One Secret Summer (63 page)

To her horror, she felt her eyes fill with tears. ‘Y-yes,’ she stammered, ‘everything’s fine.’

Aaron put down the butter knife and pulled her close. ‘C’mere,’ he said softly, his hand stroking the nape of her neck. ‘Something’s
wrong. You haven’t been yourself for weeks.’

She closed her eyes. His touch was more than she could bear. She could feel her lips forming around the words and all of a
sudden they were out. ‘Aaron … there’s something … I need to tell you something. Oh, Aaron … I’m pregnant.’ Her words dropped
into the silence between them. His hand froze in its gentle caress. She was overcome with relief and trembling, so much so
that she didn’t even notice he hadn’t said a word, or that his hand stayed where it was. She couldn’t think about anything
other than the fact that the weeks of agonising and waiting were over. She was going to have this child, come what may. She
was having a baby, and that was all that mattered in the world.

AARON

London, September 2000

‘Sperm abnormalities can be caused by a range of factors, including congenital birth defects, disease, chemical exposure,
and lifestyle habits.’ Aaron put down the report, aware of a faint but persistent pulse beating somewhere around his left
temple. He put up a hand to touch it, massaging the spot where the pain was most persistent. He couldn’t quite take it all
in. The problem lay with him.
Azoospermia
. An abnormally low sperm count. Had they made a mistake? He desperately wanted to believe so. He’d had the report in his
desk drawer for almost three weeks now, waiting for the right time to bring it up. Well, now the time had come – but he wasn’t
sure how to even think about it, never mind open his mouth. There was only one person he could turn to – Rafe. Rafe would
know, surely? He scanned the report one last time, blew out his cheeks and picked up the phone.

Ten minutes later, he managed to get hold of Rafe. ‘A mistake? How d’you mean?’ Rafe was in a hurry.

‘I mean is it possible they’ve made a mistake?’

‘Highly unlikely. Unless the results were mixed up with someone else’s – that’s always possible. Did your client go privately,
d’you know?’

‘Er, no, I don’t,’ Aaron said, his heart sinking.

‘Well, whatever the case, I’d advise him to have the results done again, maybe privately, or by a different clinic. If it
was a simple case of oligospermia, then it’s possible that the results change over time. Sperm counts vary for all sorts of
reasons, but it’s unlikely that someone who’s been diagnosed with azoospermia will suddenly start producing healthy sperm.
Get him to take the test again. And then if it
is
wrong and they’ve made a
mistake, he’s got grounds for legal action. I presume that’s why you’re calling?’

‘Er, yes … yes, yes, it is.’

‘Anyway, got to run, old chap. Might see you on Sunday … no, blast. Maddy’s got one of her bloody rehearsals on … maybe the
week after?’

‘Yeah … the week after,’ Aaron echoed faintly. He put the phone down, aware of a thin trickle of sweat making its way down
his back. A second opinion. He picked up the phone again. Half an hour later, it was all done. He had an appointment for the
following morning at a Harley Street clinic, where he would go through the same humiliating procedure all over again. He fought
back the beginnings of a migraine headache. He hadn’t had one in years, not since school. On the rugby field. He couldn’t
remember how he’d been involved in the scrum, but he’d gone down, almost suffocating with the weight and bulk of the boys
around and over him. He’d panicked, of course, and, ashamed of it, not wanting anyone to see, he’d blacked out. The headache
had stayed with him for almost two days. Two days of the most excruciating pain he’d ever felt, until now. In a curious way,
it was the same prickling sense of humiliation that had brought it on. Julia … what had she done? The thought was enough to
make him physically sick. He staggered up from his desk and burst into the corridor. He only just made it to the toilets in
time. He spewed everything up – his breakfast, the salad he’d had for lunch, two cups of coffee, everything. He staggered
back against the wall, exhausted with the effort of trying to keep everything locked down, including his nauseating shame.

