The Secrets Women Keep (32 page)

Then a long-buried memory floated unbidden to the surface. Two men in the shadow of a doorway on the Royal Mile, standing close, their hands touching, kissing. She had been on the other side of
the street, on her way home from a party with a gaggle of girls. One of the men had looked briefly in their direction but hadn’t seen her. For a second, she thought he was Daniel. She soon
forgot the incident, believing she had mistaken someone else for him. But perhaps she hadn’t.

‘Whatever he did, he loved you. I know he did.’ Of that much she was certain.

‘But you don’t actually know, do you?’ Rose sounded so world-weary. ‘None of us knows what anyone else is really thinking or feeling, whatever they say. Not even the
people you’re closest to. How can you possibly know? Actions are meant to speak louder than words, but in fact they can be just as deceptive.’

How strange that Rose should echo her earlier thoughts so closely. There they were, two women with three marriages between them and to three very different men, each one of whom had surprised
them in different ways. Eve had even made love to all of them, but knew them no better for that.

‘Of course I don’t. Except we could all see that he did. You mustn’t doubt that.’

‘Of course I’m doubting it.’ Rose was almost shouting, made frantic by her discovery. ‘He was having an affair with a man, for Christ’s sake!’

‘You don’t know that.’ Eve was cautious, trying to calm Rose despite her own unease. Feeling uncomfortably hot, she went to open the window a fraction.

‘But I do. It explains so much of what’s happened since. I must have been blind.’ Rose slapped the libretto on to the desktop. ‘I’m going to have to talk to Simon.
I must know.’

‘Not tonight?’ Eve was instantly ashamed that her first thought was entirely selfish; not for Rose, but for the success of their party.

Rose gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t spoil things.’

‘Are you two coming?’ Terry spoke through the open window. ‘People are beginning to arrive, and the first minibus is due in five minutes.’

‘Eve, come and see the bar we’ve set up outside. Anna’s flowers are fabulous.’ Jess was right behind him, as if nothing had been wrong. ‘I want to be sure you
approve.’

‘I’m sure I will.’ Eve touched one of her aquamarine earrings. ‘We’d lost track of the time. Coming?’ She turned to Rose.

‘I’ll go upstairs for a moment and then I’ll join you.’ Rose picked up the libretto and moved towards the door.

‘Oh Mum. You knew what time it started.’ Jess hated it when her arrangements weren’t observed to the letter. Flexibility was not a gift with which she’d been blessed.
‘Don’t be long.’

As Terry and Jess’s attention transferred to something happening behind them, Rose and Eve hugged.

‘We’ll talk in the morning. I’m sure . . .’ Eve whispered. But both of them knew that it couldn’t be as straightforward as that.

The party was well under way. The lobster had arrived in time, and the simple but extravagant meal that began with asparagus and ended with raspberries (carrying the sort of
carbon footprint that would outrage Terry, had he but known) was pronounced a huge success. The air was balmy, and any threat of rain had blown over. Fairy lights swung in the trees and tea lights
illuminated the path between the hotel and the marquee, where the dancing had started. The cousins, led by Anna and Charlie, had been first on the floor, along with a couple of Eve and
Terry’s friends. Jess and Adam had soon joined them. Rose was glad to see the girls’ differences patched up, although for the life of her she couldn’t understand how they’d
overcome them so speedily. It was easier not to ask. As the drink went down, inhibitions were cast aside, and the dance floor was now crowded with ‘oldsters’ (as Anna still would have
them). Those old favourite songs had couples who clearly only danced once or twice a year still doing the same old moves they’d barely modified since their teens. Knees creaked as the braver
among them twisted to a squat, occasionally having to be helped up by their partner. The noise of music and voices emerged from the marquee, growing more raucous by the minute.

Rose stood under a tree watching. Every conversation she’d had that evening had been a struggle. She could feel the sympathy for her – ‘recently widowed in such tragic
circumstances’ – coming off people in waves. Eve and Terry had obviously done a thorough job briefing their friends to spare embarrassment. She did her best, but she felt the impatience
of those she talked to, dying to get away to have fun with someone else. It was one of those parties where there was always someone more interesting standing behind her. But despite every effort,
she couldn’t be fun tonight. Not even under the influence. Never had she felt less like celebrating.

