The Secrets Women Keep (8 page)

‘Perhaps we should,’ agreed Rose, wondering when Rick had come into the picture. She would find out later, no doubt. ‘I need to pick up a few bits and pieces for tonight on the
way home.’

While Daniel went inside to find the waiter, Anna stood up. ‘I think I’ll go on ahead. He can be so bloody unreasonable.’ She put the shoulder strap of her bag over her head,
bangles rattling, and walked off.

‘Can’t you try to talk some sense into her?’ Rose begged. ‘She won’t listen to me. I need to go to the deli; I’ll meet you all back at the car.’

‘I’ll do my best.’ Eve promised, even though Anna was no more likely to listen to her than she was to Rose.

Anna was heading across the sloping square towards the church in the far corner. By the time Eve had elbowed her way through a bunch of Lycra-clad cyclists who’d dropped their cycles where
they’d got off them and were showering bottles of water over each other, her quarry had disappeared between the buildings. Wondering whether she wouldn’t be better removing her sandals,
which were now rubbing on her other foot too, Eve limped after her, biting the corner of her lip to displace the pain.

She eventually caught up at a row of canvas-covered street stalls. Anna was talking to one of the stallholders who was surrounded by cages of small birds. Eve approached just as her niece handed
over cash in exchange for a cage containing two zebra finches.

‘What
are
you doing, Anna? You’re not taking them back in the car? You can’t. The poor things.’ Having been sent ahead to put matters right, Eve realised that the
situation had already slipped right out of her grasp.

Bar a long-suffering glance, Anna ignored her. Not entirely surprised by the lack of reaction (four children of her own meant she knew what to expect), Eve watched as Anna put the cage on the
ground, opened the door and reached inside for one of the birds. She held it cupped in her hands. A few passers-by had stopped to see what she was doing, but she ignored them. She held the bird up,
looking into its beady frightened eyes, kissed its orange beak then tossed it into the air.

A knot of people gathered round her, cheering. There was a click of a camera as she reached down for the second bird. Playing to her growing audience, she stood, showed it around, then repeated
the performance. The second bird flew upwards to join the other where it sat on a tree branch. For a moment they looked down at the crowd before disappearing together through the branches above
them into the sky.

‘Freedom, Eve. We’re all entitled to that.’ Anna handed the cage back to the open-mouthed stallholder and wiped her hands on her skirt, looking satisfied with what she had just
done.

Eve said nothing. Perhaps this was not the best moment to remind Anna of birds of prey, of nature red in tooth and claw, of the fact that freedom often came at a price.

R
ose’s harmonious family holiday was in free fall. Experience should have taught her, but she had successfully blanked all those nightmare
holiday moments from the past, which now rushed unbidden into her mind – trapped in a freezing Welsh cottage, rain battering at the windows, with only one jigsaw that was missing the vital
pieces; losing Anna on a crowded beach; Jess burning her hand on a Calor gas light that had been left on the floor during a power cut; the hire boat capsizing when Dan insisted on diving off it
– each one a cause for upset or reproach. Back then, an argument could be resolved, a mood transformed, a doctor called, a game begun, the TV switched on. But now . . . now things were very
different.

She sat slumped at the kitchen table. How had they ended up with two daughters who, so many years later, could still cause them so much heartache? Was it the way she and Daniel had brought them
up? As for Daniel . . . the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that had been lodged there since the previous day gave another roll. If only everyone would disappear so they could talk. Perhaps
it wasn’t too late. Perhaps she had overreacted and things hadn’t gone as far as she feared.

Jess had still not returned her phone call. Not even a message. Of course, she was busy managing Trevarrick all day, but was that also a convenient excuse not to contact her? Had Daniel finally
driven a permanent wedge between them? But surely Jess realised that her father would come round in the end.

Meanwhile Anna, who had endured the drive back from Arezzo without another word to any of them before refusing lunch, was now sulking by the pool. Rose had gone down to try to persuade her to
eat something, but Anna’s head was turned away, her eyes firmly shut, her earphones in. The message was clear.

Daniel had been unusually quiet since they’d returned. As soon as he could, he had shut himself in the study under pretext of work that needed to be done.
Miss. Love. Come back
. The
words tormented Rose.