DIANA

London, September 2000

She stood up and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. The cream linen dress from Stefanel fell to just below the knee.
It was only a year old but it already looked different; it was hanging on her. She pulled in the woven leather belt and buckled
it. She’d lost weight; the belt-hole wasn’t the one she normally used. She flicked her hair away from her face, picked up
her lipstick and applied a second coat. She looked tired. Tired and drawn. It had been a fortnight since her appointment with
Geoffrey and she’d told no one apart from Rufus. Not even Harvey. She lay awake beside him in bed, night after night, and
the words simply wouldn’t come. She didn’t even know how to begin.
I’ve been to see Geoffrey
?
I’m not well
?
Darling, I’m dying
? Each struck her as more absurd than the last. Dying? She could hear Harvey’s voice.
Of course you’re not dying. Don’t be ridiculous.
Anger and denial would be his weapons of choice. He could take the most horrific illnesses in his capable hands; but not
hers. That much she already knew.

She heard the doorbell and gave a little start. She looked at her watch. It was one o’clock. Lunch was nearly ready; she could
smell the roast drifting up three flights of stairs. It made her nauseous. There would only be Niela for lunch today. Maddy
had a rehearsal and Rafe was looking after Darcy. He’d promised to drop in later on, if he could get away. At the last minute,
just after breakfast that morning, Aaron had rung to say that Julia wasn’t feeling well. He didn’t sound well either. She
wondered what was wrong – something they’d both picked up? Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen either of them in a while.
She quickly squirted a little perfume behind her ears and a dab on each wrist and hurried downstairs.

‘Hello, Niela. Lovely to see you. Do come in.’ She stood aside to let her pass. ‘Would you like a drink?’

Niela shook her head. ‘No, I’m fine, thank you.’ She stood in the hallway. ‘Is there anything I can help with?’ she asked
politely.

‘No, it’s all in hand,’ Diana said, closing the door behind her. ‘It’s only the three of us, I’m afraid. Julia’s not feeling
well and Maddy’s at a rehearsal. Aaron rang this morning to cancel. But you can come downstairs, if you like. I’ve got a couple
of last-minute things to do. Come and sit with me.’ The invitation slipped out before she could even think about it. It seemed
to surprise Niela as much as it had surprised her. She’d rarely spent any time alone with Niela, she realised, leading the
way downstairs. There was always someone else present, someone else to talk to, usually Josh. ‘Have you heard from Josh?’
she asked. ‘Did he arrive safely?’

‘Yes. He’s in Dar-es-Salaam at the moment. They’re heading out to the camp tomorrow.’

‘And when’s he back? Another couple of months, did he say?’

‘Yes, I think so. Sometimes they stay a bit longer.’

She glanced at the girl. There was a wistful note in her voice that she hadn’t heard before. It was little wonder; Josh was
hardly ever around. She shook herself impatiently. It was the first time she’d ever allowed herself to wonder about the sort
of relationship they had … what had come over her? Thankfully, before she could think about it any further, she heard the
front door opening and Harvey’s deep voice. She was relieved. She was unused to the sudden empathy that Niela had unwittingly
stirred in her. ‘We’re down here,’ she called out, bending down to peer at the roast. She caught a glimpse of Niela’s face
as she straightened up. She too seemed relieved. Harvey came down into the kitchen, a broad smile already on his face. He
was genuinely fond of Niela, she knew. He was fond of all of them – Maddy, Niela and Julia. For the first time ever, Diana
was aware of having held herself back. She didn’t
want
to be fond of them. Especially not now. She felt the sharp prick of tears and
turned away. Something was happening to her that she couldn’t control.

All through lunch, Niela found it hard to concentrate. Her mind kept slipping, going back to what she’d seen from the top
of the bus. Josh and Julia. Julia and Josh. Julia wasn’t well; what did that mean? She listened with half an ear to Diana
and Harvey talking, occasionally taking part. It was the first time she’d been alone with them, she realised. There was always
someone else present; usually Josh … Her mind drifted back again. Why would they have needed to meet – and why in a café,
why not here, at Diana’s, or at home? She was aware of a great build-up of tension in her throat, an overflow of emotion that
she couldn’t contain. That was the trouble with living with things that couldn’t be said. There was always a well of untapped
sadness that, once released, was impossible to contain. The tears in her throat weren’t just to do with Josh and Julia, whatever
had happened between them. The tears were for everyone – her parents, her brothers, Christian … herself. For everything that
had happened to her, but most especially for the deep pool of silence that surrounded her life. Anna was right: it was time
to bring these things into the open, let everything be said. All of a sudden, the thought of living another day in the shadow
of the truth was more than she could bear. She got up clumsily, avoiding Diana’s concerned look. She had to be alone, to look
her own image in the face. She fled from the room before anything more could be said.

