Dune Road (40 page)

“What’s this? ” She is able to give him a genuine smile, for the party seems to be going better than she could have imagined.

And tonight she feels beautiful, in her black sequined cocktail dress, her hair falling in soft waves, and seeing Adam come toward her is like the perfect end to a perfect dream, and she cannot stop smiling.

“Sustenance. You’ve done a wonderful job, and I thought you could do with a drink.”

“French Martini?”

Adam smiles. “You think I’d forget?”

They exchange a glance, and hold on a second too long. Kit’s heart lurches and she looks down. She can’t do this, it hurts too much. It’s too late for them now, given what happened with Annabel. It’s way beyond the point when she and Adam might have been able to salvage something from whatever chemistry she thought remained.

“This is an incredible party. You’ve obviously worked so hard.” He looks at her gently. “You look tired.”

“I do?” Her face falls. “I thought I’d covered up my shadows expertly. I used Charlie’s make-up.”

“You look beautiful,” he whispers, the smile fading from his face.

Kit’s heart lurches again, and she turns away and sips her drink so he doesn’t see the sudden flush.

“Darling!”

They both swivel to see the familiar figure of Ginny, shimmering in a silver dress, huge diamonds in her ears, her hair piled up, pulling a man along behind her.

“Aha. At last we get to meet the famous Peter!” Kit grins at Adam, the moment broken.

“Darling!” Ginny double-kisses both Kit and Adam. “You two look so adorable together! Are you sure the divorce was a good idea? Honestly, you look like you were made for one another.”

“Oh Mother!” Kits says angrily.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I love both of you and . . .” She sees the look in Kit’s eye. “Okay, I’ll stop. Anyway, speaking of love, there is someone I’d like you to meet.” She smiles at the man. “This is my daughter and son-in-law, Kit and Adam Hargrove.”

Kit thinks about correcting her, reminding her that Adam is her ex-son-in-law, but she doesn’t. And neither does Adam.

“How do you do?” Adam smiles warmly and shakes his hand. “So nice to meet you.”

“I’m Peter,” he says, turning to Kit. “But nobody other than your mother actually calls me that. Everyone else calls me Plum.”

Plum? Plum? Why is that name so familiar? The clouds of Kit’s memory start swirling as she attempts to place that name, and that face, that tanned, etched face, with startlingly white teeth, a face that somehow she sees as a young man’s, only she doesn’t know how, or why.

“And this is the most bizarre thing,” Ginny bubbles excitedly, “Plum knows Robert!”

Kit looks at him, squinting slightly as if this will help summon the memory.

“From many years ago,” Plum says. “I haven’t seen him since the seventies.”

“Plum Apostoles!” Kit shouts out, as if she is taking part in a game show.

“Yes.” He raises an eyebrow. “That would be me.”

 

At ten o’clock, Kit finds herself sneaking exhausted glances at her watch. She is so tired, wants to have a hot bath and crawl into bed, but can see no way of leaving this party until the end.

Tracy is ostensibly the hostess, but Kit knows that if there are any problems Tracy will have no interest in sorting them out.

So far tonight, when the ice ran out, and when they needed to rustle up a Band-Aid for a child, it was Kit to whom Robert turned, and while she has welcomed being so busy, now that she is able to stop, she is suddenly shattered, and she knows she needs to take a minute to lie down.

She slips through the kitchen, forcing smiles at the catering staff, who are busy placing tiny jewel-colored petit fours on silver serving trays, through the butler’s pantry and into her familiar office.

She doesn’t bother putting on the lights. All she wants to do is lie down on the sofa and close her eyes. Just for a moment. Just pretend that she is at home in her bed. A five-minute power nap. Her life has been so frenetic of late, organizing this party, that there hasn’t been time to even think about recent events, and there is still so much unfinished business. With Annabel, Steve and, mostly, with Adam.

She needs a five-minute power nap that will replenish her energy enough to get her through the rest of the night, to enable her to pretend she is having a marvelous time.

