Secrets (11 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Two years earlier

Garth Davis wasn’t a party animal, but this was one event he couldn’t avoid. His younger brother, Adrian, had hired an upmarket function room to celebrate his thirtieth birthday. The place was heaving with braying hoorays. These types constantly seemed to make up Adrian’s social life, especially since his recent divorce from Jemma. Garth had liked Jemma. She’d been a very forgiving wife. Upon discovering Adrian’s affair with a neighbour, Jemma had excused her errant husband on condition they move house for a fresh start. On Adrian’s twenty-eighth birthday, Jemma had secretly arranged a night out at The Old Vic. She’d travelled to Adrian’s London office to surprise him. The surprise, however, had been all hers when she’d walked in and found her husband in a compromising situation with his secretary. Once again Jemma had forgiven Adrian and the secretary had been replaced with a Mrs Doubtfire look-alike. The emotional dust had barely settled when Jemma had left work early with a migraine. Inserting her key in the door, she’d discovered Adrian – supposedly working from home that day – otherwise engaged with their nubile cleaning lady. It had been the last straw. Adrian had been served divorce papers before the week was out.

‘Why can’t you keep it in your trousers?’ Garth had asked his brother. ‘Jemma’s a cracking girl. You’ll regret losing her.’

But Adrian had shrugged. ‘I shouldn’t have married. Thank heavens we didn’t have kids. Wedlock isn’t for me. When it comes to beautiful women, I just can’t say no.’

And now, as music belted out of huge speakers, it was clear Adrian was still relishing being footloose and fancy-free. A bevvy of lovelies were by his side. All were vying for attention. Unlike Garth, Adrian was smaller in height and stature. He wasn’t quite six feet tall and not as broad as Garth, but with his chiselled cheekbones and film star looks he was a total babe magnet. Garth likened Adrian to a Ferrari – fast and sleek. Whereas he was more like an army Jeep – rugged and not very exciting.

‘All right?’ said a voice. Garth was distracted from his reverie. Adrian was standing by his side. ‘Are you with anybody this evening?’

‘Hello, bro.’ Garth gave his brother a clap on the back, the equivalent of a man hug. ‘Many happy returns. To answer your question – it’s a no. I’m on my own.’

‘What happened to Pippa?’

‘Pippa got pipped off.’

‘Oh dear. Well you are a pretty boring geezer, Garth. Always writing, writing, writing.’

‘It’s my living.’

‘Why can’t you write between nine and five?’

‘I try. Unfortunately imagination doesn’t work like that. If, at two in the morning, I suddenly awake with a great romantic plot, I need to write it down. Not chapters and chapters, but maybe a few pages. Inevitably, when Pippa stayed over, I’d disturb her beauty sleep. She said I cared more about Nancy Newman than her.’

‘Nancy Newman,’ Adrian scoffed. ‘Are you sure you’re not secretly Nancy Boy? I don’t know any other bloke who spends his days in Romance Land chasing rainbows and nonsensical happy-ever-afters. Real life isn’t like that.’

Garth was good-natured enough to let his brother’s digs go over his head. ‘It’s because real life isn’t like that that I’m successful with women.’

‘Only in the market sector,’ Adrian pointed out. ‘In your private life you seem to be something of a disaster.’

‘Thanks, bro, but I’m more than happy with my private life.’

A woman materialised at Garth’s elbow. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to the birthday boy?’ Despite talking to Garth, she was looking at Adrian. There was a predatory look on her face.

‘Don’t you already know him?’ Garth asked in surprise. Otherwise what was she doing here?

‘No. I’m Isabel’s plus-one.’ The woman nodded at a female who was nose-to-nose with one of Adrian’s banker pals.

‘Ah, okay. Well, this is my brother Adrian. He’s thirty years old today, single and up for grabs.’

‘Are you indeed?’ the woman asked playfully. ‘I’m Emma and
very
pleased to meet you.’ She batted her eyelids coquettishly. As if on cue, the music switched tempo. Mellow notes of a smoochy love song began to play.

‘Cheers, lady,’ Adrian leered at Emma’s chest. She was considerably well endowed. But any attempt to chat her up was thwarted by a pouting blonde.