Not far from her was a rowdy bunch she didn’t know; obviously good friends come outside for a smoke. They fell about laughing at a joke. The smell of the cigarettes filled the air. She
stepped backwards into the shadows as she saw Simon come into the garden. He stopped for a moment by the open flap of the marquee, stretched his arms above his head and looked around him, nodding
amiably at the smokers. A man without a care in the world. A man who had become her friend. Rose was suddenly choked with rage. Who the hell did he think he was, worming his way into their family,
exploiting their trust at a time when they were so vulnerable? She had believed in him, opened up to him about Daniel, listened to his memories too. But how much had he left unsaid? If only
he’d stuck to designing the hotels and stayed out of their lives. That should have been enough for him. What could he have been thinking when he first asked her to the opera? Had it really
been the impulsive gesture he claimed? Or was being close to his family his way of staying close to Dan? Daniel – his lover? The thought made her sick to her stomach.

So far that evening she had managed to avoid Simon altogether by making sure she was always busy talking to someone whenever he came near. But the effort of making conversation was eventually
too much for her. One more word about a ‘simply marvellous’ holiday, a teenager on a gap year or another ‘absolutely adorable’ grandchild and she’d scream. She’d
had to leave the marquee.

Simon looked at his watch, brushed something from the thigh of his trousers, then began to walk towards the hotel. He passed close to where Rose was standing. She held her breath, pressing
herself into the shadow of the tree. He stopped again, half turning towards the marquee as if hoping to see something, someone – her? She was only a few feet away from him.

The urge to jump out and physically attack him was almost irresistible. She longed to rip the fine linen shirt from his back, to punch him as hard as she could, hurting him for hurting her so
badly. For hurting them. For not only Daniel’s betrayal of her, but for his. Only the knowledge that she’d be ruining Eve and Terry’s party stopped her. Besides, seeing their
mother scrapping on the lawn was not the way she wanted the girls to find out. If they needed to find out at all.

Unable to see her, half hidden by the tree, Simon continued up the path, whistling under his breath. Everything about him was so well put together. She ached to disrupt that relaxed but
considered style that she had thought she liked so much. She
had
liked it. Could she possibly have made a mistake? She simply couldn’t imagine Daniel betraying her like this. But
everything pointed that way.

She sank into a squat as the energy drained from her legs. Perhaps she should follow Simon to have it out now while everyone else was otherwise occupied. She had to know. The slightest
uncertainty was torture. Twisting her wedding ring round her finger, she looked towards the marquee. Just inside, she glimpsed Jess and Adam dancing, their arms around each other, oblivious to the
others around them. Jess’s face was tipped up to his, saying something; Adam, with his head slightly on one side, was looking down at her, his customary thoughtful expression transformed with
a smile, his hands resting comfortably on the curve of her spine. Eve came into view, laughing as Terry spun her under his arm in an improvised jive. They seemed to be getting along fine again.
Perhaps Eve had seen sense. Perhaps Terry had confessed and they’d cleared the air. Let at least one of those be the case.

Around them, the other couples came together and separated, happy, laughing, touching, shouting and whispering. Couples. Something Rose wouldn’t be part of again. She didn’t want
anyone else but the Daniel she had known. To think she had even slightly flirted with the idea of Simon. There were Anna and Charlie, jumping as if they were on the pogo sticks they had loved as
children. Behind them, Millie, Tom, Luke and his new girlfriend. Again she longed to wind the clock back. But now everything was different. Ruined. She wasn’t half of a well-loved couple, not
one of the crowd, any more.

She straightened up. The night was getting chilly. She stepped out on to the illuminated path. Someone waved at her from the marquee. Terry. He shouted something, but his words were lost in
Sister Sledge’s ‘We Are Family’. She waved back and started towards the hotel.

