One Secret Summer (47 page)

‘Oh, nothing much.’ Maddy perched on one of the swivel stools at the breakfast bar, watching him prepare the table. His movements
were neat and precise, just like his son’s. Surgeons, she supposed. She remembered the first time she and Rafe had talked
– properly talked – in New York. She’d been fascinated then by his hands; almost more expressive than his words. Harvey was
the same. She took another sip of wine. ‘The weeks just seem to fly by, don’t they?’ she said, trying to find the right level
of banter to match his tone.

Harvey paused in his preparations. ‘Did you ever hear back from that agent? The one you were going to see the last time we
saw you?’

Maddy shook her head slowly from side to side. ‘Nope. Not a thing. Not even a return phone call. I don’t know … I don’t think
I expected it to be quite this hard.’

‘You mustn’t give up.’

Maddy looked at him quickly. As was often the way with Harvey, something more was being said. She liked him enormously. He
was kind, with the sort of gentle manner she’d always associated with English actors of a certain generation. He had a way
of looking you directly in the eye, head cocked to one side whilst listening, as if you were the most important person in
the room. ‘I … I won’t,’ she said uncertainly.

‘Won’t what?’ Rafe’s voice sounded just behind her ear. Maddy jumped guiltily, as if she’d been caught out.

‘Give up.’ Harvey handed his son a glass. ‘We’re looking forward to seeing you on the stage, my dear. Now … where’s your mother?
We’re almost ready to eat.’

‘She’ll be down in a minute. Darcy’s almost asleep.’ Rafe’s hand came to rest on the nape of Maddy’s neck. She felt a sudden
tremor of apprehension run through her, instantly
skimming away. Across the table Harvey was looking at her with an expression she preferred not to meet. For a moment, when
it was just the two of them talking, she’d felt a warmth from him that disarmed her. She didn’t want to spoil it. She took
another cautious sip of wine and felt their attention slowly slip away. She was relieved, in both senses of the word.

JULIA

London, May 2000

Julia slipped out of bed, taking care not to wake Aaron, and hurried across the floor to the bathroom. She closed the door
as quietly as she could, slid the bolt and opened the medicine cabinet. She fumbled around in her little washbag until she
found the small white carton she’d been looking for. She pulled it out and looked at it, her heart thudding. Clearblue. Results
in less than a minute.

She perched herself awkwardly on the edge of the toilet, pulled off the wrapping and positioned the stick to catch the flow
of urine. She waited for a full minute as instructed, held her breath and then withdrew it slowly. She drew a deep breath
and looked down. Nothing. The little window was clear. No blue line. The hot flush of disappointment was physical. She bent
over, wrapping her arms around herself, trying desperately not to burst into tears. She waited a few moments, then got up,
flushed the toilet and dropped the useless stick in the waste-basket. It was the third time she’d taken the test and the results
were always the same: negative. She’d told no one – not her friends, not Dom and certainly not Aaron. She wasn’t sure how
he would react. After their return from Mougins at Christmas that year, a strange fear had begun slowly to creep over her.
Until
that point, she’d been happy, content. For the first time in years, her first waking moments were ones of pleasure, sometimes
even joy. It had been so long since she’d experienced it. Little things. The feel of Aaron’s bare sole against hers or the
way he held her as he slept, a hand always touching some part of her as if he were afraid to let her go. The way he called
out to her as soon as he came through the front door. ‘Jules?’ It was her father’s nickname for her. Aaron didn’t know that
– how could he? The first time he’d said it she’d stopped dead in her tracks, a ripple of emotion running up and down her
back. ‘My dad used to call me that,’ she’d said to him softly, turning round.

‘Suits you.’ He’d grinned at her, unaware of its impact. ‘C’mere, Jules.’ He’d held out his arms. A small gesture of the sort
he made every day. Nothing special, but in its simplicity there was absolution. He’d begun to take the hurt away.

