Your Secret's Safe With Me Read online

  Copyright © 2019 by Rosie Travers

  Cover Photographer: designloverstudio

  Design: Soqoqo

  Editor: Christine McPherson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Crooked Cat Books except for brief quotations used for promotion or in reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are used fictitiously.

  First Edition, Crooked Cat Books. 2019

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  and something nice will happen.

  For my mum.

  Acknowledgements

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  About the Author

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  Your Secret’s Safe With Me

  Prologue

  Pearl

  Was there an easy way to drop a bombshell? Not that Pearl considered the announcement she was about to make a bombshell, more a stroke of amazing good fortune, but she knew how it would be received in certain quarters. Was it best to prepare the ground with a little foreshadowing, a few clues of what was to come, or should she just dive straight in? The reaction would be the same whatever. Pearl had never been good at subtlety. Life was too short to worry about other people’s sensibilities. It was probably best just to get it over with. Adopt the brace position, hope for the best and expect the worst.

  It took two attempts for Becca to answer her call. She sounded tired and disgruntled. ‘Don’t you know what time it is? I thought we had this rule…’

  Pearl glanced at the jewelled watch on her wrist. Surely Becca wasn’t tucked up in bed already? It was just coming up to one in the afternoon in San Diego. Did that make it after ten already in London?

  ‘Sorry, darling, you know me. Anyway, just wanted to let you know that I’m back on terra firma. The cruise was marvellous but there’s been a slight change of plan.’

  ‘Oh? Change of plan?’ Pearl detected the escalating irritation in Becca’s voice. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I won’t need you to meet at Heathrow tomorrow. I’m not coming back to London; at least, not straight away.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Look, darling, I had an absolute ball on the holiday. The Majestic Oceans is a fabulous ship, and as for South America, what an amazing continent – the landscape, the festivals, the people. You’d have loved every minute of it, but the thing is something rather exciting has happened.’ Pearl took a deep breath. ‘You’ll never guess what, but I’m going to be getting married.’

  The silence said it all. Pearl could picture Becca’s face. Her dark eyebrows would be knitted together and her mouth pursed tight, an expression she’d perfected as a fractious toddler. That tiny child, body rigid with rage, was now a thirty-nine-year-old woman whose fuller figure – it was the politest term that sprang to mind – would be taut with disapproval, or as taut as such curves could go.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not like that at all,’ Pearl continued undeterred. ‘I’ve met the most marvellous man. His name is Jack, Jack Robshaw. He’s from Hampshire and is something big in the yachting world. He owns a marina, or a boatyard; something nautical. Anyway, he proposed last night, our last night on the boat, and I said yes. We’ve been inseparable since we met at the single travellers’ gathering.’

  It seemed an age before Becca spoke. ‘But you’ve only known this man eight weeks. How can you possibly—’

  ‘Eight weeks is long enough at my age,’ Pearl cut in. ‘Look, we’re not planning to get married immediately. Jack’s got this wonderful place on the coast. Apparently, there are beautiful gardens overlooking a river. He suggests we wait until summer and have a big celebration there, on the lawn, surrounded by family and friends. That’ll give you plenty of time to get used to the idea, and to lose a couple of pounds. I want you as my Maid of Honour, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’ Becca’s voice was brittle. ‘Well, that’s wonderful, that’s wonderful news. I’m very happy for you.’

  She sounded anything but. Poor Becca harboured a grudge, not just against marriage but men in general. She was never going to greet the news of anyone’s impending nuptials with rapturous delight. In the circumstances, it was the best Pearl could hope for and it could have been a lot worse. At least Becca was still talking to her. Just.

  ‘Well, thank you, darling. The thing is, Jack’s invited me to accompany him down to his house when we get back to the UK. Rivermede, it’s called. Isn’t that a wonderful name? And I mean, why not? If it’s going to be my new home, I want to see it. He’s been on his own for a few years now, and it’s bound to need a woman’s touch. I want to get cracking.’

