The Secrets Women Keep (25 page)

‘Yes?’ He couldn’t be about to invite her to go with him, not on the strength of two short meetings, not when he knew how recently she’d been widowed.

‘I’m sure you wouldn’t. This is so presumptuous of me, and I know very last-minute, but I wondered whether you’d like to come with me? I don’t know many people in
London yet who I could ask. I just thought . . . Well, you obviously like opera . . .’ He nodded towards the sound system and her CDs in the corner of the worktop. ‘But I can see that
it’s a silly idea.’ He flicked his hand as if he was waving it away.

But was it such a silly idea? They had already established that they had one thing in common: a love of Trevarrick. Hearing him talk about the place had excited her. She’d enjoyed the last
hour of his company. Besides, what was there to stop her going to an opera with him? She’d admitted to Eve how much she wanted to be invited out again. He knew the rest of her family. Well,
Jess anyway. Did that make it better? Or worse? However difficult she found it, she was going to have to get used to going out without Daniel. And the Royal Opera House. Who else would make her
such an extravagant offer?

‘I’d love to go with you.’ The words were out before she’d realised.

‘You would?’ Her acceptance clearly surprised him as much as his question had surprised her.

‘Why not? It’s not as if my diary’s packed with things to do these days. Yes,’ she said firmly, dismissing her immediate regret at being so hasty. ‘I
would.’

Later that evening, home from her class, she phoned Eve. Having listened, outraged, to the whole Rufus and Amy scenario and then, quietly alarmed, to Eve’s story of her
latest encounter with Will, she saw a gap in the conversation. She dropped Simon’s invitation straight into it. Eve’s reaction was gratifying.

‘You haven’t said yes?’ She sounded disbelieving but excited at the same time. ‘He could be anyone. You know, the proverbial mad axe murderer . . . Anyone.’

‘But he’s not,’ objected Rose, refusing to admit to any slight uneasiness. ‘He’s a perfectly nice man and a friend of Dan and Jess. And he loves Trevarrick. What
more could I ask for? Besides, I feel sorry for him. He’s obviously still grieving for his father, and he doesn’t know many people here. We’ll be company for one
another.’

‘Isn’t that a bit over the top?’ Eve still sounded doubtful. ‘A father’s hardly the same as a husband, but OK, you’ve got things in common. Go. Enjoy it. But
I want every detail of what happens. What are you going to wear? Not black. Promise me.’

‘I’m not promising anything of the sort.’ Rose had been thinking of the black dress that Dan had liked her in. She would wear it for him. Sometimes Eve’s imagination ran
ahead of her. This wasn’t a date, just two people keeping one another company . . . although she couldn’t deny Simon was attractive. But he was at least ten years younger than her.
Though that wasn’t enough of a difference to make anything like that impossible or embarrassing. Amused, despite herself, she dragged her mind back to the conversation.

They hung up, having promised to meet up the following weekend. Rose ate in front of the TV, watching one of the
Frozen Planet
DVDs. But she couldn’t concentrate. The photography
and commentary only provided a background for her thoughts. Apart from the anxiety about her own future, so much else was preoccupying her. Eve gave the impression she didn’t want to talk
about Terry. But Rose worried about her brother, about them. His job had always defined him and the redundancy had clearly hit him hard. As much as she loved Eve, she was uneasy about her renewed
contact with Will. There was an excitement in Eve’s voice she hadn’t heard for a long time that contradicted her protestations that they wouldn’t meet again. Should Rose have
stopped him from attending the memorial? But what would she have said? She had wanted to give everyone who had ever known Daniel the opportunity to be there, and judging from the condolences book,
they had been. Refusing Will would only have been awkward and confrontational, neither of which she wanted.

And what about Jess and Anna? Their relationship depended on her decision over what happened to the business. But she had just decided to keep Trevarrick when the offer elicited by Terry from
Madison Gadding was for all three hotels.

She could hear Daniel’s voice saying, ‘I don’t want Adam having a share of the business, Rosie. That mustn’t happen.’

