Secrets Between Us Page 2

  ‘Because you don’t have a uterus, Mrs Armstrong.’

  3

  They left the clinic and got back into the car in silence, driving home in a vacuum of unsaid words and unshed tears. There was, as usual, no parking space outside their house on Gibson Square. It had been Will’s family home before they married and often Ellie would wait a moment in the car before she got out, taking in the Edwardian terraced house she’d come to love. The symmetry of it pleased her, the arched ground-floor window echoing the fan light over the front door, the two twelve-paned windows on the first floor, the square nine-paned windows on the second. When she’d moved in, she’d planned to put red geraniums in the small ironwork balconies that hung in front of both first-floor windows, but it had never happened.

  A decorative iron railing ran in front of the house and divided it from the houses on each side. Two narrow, stone steps led up to a wide step in front of the glossy, black front door. To the right of the door, a small gateway opened onto a stairway down to a converted basement. Will’s father had moved into it after she and Will got engaged, insisting they take the house. ‘It’s a family house,’ he’d said, more than once. Ellie always looked away quickly so she’d miss the accompanying wink in her direction.

  When he died suddenly, a year later, Will was grief-stricken and the basement apartment sat empty for several months. It was let now and the income from it allowed them a very comfortable lifestyle.

  ‘You’ll be able to give up work if you want to when we have children,’ Will had once said to her.

  ‘If we have children, it will allow us to pay for a good child-minder,’ she had replied, a twinkle in her brown eyes, as she reached forward to plant a warm kiss on his cheek.

  She remembered the conversation as if it had taken place yesterday, remembered putting extra emphasis on the if. Had she hoped it would put a doubt in his mind? It would have been the perfect opportunity to have mentioned her concerns. How deep was the pit of denial she had trapped herself in?

  Very deep, she guessed.

  Will stopped on a double yellow line to let her out. She closed the car door behind her and left him to drive around until he could find a parking space. Unlocking their front door, she stepped into the hallway and leaned back against the door to close it behind her, feeling weak. She bit down painfully on her lower lip and told herself not to cry. If she started, she wasn’t sure she could stop.

  She pushed away and felt a moment’s panic. Will would be back soon, and she didn’t want to talk to him. Not now. She needed to get herself under control first. To process what she’d learned. There was a pile of post on the floor at her feet; she bent down and picked it up, sorting it automatically into his and hers. Leaving Will’s pile neatly on the hall table, she took hers upstairs. The normality of the act gave her a sense of calm.

  Upstairs, she stood undecided for a moment and then made her way into the main bathroom. She’d have a bath. It was an unwritten rule in their relationship; in the bath, she was incommunicado. He’d leave her in peace for a while. She dropped her post on the small table beside the bath and turned both taps on full.

  Locking the door, she stripped, dropped her clothes on the floor, added a generous amount of her most expensive bath oil to the running water and stood naked waiting for the bath to be deep enough. A few minutes later, she climbed into the hot water, lay back with her eyes closed, and tried to relax.

  It was impossible. The gynaecologist’s words rang inside her head: Because you don’t have a uterus, Mrs Armstrong. All these years railing against being a twin, trying to prove she was unique, one of a kind, never realising until now that she already was.

  ‘You have ovaries, so hormonally you are completely normal. You even produce eggs,’ he’d added, as if that were cause for celebration. ‘They’re just harmlessly reabsorbed.’

  ‘Harmlessly,’ Ellie had said, feeling a heavy weight in her chest as she imagined each egg on its monthly fool’s errand.

  ‘They could be harvested,’ he said. ‘It’s something—’

  She’d held up her hand to stop him, stood, and left the room, waiting outside for Will to join her.

  What had he been about to say? That it was something she should think about? To have her eggs harvested and inserted into a surrogate? ‘Oh God,’ she said, feeling her eyes burn. For some other woman to carry their child? She didn’t think she could bear it. She already felt so unbearably inadequate.

  She forced it all into a dark corner of her mind, dried her hands on a towel and reached for the first of her letters. It was the usual glut of rubbish, and she dropped them one after the other to the floor. She opened the last, her eyes narrowing as she saw the logo on the envelope. It was unusual to hear from the school. The bill was paid by direct debit every quarter and any additions were invoiced at the end of the year.

  Skimming it, she sat up abruptly in the water, her eyes racing across and re-reading every word. Her brow creased, and her mouth tightened. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she muttered, turning over the letter to see if more was written on the back. But there wasn’t; the letter was as short as it was shocking.

  Dear Mrs Armstrong,

  We are sorry to inform you that St Germaine’s School for the Differently Abled is to close in three months. We also plan to close the attached sheltered accommodation where your sister, Tia, presently resides. We are informing you at this early juncture to enable you to make alternative arrangements for her accommodation.

  ‘Alternative arrangements? What on earth do they expect me to do?’ It was just too much. Everything. All of it. She leaned her head back against the bath and, finally, sobbed.

  Will passed the door, his feet loud on the wooden floor of the hallway. Through her sobs she heard him pause. He was a good man, but she never truly believed she deserved him. It was, she knew, a relic of her childhood. No matter what she did then, it wasn’t good enough. And now, here she was again. Not good enough. Not woman enough. ‘Damn it,’ she whispered on a sob, ‘hardly a woman at all.’ The one thing Will really wanted and she couldn’t give it to him.

  He would sit, she knew, in the privacy of their bedroom and cry tears of his own. Then he’d start thinking about the future, thinking up ways around what he would no doubt call their problem. Not for one moment would he blame her. It didn’t matter, she carried blame enough for both of them.

  She looked at the letter in her hand again before dropping it on the floor. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about. What was she going to do about Tia?