There’d been a short period of bliss, and then the fears began to creep in – of a different kind, perhaps, but they terrified
her nonetheless. It would all disappear. There would be an accident. Aaron would find someone else. She would lose her job.
The scenarios were endless and unfounded but she was unable to stop. She found herself thinking up ever more intricate ways
to bind herself more fully into the life she’d found herself in – which essentially meant
his
life – except that it wasn’t in her nature to depend on anyone, least of all a man. She’d always been a loner, content with
one or two close friends, never looking to be the life and soul of the party. She hated that side of her that sat up at night
waiting for him to come home after a night out with his friends. It was bad enough that they worked in the same office – to
her horror, she found herself suggesting they lunch together or wait for one another to go home. For a few weeks the twin
urges inside her fought for control, and then, one morning, it came to her suddenly, literally out of the blue. A child. A
child would seal the gaps, heal the pain that losing any part of her new-found happiness would bring. She loved Aaron; he
loved her. What more perfect way to put the panic to rest?

Except that nothing was happening. It’s only been three
months, she told herself, splashing cold water over her face. She looked anxiously at her reddened nose in the bathroom mirror.
Three months is nothing. She picked up the face cloth and passed it over her burning cheeks. It’ll happen soon. Of course
it will. She switched off the light and opened the door. Aaron was still fast asleep. It was a Sunday. The weather outside
was cold and rainy. Diana had rung that morning to complain they hadn’t been round for lunch in ages. They’d been away the
month before; why didn’t they come round that afternoon? Julia wasn’t sure she could bear it. She’d somehow managed to persuade
Aaron to decline. Maddy and Rafe would be there with Darcy, the very picture of family bliss that Julia so badly craved. That
it should find expression in that vacuous, overfriendly American and Aaron’s older, slightly pompous brother was hard to take.
She slipped back into bed beside Aaron and thought back to the last Sunday lunch, which was the last time she’d seen them.
Maddy had been moaning about being bored in London and Julia just couldn’t stop herself.

‘Why don’t you just get a job?’ she’d asked. She saw Rafe’s head jerk upwards and she wondered if she’d spoken out of turn.

‘A job?’ Maddy echoed, as if it were the most novel idea she’d ever heard.

‘Yes, a job. Work.’

‘I’m an actress,’ Maddy said haltingly. ‘It’s really difficult. There aren’t many parts …’ Her voice trailed off. Julia saw
her look at Rafe.

‘Well, do something else. I’m sure there’s loads of other things you can do.’

‘Julia,’ Aaron interrupted her, a look of gentle warning in his eyes.

‘Dessert, anyone? More wine?’ Diana quickly cut short the conversation.

‘Did you have to?’ Aaron had asked her afterwards as they’d walked back home.

Julia’s face immediately reddened. ‘Sorry,’ she muttered. ‘I didn’t mean to. But she doesn’t half get on my nerves.’

‘I know. But you didn’t have to attack her like that, you know. After all, what do you care?’

‘I didn’t! I only asked her if she ever intended to get a job, that’s all.’

‘Jules—’

‘All right, all right,’ she said sulkily. ‘I know. Me and my big mouth.’

‘Just take it easy. We can’t all be geniuses like you.’

The comment hit home; Julia flushed. Ever since she’d been made a partner at work, there’d been an undercurrent of tension
in almost everything Aaron did or said. She knew what was wrong: that terrible, gnawing combination of envy and fear. Fear
that he wasn’t good enough, or worse, that his wife was better. She saw it in his eyes and read it in his voice, but this
time she didn’t know how to help him. It wasn’t her fault the family unit under Harriet had gone from strength to strength.
Or that her refusal to join the corporate division of the firm would pay such dividends, and so soon. She’d done it out of
principle, nothing else. Corporate law bored her to death. She certainly wasn’t doing what she did for the glory; that wasn’t
why she’d chosen to work for three years in the basement, lugging Harriet’s files around, taking on cases that no one else
would. It was just luck that they’d had one or two high-profile suits where Julia had been caught on camera with a comment
that had made people sit up and notice her. She was young, articulate, dedicated … a working-class girl made good. She wasn’t
stupid; for the first time in her professional life, her profile had become something worth showing. She was in the right
place at the right time, that was all. Aaron’s chance would come. In the meantime, she wished he would just carry on with
whatever aspect of tax law it was he’d chosen to specialise in and leave her the hell alone.