She lifted the phone again, checking her watch as she did so. It was late, but Eve would still be up, Terry too. He had always been a night owl: a habit drummed into them as the children of
Trevarrick, a hotel that when their parents ran it only came alive at night. That was when they put aside any problems, dressed up and emerged to play mine host. If she weren’t
‘resting’, their mother would hold court behind the bar, the scent of Nina Ricci’s L’Air du Temps undercut by cigarette smoke and gin. Meantime, their father, bluff in his
tweeds, red-faced and never without a small cheap cigar, would prop up the corner of the bar, regaling their customers with bad jokes (where Terry got his sense of humour?). When they were too old
for babysitters, Rose and Terry went ignored, having free run of the place until they were so tired they’d drop to sleep in an armchair in the old snug or under a table in a camp they’d
made. Sometimes they’d remain there all night, unless one of the staff found them and took them up to bed.

Terry answered immediately.

‘It’s Rose. I’m sorry to call again so late, but I think we should talk.’

‘We should.’ He wouldn’t sound so relieved when she told him her decision, but for the first time since Daniel had died, she could see her way. Simon’s visit had
triggered something in her. At last she saw a simple method of resolving matters and taking the first step forward into her future. Hard as it was to accept, Daniel wasn’t coming back.

‘I know what I want to do.’

‘You do?’ Concern had crept into his voice. ‘Well, I’m not exactly busy. I could come up to town whenever you like. The sooner the better, in fact.’

‘Well then, how about tomorrow? I’m teaching till four, so come over late afternoon sometime.’

‘I’ll be there at five.’

For the first time in months, Rose went to bed feeling that at last, thanks to Simon, she was resuming some sort of control over her life. That was a lot to owe someone.

T
erry looked terrible, rumpled, as if he hadn’t slept for weeks. His shirt was untucked. A smear of something – his lunch? –
decorated the left lapel of his jacket. No tie. Eve was obviously too concerned about her defecting authors and shoring up her business to have noticed that her husband was facing the world in such
a state. The big sister in Rose reached out to pick at the stain. He snatched the jacket from her. ‘Leave it, Rose. Please.’

Corrected, Rose took him through to the kitchen, where she’d laid out Simon’s plans. She gestured towards the table. ‘Have a look at these, while I make some coffee.’

‘What are they?’ he asked with almost total lack of interest. ‘I thought we were going to talk about
your
decision.’ The emphasis he put on ‘your’
spoke of the real resentment he felt at her owning two thirds of the business. He couldn’t have expected Dan to leave his third split equally between the two of them, could he? The thought
struck her for the first time.

However, unable to question Dan’s will, Rose could only do her best by those he had left behind, making sure she was as fair as possible. ‘I’ll explain in a sec, but
they’re for Trevarrick.’

He frowned. ‘You mean you’ve decided not to sell?’

‘I’ve decided not to sell Trevarrick. When you look at the plans, I hope you’ll see why.’ She busied herself in the kitchen, getting out mugs, filling the kettle.

‘I’m not interested in any plans.’ He sounded quite adamant.

‘I’m only interested in closing the deal with Madison Gadding as soon as possible.’

Rose was shocked by his vehemence. She stopped what she was doing and leaned against the counter, not understanding. ‘But why? What’s so important that can’t wait? I see why
Anna wants me to sell. She’s found a property and thinks I’ll release some money to her. But presumably you’ve got a pay-off, you’ll find another job, and in the meantime,
Eve’s still earning. Things can’t be that bad financially.’ She crossed to the table. ‘Look. The place will be transformed again.’

‘I said I wasn’t interested.’ He slapped his hand on the table, making Rose recoil. Terry rarely stood up for himself against her. When it came to decisions, their relationship
had always worked on the basis of her being the older, the wiser, the one in charge. She determined to stand her ground, despite disliking the turn the conversation had taken.

‘What’s your problem?’ she challenged, ‘I’m only asking you to look at some plans. I’m trying to explain my decision to you, hoping for your backing. Is
asking you to listen too much to ask?’

‘In this instance . . . yes.’ He tugged sharply at his cuff, exposing one of the silver cufflinks inherited from their father, who in turn had inherited them from his.

