I made a huge assumption, when everything was perfectly innocent.

And now we’re here. I’ve been whipped away into a different environment and all the rules have changed. I think for a second of FunPlex and how boring my life was back at home, how I longed for a changed to my routine and for something to happen. I’ve gone from that to this. It’s ridiculous. I can hardly catch my breath, but it feels amazing. It feels like I’m fully alive for the first time.

This is so sweet of Edward to bring me sailing. I tell myself that I’m just going to enjoy myself and stop worrying about what it all means. Or, for that matter, what’s going to happen, because clearly nothing is going to happen. This is perfectly innocent.

Back on deck, I hold onto my hat as we motor between the harbour walls and then we’re out on the open sea.

Edward may be ‘bossy’, according to Marnie, but I’m fascinated by how the yacht works and what all the bits are for. Before long I’m winching in the sails and watching the wind fill them as the boat rocks over the sea. It’s thrilling that we’re moving on air power alone, and I yelp as the boat keens towards the sea’s shining surface and grab Edward’s shirt.

‘Don’t worry,’ he laughs. ‘We’re not going to capsize.’

Even so, as the wind picks up, we both put on harnesses and I sit next to him at the back of the boat on the rail, our weight counterbalancing the boat as it slices across the waves. A plume of spray soaks me, but I don’t care. It’s exhilarating and I’m loving every minute of it. It feels like him and me together, battling the elements. Everything about Thousand Acres, Marnie, the boys, Scott, Tiff, Dad – everything is wiped clean out of my mind.

After an hour or so, the wind drops a little and we tack in back towards the coast. Edward lets me have a go on the tiller and explains how the sails work, and before long I’m sailing by myself. It’s the most incredible feeling.

Soon, though, the wind drops more and I look up at the cliffs as we head for a rocky cove, where the water is a deep aquamarine.

I loosen the sail and it flaps in the wind, and I laugh breathlessly as Edward shouts at me to put my back into it and winch in the sail. Finally, it’s in and tied off, and Edward puts the engine on and we chug into the secluded inlet and weigh anchor.

Out of the wind, just us, the sun scorches my cheeks as I turn my face up to it. We could be in Greece or somewhere, the sun is so hot and the sea is so blue.

‘Well done. You deserve a break,’ Edward says, once the anchor is down. He jumps down into the cockpit. ‘You’re a natural sailor.’

‘I love it.’

Edward swings down into the galley, missing the steps, and I watch him land, looking at his tanned feet from above. It’s such a boyish gesture and I feel privileged to see him so much in his element.

He comes back up with the wine and two glasses. He grins at me as he hands the glasses to me so that he can pour the wine. Behind him, the water sparkles in the sunshine.

‘So what do you think? Fun, huh?’

‘Amazing,’ I tell him, clinking wine glasses with him.

‘You’re a fast learner.’

‘Do you sail by yourself? Isn’t it a bit dangerous? I mean, I know you’re experienced, but even so . . .’

‘I usually sail with the boys or with Roly, who picked us up, but he couldn’t make it today.’

I think back to the guy in the golf car – Roly, with the twinkly eyes. Was he busy? Or did Edward tell him not to come with us? I suspect it was the latter.

‘You feel safe, don’t you?’ he checks.

‘Of course.’

I do feel safe. This morning I thought it would be weird being alone with Edward after the sauna incident, but I’m so relieved to be away from the house and away from Marnie.

Once again, I think about Marnie last night and how she kissed that guy and how she was this morning, and I feel a surge of protection towards Edward. I watch him go back down to the galley and I hear him clattering around preparing lunch. He’s so wonderful. How could Marnie possibly betray him?

‘Do you like lobster, Miss Henshaw?’ he calls.

‘Why do you call me Miss Henshaw?’ I ask, laughing and leaning down into the cockpit.

‘You’re my employee,’ he says. ‘Those are the rules. Rules are rules with employees,’ he shrugs. But I’m wondering who made up the rules. And if
they
did, whether us being here alone on a yacht is breaking them.

‘Fair enough,’ I tell him.

But even as I say it, I suddenly get a flash of Mr Walters – or John as I later knew him. And how we broke the rules. How I deliberately made him break the rules. Because that’s what I do.

54

The lunch of lobster salad and crusty French bread is delicious. We eat on deck, sitting casually, our legs up on the benches in the cockpit.

‘It’s getting hotter. We might have to have a swim soon,’ Edward says as he spoons the last of the lobster salad onto my plate.

I nod, remembering him in his swimming trunks. I have my bikini with me today, but suddenly I feel nervous. I’m not sure I trust myself to be half-naked with him again.

We eat and chat and laugh easily, and soon the conversation turns again to last night.

For a moment I’m tempted to blurt out everything about Marnie. About how it felt like she’d propositioned me and how frightening I found it, but I don’t. It’s more complicated than that, and I don’t think I could bear cross-examination on that point.

