Want to Know a Secret? (29 page)

‘What do you think of that, then?’

‘Bryony’s news?’ she asked, cautiously.

‘Yeah.’ He shook his head. ‘She’s pregnant by some guy she has almost no chance of getting any cash or help out of.
Pregnant
. I can’t believe it. What the fuck was she thinking? Doesn’t she carry condoms? And the way she announced it, as if she expected us all to rally round.’

‘People get pregnant all the time. Contraception fails – ’

‘’Specially if you don’t use it.’

Ignobly, Tamzin felt a burst of happiness. All evening she’d dreaded discovering that George’s affection for Bryony was more than cousinly, but it seemed that George was more irritated than enthralled.

‘You have to be careful,’ he insisted. ‘You just have to be careful. I’m always careful. Aren’t you?’

Tamzin nodded. ‘I used to be on the pill but I haven’t … there hasn’t been anyone. Since uni.’

Slowly, George turned towards her. ‘You haven’t since uni?’

In the darkness, the air felt as if somebody had charged it with static electricity. ‘I told you about having a bad time,’ she whispered.

George didn’t move but still somehow seemed to get closer. ‘Has your doctor or therapist told you not to?’

A nervous giggle. ‘Of course not.’

He laughed, too; low, husky. ‘That’s a good start, then.’ He slid his arms around her. Very softly, gently, he kissed her. ‘Did you hate sex?’ he whispered, his mouth touching hers.

‘No.’ Her heart broke into a canter.

‘Did you like it?’ His hand stroked her back, and she shivered.

‘Sometimes,’ she croaked.

He laughed again. ‘I’d like it with you. Do you think you might like it with me?’

She shivered. ‘I might.’

He nuzzled her neck and let his hand glide down her back to her hip. ‘I think you would. I think it would be amazin’. You don’t have to. But I really want to, Tamz.’

She felt giddy and panicky all at once. ‘I haven’t got anything.’

‘I have. I’m always careful. It’s all right if you don’t want to – but I totally want you to want to.’

She giggled again as he kissed her ear, her heart soaring at the heady experience of being the object of desire. ‘I think I want to.’

They drove out to a place near one of the lakes, a place George knew – there was no way it was going to work out in Tamzin’s little hatchback with somebody George’s height. By the time they were lying on the bumpy grass together, she was shivering.

George crushed her in his arms as if he was doing his damnedest to become part of her. ‘You can change your mind, Tamz, if you don’t want to do it.’

‘I think I want to but … you know. What happened before.’

‘Pretend it’s the first time,’ he whispered. ‘It’s something amazin’ and new, just for us.’

He was gentle and slow, his fingertips fluttering over her like butterflies, sealing her and him into a world of dewy grass and twilight where her skin tingled and her body melted. ‘It’s the first time. Just the first time.’

‘The first time,’ she agreed. Fears slithered away, taking all those hurtful old images with them. This was the first time. And it was amazing.

Chapter Twenty-Four

It nearly killed Diane to admit it to herself as she stood on Freddy’s doorstep on a storm-darkened Sunday afternoon. But her father had been right about Gareth.

For years she’d genuinely thought that he’d put up with her parents’ awfulness for her. It wasn’t until she refused the money from her father’s estate that it became plain that all those years of exemplary behaviour had been no more than an investment. Gareth had possessed a fine perception of which side his bread was likely to be buttered. All he had to do was wait it out and half of Diane’s parents’ money would surely come.

She remembered his face, black with fury, when she’d refused Freddy’s offer to share the inheritance. ‘You’re entitled! It’s your right.’ Whereas, it was clear to her now, he’d meant
he
was entitled and it was
his
right.

To force the memories from her mind, Diane admired the green sweeps of Freddy’s lawn, the elegant might of the monkey puzzle tree and the banks of lilies on the shady side of the garden. And she thought of James.

She seemed to be thinking of James every waking moment.

His smiling eyes, the hot sex in the back of his Merc, the way he’d accepted her decision to end things before they began with huge regret but no word of recrimination. It was astonishing how empty she felt without him. Which just went to show – you
could
miss something you’d never had. Or only had once in the back of –

She twitched her thoughts away at the sound of the front door opening. Her brother blinked at her through his glasses. ‘Diane!’

