One Secret Summer (34 page)

‘Sorry?’

‘You’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes. I’m sorry you had the ‘‘rotten luck’’, as you yourself put it, to be
sitting next to me all bloody night, but you don’t have to stare. It’s rude,’ she hissed.

He was so taken aback that he began to laugh. ‘Christ, Burrows … you don’t let up, do you?’

‘Me?’ Her look was incredulous. ‘You’re the one—’

‘Look,’ he said quickly, pushing back his chair. ‘Main course is over. Join me outside for a fag.’

She looked at him, confusion written all over her face. She was actually rather beautiful, he thought to himself, then regretted
the thought.

‘Outside where?’ she asked finally.

‘On the terrace. You’re perfectly safe.’

To his surprise, she pushed back her own chair and stood up. ‘All right. Come on then.’ She marched off.

He hurried after her. The invitation to step outside had been his, and now he was running to keep up! Typical, bloody typical!

It was chilly outside. Julia wrapped her arms about herself as she strode on to the terrace that looked out over the formal
gardens of the Inn. She could hardly believe what she was doing. She leaned against one of the stone balustrades and accepted
a cigarette. ‘I hardly ever smoke,’ she said, coughing slightly as the smoke hit her lungs. ‘Usually only when I’ve had a
drink or two.’

‘Me neither. I used to, though. When I went up to Balliol, it seemed to be the thing to do.’

‘D’you always follow the herd?’

He smiled. She caught a glimpse of his teeth in the semi-darkness. Further down the terrace a couple were kissing, the man’s
hand running up and down the woman’s bare back. ‘I
used to,’ he repeated, and there was amusement in his voice. ‘Not any more. And you? D’you always run in the opposite direction?’

It was Julia’s turn to smile. ‘Always.’

‘Yeah. You don’t strike me as the type to do what anyone else says.’

Julia’s head was swimming. She’d had far too much to drink, she thought to herself, panicking slightly. The entire evening
suddenly began to take on a surreal, strange quality. Not only were they chatting to one another, they were actually smiling.
Laughing. Teasing. She felt the sudden tug of longing that had swept through her on their last encounter surface again. She
put out a hand as if to steady herself and found it on his forearm instead – had
she
put it there? She felt the heat rise in her body like a blush; she lifted her hand from his arm to touch her face but he
caught it halfway. Instead of releasing her, he drew her closer. Just as before, she was trapped between an almost unbearable
desire and an equally unbearable fear. The distance that he maintained so rigidly when he was in her presence suddenly dissolved.
His touch was both tender and strong. The sudden unexpected intimacy of him hollowed her out. She drew a deep breath as if
to steady herself before a fall. That was exactly what it felt like, she thought to herself wildly in the seconds before his
lips touched hers. A fall. Wild, abrupt, intoxicating. She felt her arms reach up and take hold of the soft, darker blond
hair at the nape of his neck, drawing him down towards her as if she couldn’t possibly get enough.
It’s Hades you’re about to enter, Burrows.
Dom’s words came back to her. And then she couldn’t think about anything else.