  ‘You mean you aren’t you going to come back here first and see me? What about Freddy?’

  ‘What about Freddy? You’re both grown-ups. You don’t need me around, do you? I want to see Jack’s place, he’s told me so much about it.’

  ‘Right. So, you’re going to go straight down to Hampshire? And that’s where you plan on living in the future?’

  ‘Well, obviously if I’m going to be getting married, I want to be with Jack and it makes sense to stay in his place. It’s bigger. Look, I haven’t worked it all out yet.’

  ‘No. Obviously not. You’re just rushing straight in again.’

  ‘I’m not rushing into anything.’ Pearl tried to retain her patience. ‘Come down to Hampshire and see us in a couple of days’ time when we’ve had a chance to get over the jet-lag. We can talk properly then. I’m going to need you to bring me some suitable clothing anyway. I’ve only got my cruise outfits with me for now. I’ll need some sensible sturdy footwear for the countryside, and maybe some slacks and jumpers. Have a rummage through my wardrobes and bring a selection. You know the sort of thing I’ll need.’

  ‘Of course. Whatever you say, Mother.’

  Mother! Pearl winced. Perhaps she should have checked the time before she rang. Becca was never at her best last thing at night; she valued her beauty sleep. All work and no play, that was her trouble, and as much as Pearl appreciated the commitment Becca had shown to her career – their joint career – over the years, it had been at the detriment of her social life and her sense of humour.

  Rivermede couldn’t have reared its idyllic, picturesque head at a better time. A change of scenery was probably just what Becca needed. Jack had already said he was happy to have them all on board. He was generous to a fault, and who didn’t aspire to a house in the country?

  ‘Good, well I’m glad we’ve got that settled,’ Pearl concluded. ‘I’ll see you soon, darling.’

  Becca ended the call without another word. Pearl shook her head and slipped her phone back to her handbag. She glanced across the crowded airport bar to where Jack sat by a window table. He caught her eye and threw her one of his dazzling smiles. Her heart gave a somersault of excitement. She walked back to his side and took his hand. She didn’t need Becca’s approval. This time she knew she’d got it right.

  Chapter One

  Becca

  ‘I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss about it.’ Freddy yawned as he spoke, and his words, like his arms, stretched towards the ceiling. ‘Maybe this’ll be third time lucky. Don’t you want her to be happy?’

  ‘You think this toy-boy will make her happy? I’ve Googled this Jack Robshaw character. Look, Freddy, look at him.’ I held out my phone, thrusting the screen into his face. ‘A former world championship powerboat racer? Twenty years her junior. Is that what
you want for a step-father?’

  Pearl’s phone call had left me shell-shocked. How could she do it again? I’d fended off palpitations with deep breathing exercises, whale songs, and a mug of camomile tea, but it had been impossible to get back to sleep. I’d called Freddy first thing to impart the news and he’d very reluctantly agreed to meet me for lunch to plan a campaign strategy. His lack of concern was demoralising. He could hardly keep his eyes open despite a second coffee.

  ‘I am not going to let her make another disastrous marriage,’ I continued. ‘I can’t bear the thought of another gold-digger like Dieter coming into our lives. This guy is hardly her type, is he?’

  ‘Who knows what Pearl’s type is?’ Freddy replied, brushing my phone away. ‘She’s had her fair share of oddballs over the years.’

  This was true, although luckily none of them had hung around for very long, least of all Dieter, the last husband. The aftermath of Pearl’s catastrophic second marriage had heralded a horrendous period in our lives. Freddy, now twenty-one and struggling through his final year of an art degree, was the one positive to come out of that whole sorry episode. At least Pearl had now reached the age when childbearing was no longer an option.

  She referred to Dieter as her cloud, and Freddy our silver lining. I’d been a teenager at the time, unaware of the financial implications of my mother’s messy divorce. Now, I was an adult and very conscious of the consequences. Jack Robshaw wasn’t so much a cloud as a potential thunderstorm.