‘Hello, Freds.’

Freddy grasped her hands and kissed each of her cheeks. ‘It’s been too long since I saw you.’

Diane found she actually had to swallow a lump in her throat at the pleasure in her brother’s eyes, always magnified by his glasses. She wished suddenly that she hadn’t allowed Gareth’s animosity to make it difficult for her to visit her brother.

He showed her to the conservatory that wrapped around the back of the house. One of the doors to the garden was open. ‘This is my favourite spot. I can sit here in all weathers and never get wet.’ He halted suddenly. ‘Anyway, what’s it to be? Cup of tea?’

‘Bring the pot.’ She chose a thickly padded cane chair and kicked off her shoes to settle back and watch the purple sky become lower and darker until smudgy clouds dropped the first raindrops as big as pennies on the yellow York stone of the patio. Faster. Harder. Noisier. Until the rain was pelting the windows. Freddy reappeared. ‘I hoped we’d have a storm – that’s why I was in here.’ He wound up the roof blinds so they could watch the water washing summer leaves from the glass as shrubs thrashed in the blustery wind. From outside came the rotting smell that came with rain after a long dry spell.

Admiring thunder crash and lightning flash, Diane propped her feet on the coffee table. ‘Do you think you should shut the door?’

Freddie poured the tea. ‘I’ll mop up before Sîan comes home.’

Lightning hung among the clouds as the next roll of thunder shook the sky. The rain redoubled, began to hiss. Diane tipped her head to watch it sluicing down the roof.

A puddle began to spread across the terracotta tiling towards them. Gleefully, Freddy lifted his feet to join Diane’s on the coffee table. He had to raise his voice to be heard as the rain lashed. ‘This is exhilarating.’

Diane laughed. ‘I suppose it is. It’s a while since we had an adventure together.’

‘The last one was when you pushed me out of the tree house – ’

‘You fell!’

‘Only because I jumped at you and you moved. I broke my arm and my fingers came up exactly like sausages.’

‘And what about being nearly cut off by the tide at Wells? Do you remember how Dad bellowed?’

‘Missing our lift home after a party in a barn.’

‘Getting drunk on whisky.’

‘Getting drunk on all kinds of things.’

‘You thinking you’d got Miranda Thingy pregnant.’

Freddy choked on his tea, spattering dark drops down his polo shirt, eyes watering behind his glasses. ‘I didn’t know you knew about that. I still come out in a cold sweat when I remember. I used to pray that either she’d get her period or I’d get knocked over by a bus before Dad found out. Luckily it was the former. She finished with me in relief.’

‘I would’ve tried to talk to him for you.’

‘You were always a good sister.’ He pushed back the dark, slightly old-fashioned wing of hair that fell over his eyes. ‘I wish you’d taken your half of the money.’

She sipped her tea. Not bad, but could’ve been stronger. The thunder’s bark moved further away and the rain dropped a note. The puddle on the floor had crept under the coffee table. ‘When I married Gareth I knew I was letting myself in for a lifetime without frills. But I also knew that there were more important things than money.’ She sighed. ‘But I am here kind of on the trail of filthy lucre. Have you still got that jewellery for Bryony? She’s twenty-one in September and I’d like her to have it.’

Freddy turned his head slightly, eyebrows lifting. ‘Of course I still have it. It’s in the safe. I’m glad you’re taking it.’

‘There’s something else.’ She hesitated, feeling foolish. ‘I wouldn’t ask this, except it’s for Bryony. Do you remember Mum and Dad buying her £100 worth of premium bonds for her first Christmas, but not actually handing them over?’

‘Do I! The Christmas Day from hell. Yes, I’ve been meaning to speak to you about that. There was an account with about £1,000 in it, and I think that must be the prizes it’s won over the years. And I cashed in the £100, too, so that can be added to it.’