‘We must keep what we can in the family.’ She must have been about sixteen when their father had said that to her. She had all but forgotten, but now the memory of them sitting in
the otherwise empty bar together was suddenly quite clear. Her mother had gone upstairs for one of her lie-downs, leaving her father with a pile of paperwork. They were sitting by the window, with
everything spread out in front of them, weighted down by her cup of coffee and his glass of whisky. Trying to get on top of their rocky finances, he’d confided in her. Her mother wanted them
to move out and move on, but he couldn’t see a future for them anywhere else. He was probably right. By then, they were rooted firmly in Cornwall and he wanted to spend his final years there.
And now she was in a similar position. Trevarrick had meant too much to the two of them, and now to Jess as well.

‘But you haven’t even looked,’ she protested. ‘Sit down, let me get the coffee and I’ll show you.’ There must be a way of getting through to him.

With extremely bad grace, he did as she asked, but she noticed that he didn’t even glance at the drawings. He steepled his hands in front of him and drummed the tips of his fingers against
each other, staring at them as if there was nothing else in the room.

She brought the coffee over and put it down on the table. ‘Biscuit?’

He shook his head, fingers still moving.

‘Now,’ she said firmly, starting again. ‘What I wanted to show you is the way Jess and Simon – he’s the architect that Dan used for the Arthur – are planning
to make over the old place. I think his ideas are remarkable and completely in keeping with Trevarrick. They’ve made me realise how much I still love it. We can’t let it go, and
anyway,’ she reached for her brother’s hand, but he removed it to his lap, ‘I need something to do with myself now, and this would be something to focus on.’

‘You’ve got your teaching. You’ve got your painting.’ He wouldn’t look at her, but the muscles of his jaw were moving as he tried to control his temper. She
recognised the signs.

‘Yes, but they’re not enough. I’m down to a couple of evenings and only two days a week at the college at the moment. The cutbacks mean I may have even less next term, and
without Dan, I’ve got plenty of time on my hands.’ How to explain the empty hours of nothingness in which time hung so heavy? Her private teaching was sporadic and her own painting was
failing to provide the consolation she was used to finding there. Instead, days passed without her achieving anything. Sometimes she went out walking. She could cover miles of pavement or park,
losing track of time, barely noticing the route she took. Sometimes she sat at home, lost in thought as time drifted past without her registering. ‘At least let me show you,’ she
appealed.

He shook his head again, whistling out between his teeth. His silence invited her to start. As she got into her stride, she sensed him relax a little as he listened to what she had to say. He
was reacting as she had, remembering how much they owed to the place. ‘So you see,’ she concluded, ‘I want this to go ahead. Partly for our sake, our family’s I mean, but
for Daniel too. A kind of memorial, I suppose. Perhaps that sounds sentimental, but it’s something I want to do.’ That was one thing of which she was sure.

Terry said nothing, then gave a long, despairing sigh as he raked his fingers back and forth through his hair. ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured. ‘I can see why you want to do
this, but I can’t support you.’

‘But why not? It’ll make such an improvement.’ Frustrated by his pig-headedness, Rose crossed to the window, wondering how she could persuade him. She stared out into the
garden, dismal under a Tupperware sky. A grey squirrel hung upside down on the bird feeder, helping itself, its scrawny tail flicking as it filched the nuts. She banged on the glass to frighten it
away. The animal looked up, beady-eyed, alarmed, then jumped to the ground and bounded up the garden.

‘The truth is, I need my share of the money now.’ He made a noise as if he was in pain. ‘Or at least the promise of it.’

‘But why?’ Rose repeated, as she returned to the table.

He swung round in his chair to face her. ‘I’m in trouble, Rose. Real trouble.’

To her surprise, he reached out and grasped her wrist, so tight it hurt.

‘If I tell you, you’ve got to swear you won’t tell Eve. She mustn’t know.’

She wrenched her arm out of his grip, rubbing the red mark on her skin. The last thing she wanted was to get caught up in her brother and sister-in-law’s quarrels, but she couldn’t
remember seeing Terry like this for years; not since he was a boy desperately pleading with her to lie for him over how the pair of china wally dogs over the fireplace in the bar got broken. They
weren’t valuable, but they had been handed down from their great-grandmother. Knowing how angry their father would be, she had hidden the football in the cloakroom and blamed the cat. Her
childhood instinct to protect was re-emerging again, despite not wanting to keep another secret. Not telling him about Eve bumping into Will already felt like one betrayal too many. But he was her
brother. She had to help him.