  ‘This is all Aunt Phoebe’s fault.’ I was determined not to be side-tracked from my mission. ‘If she hadn’t had that angina attack, she would have been able to go on the cruise, too, and then Pearl wouldn’t have gone to the singles’ meeting and she wouldn’t have met this Jack.’

  Pearl had encouraged Freddy and me to call her by her first name from a very early age. Since I’d taken on the role of her PA, it made perfect professional sense, but our personal relationship had suffered as a result. Right now, I felt more like my mother’s keeper than her daughter.

  ‘You could have gone with her instead; you have before.’ Freddy looked amused. ‘I know Aunt Phoebe can be a bit of a pain, but I don’t think you can hold her entirely responsible, Becs.’

  ‘I couldn’t go away for eight weeks, not with deadlines looming. It wasn’t like she had a lecture schedule to deliver. I thought she was safe on her own.’ I heaved a huge sigh. ‘I’ve promised to go down to Hampshire in a couple of days, because not only does she now need an entire wardrobe of country casuals, but I’ve got to get her to approve these manuscripts I’ve been working on. It would be nice if she could show a bit of enthusiasm for her own books. She didn’t even mention them. Not a word. At this rate, I might as well write them myself.’

  ‘I thought you already did?’ Freddy smiled. ‘You’re part of a team. Isn’t that what she says? Pearl gives you the outlines and you fill in the gaps?’

  ‘Yes, and in recent years there have been far more gaps than outlines. There’s only so many times an author can regurgitate a familiar plot. I’ve tried to spice things up a bit for her. But it’s not just the books, Fred. What’s going to happen to Beech Mews?’

  ‘Well, surely she’s not going to do anything with that, is she?’ Freddy at last showed a smidgeon of unease. ‘I mean, sure she might want to go down and live in Hampshire with this guy, but Beech Mews is our home, isn’t it? She wouldn’t dream of getting rid of it.’

  ‘Wouldn’t she?’

  It was hard conveying the depth of my anxiety. I’d Googled the name Jack Robshaw the second I’d ended Pearl’s late-night call. Dieter – a Germanic blond playboy in a ski-suit who had emptied the contents of her bank account with the same speedy dexterity he applied to negotiating black runs in St Moritz – had come along in the days before internet stalking. Now it was much easier to check people out surreptitiously. Something big in the yachting world, Pearl had said. What was it about my mother and her predilection for athletic types? It had to be the attraction of opposites. I immediately pictured Henri Lloyd and deck shoes, but the reality was much worse.

  ‘We’re going to be united on this, right?’ I insisted. ‘Pearl is a wealthy woman. I don’t care if this guy has got world championship powerboating medals, he’s not getting a penny of her hard-earned cash.’

  ‘You mean your hard-earned cash?’ Freddy raised an eyebrow. It never failed to surprise me that sometimes he could be far more astute than he looked.

  ‘Yes, exactly. I’ve invested a lot of time and effort into maintaining Pearl’s career. Anyway, what have you been up to, Fred? You’ve been very cagey about your movements of late, and you look like shit.’

  ‘Thanks for the compliment.’ He brushed his long artistic fingers through his floppy blond fringe. ‘I ain’t been up to anything.’ He had dark circles under his eyes, and his pallor, as always, was deathly pale.

  ‘How’s work for your degree show coming on?’ I enquired. Freddy had just scraped through his second year at Goldsmiths, and was now nearing the end of his final. I wished I could share his nonchalant approach to life. There was no sign of the last-minute graduation nerves that had plagued me during my last term at uni.

  He gave a shrug. ‘S’okay.’

  ‘You haven’t gone back on the weed, have you? You did promise.’

  He held his hands up. ‘Don’t you start. It’s like having two mums.’

  I smiled at him. ’That’s what big sisters are for.’