MADDY

New York/Iowa, March 1997

The chatter of the other diners in the crowded restaurant receded into the background. Maddy stared at the little black box.
Across the table, Rafe waited, his handsome face full of nervous, expectant tension. She swallowed. Her thoughts began rushing
over one another, tripping themselves up. It had been just over six months since Rafe Keeler had walked into her life. She
loved him. Of course she did. Who wouldn’t? He was the kindest person she’d ever met. He was so solid and reliable; handsome,
charming, talented … there were times when she still had to pinch herself to make sure it was real. Rafe Keeler loved
her
. He’d chosen
her
. He would always be there for her, always. He would never do to her what her father had done. The thought of Rafe simply
not being there one morning was absurd. He would always be there. She could see it in his eyes, in his words, his actions
… in his family. Aside from the tension that the younger brother, Josh, seemed to provoke in everyone, she’d never met a more
tightly knit family. She’d been back to London twice since her first visit over Christmas, and whilst she hadn’t managed to
get any closer to his mother, Diana, she genuinely liked Harvey and Aaron. They seemed to like her, too. Rafe was offering
her something she’d always lacked – a family, a place in the world … a home. With him she could start her own family – their
family. The thought of it produced a funny, thrilling sensation inside her. Perhaps that was what fate or God or whoever it
was who made such decisions had decided for her. Perhaps she
wasn’t
destined to become the greatest stage actress ever. She knew it; her agent knew it. The only person who still seemed to believe
in her was Rafe. He made no secret of the fact that he was fascinated by her, by what she did, the way she thought about things,
the intensity that she brought to
things, especially what he called her ‘craft’. He’d gone along to see her perform in a small, off-Broadway production on his
last trip over and couldn’t stop talking about it for weeks. ‘That was
you
up there,’ he’d said to her over and over again. ‘But it wasn’t. It was someone else. Everything about you was different.
I don’t know how you do it. Even your
face
looked different.’ Maddy squirmed, unused to hearing such praise. She’d tried so hard; she’d
worked
so hard … and in the end, it simply wasn’t enough. Could she bear the thought of continuing to waitress at Sunshine’s for
the rest of her working life? She wasn’t stupid – the older she got, the less likely her chances were of succeeding. Now Rafe
had entered her life to present her with another set of options – marriage, a family, motherhood … a chance to make things
right in a way that hadn’t been given to her. She swallowed. Here they were, seated opposite one another in the French bistro
on Park Avenue that Rafe had chosen. The little black box lay between them, unopened. Maddy looked up at him. His hair was
ruffled. She was overcome with a sudden wave of tenderness. ‘Your hair’s all messed up,’ she said shakily, her fingers coming
to rest on the box. ‘You must’ve slept on it.’

‘Aren’t you going to open it?’ Rafe ignored her.

Maddy swallowed again. She prised open the lid. The diamond winked back at her. A simple solitaire set in a band of white
gold. She felt her stomach turn over.

‘I know it’s a bit sudden … I should’ve said something … warned you. But I can’t face the thought of going back to London
without you. I just can’t.’

‘Rafe …’ Maddy struggled to say something.

‘Just tell me. Will you?’ She drew the ring out of the box and held it in her fingers. Slowly she brought it up to her cheek.
It was cold and hard against her skin. His face was a picture of conflicting emotions – hope, anxiety, worry, even fear. She
didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘Will you marry me?’ he repeated, reaching across the table for her hand.

She could feel the cool rush of her future coming at her, a thousand questions trailing in its wake. She found herself unable
to utter a single word, all feeling in her body concentrated on the third finger of her left hand. Marriage.
He’d asked her to marry him
. She looked down at the ring. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, barely audible to anyone but herself. ‘Yes. Of course I will.’

‘London?’ Martha said, putting a hand to her throat. She stared at the ring Maddy displayed a touch self-consciously. ‘You’re
moving to
London
?’

The guilt rippled through her. ‘I know it’s a bit of a shock, Mom,’ she began hesitantly. ‘I … we should have warned you,
I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was going to propose … it’s a bit sudden.’

‘A bit
sudden
?’ Martha repeated incredulously.

Maddy looked anxiously at her. Martha’s cheeks were flushed, the way Maddy’s were when she was overcome with emotion. It was
a week since Rafe’s unexpected proposal. He’d gone back to London almost straight away, and in less than a month’s time, Maddy
was due to follow him. She slid a hand across the table and touched her mother’s arm. ‘I know we haven’t known each other
for very long, but it just feels right, Mom. I can’t explain it. Of course it’s a really long way away, but his whole family’s
there, his work is there … it’s going to be easier for me to move, Mom. He can’t. Say you’re happy for me. Please.’

Martha stared at her for a second. Then she forced a smile to her face. ‘Oh, Maddy … it’s good news, really it is, and I
am
happy for you, honey. It’s just … it’s so far away, and what about your career and everything? You’ve worked so hard to get
where you are … you can’t just throw it all away.’

‘I’ll find something when I get there, Mom. London’s the theatre capital of the world. I’ll find an agent, do the rounds.
It’s
not like there’s anything here for me. I mean, it’s been nearly three years and I haven’t even bagged a commercial yet. There’s
too much competition in New York—’

‘And there’s no competition in London?’ Martha couldn’t stop herself.

