The Guilty Secret (19 page)

‘No,' Aunt Harriet stood up briskly. ‘And it's nearly seven. The police will be back soon and we have to get that key put back on the inside of the room. Mary must still have it.'

‘How come Harold wasn't here?' I asked.

‘The sleeping tablets knocked him cold.' Aunt Harriet said. ‘Though even if he knew I think he would go along with us. If there was a trial everything would come out. He wouldn't want that.'

‘And as it is,' Jonathan said to me. ‘ He'll never know what she was really like. It's better this way.'

‘Yes,' I said fervently. ‘Much better.'

Aunt Harriet was already scurrying down the garden path towards the Farrar's villa. Phil paused at the door, his eyes meeting mine. They were rueful but certainly not heartbroken. ‘Congratulations.' he said.

It was early autumn, and the sun slanted deep gold over the sea and the sand. The villas were boarded up, awaiting the arrival of their new occupants in the spring. No hint of the tragedy that had been enacted in them lingered. We stood on top of the dunes, gazing at the deserted beach and the giant breakers as they ploughed their way shorewards.

Jonathan lifted my left hand to his lips, the gold ring shining brightly. I moved closer, warm in the circle of his arms.

‘Mary's new baby will be born in the spring. We did the right thing, Jenny.'

‘And ours in the summer.'

I raised my lips for his kiss. Then, my head on his chest, I said:- ‘We must be back for the fifteenth. Phil has his first London concert.'

‘And Aunt Harriet is hoping to win the flower show at the summer fete.'

I smiled. ‘And our holiday will be over.'

‘Oliveira has asked us to bring the baby next year.'

‘We will. But we won't leave Vigo and Spain to travel south. All the ghosts have been laid.'

‘I'm glad.' He lifted my face to his. ‘I love you, Jenny Wren. God, how I love you.'

And then he seized my hand and began to run down the dunes to the beach.

‘What is it? I thought we were going back?' I protested laughing.

‘Not yet.' And he pulled me down beside him against the sheltered bank where we had first made love.

‘Some things haven't changed, Jenny Wren!' and in the passion of his lovemaking, all the pain of the past was finally buried.

First published in 1979 by Hale

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Copyright © Margaret Pemberton, 1979

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