The Secrets Women Keep (41 page)

‘I did, of course.’ Eve leaned back on her hands, arms straight, shoulders hunched by her ears, as if she was about to propel herself across the room after Rose. ‘But he gave
me something for you.’

‘For God’s sake!’ Rose’s impatience with Eve made her crack again. ‘And you took it?’

‘Honestly, Rose, if you’d seen him, you’d understand. He wants to put things right between you.’

‘If that weren’t so sick, I’d laugh.’ Rose leaned against the mantelpiece, looking down at Eve, unable to believe she’d been so easily taken in. ‘He was my
husband’s lover. How do you think that makes me feel? Have you no imagination?’ And yet she had to acknowledge that as well as her feelings of betrayal and revulsion, the smallest part
of her missed Simon, his conversation and companionship, their long talks about Daniel and the release afforded her by the music they’d listened to together, the music he chose, his growing
interest in the thing she loved most passionately: art. All they had in common had made their short-lived friendship strong. Anna was right.

‘I’m really, really sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing.’ Eve crossed the room to hug her. ‘I only wanted to help.’ Rose twisted her face away a moment too
late. For a second they were stuck together. Then the left side of her face peeled away part-coated with Eve’s mask. They couldn’t help smiling as she wiped at it. ‘But I might as
well give you this anyway. I said I would.’ Eve pulled the envelope from her dressing gown pocket.

Rose took it. ‘I know you meant well. It doesn’t matter.’ She stared at the writing with its familiar curls and swirls, about to tear the envelope in half, then thought better
of it. Instead she folded it and tucked it into the pocket of her jeans.

‘Aren’t you going to open it?’ Eve’s sense of drama predictably got the better of her.

‘Not now.’ Rose patted her pocket, aware of how much she was disappointing her friend. ‘Perhaps not at all. Shall we talk about something else? I don’t want to think
about him any more.’ She passed Eve the box of truffles.

But when she reached her bedroom twenty minutes later, having arranged to meet Eve after her meeting with Rufus (‘A breakfast meeting. He’ll hate that. And shopping will take you out
of yourself’), she had second thoughts. She sat on her bed and stared at the envelope Eve had given her. The writing of her name reminded her of the inscription in the libretto. She glanced
at the photo of Daniel that she kept by her bedside, taken by her at the Casa Rosa two years earlier. He was sitting at the terrace table, playing patience. The girls were out of shot, rescuing the
burning fish from the barbecue. He smiled back at her, confident, loving, a family man. A man with a secret he couldn’t tell. But whatever he’d done, he had loved her. She knew that in
her heart. What would he want her to do now?

She took a biro from the bedside table, slid it into the envelope, then hesitated before ripping it open. The paper tore unevenly before she pulled out a letter. As she unfolded it, something
fell to the floor. She let it lie there while she read what Simon had written, her stomach churning.

She bent to pick up the ticket, turning it in her fingers. The date was a month away. She felt nothing. Moving like a robot, her brain numb, she slipped the letter and the
ticket back in their envelope and put them in the drawer. There was no question of her joining him, but she would decide how to reply, if at all, later.

She went to the bathroom, took a sleeping pill from the packet she’d been about to throw away, and returned to the bedroom. She took off her jeans, and without bothering to remove anything
else, slid under her duvet, shut her eyes and waited for welcome oblivion to claim her.

Another day, another restaurant, another potentially awkward encounter. But Eve was ready. She had been sure to arrive fifteen minutes early to make sure she was in her seat.
She wanted Rufus on the back foot from the start. In the Ladies’ she made sure she was looking her best and most businesslike. Her suit was expensively tailored, her blouse ironed within an
inch of its life and her heels appropriately high. She’d brought her briefcase even though there was nothing in it relevant to Rufus. As she was shown to the table, she was furious to find
him
in situ
, coffee and toast already in front of him. Then she allowed herself a moment of amusement. He knew her too well.

Crossing the room, she took in his appearance: hair on end, trademark odd socks and worn old trainers. Amy clearly hadn’t got her claws into him as thoroughly as Eve had anticipated. She
couldn’t imagine her erstwhile colleague happy at being seen with someone so scruffy, however eccentrically or endearingly youthful others might find him.

He looked up as she arrived. ‘Eve. Long time. This looks good.’ He poured them both coffee from the pot already brought to the table. ‘Something to eat?’

She tightened her lips. A fully fledged blowout was not on her agenda. ‘I’m sorry, Rufus. I’ve had to schedule an unexpected meeting, so I’ll have to keep it
brief.’

He smiled. ‘I thought you might say that.’

‘What did you expect, after you’ve practically single-handedly sabotaged my agency? A warm handshake and a glass of champagne? I don’t think so.’ She pulled out her chair
and sat opposite him, wrinkling her nose at the sharp undernote of sweat that overrode his aftershave. What was Amy thinking? She had never struck Eve as a woman who would let any husband of hers
be anything other than perfectly turned out. Husband-to-be, she corrected herself.

‘Does it have to be like this between us?’ He leaned back, appraising her.

‘I think the short answer to that is probably yes,’ she said, beginning to enjoy herself. ‘I shall do all I can for your backlist, of course, in the most professional way
possible, but I think our friendship is over. Don’t you?’

‘Not quite. I’ve missed your blistering backchat no end.’ He took a piece of toast and scraped on some butter.

‘Well you should have thought of that before taking off with my assistant.’ She stirred her coffee, quite calm.

‘That’s why I wanted to see you.’ He sipped his.

‘Not to ask me to be matron-of-honour, I hope.’ She allowed herself a grim smile at the thought.

His laugh turned into a cough as coffee splattered from his mouth over his toast. He wiped himself down with a napkin. ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry. But you couldn’t be further from
the mark, for once.’