The following day, sitting at her desk, the comment still rankled. She looked with irritation at the enormous stack of papers
that had been placed there since Friday. She’d spent the whole of
Friday afternoon clearing out stuff – what the hell was this? She tossed her briefcase to one side and picked up the memo
that was on top of the pile.
Please give this your undivided attention. See me when you’re done. Rgds, Harriet.
She frowned. In a week that was already full to the brim with meetings, client briefings, court appearances and research
requirements, why on earth had Harriet chosen to drop this on her? She pulled the stack towards her, exasperated.

An hour and a half later, she was no clearer as to why Harriet had sent it to her. It was interesting, certainly – the transcripts
of the enormous conference on women’s rights that had taken place in Beijing a few years earlier. Julia had heard of it –
who hadn’t? But what did it have to do with her?

A few minutes later, she stared at Harriet as if she couldn’t quite believe her ears. ‘Me?’ she asked incredulously. ‘You
want
me
to go?’

‘Why not?’

Julia struggled for a reply. ‘Because I’ve never done anything like this before,’ she said eventually.

‘And since when has that ever stopped you? Question is, do you
want
to go? No point in discussing this any further if you’ve no interest.’

‘No, no … I
am
interested. Very interested … it’s just a bit of a surprise, that’s all. Wh-what would I be expected to do?’

‘Deliver a paper, of course. But that’s the easy bit. This conference is supposed to be the follow-up to Beijing. From our
perspective, what we’re most interested in is getting our name out there as a practice that doesn’t only deal in corporate
law and taxation issues, but tackles the other stuff – the stuff that you and I do. The family unit’s young, granted, but
we’ve done some really interesting work. It’s a fantastic PR opportunity, in a nutshell. And you’re good at it.’

‘But why don’t you want to go?’ Julia couldn’t help herself. ‘The family unit’s yours, really. Not mine.’

‘I don’t like flying,’ Harriet said briskly. There was a short
pause. ‘Look, I happen to think you’re better suited to the policy side of things, Julia. I’m not saying for a moment that
you’re not a good barrister. But leave that sort of mundane stuff to people like your husband. Policy’s your natural home.
Just don’t waste the opportunity.’

Julia stared at her. Harriet had already bent her head back to her work. It was clear that the short interlude was over. She
got to her feet. ‘Thanks, Harriet,’ she said as she headed to the door. ‘I won’t let you down.’

‘I should hope not.’ Harriet looked up briefly as Julia closed the door.

She was an odd person, Julia thought to herself as she walked back down the corridor to her office. Beneath the prickly, professional
exterior, there was someone actually very kind. Not that she went out of her way to show it – but still … asking Julia to
go to the conference in her place was a touching measure of her faith in her. It had been a while since anyone had done anything
like that, Julia realised suddenly.

‘What did the old battleaxe want?’ One of the other barristers with whom she shared an office looked up as she walked in.

‘Oh, just some conference she wanted to talk about.’

‘Conference?’ Martin, the third barrister in the office, looked up too.

Julia felt herself blush. ‘Yes, there’s a UN conference on women’s rights next month. She just wondered if I wanted to go,
that’s all.’ She was aware the conference literature had been lying on her desk whilst she’d been out.

‘So how come
you
get to go?’ George asked, a trifle sharply.

Martin snorted. ‘Oh, easy enough. She’s a Keeler now, remember?’

Julia flushed deeper. ‘What d’you mean?’ she asked, turning to face them both. ‘This has nothing to do with Aaron.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Martin muttered.

‘Have you got something you want to say to me?’ Julia demanded angrily. She could feel her temper rising. She’d
never particularly cared for either George Forrester or Martin Griffiths but she’d managed to maintain a reasonable enough
working relationship with them both. Not any more.

‘No,’ George muttered, throwing Martin a sideways look.

‘Good. Because if you do, at least have the guts to say it to my face.’ There was an uncomfortable silence. Then George mumbled
something about having to go to the library and walked out. A few minutes later, Martin followed suit.

Julia sat alone in the office, contemplating their screen savers, trying not to give vent to her anger. How
dare
they? Was that what everyone else thought? That she was given special treatment because of whom she’d married? She swallowed,
aware of the need to keep a fierce grip on her emotions. Nothing upset her as much as an injustice – she was only just beginning
to discover how much more upsetting it was when it was aimed at her.