Diane gazed at her brother with affection. He was such a soppy old sod in his sheepskin slippers and golf shirt. ‘Oh, Freddy. You’re a bloody bad liar. There
were
no premium bonds in Dad’s things, were there?’

Freddy pulled a shamed face. ‘No.’

‘And therefore no account with £1,000 in?’

‘No.’

‘He never bought those bonds, did he?’

A big grimace. ‘I didn’t find any evidence of them.’ He hesitated. ‘I never talked to you about it because Gareth asked me for them after Dad died and I told him the bonds weren’t there. He asked for £100 out of the estate and I said only once I’d talked to you about it. He didn’t seem to want to take it any further.’

Diane looked out at the dripping garden and heaved a great sigh. Puddles stood on the lawn, the earth baked too hard for absorbency. ‘I didn’t know that. Of course, he might’ve meant to pass the money on to Bryony.’

‘Or keep it safe for her.’ Freddy’s glance was sympathetic. ‘Let me give her the £100 – it was promised to her.’

Diane debated. Her first instinct was to refuse. But then she remembered that it wasn’t actually her £100. ‘I’ll talk to her about it. She’s going to need money.’ And she told Freddy about Bryony’s pregnancy.

At home in Purtenon St. Paul, Diane found Bryony sitting at the kitchen table and sighing, the ever-present inhaler beside her. She was wearing panelled maternity jeans that Diane had embroidered and the kind of frown that changed her appearance from elf to imp.

Diane was familiar with that pucker on her daughter’s forehead. She dropped her bag on the kitchen chair. ‘What’s up?’

Bryony shrugged and turned a page of her magazine. ‘We haven’t got a computer and there’s no cyber café in the village. I want to email my friends in Brasilia.’

‘You can come into Peterborough with me when I visit Dad tomorrow, do it then.’

‘Yeah. Guess.’ Another page flipped over. Then, casually, ‘None of my friends here seem free to go out much.’

‘You went out with them last night.’

The magazine shut with a slap. ‘Yeah. Some. But that’s evening. I want to meet my old mates and go shopping and have a laugh. Claudia and Bella, for instance.’

‘Where are Claudia and Bella?’

Bryony’s fingers drummed on the front of the magazine, right on the sensational cover-model’s blinding white teeth. ‘Claudia’s on a gap working in a taverna on a Greek island and getting browner and beautifuller. And Bella’s doing work experience for the BBC in Manchester, meeting loads of cool people.’

Diane washed her hands ready to prepare the evening meal. ‘What? They’ve had the temerity to get a life while you’ve been overseas? Shame on them.’

A reluctant smile curved Bryony’s mouth. ‘Get over yourself, Mother, being a smartmouth doesn’t suit you. I had one phone call, though.’ She hesitated. ‘From Pops.’

Diane smiled. ‘I like him, your new grandfather.’

‘He’s invited me out to dinner, tomorrow evening. He wants for us to get to know each other.’

‘Sounds wonderful. I’ll make sure you can have the car.’

Bryony hesitated. ‘Well … he says he’s sending a car for me. You know – like with a driver.’

Water dripped on the floor as Diane turned to stare. ‘Wow! Get you.’

Bryony blushed. ‘It’s really cool, isn’t it?’

‘Really.’ Turning back to the chicken breasts that she was washing, Diane debated whether to go to the fag of peeling potatoes or whether to microwave the chicken then chop it up and chuck it in with some vegetables and a jar of curry sauce. Microwave, she decided. ‘So, did you meet George last night?’

Bryony’s smile faded. ‘Yeah.’

‘Have a good time?’

‘Yeah. OK.’

‘Was he with Tamzin?’ Diane washed her hands again after handling the raw chicken and poked around in the bottom of the fridge for onion, feathery-ended celery and a mini tree of broccoli.

‘Yeah.’

Diane put the oil on to heat and turned the cold water on the vegetables, releasing the smells of onion and celery into the room. ‘They seem to have quite a thing,’ she said, cautiously.

‘Yeah.’

The vegetables didn’t take long to soften and the chicken to par-cook. In ten minutes Diane was able to push the curry into the oven and sit down at the table. ‘I have something to show you.’