The Secrets Women Keep (39 page)

‘Not bad, is it?’ he asked proudly. ‘Perhaps a bit too much chilli.’

A bit! The top of her head had practically blown off. ‘Mm-hm,’ she agreed, swallowing. ‘I still think we should go together.’

He tucked in enthusiastically. ‘You’ll do a much better job of cheering her up on your own. I think it’s a good idea. And I promise I won’t slip backwards. I know
that’s what’s worrying you.’

‘Won’t you?’ She shouldn’t ask but couldn’t help herself. She didn’t want to be the one responsible for any relapse, not now they were on the road to putting
his debts behind them. Thank God for Daniel and the hotels. Without them . . . well, it didn’t bear thinking about.

He stopped eating and looked at her. ‘Absolutely not. You’re going to have to learn to trust me, otherwise it’s hopeless. I can’t have you watching over me every hour of
the day and night. I have to do this myself.’

He was right. However difficult she found it, she couldn’t babysit him for ever. Her initial anger on learning what he’d done had been channelled into a ferocious determination to
get their fortunes back to square one as soon as she could. If that meant temporarily forfeiting her London assignations with Will, then she was prepared to wait for as long as she had to.
Fortunately he had been travelling, so hadn’t been pressing to see her. She couldn’t abandon Terry when he was at his lowest ebb, just couldn’t. Seeing him like that had brought
out all her loyalty and support for him. She had surprised herself as much as him. Having reached the nadir, he really did seem to be doing all he could to clean up his act. He wanted to save his
marriage, believing the distance between them had grown thanks only to his addiction. He had no idea of Will’s involvement.

In fact, Eve could think of nothing she would like more than seeing Rose. If she could do anything to help her or cheer her up, she would. Being in London wouldn’t be wasted because she
could double up and make some overdue work appointments too. In fact, she had a couple of projects that would benefit from her talking them up in person. The office would be safe in May’s
hands, and besides, Eve would be only a call away. And then of course there was Will . . .

W
ill was late. Eve held her wrist as far away as she could, twisting it as she tried to make out the time on her fashionable but minuscule watch.
Even with her reading glasses, she still could barely see the numbers. She moved her arm irritably, trying to catch the light. She had been waiting for twenty minutes and her mood was
thunderous.

As she groped in her bag for her BlackBerry to check her emails, the bristle of her hairbrush pierced down behind her middle nail. She cursed under her breath and squeezed the tip of her finger
until the pain wore off.

They hadn’t seen each other for weeks, and yet he couldn’t be bothered to get himself here on time. What did that say for their relationship? But it was typical of him. First time
round, this had happened time and again. Once she had thrown a glass of water over him when he appeared, protesting that he’d had to watch the end of some Wimbledon match when she knew one of
the players he named had been knocked out of the tournament the previous day. After that, he had mended his ways – to a degree. But time had helped them both forget.

This time she extricated her phone successfully and called up his number. She heard his recorded voice apologising for not being able to get to the phone and inviting her to leave a message.
Why? What the hell was he doing? They’d made this arrangement days ago. Her last words to him had been ‘Don’t be late.’ He’d just laughed.

She flicked over to her postbox. Her emails mounted up with the speed of a Tetris game if she didn’t deal with them whenever she could. This was one of those opportunities, she reminded
herself, trying to take the positive from the situation. One from Rufus, asking to see her. She flagged it to attend to later, intrigued but not wanting to fire off a reply without some thought.
Others from clients and a couple of publishers whose queries could be quickly answered. One from Terry. He had promised to email after every Gamblers Anon meeting.

I still feel like a bit of an amateur beside some of the others. But I’ve been and I’ve kept my word and not placed a single bet. Don’t worry. Enjoy yourself.

Terry had continued to encourage her to visit Rose. He was genuinely concerned for his sister’s prolonged grief over Daniel’s death and believed Eve could help her. Of course he had
no idea that Will might be an added temptation in the equation. She had told Rose she was meeting Will for coffee, just coffee, for God’s sake. Rose had been icy in her response, despite this
brief interlude taking nothing away from the long, lazy evenings and the couple of outings the two of them had planned. Eve had also persuaded herself that she and Terry needed a few days apart to
take stock. She needed distance to weigh up what was important to her now.