Maybe everyone else had known. Maybe they’d been laughing about her blind stupidity for years. How could she not have known? All those times Daniel was away on business, the times she had
stayed at home while he met up with a friend or a business associate for drinks. What had he really been doing? He must have left clues, if only she had been alert to them. And then he came home to
her, to their bed, as if nothing was wrong. But nothing
had
been wrong. Their sex life was as fulfilling as she had needed it to be. It had satisfied them both. So it had slowed up a bit in
recent years, but wasn’t that what happened to most married couples? Why should she have suspected anything? If only she’d never picked up his bloody phone by mistake, if she
hadn’t seen that text, then she wouldn’t be going through this. But now she could imagine Simon sending his message on the spur of the moment, relaying his feelings as they occurred to
him. That was how it would have been. How much easier it would be not to know. But now she had to.

There was only one person who could tell her the truth. She had trusted Simon with her most private feelings about Daniel’s death. She had even confided in him how much she missed their
Saturday-afternoon siestas, spent in bed with champagne and an old film. Her head throbbed with rage as she thought of everything she had told him. The least he could do was tell her all she wanted
to know. As she neared the main building, she saw him through the window, sitting alone at the bar, nursing a glass of whisky.

She quickened her pace.

E
ve was enjoying herself. The music was loud, the drink was flowing, people were having a good time. She hadn’t wanted a staid
standing-around drinks party, but something where her friends would feel able to let go. And that was what was happening. The tables, decorated with Anna’s wild-flower posies, were littered
with bottles, glasses and coffee cups. The meal had been extravagant and delicious but simple. As the evening progressed, the noise level had risen and she sensed things were going well.

She had deliberately kept a check on how much she drank so she could make sure everyone had a good time. As importantly, she didn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of her few
precious clients that they had invited. Not that she needed to worry. Laurie Murray, one of her longest-standing teen-lit authors, was sailing at least five sheets to the wind and coming into
harbour beside her right then.

‘Great party, Eve.’ Laurie’s eyelids were at half-mast, revealing the streaks of eye make-up congealed along the hollows. Similarly, her lipstick had bled into the tiny
wrinkles around her mouth. For a wildly inappropriate moment, Eve was reminded of a cat’s arse. She banished the thought, putting out a hand in support as Laurie lurched sideways.

‘Glad you’re having a good time.’ Laurie had collapsed so that she was half sitting on one of the chairs. Eve sat beside her, amused to imagine what Laurie’s adoring
tribe of under-fifteen readers would think if they could see her now.

‘We are.’ Laurie waved a hand in the vague direction of her husband, who, wine glass in hand, looked faintly alarmed at his wife’s progress. ‘But Eve,’ she said,
leaning forward, looking intent, waving a finger under Eve’s nose, ‘there’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you.’

‘Really?’ Eve tried to sound her most interested.

Laurie straightened herself on the chair. ‘Now what have I done with my bag?’ She grasped a fabric tie that led under her vast corseted behind to a bag of infinitesimal proportions,
from where she retrieved a lipstick and small mirror. Eve waited nervously while her prized client attempted to cover up the wine stains on her lips. After she’d wiped a dab of red from one
of her front teeth, Laurie started again. ‘Now. Yes. I just want you to know how glad we are, and I know I speak for more than one of your authors, that you’re coming through that bad
patch. I, for one, have no intention of leaving the sinking ship. And I want you to know that.’

Eve couldn’t help laughing as she grasped the other woman’s hand. ‘Thank you, Laurie. Though I’m not sure that I want to be thought of as a sinking ship.’

A look of embarrassment crossed Laurie’s generous features as she realised what she’d said. She opened her mouth, but Eve stopped her.

‘I’m as afloat as I ever was. All we need is one or two new crew members and we’ll weather the storm.’ This extended sailing metaphor finally defeated her.

Laurie lurched forward to give her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Darling, you’re quite wonderful. And that dress looks wonderful too. You’ll have to tell me your secret. You must have
lost pounds.’

‘Well, there’s something to be said for anxiety.’ Eve extricated herself from her client’s slightly sweaty embrace. ‘We’ll talk about it another
time.’

But Laurie was there to stay. She leaned forward again, about to speak. Eve made an effort to look engaged, although her foot was tapping to the Beach Boys’ ‘California
Dreaming’.