Past Secrets Read online

  Maggie smiled.

  ‘What am I going to do now, Shona?’ she sighed. ‘I was going to go back to him. I can’t stay with Mum and Dad for ever, it’s lovely and everything but…’ She paused.

  The shock hit her again. Damn Grey, damn him. Just when she’d begun to think there might be a future for them, his past had ruined it all again.

  She’d begun to feel a little better the past day or so. Insulated in Summer Street. She’d even got used to her old bedroom again and the reassurance of looking at the same wallpaper she’d grown up with. It was easy to block out the pain of finding Grey in bed with another woman. The pain of feeling so stupid, so betrayed. And she liked the local library, it was a nice place to work. Maggie knew she was hiding, just a tiny bit, from the past and its power. But she didn’t care. She wanted a little peace after everything that had happened.

  And now Grey had knocked her right back to square one. He’d reminded her why she was here, alone. What’s more, he hadn’t betrayed her with one woman, he’d betrayed her with four.

  ‘Are you still there?’ asked Shona gently.

  ‘Yes,’ Maggie said. ‘Sorry. I don’t know whether to stay here or go back to Galway. I don’t know what to do about anything. I’m a mess.’

  ‘Join the club, darling,’ Shona said lightly. ‘My roots need doing, my nails are like hooves and I haven’t had a moment since you left, you know. The relief librarian they sent thinks the rota is set in stone and I’m having terrible trouble trying to swap shifts with her. Anyway, listen, sweetie, take your time, you don’t need to make a decision quickly, you’ve got another week. You could come back and have nothing to do with Dr Grey or his nymphets. He’s not in your life any more, you don’t need him.’

  Shona would say that, Maggie thought ruefully. Shona was strong and knew her own worth. She hadn’t needed Paul to make her feel fulfilled. But Maggie wasn’t so strong, she didn’t know if she could go back and start again with all the memories of her and Grey everywhere she went.

  But then, there were painful memories everywhere, even here, on Summer Street.

  She wished she had told Shona about her school years, then maybe she’d understand why Maggie was so anxious about staying in Summer Street. But there had never been a right time to tell her. Shona knew the reinvented Maggie, the feisty person with a kooky personality, a soft heart and a clever word for every situation. It would be strange to tell her now. Talking about the bullying would make it all real and she would only have to confront it. Despite what Christie had said about facing the truth, it was far easier to keep the memories buried.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  If wishing could make a phone ring, Faye’s mobile would have been blistering loudly all Tuesday morning. Her office phone rang every few minutes but her mobile, the number Amber always called her on, just sat there on the desk, silent. And despite being surrounded by all the other people in the office, Faye had never felt more alone.

  It was a little over twenty-four hours since Amber had run off and changed Faye’s world. There had been no phone call from her, nothing, just the blank emptiness of the house without Amber in it and Faye reliving her mistakes over and over again in her mind.

  She’d spent hours the evening before with Ella and her mother, trying to work out where Amber might be, but Ella honestly didn’t know.

  ‘If I did, Mrs Reid, I’d tell you,’ she said. ‘I think she’s crazy and you know she’s my best friend. And I’ve told her I think she’s crazy too,’ she added, just in case anyone doubted her determination to make Amber see sense.

  ‘I just don’t understand,’ said Trina, Ella’s mother. ‘She’s always been such a good girl.’

  Both mothers had talked before of how lucky they were with their daughters. Amber and Ella had never given any trouble before, and their parents agreed that having tough rules about what was and wasn’t allowed was certainly a factor.

  ‘When she gets home, you should ground her for a month!’ Trina insisted.

  Ella and Faye looked at each other. They both knew it had gone far beyond that.

  When Faye had left Ella’s house that evening and returned home to Summer Street, she entered a house that felt like an empty shell. With Amber there, it had been a lively home; now it was cold and hard, all the life and the warmth gone. This was the rest of her life, Faye realised bleakly: being alone without the one person she loved most in the whole world. It was like the end of a love affair, except Faye knew she’d never have felt the loss of any man the way she felt the loss of her daughter.

  Christie had phoned on Tuesday morning before Faye went to work.