She had noticed Terry’s surprised reaction to Daniel’s departure. When her brother holidayed, he didn’t muddle pleasure with work. Never. His life was organised within an inch
of itself with each of its compartments distinct from the rest. However, since they’d been back, Terry and Eve had clearly had some kind of tiff and were now barely speaking. He had retired
to the sitting room, where he was glued to Sky Sports, the sound of the excited commentary just audible in the kitchen. Eve had disappeared to their room to sleep off the couple of large glasses of
white wine she’d downed at lunch in the face of Terry’s obvious disapproval – again.

Rose picked up her mobile and stared at Jess’s number. She could put herself out of her misery by simply making the call. Her finger hovered, then pressed the home button. Nothing worse
than a nagging mother. Nothing. Not that she had had one to compare herself to. Her mother had lived a life at one remove from her children, often retiring to bed ‘tired and emotional’
after too much refreshment or when she was feeling under par. Nonetheless, when Jess got married, Rose had made herself a shortlist of don’ts as a reminder.

Don’t nag.

Don’t worry.

Don’t interfere.

Don’t moan.

Don’t compare.

Don’t be wise after the event.

Don’t treat them like children.

She suspected that she’d failed on all counts already.

She tucked the phone into her apron pocket, and turned her attention to weighing out the flour to make Eve’s birthday brownies for that evening’s celebration. Every year Eve asked
her not to make a fuss, and every year Rose took no notice. Eve would be so let down if there weren’t a party, however low key. Besides, having something to do occupied her. Cooking was a
great soother of the soul. Breaking the eggs into the sugar, she balanced the bowl on a damp cloth to steady it and began to beat them with strong, regular strokes. Comforted by the rhythm, her
thoughts wandered back to Daniel and Terry.

During all the years he’d looked after the hotel’s finances, nothing of Terry’s pragmatic attitude towards business had rubbed off on Daniel. Her husband’s
work–life balance was non-existent and always had been. Where Terry could delegate, Daniel hated handing over responsibility for anything, even to his brother-in-law or daughter, the two
people he probably trusted the most. As a result, he was on call twenty-four/seven. Rose was used to him disappearing to take care of whatever needed his attention and reappearing when things were
sorted. Her own involvement in the business had ended years ago, when she chose to be a full-time mum, and she was grateful that Daniel had embraced so wholeheartedly what her parents had left
them. But her recent discovery had thrown his absences into question. For the first time, her trust in him had been rocked.

Rose’s only company was a tiny lizard poised motionless halfway up the wall by the door. She wrapped a couple of handfuls of walnuts in a tea towel and crushed them with the end of a
rolling pin. It was hot in the kitchen, despite the sun never penetrating the furthest reaches of the room. The shaft that did enter the doorway acted as a sundial. As it narrowed and slanted more
obliquely towards the dresser, she knew it must be nearing five o’clock. She wiped her face with the edge of her apron.

Humming ‘I Vow to Thee My Country’ – one of her old school hymns – she eventually put the brownie mixture into the oven and began to clear up. She wasn’t religious,
despite her haphazard C of E upbringing, but there was something soothing about the music of her childhood that she returned to without thinking when she needed a little balm in her life.

‘What is this? A funeral or something?’

Rose looked up at the sound of Anna’s voice. ‘Just singing to myself.’

‘I’m sorry, Mum.’ Anna came over to put her arm round Rose’s shoulders, licking the middle finger of her other hand and wiping her mother’s cheek.
‘You’ve got flour all over your face!’

Her gesture revived times past when, to cries of protest, Rose would spit on the corner of a hankie to clean up the girls’ faces. She lifted a hand to her other cheek and gave it a swift
rub.

‘Look, I brought these. Will they make up for my being such a sulky bitch?’ Anna handed over a small candy-striped paper bag.

As Rose opened the bag, she began to laugh. ‘They’re heaven! Where did you get them?’ In her hand lay ten cake candles: ten plump little pink wax bodies on sticks, five of them
buxom in salmon-pink basques, white stockings and suspenders and five of them in posing pouches, bow ties and cuffs.