‘It was good fun. We had fun,’ I tell him.

‘Marnie likes to be shocking,’ Edward says. ‘It’s who she is.’

Did she tell him about dancing with me, then? Is that what he’s referring to?

‘She’s very talented,’ I venture.

‘Isn’t she? In so many ways.’ He says this in such a resigned way that I suddenly think her behaviour last night is the tip of the iceberg. ‘And very competitive. Especially with me.’

There’s a pause. I watch the beads of sweat on his wine glass and how his finger lazily strokes them away. I wonder what he means, but I’m not sure how to ask him to clarify exactly how she’s competitive with him.

‘Marnie thinks I’m very prim and proper, but I’m not,’ I tell him.

He laughs. ‘I don’t think she does. She thinks you’re adorable.’

His eyes meet mine over the top of his sunglasses and I flush. Does
he
think I’m adorable, too? He doesn’t say it.

‘I think she thinks I’m a prude.’

I’m know I’m half-saying this for effect, because I like chatting like this. I like being the centre of his attention and making him laugh. Because part of me wants to deny Marnie, to make her out to be someone with a false impression of me, although the truth is she’s got me spot-on.

‘Well, I can’t imagine you doing anything very shocking,’ he says.

It’s a challenge. I hear it as a challenge. I forget that I’m employed as his nanny. That being a safe pair of hands is why they’ve chosen me. Instead, I long for him to know that I can be daring and dangerous.

‘I can be shocking,’ I tell him, sipping my wine and looking at him over the top of my glass.

‘Really? Then go, ahead, Miss Henshaw, shock me.’ His eyes dance with laughter. ‘What’s the most shocking thing you’ve ever done?’

I look at him. Actually the most shocking things I have ever done have happened to me in the past week. The orgasm he unwittingly gave me in the sauna was pretty shocking. I don’t tell him this. Instead I shrug.

‘Well . . . I had an affair with my teacher once,’ I tell him, as if it’s no big deal.

‘Did you?’

I nod and pull a face. I feel foolish now for telling him.

‘Go on . . .’ he urges. ‘What happened?’

‘You don’t want to know.’

‘I do. I’m fascinated.’

So I start opening up. I give him the edited highlights of that summer. It seems lame in comparison to this, and what’s happening right now, but I still spin a convincing yarn. I tell Edward about John Walters and how he was lost in the teaching profession. That he’d sung in a band once and I found his stories so appealing; how I identified with the fact that he felt misunderstood. As I’m telling Edward, though, it sounds clichéd. How can it not? I see amusement dancing in his eyes.

‘The bottom line, though, was the danger. The fact we might get caught. I think that’s what turned us both on.’

‘And did you?’ Edward asks. ‘Get caught, I mean?’

I shake my head. ‘No.’

‘So what happened?’

‘He couldn’t handle it. He sort of fell apart. In the end we both had to walk away.’

‘Were you heartbroken?’

‘I thought I would be, but when it happened, I wasn’t. I felt stronger, braver, because of what happened. People are so judgemental about that sort of thing. You know, the age difference,’ I tell Edward. ‘But the fact of it was that I was seventeen. I knew exactly what I was doing. I didn’t get coerced into it.’

‘Did you tell anyone?’ Edward asks.

‘Only Tiff, my best friend. And now you.’

‘I won’t tell anyone,’ he says. ‘Promise.’

Then he smiles at me and it’s a smile that takes my breath away. I busy myself with sipping the wine, but I feel that hot electrical spark again. The same one I felt when I looked in the mirror in my room, that first day he inspected my back. The same one in the gallery. The same one we’re both ignoring.

‘How about a swim, Miss Henshaw?’ he asks. ‘I could do with cooling off.’

55

We jump off the back of the yacht in unison.

The water rushes up to meet me and it’s surprisingly cold. I gasp for breath, start swimming on my back away from the boat, then tread water and wait for Edward. I look down at my legs. The water is so clear I can see shoals of fish below us.

A speedboat crosses the entrance of the little cove we’re in, in a flash of white and foam. I’m reminded that we’re not alone. A few seconds later, the swell in the water comes towards us, taking me unawares. A wave washes over my head and I gulp in water and cough.

Edward grabs me in the water and I’m suddenly pressed up against his chest. I can feel his legs moving below us and there’s something about this – about his strength, his manliness – that makes every fibre of my being tune into this moment.

I’m fine, but he swims with me for a little way in his arms, then grabs onto the metal steps at the back of the yacht and guides me towards them, but I don’t want to let him go. I feel his strong torso against mine. I feel my calves on the back of his thighs, where I’m clinging onto him. I feel the heat of his body, his muscles, the hair on his legs.

We’ve both reached the steps, but I’m still clinging onto him. I can see the water droplets on his cheek and the freckles on his nose.