This Secret We're Keeping (3 page)

After that they’d spent a heady and intoxicating forty-eight hours together, though Jess had been disappointed to discover that Zak was in fact only an occasional visitor to Norfolk. His parents had recently moved to Dersingham but he himself was resident in Belsize Park in London, working as an A & E consultant. His erratic shift pattern and frequent hours on call combined with Jess’s catering commitments should have equated to a relationship that was finished before it had even begun – not to mention Zak’s highly acrimonious divorce that had only just arrived at its bitter conclusion after months of protracted wrangling over an assortment of financial assets.

But as it turned out, they were both committed to making it work. Jess would visit Zak in London on her days off, with Zak travelling back to Norfolk on his. She’d met his parents. He’d shaken her sister’s hand at a christening.
Things had progressed more healthily than she’d ever expected at the outset.

To date, Jess had only seen pictures of his ex-wife hidden away in various albums on his Facebook page – tall and blonde, with an aristocratic chin and a pout that only dermal fillers could achieve. As far as Jess could tell, Octavia was a part-time everything – jewellery designer, society magazine columnist, raving lunatic. The sort of woman who wore shorts with wellingtons and liked to shoot ducks at the weekend.

In most of the ways that mattered, Jess was Octavia’s complete opposite, which she knew was part of the reason Zak had liked her in the first place. He had admitted as much – to being charmed by the novelty of her – but as time passed it worried her more, because novelty value had a conversely predictable habit of wearing off.

Of course, he had his faults – he was hot-headed and had a foul temper; he could be controlling and more than a little patronizing. Jess had always quietly wondered what role these qualities had eventually played in his divorce, mostly because Zak liked to sidestep the topic of why he and Octavia had split up and, if pushed, would only repeat the phrase ‘irreconcilable differences’ without ever remaining calm enough to elaborate.

But Jess had recently discovered that Zak’s definition of irreconcilable differences varied slightly from hers, in that his seemed to encompass rampant infidelity – something she in fact considered significant enough to warrant its own category of marital breakdown, since it was hardly the same as bickering over household chores or not getting on with the in-laws.

Anna had already started busily decanting the Laurent-Perrier into the champagne flutes. ‘Just a taste won’t hurt,’
she murmured, almost under her breath, making Jess feel slightly guilty because Anna was usually such a paragon of self-control.

Averting her eyes temporarily from Zak, stalling while she sought reassurance, Jess leaned in towards Anna. ‘I found out the real reason that Octavia and Zak divorced, as opposed to the Zak Foster edited highlights.’

‘Ooh,’ said Anna, like they were discussing a local celebrity and not Jess’s actual boyfriend. ‘Go on – surprise me. Secret fetishist? Gambling addict? Reptile fanatic?’

Jess wasn’t sure if Anna was referring to Octavia or Zak, though she couldn’t resist a smile at her friend’s proclivity for turning everything into a Friday night in with reality television. She shook her head. ‘None of the above. Zak caught Octavia in the toilets at the theatre. She was shagging his
brother
.’

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ intoned Anna, digesting the news with the aid of a lengthy swig of Laurent-Perrier.

‘Yep,’ Jess said with a nod. This particular development in the Zak Foster divorce court saga she had not yet had the opportunity to discuss with the man himself, having only discovered it last night. It had been a throwaway comment made as part of a group conversation, with Jess forced to virtually interrogate her unwitting informant afterwards in order to get the full picture.

‘His
brother
? At the
theatre
?’ Anna said, like she was trying to decide which was worse – keeping it in the family, or the crime against performing arts.

Jess shook her head. ‘I know.’

Apparently Zak had turned up late to a weeknight performance of
La Bohème
, by which time Octavia and the brother had got sozzled in the bar and assumed he wasn’t coming at all. The ensuing showdown in the toilets was,
according to reports, nothing short of an operatic spectacle in itself. Six weeks later, Zak had filed for divorce, the brother having already fled to San Francisco to make it big in the world of online gaming.

‘Bloody hell,’ Anna breathed. ‘Poor Zak.’