‘One of those gift shops that are full of crap no one needs – except for these.’

‘Eve’s going to love them.’ Rose slipped them back into the bag and put them next to the cooling rack.

‘Can I do anything?’ This was Anna’s way of making up.

Rose could feel her own relief at the return of Anna’s good humour. ‘Not really. But you could dig out the Happy Birthday banner and pin it up.’

‘Are you sure? Isn’t she a bit old for that sort of thing?’ Realising how scathing she sounded, Anna modified her tone. ‘Wouldn’t something a bit more sophisticated
be better?’

‘If you can think of something, then by all means.’ But Rose knew that Anna, like the rest of them, relied on these totems from the past. These familiar and well-loved traditions saw
them through every year.

Anna had already opened the cupboard at the far end of the room and was rootling about. ‘Oh my God. I can’t believe you kept this.’ She pulled out a broken piñata
– a donkey made out of frills of green, yellow and pink paper, one ear hanging off, a useless remnant of her twenty-first party that Rose hadn’t been able to bring herself to throw
away, for silly sentimental reasons. As she tried to unearth the banner, Anna spoke again, this time more tentatively. ‘You don’t think the idea of a garden centre’s mad, do
you?’

The need for reassurance was a touching reminder of the child Anna had been.

Rose chose her words carefully. ‘No, not mad exactly.’

‘Well if not mad, then what?’ Immediately Anna was on the defensive. ‘It’s exactly what our area needs. Lots of gardens, nowhere to buy plants. It’s just a question
of finding the right property.’

‘Really?’ Rose said vaguely as she tried to smooth out the crushed Happy Birthday banner, wishing she’d had the forethought to buy a new one. ‘I’m sure you could
make it work. It’s just that—’

But Anna didn’t let her finish. ‘Well then, Dad’s just got to help us. You’ll talk to him, won’t you?’

So that was the reason for her apology. Good old Anna, always to be relied on to think of number one.

‘Darling, there’s no need for me to talk to him. All you have to do is produce the paperwork he’s asked for.’

‘I might have known you’d be on his side.’ Anna got up, the heel of her espadrille catching in the hem of her skirt. She righted it with a frustrated tug that ripped the
stitching. ‘Shit!’ The bangles rattled.

‘I’m not on anyone’s side,’ protested Rose, but her words were wasted on her daughter, who was already disappearing down the corridor.

Rose sat back on her knees and sighed, closing her eyes and, with her thumbs pressing against her cheekbones, massaged her temples in slow, soothing circles while waiting for Anna to return. Her
daughter never gave up that easily. If only she could be more like Jess instead of constantly swimming against the current. They had always been so different. While Jess worked in the hotel bar or
as a chambermaid during the school holidays, Anna would be mucking out at the local riding school or working as a track hand at the nearby go-kart circuit. When Jess was at home playing or reading,
Anna would escape for hours with their Border terrier, Button, down to the beach or the long wooded valley that stretched inland near the hotel. They had no need of the company of anyone else.
Those days were easy in comparison with this.

She didn’t have to wait for long. The smell of the brownies was filling the kitchen when her daughter returned, obviously having composed herself to try again.

‘If it’s being fair to Jess that’s worrying you both, I really don’t think you should.’

‘I suspect that’s not Dad’s main concern.’ Leaving the banner on the table, Rose took the brownies from the oven, plunging a skewer into the nearest.

‘She has got the hotel, after all.’

Rose studied the chocolate goo on the skewer, satisfied. Then, ‘Hardly “got”,’ she corrected.

‘Maybe not, technically. But it’s only a matter of time. She’s managing Trevarrick now. I know she’s answerable about everything to Dad, but even so.’

‘But you never wanted to have anything to do with the place,’ Rose objected. ‘Jess has worked every holiday there since she was a teenager and took her hospitality business
management degree exactly so that she could make her career there. She loves Cornwall, whereas you flew off to the other side of the world as soon as you could.’ She decided not to remind
Anna that the trip was something else largely funded by Daniel.

‘Exactly. My point. I didn’t want to work there, true, but Dad has supported her all the way. Now that I’ve found something I really want to do, that I believe in, it’s
my turn. It’s only fair.’