Katy Carter Keeps a Secret (31 page)

Ollie’s looking at me with a strange expression on his face.

“Do you really mean that?” he says. “You’d give up writing books for my teaching career?”

How can he even ask?

“Not for your career, for you!”

“But give up writing?” He shakes his head. “I’d never ask that of you, Katy. It’s what you’ve always wanted to do. Remember how you used to write stories in exercise books? Or during staff meetings?”

I still do this actually, but I keep quiet about it. Ollie is, after all, an Assistant Head Teacher and would probably disapprove of such behaviour now.

“You love to write and it’s a huge part of who you are,” he continues. “This thing with Throb
might not be exactly what you’ve dreamed of, but you’ve made a success of it and I’m proud of you. Yes, I am,” he says, catching sight of me goggling at him. “I’m so sorry if I haven’t shown it or if I’ve let St Jude’s get in the way but, yes, I’m proud of how hard you’ve worked. How many people can actually say they’ve made their dreams come true?
You’ve
never given up on yours when lots of other people would have thrown in the towel. You made it work for you.”

Golly. I’ve never thought of it like that before. Go me!

“And I know why you wanted to write that book too,” Ollie continues, squeezing my hands. “The digging up of the floor. Going on supply when you didn’t want to. I know you did all of that for us and our future.”

I guess technically speaking, spying on Carolyn was looking out for our future too, wasn’t it?

“I would never ask you to stop writing,” Ollie says vehemently. “Never. OK? You write those next two books and make them a big success too, because who knows where they might lead you. They could be the key to your big break with a publisher and then you could be writing the books you really want to write. That could be what makes you happy.”

“You make me happy,” I reply quietly.

But Ollie shakes his head. “I’m not so sure I do anymore. You’ve had to hide things from me and that’s not right. You should never feel you have to keep secrets.”

“That’s because I love you!” I cry. “I didn’t want to worry you. But the more I tried to put things right the more confused it all became. Besides, you’ve been keeping secrets too! It’s not just me! What about the necklace you never gave Ann? What about all the phone calls to Carolyn? What about the time you met her at school and hadn’t told me? What about—”

“What about trust?” Ol cuts me off, so sharply that I’m stunned. His skin is taut across his cheekbones and his eyes glitter behind his glasses. “Whatever happened to that?”

I can’t speak. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so upset.

“What about believing in me and how I feel about you?” he asks fiercely. “And I do love you, Katy, I do, but if you can’t trust me, what then?”

He stares at me across the table. In his eyes I see the times we’ve shared together – laughing at jokes in our tough inner-London school when we were new teachers, Ollie about to boil Pinchy up as a starter course, our first real kiss on the quay, us travelling through Europe in the camper van – and it’s as though he’s willing me to see these things too rather than all the muddle of the last few months. We were so happy. Surely that hasn’t changed?

My stomach clenches. How on earth has everything got so confused? A few months ago I was convinced he was about to propose but now I’ve never felt further away from him.

“I love you,” he says again, softly. “I don’t know what’s been going on in your head, Katy, but I need you to trust me and believe in me. Even just for a few more weeks.”

“I do trust you,” I answer.

“Good,” says Ollie drily. “I’ll try and remember that.”

And I do trust him. I do! Except for all the calls to Carolyn, and the late nights at work and the disappearing necklace, of course. I wait for Ollie to give reasons for all these and to set my mind at rest, but he doesn’t. Instead he just returns to the Aga and an awkward quiet pools between us. I feel close to tears – which is crazy, isn’t it? I’ve just confessed about the books, and Ollie’s told me that I must write them and says he loves me. All should be well.

But if it is, why is the atmosphere between us still so strained and weird? What’s going on? There are more undercurrents here than beyond the harbour wall. Why do I still feel as though he’s keeping something from me?

And what does he mean,
for a few more weeks
?

“By the way, I need to tell you something,” he says, busy stirring the now lumpy sauce. “I’ve got to go on the Year Nine Paris trip. I know it’s short notice but Mick Taylor’s dropped out and we need another male teacher to make up the numbers. It’s during half-term but I know you’ll be really busy with the book, won’t you? It’ll give you some peace to work.”