‘Oh,
there
you are, darling.’ The blonde licked her lips suggestively and draped herself over Adrian. ‘You simply
have
to come and dance with me. I’m not taking no for an answer.’

Adrian gave Emma an apologetic shrug and allowed himself to be led away.

‘Well really!’ spluttered Emma.

‘He’s very popular with the ladies,’ Garth explained.

‘I’m not sure I’d call
her
a lady,’ Emma bitched. ‘That mini skirt is beyond tacky.’

It always amazed Garth how catty women could be.

‘I’m sorry he was swiped from under your nose. If it’s any consolation, tomorrow he’ll be with a different female. He likes to…er…share himself around – if you get my drift.’

‘So he’s a tart,’ Emma growled.

Garth sighed. ‘He’s a nice guy. Just…’ Garth chose his words carefully, ‘…very available.’

‘Definitely a tart.’

‘Look, it seems a shame to waste a beautiful love ballad. Would you like to dance with me instead?’

Emma considered. Garth waited. He was used to playing second fiddle to his brother. After all, there weren’t many women who wanted to dance with a man of his clownish height. Pippa had frequently complained about neck ache when looking up at him in conversation.

‘Okay,’ Emma eventually said.

And that was how it started.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Over the next few weeks, Garth saw quite a bit of Emma. They’d become lovers within forty-eight hours of meeting at Adrian’s party. Garth was quite surprised at Emma’s keenness to be hooked up with him. She seemed to enjoy telling her friends she was going out with Garth Davis, the famous novelist. Adrian, always a guy who liked to wind women up, never missed a trick at rattling Emma’s cage.

‘But Garth Davis is not a famous novelist,’ he pointed out. Adrian had joined Emma and Garth for Sunday lunch. It was one of those rare days when Adrian didn’t have a woman hanging off his arm. They were seated at Garth’s dining table tucking into a joint of roast beef cooked by Emma. ‘It’s Nancy Newman who has the books flying off the shelves. Why don’t you tell your friends the truth and say you’re going out with Nancy Newman?’

‘Same thing,’ Emma snapped.

‘I think,’ Adrian persisted, ‘you’re afraid to tell your mates the truth in case they believe you’re dating a woman.’ He winked. ‘They might get the wrong end of the stick and think you’re batting for the other side.’

‘How dare you!’

‘Just a joke, Emmy. Keep your hair on. Ooh, lovely. Cauliflower cheese. Can I have a really big helping of that? Ta. Now, what was I saying? Oh yes! Batting for the other side. Actually, my current lady friend goes both ways. If you ever fancy giving it a go, she’d be up for it. So long as I can watch,’ Adrian added mischievously.

‘You really are disgusting,’ Emma fumed.

‘No I’m not,’ Adrian protested. ‘It’s a well-known fact that watching two women is every man’s fantasy – along with being allowed to join in.’ He smiled wickedly at Emma as the roast potatoes were offered around.

‘I really don’t know
how
you keep a girlfriend,’ Emma seethed. ‘Frankly I think you’re a pervert.’

‘Oh dear. Look at you getting all pink in the face. Are you sure you’re not actually excited by the thought of a threesome?’

‘I really have had quite enough of your smutty–’

‘Bro,’ Garth interrupted. ‘Stop geeing Emma up and eat your dinner quietly.’

‘Yes, Dad,’ said Adrian contritely, but not before treating his roast potato to fake cunnilingus.

Later, after Adrian had gone, Emma had ranted to Garth about his brother’s disgusting attitude. ‘I really don’t know what women see in him. I’m sorry to say this, Garth, but I thoroughly dislike Adrian. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s your brother, I wouldn’t tolerate his company for a second.’

The next few weeks passed in something of a blur. Garth had a deadline to meet. Most nights he was writing into the small hours. Emma availed herself to Garth at every opportunity and, before he knew it, she was cooking for him every evening. Whilst he was delighted to have a delicious hot meal put in front of him – Emma was a good cook after all – Garth didn’t want Emma thinking she was being taken for granted.

‘It’s fine,’ she simpered. ‘I like cooking. And I particularly like cooking for you,’ she added huskily.