  ‘I wanted to see how you were,’ she said, in her soothing way. ‘To remind you that you’re not on your own, that you’ve got people to talk to in this.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Faye.

  ‘Did you sleep?’

  ‘If you call lying in bed crying, yes, I slept really well.’

  ‘I’ll bring you over some wonderful herbal tea later this evening,’ Christie promised. ‘I got it in a little shop in Camden Street and it’s called Sleep Tea. It’s very relaxing.’

  ‘Do you have Instant Happiness Tea or Make Everything Better Tea?’ Faye inquired.

  ‘No,’ sighed Christie. ‘I wish I did. In fact, I’d also love a packet of the Make All the Old Secrets Disappear Tea but they were out of stock. Are you going into work?’

  ‘Of course.’

  The idea of doing anything else was ridiculous to Faye. Work had been her saviour for many years. Work made you forget about humiliation and pain, and people who treated you like dirt. Work gave you confidence and courage and a tiny glimmer of self-respect.

  Except not today. No matter what she tried, she couldn’t concentrate.

  She sat at her desk miserably. She had no idea how to get Amber back and all she could do was see the mistakes she had made and regret them. Faye had been so sure that she had brought Amber up in the right way, in a lovely cosy world, where education and faith in your own power were the most important things. She had been so sure that was right, and now it seemed, like mother, like daughter. Amber was merely repeating her mistakes. And Faye, who, she could see now, should have told Amber the truth, had let Amber grow up thinking her mother was a plaster saint.

  She didn’t tell anyone at work about Amber going. She couldn’t. Keeping people at a distance was too firmly engrained in her. Yesterday, she’d let Christie and Maggie get closer to her than anyone had in years – she was still getting used to having done that.

  Grace popped her head round the door at eleven. She didn’t come in because she always felt it was really only a quick chat if she didn’t stand entirely in a room.

  ‘I’ve someone you’ve just got to meet, Faye. She’s an image consultant and a life coach. You know, that’s not even describing her properly, she changes people’s lives. She has degrees coming out of her armpits and I thought it would be a brilliant idea to bring her into the business as part of our getting women back to work campaign.’

  Faye had come up with the idea of a drive to recruit women coming back into the workplace after a few years of being at home taking care of their children and the campaign had become Grace’s special project. Grace set up the interviews and had organised a whole retraining programme for mothers wanting to brush up on interview techniques and computer skills. It had been a huge success, with scores of brilliantly qualified women signing up, but the only problem, Grace said, was that some of the women coming back to work were terribly anxious about it all.

  ‘No matter what top job they had before, they keep saying everyone’s moved on and they’ve become mumsy and out of touch. You wouldn’t credit the sort of superwomen who say they don’t know what to wear or what to say because they’ve lost the knack. I tell them you never forget,’ Grace added, ‘but honestly, women’s anxiety is terrible. Why do we do this to ourselves? I bet men don’t obsess that they won’t fit back in if they haven’t been in the workplace for a
few years? I mean, can you imagine Neil feeling like that?’ she asked Faye.

  As Faye felt that Neil didn’t really work in the first place, she couldn’t answer this accurately. But she nodded and said yes, she knew what Grace was getting at: the age-old problem of confidence had undermined many a woman.

  ‘So your plan is to help people dress properly and do their hair and be full of enthusiasm?’ Faye asked now.

  ‘That’s part of it.’ Grace inserted her whole body into the room. ‘It’s giving women back their confidence more than anything. This life coach is just totally amazing. Her name’s Ellen. You’ll love her. She’s in my office now and if you’ve some free time, come on in. She’s going to do a consultation on me.’

  A few days ago, Faye would have loved to meet this woman, but not today. She couldn’t summon up the enthusiasm for life coaches or even her beloved business.

  ‘Grace, you don’t need a consultation. Nobody has more confidence than you and they don’t do any better ball-busting office suits than the sort of things you wear. What help can she give you?’

  ‘Well, I’d love to know if longer hair would suit me,’ Grace said, thoughtfully, fingering her short, expertly highlighted blonde hair. ‘And Ellen has such an eye. You know, my hairdresser says he likes the way my hair is, but he would say that, wouldn’t he? He cuts it. Come on, meet her.’