‘Perhaps you’d better tell me, then.’ All of a sudden, Eve had an inkling that she might like what Rufus was about to say.

‘I’m wondering whether you might consider taking me back on your books.’ His boyish face beamed in expectation of her reaction as he reached for his coffee.

She stared at him, silenced for once, as he licked off the cappuccino moustache on his upper lip. Eve thought carefully, aware that this might be some kind of Amy-led scheme. But she had no idea
what Amy could want from her now. In any event, agreeing to represent her future husband would bring ramifications of a not entirely pleasant kind. ‘Rufus, if this is because you and Amy have
had an argument, the answer’s no. Besides, I’m sorry, but I think her being your wife is going to make our relationship,
if
I were to take you back, extremely difficult. Too
difficult probably. No, it won’t work.’

‘But you don’t understand,’ he protested, putting his cup down.

‘Explain it to me then.’ Yes, she was definitely enjoying this. Let him work for what he wanted. She looked pointedly at her watch.

‘Amy and I, well . . . it hasn’t exactly worked out.’ He dabbed at the coffee on his plate. Anything rather than look at Eve.

‘Which? Your professional relationship or the personal one? I can imagine she might not be experienced enough for the first, though of course I couldn’t speak for the second.’
This was getting better and better.

‘You know perfectly well what I mean.’ His features creased into a puckish grin that disappeared as quickly as it came. ‘It’s over. I know that’s quick, even for
me, but she was so livid when I refused to invest in her company. I thought it was too soon, and would bind our interests too closely, but she didn’t see it that way. She said some terrible
things. She made me realise that I was being roped in to some weird desire she has to outdo you. She’s so impatient for her own success. That’s what she really loves – not
me.’ The voice of a disappointed child got to Eve. But business first.

‘So
if
I agree to represent you again, you’re saying that Amy will have nothing to do with our agreement or whatever deals I set up for you?’

‘Nothing.’ He shook his head, miserable. ‘I know how bad it will look for her agency to have her first big client returning to its original fold, but I have to do this for my
own sake. For my books. If you’ll have me.’

An author could be relied upon to put their career before almost anything else. Rufus as much as anyone. His aberration with Amy was over and he’d seen sense before it was too late. Eve
was tempted to play him along for a little longer, getting her own back for the damage he’d caused. But she couldn’t leave him hanging when her answer was bursting from her. ‘In
that case, of course I’ll represent you again. I’d like nothing more.’

As she stood up, he followed suit and they hugged awkwardly across the table. Eve was unable to hide her delight. If you’re patient, what goes around sure does come around, she reflected.
Amy’s loss would be her gain. And once she had announced Rufus’s return, there were one or two others who doubtless would want to follow him. She could image Amy’s frustration and
disappointment. Eve’s day couldn’t have started better. She couldn’t wait to tell Rose, and then when they’d done with shopping, she had lunch with the editorial director of
Perfin Books, who was, without question, one of the biggest gossips in the business. All she had to do was entrust to him the secret of Rufus’s change of heart. By the end of the afternoon,
most of the world of children’s publishing would have heard. How very satisfying that would be.

T
wo days later, Rose walked out of the Tate into the sunshine. Although she’d come to a temporary halt with her own painting, she still found
inspiration and pleasure in the work of other artists. The Munch exhibition had been eye-opening and, to her relief, with
The Scream
nowhere to be seen. That howling skull was a little too
close to her own feelings for comfort. Since Daniel’s death, she had felt like hanging on to her head and letting rip more times than she cared to count.

Eve had said goodbye four hours ago. She would be on the train to Bath by now. To her surprise, given the circumstances, Rose already missed her, even though her sister-in-law had brought more
problems with her than she had made disappear. She had descended on her almost a week ago, bowed down under a bunch of lilies, her case, a couple of bottles of wine and a box of hand-made truffles.
She had brought a frenzy of plans for occupying Rose, but they had rather fallen apart under the pressure of business meetings and the failure of her resistance to Will, impervious to Rose’s
disapproval. The promised action-packed time of distraction had taken a back seat to Eve’s own dramas. But what had Rose expected?

In fact, the visit had cheered her no end. She hadn’t needed the consolation of the cinema or theatre. Eve’s belief in the healing power of retail therapy didn’t work for her
either, even though she was happy to trail along as adviser and even bag carrier. Just having someone at home to talk to had been fun. She wasn’t even angry about Eve seeing Simon. Her
irrepressible love of meddling was to be half expected. In fact, it had been clever of Simon to think of her. For once, instead of acting on impulse, he’d thought through what he was
doing.

Having tried to hide how excited she was at the prospect of her night away with Will, Eve had failed so miserably that the two women had spent several awkward moments during their last couple of
days together in which neither had known quite what to say. Their friendship had been stretched to breaking point over the inconclusive Will/Terry debate. Nonetheless, having Eve around was
preferable to the yawning emptiness of the house that was waiting for her now.

As Rose passed the beds of silver birches on her way towards the Millennium Bridge, her friend remained foremost in her mind. Although family ties dictated that Rose side with her brother, she
was sympathetic to Eve. Terry couldn’t have been the easiest of husbands, and right now he must be one of the worst. She could hardly blame Eve for grabbing a bit of excitement when it came
her way. Attention and great sex – a seductive combination. She wondered for the nth time what Terry would say if he knew. Would he really be surprised, given that he too was so caught up in
his own problems? Rose was guilty of not phoning him recently in case she said something that would give Eve away, although she knew he needed her support. But the sale of the Arthur was going
through, and Terry knew that the money would soon be realised to clear the remaining debt. Beyond that, he had a hard struggle ahead. But at least he had finally admitted that his gambling had got
way out of control and that he needed help. That must be surely half the battle. That, and taking the steps to stop himself.