  I’d been eighteen when Freddy was born, Pearl in her early forties. We were a tight-knit family trio. Pearl had always declared my father had been the love of her life – young, vibrant, and horrifically injured in a motorcycle accident when I’d been less than a year old. Paralysed from the chest down, he’d subsequently died of pneumonia some eighteen months later, consigned to a nursing home. Struggling on her own, Pearl had taken a job as a typist for a publishing house and, armed with a vivid imagination and a gritty resolve, she had risen rapidly through the ranks to fully fledged novelist.

  By the time I started primary school, Pearl was churning out two or three books a year, bestsellers that ensured I spent a childhood closeted in an eclectic circle of publishing friends and colleagues, literary celebrities who hit the headlines in the heyday of the hefty sexy saga. It was the era of big things – shoulder pads, hair, egos. Pearl had been easy prey to the charms of Dieter, fifteen years her junior; a scriptwriter, or so he’d told her, in the film industry. He promised that her books would grace the silver screen and Hollywood would fall at her feet. Of course, it didn’t. Twenty-one years later and I’d yet to see Dieter’s name appear on any cinematic credits. After Pearl, he had moved on to a model from Hamburg.

  It was hard not to feel over-protective. The cavalier attitude my mother adopted for the world was all for show. Beneath that brash exterior, she was just as vulnerable as the rest of us. Her relationship with Dieter had cost her dearly. He had encouraged her to live extravagantly. She’d rented a house in the Hollywood Hills in anticipation of the film contracts that never happened. She undertook ill-advised investments, lavished Dieter with material gifts and undeserved affection, before returning to London alone, pregnant, and broke.

  ‘You just need to stay calm,’ Freddy said, as if he could see my mind racing ahead to the worst-case scenarios. ‘You’re getting too het up about this, Becs. If she’d met some benign old bloke on this cruise, as opposed to this flashy forty-year-old playboy sailor, you’d probably be welcoming him into the family with open arms. Are you sure you’re not just jealous?’

  ‘Of course I’m not jealous.’ The reply came out far too quickly. ‘The very idea, Fred. What are you thinking of?’

  He gave another infuriating shrug. ‘I’m jus’ saying. You know Pearl, Becs, once her mind is made up, it’s made up. You go in all guns blazing like this and you’ll be waving a red rag to a bull.’

  I never liked acknowledging that Freddy was right, but he had a very valid point. Pearl was notori
ous for behaving like a petulant teenager. Any sign of dissent and she’d be bringing the wedding forward, not putting it off altogether. I had to tread very carefully.

  Chapter Two

  My invitation to Rivermede arrived a few days later. Pearl suggested I stay for an entire weekend, and after reeling off a list of everything she required transporting down from Battersea, insisted on giving me lengthy directions, despite my protestations that all I needed was the postcode.

  ‘What if your sat nav stops working?’ she said, ‘You know my feelings on modern technology. It’s not foolproof.’

  I listened with half an ear on how to negotiate the junction off the nearest motorway and how not to take a road to the right that involved crossing a ford.

  ‘If you miss the sign for the village of Kerridge, you could end up in this godforsaken place called Helme Point and you’ll disappear off into the marsh never to be seen again,’ Pearl chuckled. ‘I’m told it has happened. This place is so interesting, Becca. You’re going to love it. I’d forgotten what it was like to be in the country, the peace and quiet, the gentle ebb and flow of the tide. We’re right on the river here, on a creek a couple of miles inland from the estuary. The gardens overlook the water and the views are stunning.’

  ‘Has he taken you out on his powerboat yet?’ I asked, unable to contain my sarcasm. I tried to block out the mental image of my mother donning a bikini and standing at the wheel beside the sun-kissed, dark-haired Jack Robshaw. Google images had provided nothing up-to-date; Jack had disappeared off the racing circuit some ten years or so ago. Pictures of a virile bare-chested twenty-something posing in his record-breaking speedboat were all I had to go on.

  ‘Oh, Jack doesn’t own a boat himself,’ Pearl replied, somewhat to my surprise. ‘But he is a member of the local yacht club. I suppose we could always borrow something off the marina if we wanted to.’