Read This Secret We're Keeping Online
Authors: Rebecca Done
My heart was pummelling urgently against my chest cavity and my throat had closed up to the point where I predicted falsetto upon opening my mouth. But then I pictured her face when she saw me on her doorstep with a bottle of champagne, and it made me smile.
This is it.
I crossed the road and made my way along the front path, mind spinning, heart hammering; but as I reached the door, I happened to glance through the living-room window at the very last moment. What I saw brought me to a halt-cum-skid, and I only narrowly avoided smashing the champagne bottle on the ice at my feet.
There was someone inside, and it wasn’t Jess. It was a guy.
He was medium height and slightly pudgy, with blond hair in need of a trim and cheeks the shade of ruddy you get after coming indoors from chopping logs. Even in my state of half-shock I remembered to play the push-him-over game:
what would he do if you pushed him over?
My guess was that he’d look a bit upset, dust himself down and then hold up his hands and apologize for something he hadn’t started.
I exhaled, probably out loud. She’d found him. She’d found her Good Guy.
The snow whirled around me. The wind was whipping
up and I was freezing. I knew I had to either knock or leave, but I couldn’t move. I simply stood out there in the pitch black, watching.
And then, like a vision, she was there, creeping up slowly behind him. I gripped on to the champagne bottle, transfixed by the sight of her slipping slender hands around his slightly plump waist and delivering a kiss against his neck, upon which he gently turned to kiss her back. His lips met the crown of her head, and she looked for a moment angelic, her hair shimmering blonde in the light and falling in natural waves across her shoulders. She was beautiful, I thought to myself for the millionth time. She was exactly how I remembered.
I retreated quietly to the wall across the road, sitting back down without pausing to brush away the snow. And then I popped the champagne, raising the bottle in a bittersweet toast to Jess. I felt the tug of her proximity as strongly as I felt my own heartbeat, but I knew that this guy wanted her too – and he was the one in her living room, not me.
I smiled to myself, recalling my best memories of her between swigs as the snowstorm picked up. I don’t know how long I sat there. It must have been a while, because I was halfway through the bottle and borderline hypothermic by the time the front door opened.
The guy emerged alone. Wearing a thick coat, gloves and hat (some people are sensible), he slipped what I assumed to be a wallet into his pocket. Checking my watch, I realized it was just before closing. He was probably off to get some more wine in before everything shut.
‘Red or white?’ he called out to her, leaning back into the cottage.
‘Surprise me,’ I whispered under my breath.
‘Surprise me,’ I heard her say faintly from inside.
I smiled to myself and took my last swig of champagne as he disappeared down the road in the direction of Carafe.
In ten minutes or so, he’d be back. I knew it was now or never.
Now.
Or never.
I glanced into the cottage again. Jess was standing with her back to the fireplace, holding herself in a hug, maybe for warmth. She had turned towards the window and was staring dreamily out into the blackness, a smile on her beautiful face. I pictured her new boyfriend crunching jauntily up the road to fetch the wine, whistling, oblivious, happy.
And then she lifted her head, and she could have been looking right at me – the shadow of her past, watching her silently there in the dark.
I shook the snow from my shoulders, and got to my feet.
Thank you to my amazing agent Rebecca Ritchie, for all your encouragement and support from the outset. Also to Sophie Harris and everybody at Curtis Brown – it’s truly been a dream to be part of such a wonderful team.
I would also like to say thank you to my incredible editor Kimberley Atkins, for your constant enthusiasm, insightful editing and so much more. And to Maxine Hitchcock, Sophie Elletson and everybody at Penguin – what a privilege to be working with you all. Thanks also to Karen Whitlock and Cordelia Borchardt.
To my family, friends and colleagues for ongoing support, understanding and excitement on my behalf – thank you.
And finally to Mark. For being there with quiet words of encouragement when I needed them most.
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First published 2016
Text copyright © Amderley Books Ltd, 2016
Cover Images © apple © Sawayasu Tsuji/Getty Images; blackboard © John Kuczala/Getty Images
The moral right of the author has been asserted
ISBN: 978-1-405-92395-8
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.