I don’t say anything because I’m too disappointed to even speak. Half-term’s next week. Nicky’s going to Surrey to revise under the eagle eyes of Ann and Geoff (who understandably don’t trust me anymore), and I’ve been hoping that Ollie and I would have some time alone at long last and start to get life back to normal. I was so looking forward to it.

“How about I come too?” I suggest. “An extra teacher would really help with the pupil-to-adult ratio, wouldn’t it? And we could have some time in Paris together. That would be brilliant!”

When Ollie and I were travelling we visited Paris and we had the most amazing and romantic time ever, strolling hand in hand along the banks of the Seine, eating crêpes and kissing the sugar from each other’s lips, and later watching the city come alive from the Sacré-Coeur while the sun slipped behind the rooftops. It was magical and beautiful and I can’t think of anywhere nicer to be with him. It would bring back so many happy memories and I think it’s just what we need.

But Ollie’s shaking his head. “That’s a nice idea but we’ve already got Carolyn and Gemma and a couple of teaching assistants. Besides, I don’t think it would go down too well if Isara Lovett showed up on a school trip, do you?”

In the past I might have made a quip about Isara Lovett going down very well indeed, but my heart isn’t in it and, besides, this just reminds me of how complicated everything has become. In the past too, Ollie wouldn’t have dreamed of going away for a week without me; he’d have told school where to stick their trip. But as they say, the past is a foreign country and they certainly do things differently there.

I just wish I could find a way of taking us back.

Chapter 26

I find Maddy arranging flowers in the church. Or maybe I should more accurately say I find Maddy shoving gerberas and carnations into vases and stuffing dead blooms into a bin bag with a mutinous expression on her face. She hates flower arranging with a passion but, along with sorting jumble and organising bake sales, it comes with the territory of being married to Richard. I can’t for the life of me think what the trade-off is but Mads obviously thinks there’s one, which is the main thing.

“Do you like it?” she asks when she spots me in the doorway. “I thought the usual lilies and roses were a bit dull so I’ve decided to mix things up a bit. Cool, huh?”

I glance around. The church certainly looks vibrant with its new lurid colour scheme of clashing lilac and orange, but the congregation will probably need their sunglasses on. Still, I don’t mention this. It’s more than my life’s worth. It’s probably best not to mention either that Rafferty and Bluebell are busy pulling the pages out of hymn books and poking them through the heating grills in the floor. Hopefully it won’t cause a fire before I’ve managed to bend my best friend’s ear.

“Bloody flowers,” grumbles Mads, cramming a few more blooms into a vase before pushing it onto a dusty windowsill. “Bane of my life. Honestly, I don’t know why the old dears won’t let me just order a load of plastic ones from Trago instead. Nobody would notice and it would save hours of time.”

“You’d have to dust them,” I remark, and she grimaces.

“Fair point. It’s bad enough cleaning the sodding brass. I’ve told Rich we should swap duties for a week. I’ll write the sermons and he can do the flowers, deal with the old biddies at the coffee mornings and look after the twins.”

“He’d be sobbing behind the lectern by Tuesday,” I say and Mads nods, mollified.

“Of course he would. There are some jobs only women can do properly.” She brushes pollen off her hands and glances around the church with satisfaction. “Anyway, what are you doing here? Things so bad you’ve popped in to pray?”

Actually, I haven’t ruled it out, although thanks to Throb
I’m waiting to be struck down by a bolt of lightning. The way I’m feeling today, that would be a happy relief.

“You
know
they are,” I say, following her down the aisle as she tweaks stems and adjusts vases. “Ollie’s going to Paris with Carolyn and he doesn’t want me to come. Remember?”

To be honest, I’m quite put out that Maddy isn’t more offended on my behalf by this. When I called her last night while Ollie was walking Sasha, she didn’t seem that interested or outraged, which isn’t very best-friendly of her. I mean, if Richard said he was off to Vegas with one of the old biddies from the WI I’d be straight round to the vicarage to sort him out. Not that I can imagine Richard in Vegas or running off with anyone when he has gorgeous Maddy, but you get my point. I’d be furious and ready to do battle for my friend. I wouldn’t be arranging flowers!

Maddy sighs. “He isn’t strictly going to Paris with Carolyn, is he? There’s the small matter of fifty thirteen-year-olds and a load of other teachers as well. It’s hardly a romantic tryst.”