Anna was a big fan of Zak’s, stemming mainly from the fact that he represented a change from Jess’s previous boyfriend, who although very sweet had a creative interpretation of full-time employment involving round-the-clock Xbox, Domino’s pizza and Jess’s credit card. In Anna’s eyes, the fact that Zak had not only an actual paying job, but the staying power to have completed a medical degree before climbing the ranks to become a consultant was more than enough to override his various faults (although she was no doubt also slightly dazzled by his brooding charm, shiny white teeth and the fact that he was half Andalucían on his mother’s side, which had genetically predisposed him to Hispanic good looks more befitting a film star than a doctor).

‘Why would he keep something like that from me?’ Jess said now. ‘She cheated on him, and he never told me.’

Anna looked uncertain. ‘Male pride?’ She frowned. ‘How reliable’s your source?’

‘Solid. His brother’s best friend.’

‘Fuck.’

‘I don’t know – maybe it doesn’t matter,’ Jess murmured, half to herself, repeating what had been whirring around her head since discovering Zak’s lack of honesty the previous night. ‘I mean, it was before we’d even met. He’s definitely going to say it’s completely irrelevant.’

‘
Yes
,’ Anna cut in, slicing her index finger through the air in the manner of a Westminster spin doctor knee-deep in damage limitation. ‘Exactly. Irrelevant.’

Jess took a contemplative swig from the glass Anna had passed her, but she couldn’t shake the thought of such a gaping omission in Zak’s account of his marriage. ‘I just … I really think he should have told me.’

Anna opened her mouth to reply, then appeared to change her mind in favour of clearing her throat and nodding subtly in Zak’s direction. ‘Just to clarify, I take it you don’t want to discuss Mr Landley and his bad driving within earshot of Zak?’

‘Actually,’ Jess mumbled, ‘Mr Landley does do a very good emergency stop.’

‘Well, Zak’s coming over,’ Anna said, switching on a sparkling smile and talking through her teeth, ‘so you need to tell me fast.’

‘Not here,’ Jess said urgently, her bad leg performing a reflexive little throb against the thought of Zak finding out and losing his rag about it all in the middle of a busy bar.

A couple of moments later, she felt a palm against her back.

‘I was going to send over wine, but champagne suits you so much better.’ Zak’s voice was creamy smooth, a cool announcement of himself like they’d been waiting all night for him to come over. He smelt vaguely of something lovely in musk by Calvin Klein, and his eyes twinkled darkly, as if in anticipation of an effusive reception – though until he’d explained himself about Octavia, Jess was reluctant to oblige. She shot a look in Anna’s direction designed to elicit solidarity, which promptly went ignored as Anna twittered something small-talky about his journey up from London and thanked him for the Laurent-Perrier.

‘You’re welcome,’ Zak told her. ‘I must say, I love your hair that colour, Anna. It suits you.’

Apparently not thinking this strange, given that she’d never in her life changed her hair colour, Anna simpered. ‘Oh, thanks.’

Zak turned to Jess, his hand still flat against her back as he bent down and delivered a kiss to the top of her head. ‘Managed to swap my shift. Happy anniversary, baby.’

‘How long are you in Norfolk for, Zak?’ Anna asked him brightly, saving Jess the trouble of having to cold-shoulder him out loud.

Cradling a glass of red, Zak took a seat next to Jess, flexing his jaw and running a hand over his dark graze of stubble as he sensed her coolness towards him. ‘Bank holiday. I’m here all weekend.’ He took a chance and slid his hand on to Jess’s left knee. ‘So, tell me. What have you two girls been talking about all this time?’

Forcing herself to nudge Matthew Landley from her mind, Jess met Anna’s eye, upon which Anna started gabbling across multiple fertility-related topics, from the benefits of acupuncture to her husband Simon’s sperm count. Jess remained quiet, happy for Anna to do the talking as she tried to ignore the intermittent squeezes Zak was applying to her thigh, though admittedly she was grateful he’d selected the leg without the automotive injury.

By the time Anna’s soliloquy had arrived at a natural pause some minutes later, Jess’s glass was empty. ‘Good girl,’ Zak murmured approvingly, grabbing the champagne and topping Jess back up before moving the bottle across to Anna, who shook her head.

‘Thanks, Zak, but I should go,’ she said, swigging back the last of her drink. ‘Told Simon I’d be back by ten. I’m literally ovulating as we speak.’

‘Good for you,’ Zak said encouragingly, like she’d just
announced she was off to scale Everest, but Jess caught him glancing slightly reproachfully at the array of empty glassware on the table.

‘Nice to see you, Zak,’ Anna said. ‘Make sure Jess gets home safely.’