  ‘Just for ten minutes,’ countered Faye. ‘I’ll follow you down to your office.’ She shouldn’t have come into work at all – she should have phoned in sick. How could she make polite conversation in the midst of her grief?

  She delayed following Grace, hoping that by the time she arrived in Grace’s office, Ellen might have gone. No such luck.

  ‘Hello,’ Faye said. ‘I’ve really only got a minute, Grace, because I’ve got to…’

  ‘Hey, sit down,’ interrupted Grace, in a voice that brooked no opposition.

  Faye knew when she was beaten. Still, she could say hello, be charming and leave in five minutes.

  ‘Meet Ellen.’ Ellen was not the tall and exquisite creature that Faye expected. All the life coaches and stylists she had ever seen had exuded as much glamour as confidence. Ellen was remarkably normal-looking, around Faye’s age and was simply but elegantly made up. She was beautifully dressed in a fitted skirt suit in a lovely pale grey that Faye wouldn’t have looked at in a million years. Her eyes shone with a wealth of experience and innate self-confidence.

  ‘Hello,’ said Ellen. ‘Nice to meet you, Faye.’ Even her voice was elegant.

  They talked about the business for a few moments, with Faye eager to be gone. This was Grace’s area of expertise.

  Grace liked nice clothes and high heels because she liked attracting attention, sexual allure was part of what made Grace tick. It was a part of Faye that she’d ruthlessly ripped out. She never wanted a man to fancy her again.

  No man would ever call her honey or Silver or touch her again. Men were not on her agenda, ever.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ she said finally, when she judged she could leave.

  ‘It was nice to meet you,’ said Ellen, and Faye could see the other woman’s eyes on her, perhaps itching to do a makeover on her.

  It was all so superficial – style your hair, wear better suits, have a make-up lesson – who cared? Faye thought, rage from somewhere deep inside her bubbling up. Who really cared what people looked like? The outside didn’t matter. It was the inside that counted – didn’t anybody understand that? Never mind that Faye’s inside was a mess.

  Five miles away, in the comfort of Karl’s admittedly rather fusty-smelling bed, Amber stretched and luxuriated. It was eleven o’clock in the morning and she wasn’t sitting in crappy old Irish class, bored out of her brain, thinking of the exams and what she was going to do for the summer. No, she was lying beside the man she loved, the man who was soon going to wake up and start kissing her gently, nibbling her neck and making love to her.

  Then, maybe they’d get up and have a late, luxurious breakfast, padding around the flat together in their bare feet. She might wear one of his shirts: people did that in films, it was sort of cute. Then they could curl up on the couch and watch old movies and it would be blissful.

  She and Mum used to love the afternoon movies when she was growing up, all those black-and-white classics. It was especially nice on winter weekends when the rain pelted down outside and they’d sit, cosy in their home, and…

  Amber didn’t want to think about Mum, because then she’d feel guilty. But it was all her mother’s fault really. Her obsession with never upsetting the neighbours and having to always be whiter than white because ‘you’ve got no dad and we don’t want anyone looking down on the Reid family, making assumptions and remarks’.

  What sort of assumptions would they make? It used to drive Amber mad.

  If only Mum hadn’t been so obsessed with all that crap she might have noticed Amber changing, or she might have understood why Amber had wanted to change.

  None of it mattered any more anyway. She was with Karl and that was what mattered, as she’d told Mum. It had been horrible but it was over.

  Amber had kept her mobile phone off since, afraid her mother would ring, demanding that she come home. Or worse, crying and looking devastated, as she’d been yesterday. It had been weird to see her like that, all sad and pleading. Not like the strong mother she knew.

  ‘Hiya, baby,’ murmured Karl, half awake. He rolled over in the bed, closed his eyes and appeared to sink back into sleep.

  Amber stroked the back of his neck hopefully. She didn’t want to lie here with her feelings for company: she wanted Karl to take her mind off them.

  But Karl was asleep again.