She sat back and sipped her coffee. Around her, the café was filling up. She had arranged to meet him in the morning because she wanted to get back to Rose. Guilt at going out to meet
Will warred with her longing to see him again. The longing had won. She’d even left the house early and bought the gun-smoke linen dress especially for the occasion. And he still wasn’t
here.

As she returned her attention to her BlackBerry, it rang – too loudly for the two primped and suited women on the next table, who glared and muttered to each other. They no doubt still
depended on their landlines and enjoyed the freedom of a mobile-free existence. Despite their annoyance at the interruption, Eve answered, whispering as a concession to them.
‘Hello.’

‘Eve! Don’t hang up, please. It’s Simon.’ She almost dropped the phone.

‘Why the hell are you phoning me?’ she hissed, turning her back on her neighbours, whose hostility was quite open now.

‘I’ve got to talk to you.’ His urgency kept her listening when she knew she should hang up. ‘Let me explain. Please.’

‘Explain what?’ She kept the phone to her ear.

‘About Daniel. You’re the only person who’ll understand. I know you knew everything about him. He told me.’

‘That’s not true.’ Then, all at once, she knew. She hadn’t made a mistake. Dan had been one of the two men on the Royal Mile all those years ago after all. He had seen
her, and said nothing. That kiss. Two men standing so close, in the shadows. She’d seen them but hadn’t wanted it to be him, hadn’t wanted the rumours she’d heard to be
true. Back then, a little sexual experimentation was far more shocking that it would be now. He would have worried that her knowing would change his relationship with her and their friends. So
rather than mention it, admitting or denying, he’d decided it was better for him to say nothing. With luck, she would convince herself she was mistaken. Exactly as she had, thus burying the
secret deep. Why would she have thought anything when he hooked up with Rose so soon afterwards, so obviously devoted to her from day one? But by doing that, he had based their continuing
friendship on a conspiracy of silence that she had failed to recognise until this minute. He couldn’t even admit the truth to her when he’d had that very last chance. How naive she had
been.

‘I need your help to see Rose again.’ Still urgent, but pleading too.

‘Why would she want to see you after what’s happened?’ She was shocked by his nerve.

‘Because I can help her through this. We can help each other.’

His arrogance silenced her for a second. As she tried to find an appropriate put-down, she was distracted by a commotion on the other side of the table. Will had pulled out the opposite chair
and was sitting down, dropping a shopping bag, mouthing apologies, passing a crimson rose across the table – an embarrassingly showy gesture of conciliation. All this to the now intrigued
glares from the neighbouring table.

‘I’ve got to go,’ she muttered, acknowledging Will’s presence with a smile, before returning her attention to the call. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Then I’ll call you tomorrow so we can talk. Same time?’

‘No! Don’t do that.’ The last thing she wanted was to be pestered until she gave in. Instead, she’d take control. ‘I’ll meet you upstairs in the Patisserie
Francine in Covent Garden at ten tomorrow morning. I’ve got a meeting in Bloomsbury at eleven thirty.’

She hung up, already half regretting the arrangement. Before she had time to think further, the rose was being pressed into her hand as Will leaned across to kiss her. He smelled as if
he’d just emerged from the shower, damp and fresh. His face was smooth, newly shaved. He’d changed his cologne to something more floral than before. She wasn’t sure that she liked
it. Feeling a thorn prick her finger, she pulled her hand back, letting it tear through her skin. The rose fell between them on to the table.

‘Great start,’ he said, as if it was her fault, then passed her a paper napkin.

She pressed it on the cut to absorb the beads of blood, then picked up the rose and stuck it in her long water glass to admire the velvety claret-coloured petals that unfurled from the even
darker centre. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘To make up for keeping you waiting. You haven’t been here long?’ That smile again.

‘Is over half an hour long in your book? It is in mine.’