Zak squeezed Jess’s leg again. ‘Oh, I will.’

Jess only just held back from smacking his hand away like a secretary from the sixties being groped by her boss.

‘Call me tomorrow,’ Anna said to Jess, then got up and click-clacked past them, blowing a kiss in the direction of Philippe on her way out.

Zak swivelled instantly round to face Jess before leaning in and kissing her. It was a slightly insistent kiss, the sort that suggested he really thought they should be heading off to locate the nearest mattress. ‘So am I a good surprise?’

Without really meaning to, Jess turned her gaze away from him to the row of cherry trees outside the window, their blossom turned dusky pink in the gathering gloom. For some reason, an image of Matthew floated gently into her mind. With some effort, she blinked it away.

‘Baby, what’s up?’ Zak was whispering, his hand against the back of her neck, his mouth close to her ear. ‘You literally haven’t said one word since I sat down.’

Jess swallowed and attempted to focus, reluctant to spoil their anniversary with an argument but too upset to discount what she’d heard. She looked across at him properly for the first time that evening. ‘I found out what really happened with Octavia,’ she stated flatly.

Zak frowned and sharply exited her personal space by leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. ‘What?’ he snorted, to buy himself some time.

‘They weren’t irreconcilable differences. She cheated on you with your brother. That’s why you divorced her.’

There was a short pause, during which Zak appeared to waver over continuing the pretence or saving himself the trouble and dropping it. Never one to make unnecessary work for himself, he opted for the latter by trying to evade the issue entirely. ‘Really? We’re doing this on our anniversary?’ He glared meaningfully at the champagne bottle, as if to suggest that Jess was not being sufficiently respectful of the occasion. Zak took celebrating seriously, and tended to become indignant when people chucked curveballs at his forward planning.

‘Zak, how could you have not told me this?’

Zak hesitated, his expression betraying nothing, before shrugging defensively. ‘I didn’t want the sympathy vote.
Oh, poor guy – wife shagged his brother. Maybe I’ll go over and cheer him up.
’ He made what Jess had come to think of as his horseradish face, the one he usually pulled over beef wellington in gastropubs. ‘No thanks.’

‘But we’ve been together a year,’ Jess reminded him quietly. ‘You could have told me at any time.’

Zak shrugged again, arms still folded to defend him against low-flying pity missiles. ‘Well, we reached that point, Jess … where it was too bloody late to say anything.’

‘So that’s why you don’t speak to your brother,’ Jess concluded. Zak rarely even made reference to him, something she’d naively attributed to sibling rivalry. ‘I thought you just didn’t get on.’

Zak’s face clouded over slightly. ‘Yeah. We don’t.’

A tension hung between them now, a palpable patch of cool air in the corner of the crowded bar. ‘So the real story is, Octavia broke your heart,’ Jess said quietly.

Zak arched his back uncomfortably and looked away from her. ‘Yes, Jessica, she broke my heart. Can we talk about something else now please? It doesn’t matter how it
ended with me and her if the outcome was exactly the same.’

‘It does matter,’ she countered.

‘Why? What I told you was true,’ Zak clipped, throwing back another slug of wine. ‘There were irreconcilable differences.’

‘You mean adultery,’ she corrected him.

He lowered his glass. ‘Is that not the same thing?’

Jess swallowed. ‘So … do you still love her?’

Zak’s expression of distaste quickly darkened to become deep offence. ‘Is that a serious question?’

‘Yes,’ she said hesitantly, though the chill of his stare was making her suddenly doubt herself.

‘Wow,’ he said then, leaning back again in his chair and running a hand through his mop of brown hair like a Wall Street trader being caught red-handed with his fingers in the Forex. ‘I did not see this coming. So much for the champagne.’

Zak’s scant reserves of patience rarely held firm under pressure, so Jess decided not to push him on the love issue. ‘I just can’t believe you would hide something like that from me,’ she said, a final attempt to dismantle his obstinacy.

‘Okay, Jess,’ Zak countered in a tone of mounting exasperation that implied there was something she was failing fundamentally to grasp, ‘if you really want to know, I never considered it to be that relevant, okay? I still don’t. It’s in the past.’

Punctuating this by slinging back the last of his wine and setting down the glass with only slightly less force than he’d have needed to smash it, Zak chose to close their debate with a form of ultimatum.