‘You’ll come and visit, Mom.’ Maddy tried to change the subject. ‘And I’ll come back often. London’s hardly further than New
York. It won’t be so bad, will it?’ Her voice sounded plaintive, even to her own ears.

Martha shook her head slowly. ‘I just can’t believe it,’ was all she could say. ‘I just can’t believe it.’

That evening after supper, Maddy wandered out to the barns. The last time she’d been here there’d been snow on the ground,
she realised with a pang of guilt. She hardly ever came home any more. There was something about the way the farm never changed
that depressed her. Now, as she stood amongst the discarded milk pails and lumps of broken-down equipment, it came to her
suddenly that she would miss it. There was no getting away from it. Iowa was home, perhaps not in the same way that Brooklyn
was, but home nonetheless. She’d lived with the colours and contours of the landscape for practically her entire life. Now
she was about to swap the pale blonde wheat fields and the flashes of silver where water had gathered in a gentle hollow to
form a pond for a grey, cloudy city where the sun never shone.

She sighed and turned away from the barns. She pushed open the gate that separated the cows from the bulls and closed it behind
her. She began to walk away from the house, across the fields to the small clump of trees that marked the edge of the farm.
She shoved her hands in her pockets, conscious of the weight and feel of the ring on her left hand. A gust of wind whipped
at her face; with the sun sinking fast below the horizon, it had suddenly turned colder. There was a dampness to the woods
as she entered; the familiar musky scent of moss drifted up from the ground. She looked around her, seeking something
out. There it was – the last tree before the fence. She walked up to it and put both hands out, feeling its girth as she’d
done a thousand times before. The bark was rough and peeling, flaking away in places where the winter’s frost had settled.
She felt in her pocket for the small penknife she’d brought along. With one hand, she traced the last inscription she’d made.
21st July, 1982
. Her fingers danced lightly over the date. She bent closer and began carving another. Today’s date. She brushed off the curled
blonde shavings and slipped the knife back into her pocket. It had been a gift from her father. One of the last he’d given
her. She peered at the tree. In a few months’ time, the scars would have softened and dulled until the date would appear as
natural as the toughened skin that made up its blackened husk. She walked through the woods, making her way back to the house.
At the top of the slight incline, she turned her head to look back the way she’d come, in all likelihood for the very last
time.

DIANA

London, April 1997

Diana paused in the act of chopping spring onions. Behind her, Rafe and Maddy stood, nervously awaiting her response. She
withheld it deliberately until her voice was steady and she could trust herself to speak. Clearly. Naturally. ‘A registry
wedding,’ she said at last. ‘In a registry
office
?’

‘The thing is, Mother … we talked about it. We don’t want all the fuss of a big do, do we, darling?’ He turned to Maddy. Who
at least had enough sense to keep quiet. Diana thought to herself uncharitably.
We talked about it
. Who did? Who was ‘we’?

Her hands were trembling. She pushed aside the small, neatly cut pile of green vegetables and turned slowly to face them.
‘Well,’ she said brightly. ‘It
is
your decision, I suppose. I’d just never thought … I just didn’t expect …’

‘We could always … well, we haven’t
totally
made up our minds … I guess it wasn’t quite what you’d planned …’

That was Maddy, of course. Too eager to please. Waffling. Vacillating. Unable to take a stand. God, she was irritating! ‘No,
if that’s what you’ve decided to do, Rafe, who am I to change your plans?’ She was aware that her voice was colder than it
should be, but she felt as though she’d been slapped. It was bad enough coming home one evening to find his message on the
answering machine: ‘Mother, it’s me. I’m in New York. I’ve got some news … well,
we’ve
got some news. We’re getting married! I’ll be back on Sunday night … can’t wait to see you and tell you everything. But she’s
accepted. We’re getting married. I love you.’ She’d replayed the message a dozen times. Who heard such news on an answering
machine? She’d erased it before Harvey came home. And now here they were, standing behind her like two nervous children, telling
her they’d made all the arrangements, made all the plans. He was her eldest son – and he was about to get married
in a registry office
? No, it bloody well wasn’t what she’d planned!