“But he doesn’t want me to come! What does that mean?” I cry.

“That the Throb
business makes it awkward? That there isn’t room?” Maddy suggests, walking serenely through the nave and repositioning blooms while I scuttle behind her in a stew of fear and resentment. “Honestly, babes, I don’t think it means anything. It’s just a school trip.”

“A school trip with Carolyn,” I say bleakly. Gorgeous Carolyn with her blonde hair, long legs and lack of embarrassing novel-writing career. That Carolyn.

“She’s the Head of Modern Foreign Languages as well as the Deputy Head,” Maddy reminds me. “Of course she’s going. Honestly, Katy, I think you should relax. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”

I stare at her. Has being in the church all morning done something to her brain? Maybe she’s absorbed all the peace and love and forgiveness by osmosis or something, because this response isn’t Maddy’s style at all. Usually she’d believe me straight away and do whatever she could to help.

“Whatever happened to her being a floozy?” I ask, taken aback. “Or me kicking her ass?”

“Ssh,” says Maddy, glancing upwards and folding her hands. “We’re in the church. Anyway, you said yourself that there was no evidence of anything going on.”

“That was before he said he was going to Paris with her!”

“He isn’t going to Paris
with her
. It’s a school trip. Katy, get a grip. Ollie isn’t having an affair with Carolyn. It’s all in your head!”

I feel as though I’ve been slapped. In all the years we’ve been friends Maddy has never, ever told me that I’m imagining things or doubted me.

“Don’t hold back,” I say, feeling horribly hurt. “Feel free to tell me I’m mad if that’s what you think. Would you like it if Richard was off for a week with another woman?”

“I’d
love
it,” Mads says with feeling. “No washing, and I could eat toast in bed, buy plastic flowers and binge-watch
Game of Thrones.
If he took the kids as well then it would be perfect. I’m joking!” she says when she sees my face. “No. I’d hate it. But, Katy, I really don’t think Ollie’s going to Paris because of Carolyn. Why don’t you just trust him?”

“And why don’t you believe me?” I shoot back. “You usually do.”

I don’t want to sound resentful but I can’t help it. Maddy’s my best friend and she ought to be on my side, not sticking up for Ollie. I would have thought she’d have been the first in the queue to march round to the cottage and tell him he’s out of order.

“Katy, we’ve been through this a thousand times.” Maddy reaches for her bag and pulls out the church keys. “I’ve told you what I think. What’s the point of asking my opinion if you don’t listen to it? Babes, I’d love to chat more but I’ve got to open the hall up for the Mums and Toddlers group. Rafferty! Bluebell! Put those hymn books down!” She marches up to the twins and grabs them before they can do a runner, leaving me staring after her in shock. What on earth is going on?

I leave the church feeling as though
I’m
the one being unreasonable and unfair. Maddy couldn’t have been less interested in my worries – which is weird considering she was the one encouraging me to go into St Jude’s and backing me up one hundred percent at the time. What’s changed?

Mads hurries down the path, dragging the twins behind her.

“Try not to stress about it,” she calls over her shoulder. “It’ll be all right! Just have faith, yeah? You gotta have faith.”

Who am I, George Michael? I watch Maddy stride away and feel completely lost. What’s going on here? My life feels as though it’s spinning out of control. Ollie and Maddy are my best friends in the world, the two people I really feel I can count on, and suddenly they’re both behaving oddly. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that they’re both hiding something from me.

Oh great. Now I’m getting paranoid.

Feeling very hard done by, I set off down the narrow lane that drops down from the church behind the fish market and onto the quay. The village tumbles away and the sea is sparkling in the sunshine but I’m in no mood to appreciate beauty. No, I’m far too cheesed off.

“Cheer up, it might never happen,” calls Guy, who’s mending a net on the quayside and doing his best to ignore the crowd of day trippers pointing at him and taking sly pictures on their phones.

“It already has,” I say grimly.

He tucks his mending needle into the trawl. “I take it Ollie’s told you he’s off to Paris?”

I goggle at him. “How on earth do you know that?”

Guy’s suddenly absolutely fascinated by a boat steaming through the harbour gates.