She lies on the sofa, breathing deeply, trying out a meditation technique she once learned: visualizing a beach, golden sand, turquoise water, palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. She tries, but images of Steve and Annabel keep forcing their way into her mind.

There is so much she doesn’t know. People enter your life and you take them at face value. People like Annabel. And Steve. And suddenly she realizes that she knows nothing about Steve. She’s never been to his apartment. She doesn’t know anything about his work. Nothing about his family, his friends.

But she assumed he was good, assumed he was like her, in the same way she made assumptions about Annabel.

When her world was turned upside down, the only thing that felt safe, the only thing she knew and trusted, despite his transgression—and she could tell it was something he wished had never happened—was Adam.

Is still Adam.

She continues trying to visualize the tranquil beach, turquoise water, golden sand, but now she pictures Adam instead, and instantly she calms down. She sees his reassuring smile, his ruffled hair in the morning.

Suddenly, she hears the click of the door and the light in the lobby outside the office is flicked on.

It is Robert. And Tracy. Standing just outside the open door. She knows she should excuse herself, but they are having a whispered conversation, and something tells her she should not be there, so she makes herself as still as possible, hoping they won’t come into the office and find her, feeling guilty, but the moment for her to announce herself, if it was ever there at all, has gone.

“Darling girl,” Robert says. “I’ve been wanting to get you on my own all night.”

“You have?” Kit can hear the smile in Tracy’s voice.

“I have. An extraordinary thing happened tonight. Plum Apostoles is here, the man who was on the yacht the night Penelope died. He is someone I haven’t seen for many, many years, and it’s like a gift, that he is here tonight, a reminder of how different my life is now, and how happy I am now. Happier than I ever thought I would be.”

“Thank you,” Tracy says. “I love you. And I’m also so happy with you.”

“So there is something I want to ask you. It is a question I never thought I would ask anyone again—”

“Stop.” Tracy’s voice is a whisper. “I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I . . .”

Tracy’s footsteps move, and Kit can picture her pacing, prays she doesn’t pace over to the sofa to see Kit lying there; she is now feeling guilty beyond imagination.

“. . . I haven’t been honest with you.”

“What do you mean?” A note of confusion in Robert’s voice.

“Oh Robert. I love you so much. I wanted to tell you everything but I couldn’t. I was so scared you’d leave me.”

“Tell me what you’re talking about.” The confusion in his voice has given way to coldness which, Kit knows, is hiding fear.

Tracy sighs. “I don’t even know where to start. Let me start by showing you.” There is a rustle of clothing, then nothing.

Kit has no idea what is going on, until she hears Robert’s voice, horrified.

“How did this happen? What are these scars from?”

“They are the reason I insist on the light always being off,” Tracy says softly. “This is so incredibly hard to tell you, but you have to know. These marks were made by a man called Jed. He was my first husband. But you know him as Steve.”

“Steve?” Robert is confused; Kit starts to feel sick. “I don’t know anyone called Steve.”

“You’ve met him. He’s the man who has been dating Kit. Steve is a false name. It’s . . . a very long story.” She closes her eyes, feeling sick with nerves.

“I think perhaps it’s one you ought to tell me now, don’t you?” Robert’s voice is colder, fearful perhaps.

Tracy takes a deep breath.

“I’m horrified that I didn’t tell you before. I
couldn’t
. And I’m so,
so
desperately sorry. I wanted to, badly, but I didn’t know how to. I met Jed in my twenties, which I guess should be the beginning of the story, but in fact it probably started much earlier, when I was a child. My earliest memory is of my father slapping my mother, and her crying. I would stand in the corner, terrified, not knowing what to do.”

Kit’s nausea sweeps up, and she wants to run out, but she can’t move; she lies there, frozen in fear, as she hears Tracy’s story unfold.

 

There is silence in the room when Tracy finishes. Robert buries his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes, trying to comprehend what he has just heard.

He looks up, bemused. “I don’t know what to say. I just don’t know how to take it all in.”

“Robert, I love you. You have to believe that. And I understand if you decide you can’t see me any more, but I needed you to know the full story, and I also need you to know that at forty-one years old, for the first time in my life, I have fallen in love. I love you, and I want to be with you, but I will respect whatever decision you make.”