It was only when Garth had finally typed THE END on his current project and was mentally back in the real world, that he noticed Emma had moved her clothes into his home. Garth frowned as he checked out the built-in wardrobes lining one wall of his master bedroom. They were full to bursting. How had he allowed this to happen? It wasn’t that he didn’t like Emma. Of course he did – she was his girlfriend, after all. But being a girlfriend was one thing. Moving in was something else. It was taking a relationship to the next level. It was a form of commitment. And whilst Garth liked the idea of having somebody he could refer to as ‘my other half’, he didn’t think of Emma as long-term material. She was too sharp-tongued for him, always griping about something. Or someone. And if there wasn’t someone to moan about, she’d whine about Adrian. In fact Adrian was her Number One grievance. And whilst Garth silently agreed with Emma’s observations about Adrian being a self-centred, vain, hopeless Casanova, at the end of the day the guy was his brother. He felt a sense of loyalty. Emma’s constant dissing of Adrian was starting to wear thin. Garth sighed. He wasn’t keen to do what inevitably had to happen next. Emma would probably call him all the names under the sun and lump Garth into the same bracket as Adrian. Nonetheless, it was time for a chat. Preferably a chat that contained the words
your clothes
and
please remove them
.

‘Hey,’ Emma appeared in the bedroom doorway.

‘Hey right back,’ Garth cranked up a smile.

‘What are you doing?’

Garth shut the sliding door of the wardrobe he’d been peering in. He turned and gave Emma a frank look. ‘Well now. It seems you have an awful lot of your belongings in my wardrobe.’

Emma frowned. ‘Do you want me to make some space? I thought there was enough room in there. I’m positive none of my coats are crushing any of your shirts.’ She moved over to the wardrobes. She whooshed a door back on its glider and peered inside. ‘Everything looks fine. See?’ She stood back allowing Garth to view the wall-to-wall rail. It was neatly sorted into
his n hers
sections. The shelving system contained Garth’s sweaters, neatly folded. To the side there was an obvious gender change. An array of pastel and floral jumpers met the eye. Lower down were neatly stacked shoe racks. Brogues and trainers to the left. Stilettos and sandals to the right.

‘It looks very tidy,’ Garth agreed. ‘The thing is, Emma…,’ his voice trailed off and there was a pause. ‘There’s no easy way of saying this. I don’t recall inviting you to move in with me.’ There. He’d said it.

The words hung in the air, like unexploded bombs. Emma recoiled. Her eyes widened as realisation dawned. ‘You want me to move out?’ she whispered.

‘I wasn’t aware you’d moved in,’ Garth said awkwardly.

‘But surely you’ve seen me bringing stuff in?’ Emma questioned.

‘I guess I didn’t fully take it on board. When I’m immersed in plots and characters and have deadlines to meet, the outside world has a habit of receding. Yeah, now that you mention it, I did see you bring in a few things. However, I just thought,’ he shrugged helplessly, ‘it might be a couple of changes of clothes.’

‘I haven’t been living in my place for the last six weeks,’ Emma said incredulously. ‘Did you also fail to notice me in your bed throughout that duration? Or did you think you were making love to somebody else at two and three in the morning?’ Her voice was going up an octave. Anger was setting in.

‘Look, Emma. I’m really sorry. You’re a great girl, but–’

‘Do you realise,’ Emma demanded furiously, ‘that I gave notice to my Landlord? I don’t have anywhere else to go.’

‘What did you do that for?’ Now it was Garth’s turn to be incredulous.

‘BECAUSE I THOUGHT WE WERE A COUPLE!’ Emma yelled.

Garth sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. This wasn’t going well. ‘Okay. Clearly I’ve misled you. And I truly apologise. All I can say is…there’s no hurry. Take the time you need to find new accommodation.’

There was a silence while Emma wrestled with her emotions. Her eyes had filled up. She was staring at the ceiling, head back, willing unshed tears to retreat. She gulped a few times, and the tears stayed put. When she looked at Garth again, her eyes were very bright. ‘Getting another place to live won’t be easy. It’s not as straightforward as before.’

Garth’s brow knitted together. ‘Why?’

This time it was Emma’s turn to utter words that hung in the air like unexploded bombs.

‘Because I’m pregnant.’