‘Can I help with the washing-up?’ Niela’s soft voice broke into her thoughts.

Diana turned round. ‘Oh, no, there’s no need. There’s a dishwasher,’ she said, pointing to the machine. ‘But you can help
me put the first load away,’ she added, touched by the offer. After her abrupt disappearance from the kitchen at lunch, the
girl had been practically silent.
What the hell’s going on?
Diana
asked herself. There was a sadness in Niela’s eyes that worried her, but the girl’s quiet manner made it almost impossible
to ask.

‘Where do these go?’ Niela picked up two wine glasses by the stem.

‘Up there. That’s it … second shelf. And those ones go over there … yes, that one.’ They worked together in silence for a
few minutes, punctuated by Niela’s questioning glance as she held up a bowl or a dish. Harvey had put some music on – it drifted
gently down the stairwell and into the kitchen. Something soothing – Stravinsky; it added to the unexpected calm whilst they
worked. ‘Julia’s not well again, did I mention it?’ Diana said suddenly. ‘I just wondered … perhaps you’ve heard something?’
She glanced at Niela. She was holding one of Diana’s heavy glass bowls. There was a sudden intake of breath and then the bowl
slipped. It hit the ground with a deafening crack, shattering immediately and sending shards of glass flying everywhere.

Niela gave a startled cry and looked at the ground in horror. ‘Oh, Diana … I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! I don’t know how it
happened … it just slipped. I’m so sorry!’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Diana said quickly. ‘Don’t move. I’ll get the dustpan. Stay right where you are.’ She hurried to the
pantry to fetch the dustpan and brush.

‘Everything all right down there?’ she heard Harvey call from the top of the stairs.

‘Fine,’ she shouted back. ‘We just dropped something. Nothing to worry about.’

‘Diana, I’m so sorry. I’ll get you another one,’ Niela stammered, bending down to help her pick up the bigger pieces. ‘I don’t
know what happened … it … it just slipped.’

‘Don’t be silly, it’s nothing, Niela. It’s a bowl, that’s all. Plenty more where those came from. Be careful … here, just
let me sweep this bit up.’ She quickly swept the floor around them until all the glass had been carefully disposed of. ‘Why
don’t I make us both a cup of tea?’ she heard herself saying. ‘A nice, strong cup of tea. Don’t worry about the silly bowl,
Niela. Please.’

Niela nodded slowly, straightening up. Her eyes were glassy with tears, Diana noticed, somewhat alarmed. She herself felt
dangerously close; the last thing she wanted was for Niela to see her own. She turned away and busied herself with the kettle.

Ten minutes later, they were seated at the table. Diana took a sip of her tea, her mind racing. She could tell that the dropped
bowl had something to do with her question, and what it implied, but she had no idea how to bring it up again. She realised,
not for the first time, that she knew next to nothing about the women who’d married her sons. Was Julia pregnant? Ironic that
she would hear about it from Niela, if she were, but that didn’t explain why Niela was so upset. She took another sip of tea.

‘Julia’s pregnant.’ The words dropped from Niela’s lips straight into the silence between them, relieving her of the burden.

Diana’s face grew immediately warm. ‘Why … that’s … that’s good news, isn’t it?’ Niela’s face was partially turned away from
hers. It was almost five in the afternoon and the late summer shadows were long on the ground. She could hear the faint chatter
of birds in the garden outside. Just visible from the kitchen were the waxy deep cerise and orange dahlias that the gardener
had planted earlier in the summer; they were in full, splendid bloom. She looked out over the garden. Suddenly Niela spoke.
Her voice was barely audible, so that Diana thought at first she’d misheard. ‘What?’ she asked, unable to comprehend what
Niela had just said. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘It’s Josh’s,’ Niela repeated, bringing her hands up from her lap and placing them palms down on the table.

‘Josh’s? Whatever do you mean?’

Niela kept her gaze lowered. She examined her fingers one by one, turning them over slowly. ‘He and Julia …’ Her voice faltered.
She lifted her head and brought her face round to Diana’s. There was an expression in it that Diana had never before seen
– a kind of relief mixed in with the pain. Diana’s own eyes widened. Something more was about to be said. ‘I
think they slept together,’ she said simply, lifting her shoulders. ‘I think I know when.’