“I need a little time,” Robert says quietly. “I think perhaps you should leave. I need to think about all of this.”

“Okay,” Tracy whispers, going over to him and kissing him on his forehead. “I love you.”

Robert doesn’t say anything in return, and Tracy goes back through the kitchen, bursting into tears when she reaches her car.

Robert stays in that safe haven, for a very long time, until finally he walks out and goes to find Kit, still unaware she is a few feet away, to ask her to tell everyone the party is over.

Kit walks out, eventually, when the coast is clear, on legs like jelly. She cannot believe everything she has heard, but of course it all makes sense. Tracy distancing herself from everyone because of the fear of being discovered. Steve’s pursuit of Kit that never felt entirely genuine. She shudders with horror thinking about him. How could she have been so stupid?

And what is she supposed to do now?

 

The doorbell rings early the next morning, and Kit drags herself out of bed and down the stairs. She isn’t expecting anyone, but through the sidelights she sees her mother, dressed down in a cashmere sweatsuit, the omnipresent diamonds sparkling in the morning sunlight, with two Starbucks’ cardboard cups in hand.

“Mother.” Kit feels heavy, the exhaustion hitting her, the emotions of the last few weeks just too much for her to bear. “What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you. I watched you last night and you seemed like someone who has a very heavy cross to bear. I may not have been the perfect mother in the past, but I’m here now, and I want to help. Here”—she extends an arm—“I have no idea what you drink so I brought you a Mocha Frappuccino. I think that’s what it’s called. I really don’t understand those drinks at all.”

Kit takes the drink and thanks her, standing aside to let her mother in, and somehow, although she is trying to be resolute, her mother’s kindness is too much for her; it is so unexpected, so needed right now, that Kit sits down to find the floodgates opening, and she tells her mother everything.

“Can I make a phone call?” Ginny says, when all is done.

“Who are you calling?”

“Peter. I want him to hear this.”

 

Two hours later, Peter, a man whom Kit instantly trusts, looks Kit in the eyes, leans forward and asks: “Do you believe Tracy?”

Kit sighs. “I do. I know she’s been peculiar as hell lately, but I do. I wish I didn’t, but I don’t believe anyone could have talked the way she did if they were lying. There was something about her voice. It wasn’t emotional, just completely flat, and I believe her.”

“And what about her love for Robert? Do you think that she sees Robert as a means to escape, or do you think she really does love him?”

Kit shrugs. “I’m not an expert, but I think she does. I really do. I’m not sure she intended that to happen, but she’s telling the truth. I would put my life on it.”

“Do you think she would talk to you if you reached out to her?”

“I have no idea. Things have been so difficult between us recently, although at least now I know the reason why.”

“I think you need to talk to her,” Peter says. “I’m willing to talk to Robert, as an old friend, but I have to be sure I am doing the right thing, and for that, I need your help.”

 

Kit, apprehensive but determined, walks slowly into the yoga center.

“Hi,” she says to Olivia, the girl on the desk. “Is Tracy around?”

“She’s in her office.” Olivia gestures upstairs. “I don’t think she’s feeling well, though. She doesn’t want to see anyone.”

“I’ll be quick,” Kit says, knowing that Tracy is avoiding everyone, for she has left three messages, and none has been returned.

She knocks gently on the closed door, which in itself is unusual, and, hearing no answer, she pushes it open slightly.

Tracy is sitting in a chair which is positioned so that her back is to the door as she stares out of the window.

“Tracy?” Kit says, waiting for her to swivel round.

The seconds pass, and eventually Tracy turns, her eyes red and swollen from crying and lack of sleep.

“Oh Tracy.” Kit forgets whatever distance has come between them and rushes over, gathering Tracy in her arms.

Tracy bursts into tears. “I love him,” she says. “And it’s over.”

Kit rubs her back softly, not saying anything, and when the tears gradually subside, Kit pulls away and cups Tracy’s face in her hand.

“I know,” she whispers, and confusion fills Tracy’s eyes.