Her snippiness obviously surprised him. He wrinkled his nose in boyish appeal. ‘Come on, darling. Don’t be like that. I couldn’t help it. Unavoidably delayed.’ He reached
across the table for her hand. But before she had time to take it, his cuff caught the glass holding the rose and sent it flying towards the floor, at the same time splashing water all over the leg
of one of the women at the next table.

While their incandescent neighbour was mopped up and placated with a piece of chocolate torte, Eve’s thoughts returned to Simon. Meeting him would give her a chance to tell him what she
thought of him. She would hear what he had to say and then dispense with him fairly but firmly, however convincing his self-justification. That was the very least she could do for Rose. She had
seen for herself how important his friendship had been to her. He had given her the sort of kindness and company that even Eve, her closest friend, could never have provided. That was another
reason why finding out the truth had to be so hard. Rose had lost both him and Daniel now. However, Eve knew what she had to do. And to tell the truth, she quite relished the idea of involving
herself – just a bit.

Eventually she had Will to herself again. His earlier good humour was teetering on the edge of extinction, most of it having been used to sort out the shenanigans on the next table.

‘What kept you?’ She couldn’t stop herself asking.

‘Oh, you know,’ he said vaguely. ‘Wasn’t watching the time. I’ve got a lot on at the moment, before I head off to Africa the week after next.’

Eve had forgotten he was off again, this time to the Okavango delta, in his tireless quest for photographically obliging wildlife. But she was unhappy with his excuse. ‘Doing what?’
she asked, noting the flicker of irritation in his eyes.

‘For heaven’s sake, Evie.’ He always called her that when he was making up to her. ‘We’re not married any more. This and that, OK? Anyway, what does it matter?
We’re here together now.’

In fact, no, it wasn’t OK at all. Their time together was precious and she hated wasting it. There was something different about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Perhaps it was just the new scent, the new grey-and-red-checked shirt that he wore like a jacket over the dark T-shirt, or her own predisposition for suspicion. Despite all that, she forced herself
to concentrate on the little time they had left. Within minutes they were back on an even keel, the chaos of his arrival forgotten, and she had a hundred per cent of his stomach-melting
attention.

‘You’re looking better than ever,’ he said, once again reaching for her hand, this time successfully avoiding everything on the table. ‘And you’re wearing the
bangle. That means a lot to me.’

Eve glanced down at the bracelet Terry had given her and said nothing. Instead she gave what she hoped was a smile that smouldered, at the same time remembering the bangle Will had given her
still wrapped up in the sanitary towel bag buried among her wash things. She would never be able to ask him if she could change it. Too complicated. Too many ramifications. Another secret. She
swiftly changed tack, reminding him of the time he’d given her a silver Russian wedding ring that she’d thrown at him in a temper. It had rolled away into a drain in the gutter outside
their flat. Their efforts with a number of unbent wire coat-hangers had met with nothing but failure. They laughed, reminded of their shared past. Neither of them mentioned their future but it was
there, as large as any elephant in the room. Eventually he asked the question she’d been hoping to avoid.

‘Have you told Terry yet? About us?’ His eyes were so intent on her, she felt like a butterfly pinned to a board. To avoid them, she bent to return her BlackBerry to her bag.

‘No, I couldn’t. Not yet.’

As she faced him again, she saw that flare of irritation, gone as quickly as it came.

‘I haven’t been able to. He’s got too much on his plate.’ She couldn’t confess how torn she was between the two of them. Will or Terry. Terry or Will. Will
wasn’t interested. Nor would he be interested in Terry’s problems and how it was Eve’s immediate duty to support him, whatever her final decision. He didn’t want her
problems, just solutions for them both. And he wanted her. But ever since the anniversary party, she couldn’t ignore the two most pressing issues, of Terry and the agency – she
remembered Rufus’s email and wondered briefly what he could want with her. Walking away from her marriage was much more tricky than she’d imagined.

‘Evie, you promised weeks ago.’ He was full of reproach. ‘What’s the point otherwise?’

‘I know I did, but things have got in the way.’ How feeble she sounded, as vague as he had been earlier, but sharing Terry’s problems with Will would be a disloyalty too
far.