  Maybe she’d ring Gran, just to tell her to keep an eye on Mum, because knowing Mum she wouldn’t tell anybody that Amber had left. That would be so her.

  She’d ring Gran and explain, then Gran could explain to Mum, who’d get over it and perhaps, even fly out to New York to meet them when she and Karl were settled. Amber hoped the record company could sort out an apartment for them to stay in, something with a balcony, perhaps.

  Or maybe a modern house, with huge glass windows that looked out on to the sea in the Hamptons. Now that would be major league. Ella could come and stay too, when they were back talking to each other again.

  Time, Amber decided, was all it would take and everyone would get used to the idea. Stan answered the phone at Gran’s house and he sounded as he always did, relaxed and laid-back, as if every day was a joy to be savoured, which indeed it was, according to Stan.

  Ella and Amber thought Stan was a howl. The complete opposite to Gran, who fired on all cylinders and never stopped moving or talking. Stan could sit in his chair and listen, without saying anything for ages. He was a good step-granddad, Ella used to say, seeing as Amber couldn’t really remember her real granddad.

  ‘You don’t have much luck with male relatives, do you?’ Ella had said one day. ‘I mean, your dad’s dead, your granddad’s dead, you don’t know your dad’s family, what’s all that about?’

  ‘Dad was Scottish and he was only working in Ireland, I told you that,’ Amber said, annoyed at her friend’s thoughtlessness. ‘Oh, it’s complicated.’

  Ella was such a pain sometimes. Just because she had all her family around her with relatives coming out her ears, she thought everyone else should be the same.

  ‘But it’s romantic, isn’t it?’ said Ella, wistful now.

  ‘Make up your mind,’ Amber said crossly. ‘One minute it’s weird and strange, the next minute it’s romantic, which is it?’

  She’d often wondered about her dad, and what sort of father he’d be: strict and tough, or pretending to be strict, a bit like Ella’s dad, who was a total softie under all that cross-patch, ‘I’m your father and listen to me’ stuff. Amber’s mum didn’t talk enough about Dad, she felt. She knew so little about him. Even Gran said practically nothing about him. She just knew he’d loved her. They hadn’t known
each other long when Mum got pregnant.

  ‘We wanted to bring you up properly, together,’ Mum had said. And then Dad was killed in a car accident, and he’d only a few relatives left and they’d moved, so Amber and her mum had lost touch with them. She’d like to search for them sometime.

  ‘Your gran’s in the kitchen baking,’ said Stan now to Amber. ‘Yet another church event she’s been asked to make cakes for.’

  Just like Mum, thought Amber, another tinge of irritation hitting her. What was it with her mother and grandmother and all this church baking, holier than thou stuff?

  ‘I’ll get her for you,’ said Stan.

  ‘Hello, love,’ said Gran cheerily after a long period when Amber could imagine her dusting off her floury hands and sitting down on the tapestry stool in the hall where the old-fashioned round-dial phone sat. ‘I can’t talk for long. I’m about to put my cakes in the oven and you know how cakes can flop if you hesitate. How are you, love? And why are you ringing me now? You should be at school – is something wrong?’

  ‘No, I’m fine. The thing is, Gran,’ said Amber, and suddenly it seemed quite hard to say this, ‘I’m not at school because I’ve left home and…’

  ‘You’ve left home?’ The tone of her grandmother’s voice didn’t change, but something steely came into it.

  ‘Yes,’ said Amber. This was definitely more difficult than she’d thought. ‘I’ve left home because I’ve fallen in love with somebody and Mum doesn’t understand. I want to go to America with him. I just thought I’d tell you so that you’d keep an eye on Mum, because she’s really upset.’

  ‘Really upset, was she?’ asked her grandmother, still steely, and Amber winced. ‘That’s not surprising if you told her you were leaving school to go to America with a man. When did all this happen?’

  ‘Yesterday.’

  ‘I meant,’ Gran said, ‘when did you fall in love with this man?’

  ‘Over a month ago.’ It seemed such a short length of time and yet, Amber felt as if she’d been with Karl for ever. Like Romeo and Juliet. Héloïse and Abelard. Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic.