The Secrets Women Keep (5 page)

She brought up Amy’s address and quickly typed:

Any problems? Eve

She hesitated. That rather suggested she expected there might be, which was unfair. If you didn’t count the weekend, she’d only been out of the office for less than a day. Perhaps
she was being too abrupt. She added an x after her name – the kiss that took the sting out of any email. Then she deleted it for not being sufficiently businesslike and added:

Do get back to me re Rufus’s contract. And have you had time to look at the new Alasdair King illustrations yet?

She reread the message. Too authoritarian? But what if it was? It was important to establish which of them was in charge and what was still expected of Amy, whatever her job title. All the same
 . . . She reinstated the x, then sent the email without more ado and moved on to the most pressing incoming messages, reading a few of them, replying, then stopping. There was nothing more here
that couldn’t wait a couple of hours for an answer. She slid the phone into the shade beneath the lounger, closed her eyes and abandoned herself to the moment.

Halfway down the corridor to the stairs, Rose had second thoughts. She was so confused and upset, so unsure of the right way to handle her discovery. If she was right, if
Daniel was having an affair, she didn’t trust herself to be alone with him just yet. Not even to discuss Jess. She was frightened of what she might blurt out in the heat of the moment, and
worse, of what he might say in reply.

Instead she turned in to the small studio room where she kept all her painting materials. She stripped off, hung her shift on the back of the door and put on the smock and skirt that hung beside
it. She found a talismanic comfort in their familiarity and would draw or paint in nothing else. She picked up a large sketchpad and her bag, put on her hat and left the house.

She heard the sound of voices by the pool. Terry and Eve. Bickering probably. Their relationship seemed to flourish on their differences, a way of relating that Rose couldn’t imagine for
herself. From the outside, their marriage couldn’t be more different from hers and Daniel’s. But now she wasn’t sure any more. An undertow of sadness tugged at her, that and fear
of the future. Nothing would be the same now.

The path took her along the track that ran between fields of dying sunflowers, their large blackened heads turned away from the sun, hanging dejected towards the ground, their leaves pale and
wilting. But she was oblivious to her surroundings until she passed the field containing rows of glittering black solar panels. Just beyond them she turned up the hill, past a narrow vineyard, to
the edge of a small oak wood. There the track became a narrow path, less stony underfoot, that she followed up and round the edge of the trees till she reached a clearing where the treeline drew
back behind a patch of rocks. This was where she always came when she needed time out, rediscovering it with every change of season.

From this vantage point she could see down the valley to vineyards like perfect corduroy, and two old farmhouses basking in the heat. In the distance, a small medieval hilltop village, its
church spire marking the summit. The sound of children shouting carried up to her on the air, then the solemn tolling of the monastery bell – every hour on the hour. She settled herself on
her favourite rock, the one that dipped against a taller one to make a natural seat, and took out her sketchbook, watercolours and paintbrushes.

Within ten minutes she was absorbed in capturing the landscape, the trees and the light and shade of the valley around her, as the sun began its slow descent. Daniel, their marriage, gradually
retreated to the back of her mind as she concentrated on her painting. When the bell tolled the hour again, she came to, almost surprised at having cleared her mind so successfully. Six
o’clock. Immediately her focus switched to home. Anna would be arriving soon, and she must be there to greet her. Daniel would be awake and wondering where she was. Then:
Miss. Love. Come
back
. Each word a knife thrust to her heart.

She laid her pad on the ground beside her, her thoughts turning around her marriage again. But as she cleaned her brush, then threw out the coloured water from the jar, she identified an
additional emotion to the disbelief, pain and confusion she’d experienced since the morning. The first stirrings of anger were adding themselves to the cocktail. After all these years, how
dare he? After everything they’d been through together, Daniel was prepared to toss the whole lot away.

If she knew him at all, he’d be finding confession difficult. How long had it taken him to admit that he and Eve had been lovers, albeit briefly? He didn’t tell her that for one
whole year. A year in which her friendship with Eve had been built on her ignorance. Eve had kept her silence too. By the time Daniel had finally admitted the truth of their relationship, all three
of them and Will had become so close that Rose hadn’t wanted to unpick things. She loved Daniel and was confident he loved her. Eve was her closest friend by then and deep into her
relationship with Will. If anything, sharing Daniel had brought them closer together. The deceit had only been for her benefit and their affair was in the past. Unlike this one. Well, so be it. She
would wait until he had no option but to confess. And then she would be ready.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she started for home with a heavy heart. By the time she arrived, the others were on the terrace. She heard the click of dominoes, Eve’s voice and then
Daniel’s laughter before she slipped into the house, dropped off her stuff in the studio and went up to their bedroom. Leaving her painting clothes on the bed, she went into the bathroom and
turned on the shower. While the water warmed up, she brushed her teeth, staring at her reflection. A middle-aged woman stared back, although something of the tomboy that she had once been was still
close to the surface: hair cut short to frame her face, skin freckled, and the beginnings of a few fine lines.

What did ‘S’ look like? she wondered, shivering slightly despite the heat. What sort of woman would have succeeded where she suspected many had failed? Her polar opposite? She ran
through the sex goddess clichés: large, bosomy, fleshy arms and legs, big hair, large-featured, smoky eyes, bee-stung lips. Her breath caught as she pressed her own less generous ones
together, watching her eyes well up. She looked away quickly and stepped into the shower, where the jets of water beat on her head, then her face, until she felt nothing but a deep, angry
despair.

From the shower she went through to the wardrobe and ripped a choice of clothes off the hangers. What was appropriate for a wronged woman? Having chosen a pair of white linen trousers and an
aquamarine T-shirt (as inappropriate as anything else she had), she replaced the rest, slid her feet into her sandals and returned to the bathroom, hand-drying her hair on the way. Just as she was
putting on the merest hint of make-up – might as well remind him what he’d be missing – she heard the sound of the door opening. She braced herself.

‘Mum!’

Anna. She rushed through to the bedroom, and hugged her older daughter to her. ‘I didn’t hear the car.’ Then she pushed her away so she could see her. ‘You look so
well.’

Anna’s dress sense was nothing if not idiosyncratic. Taller than her mother, she was wearing a long flounced flowery skirt, a skimpy top that emphasised her skinniness, and countless
necklaces, and bracelets that clashed together every time she moved her arms. Her long dark hair was pulled back and fastened behind her head with a hibiscus flower clasp. Her face was pale,
elfin-like in its sharp lines. A pink sapphire nose stud drew attention to the curve of her nostril.

‘And you look, well . . . I don’t know. The same as usual, I guess.’

Rose laughed. ‘Have you seen the others?’

‘Of course not. I wanted to see you first and I guessed you might be here. Pre-drinks shower and all that.’ She hadn’t forgotten the family routines that had ingrained
themselves over the years.

‘You know me too well.’ Rose took her hand. ‘Let’s join them. Oh!’ She lifted Anna’s once pretty hand to the light, now with nails bitten down to the quick.
‘I’m not sure about that one. Dad’ll hate it.’

‘Too bad.’ Anna twisted her wrist to admire the large silver ring in the shape of a skull that covered the whole of the lowest section of her middle finger. ‘I’m thirty,
for God’s sake. My life. Remember?’

‘I know.’ Rose pretended resignation. ‘Come on then. I’ve so much to ask you.’

‘Uncle Terry here? And Eve?’ Anna sat on the edge of the bed, rattling her bangles up and down her wrist.

‘Of course. I’m sure I told you they were getting here before you. Eve’s in a state because her case hasn’t arrived.’

Anna smiled, knowing too well the hoo-ha that would involve. ‘You probably did, but I forgot. I was hoping to catch Dad on his own before they got here.’ She looked up at her mother,
lifting a hand to her mouth and scraping the top of her thumbnail on a front tooth – a nervous habit.

Rose resisted saying anything. She’s not a child any more. She’s a grown woman.

‘Still, I’ll find my moment.’

There was something in Anna’s eyes that worried Rose. She must want to wheedle something out of Daniel that she knew he wouldn’t easily give. Again. Rose put a hand out to still the
clatter of the bangles. She wouldn’t ask. Easier to deal with the request when it came, rather than anticipate the worst. Her thumb traced the faint but unmistakable white scars that marked
Anna’s forearm.

Anna snatched her arm away, strategically rearranging the bangles. ‘Have they started arguing yet?’

‘Anna, really!’ Rose tried to sound disapproving. ‘They’re not that bad.’

‘Yes they are. They’re always bickering. At least you and Dad have never been like that.’

‘Some people get on best when they’re arguing. The bad times make the good times better.’ She wasn’t sure that was what she really believed. ‘Who knows what makes a
marriage tick? Not even the people involved . . .’ She left the sentence unfinished.

‘Mum!’

Anna’s voice brought her back to her senses, reminding her that she mustn’t let her guard slip. ‘What?’ she said quickly. Her daughters must know nothing until she and
Daniel had sorted things out.

‘That’s very philosophical for a Monday night.’ Anna looked perplexed, as if wondering what had come over her mother.

‘You know me, darling. Full of surprises.’ Rose stood up, fighting a pressing desire to run away. ‘Come on, they’ll be wondering what’s happened to me. And you must
say hello.’

‘Make my entrance, you mean?’ Anna laughed. ‘If you insist.’ And she followed her mother from the room.

‘Y
ou’re being so obstructive, Dad.’ Anna put down her glass and swept her hair back over her shoulder, shaking her head so it
fell straight. The hibiscus clasp lay discarded on the table. ‘You know you want Jess here as much as we do. It’s not going to be the same without them. Just call her.’

Daniel looked up from his fig tart, putting down his spoon. His eyes widened slightly under the frown, surprised at someone disagreeing with a decision he’d made. ‘Anna, you
don’t know what you’re talking about. Adam refused the work I offered him.’ His voice was quiet but firm as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.
‘If Jess chooses not to come here as a result of what was said, that’s her business.’ His foot tapped on the floor. Just once. Then again. He scratched behind his ear.

The five of them sat at one end of the large farmhouse table on the terrace, sheltered by the vine-clad pergola. A shaft of light beamed through the open kitchen door, but too far away to
illuminate the table. Instead, the outdoor light over the sitting room door added to the light of the candles. Rose and Anna had made a chestnut and butternut risotto, followed by saltimbocca alla
Romana, delicate veal
scaloppini
with prosciutto and sage, all pronounced excellent by the others. Until now, the atmosphere had been convivial, relaxed.

Rose recognised the warning signs and stepped in swiftly. ‘I’ll talk to her,’ she said. ‘I’ll explain and then they’ll be on that plane as planned.’

Eve yawned. ‘Well one of you should do something, or you’ll miss the boat altogether.’ She laughed at her rather feeble joke, apparently heedless of the stony silence into
which she’d dropped it. ‘Or the plane – just like my wretched case!’ she added.

Sometime before dinner, Terry had spent an hour on the phone trying to trace the missing luggage. For some reason, it had been rerouted to Rome. The airline had promised to deliver it the next
day. In the meantime, Eve was making do with what she could borrow. At the moment she was sporting a generously cut dress of Rose’s in fine blue-and-green striped jersey; a much more casual
look than she was used to.

Beyond the terrace, down past the pool, the land fell away into the valley towards the inky silhouettes of distant hills pricked with orange and white lights marking out villages or lone
farmhouses. The candle flames flickered in the breeze sending shadows slipping across their faces. Rose pulled her pashmina tighter around her shoulders.

Daniel pushed his chair back, noisy on the stone. ‘I’ve got a couple of emails to deal with, if you’ll all excuse me. See you in the morning.’

As he disappeared inside, the four of them looked at one another. It was unlike him to leave a gathering early. Rose speculated miserably on the reasons why, but said nothing. Instead, she took
a deep breath, hoping to suppress the anxiety that had formed like a marble in her throat. The family had been together for less than twenty-four hours, and nothing was as she’d imagined
it.

At least Daniel’s absence meant that any row over Adam had been averted before the red light blazed and the rest of them were forced to run for cover. The worst of Daniel’s rages
were reserved exclusively for his family. Outsiders were rarely exposed to them.