  4

  She’d been fifteen when their father died in a freak accident; a car mounting a kerb and killing him instantly, a seismic event that had changed their lives irrevocably. But the death of his young wife had made John Bradshaw a careful man and he had organised an old and trusted friend to act as guardian for his girls if anything ever happened to him.

  Adam Dawson, shocked at the death of his friend, had taken his responsibilities seriously, but he wasn’t a family man and the care of two teenage girls was definitely a challenge.

  He’d quickly found a suitable boarding school for Ellie in London, and finally one appropriate for Tia’s special needs in Peebles on the Scottish borders. He’d never asked Ellie how she felt at being separated from her twin, and she was glad. It was hard to describe the relief she felt; her father had loved them both equally, but differently. To look at, they were identical, but the minutes separating their arrival had been all it took to make Tia different. A little slow, innocent, vulnerable and needy. She was the soft twin, easily brought to tears that had people rushing to do whatever she wanted them to do; to pick her up, cuddle her, give her whatever she wanted. The world was a dangerous and scary place for a girl like Tia, Ellie was told, she needed to be watched and protected at all times.

  So, no matter what Ellie did, the prizes she won, the honours she received, she couldn’t compete for that same level of attention and affection. The assumption was always that she would be fine becaus
e she was normal.

  If she was ever upset and sought solace from her father, tears in her eyes, her lower lip trembling, he’d take her face in his hands and simply say, ‘You have to be strong, Ellie. You have to look out for your sister.’

  And that was the way it continued. She had to look out for her, had to be strong and sensible. Forever. At twelve, it was a heavy burden. By fifteen, she’d grown to resent her sister. So, when Adam explained they’d be going to separate boarding schools, that he wasn’t able to look after them both in his upmarket Kensington apartment, she had to bite her lip to stop her smile of relief.

  Boarding school was a revelation. Ellie was no longer one of two, the mirror image of a girl so different to her. At last, she was unique. Just Ellie. If she were sick, she was looked after; if she were upset, she got extra attention. She missed her father desperately but, if she were honest, she never really missed her sister.

  At school, she’d quickly made friends who were happy to invite her to spend part or all of the summer with them. Her friends’ parents, discovering she was an orphan, frequently included her in holidays abroad, Adam giving permission with alacrity. The one holiday she spent in his Knightsbridge apartment terrified her, worried the whole time she was there that she would break something, or dirty the pristine carpets.

  But like many of the other students, she spent most weekends at the school. Sometimes, Adam would visit and take her out for lunch or an ice cream. She enjoyed his company and would laugh at his risqué stories, feeling very grown up in the elegant places he’d take her, enjoying the glamour.

  She learned news of her sister through his regular, if infrequent, visits to St Germaine’s and so she knew Tia had settled in and was doing well. Adam never asked if she missed her, so she never needed to lie.

  She didn’t miss her, but it was impossible not to think about her. She wondered how much of it was guilt that she was happier without her and how much was because, no matter how much she might dislike it, she was her twin and there was that indefinable, indelible connection between them.

  ‘I write to her every week,’ she told Adam over a milkshake one Saturday. ‘I tell her all about my school, the places I go and the people I meet.’

  Adam smiled at her. ‘Does she answer?’ he asked.

  Ellie shook her head. ‘But I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I just want her to know that I think about her. Perhaps I might visit her sometime? I could go up on the train on my own. You wouldn’t need to come.’

  ‘Maybe next year,’ he said, waving a hand towards the future.

  But she guessed his determination to do his duty as their guardian made him baulk at allowing a young girl to travel so far unaccompanied. Maybe he considered going with her, she didn’t know, but the visit never happened.

  She didn’t really mind; although she’d liked to have visited, the offer had been made from a sense of duty rather than genuine desire. The resentment she’d felt when she was younger had faded with their separation, but the memory of it hadn’t. She’d learned to like being just Ellie; seeing Tia would remind her that she wasn’t, she was a twin.

  When she finished school five years later, she did an internet search for Peebles, determined at last to visit. She looked up train timetables, flight times, even car hire.

  She decided on the train, imagining a long journey through the heart of England as an adventure. But it was not to be. The day before she was due to travel, she tripped on the stairs and sprained her ankle. In pain, and limping badly, she reluctantly cancelled the trip thinking she might go later but, by the time it had healed, she was due to start university.

  University, four glorious years in Oxford, put all ideas of visiting out of her head. The business and economics degree course she’d chosen was tough and challenging. And, when she wasn’t studying, she was mixing with the right people; networking, because that was what it was all about, knowing the right people, making the right contacts. Days of freedom, when they came, were spent somewhere sunny, with like-minded friends or lovers, not in the wilds of the Scottish borders.

  She dealt with the occasional pang of guilt by writing a longer weekly letter to Tia, sitting in the quiet of the library and writing of people she’d met, parties she’d been too, detailed and colourful letters, written longhand at first and then typed on her laptop, but always sent every Friday.

  The Oxford years were a dream compared to the tough internship with one of London’s top finance companies. It wasn’t said straight-out, but she and the three other interns that started at the same time quickly learned this was a kill or be killed industry. And Ellie, determined to make it, and brought up to be strong, quickly learned how to kill.

  It was during a particularly busy time that Adam had rung and invited her out to dinner, refusing to accept her plea of exhaustion.

  ‘You need to eat,’ he argued reasonably. ‘I’ll pick you up at your office, we can eat nearby and you’ll still be home to get eight hours’ sleep.’

  Eight hours’ sleep? She couldn’t remember the last time she had more than six. Running one hand over her sleek chignon, she gripped the phone tightly with her other hand and said, ‘Okay, but don’t pick me up till eight. I have a stack of things to finish. I’ll see you in the lobby.’ And then, because she was genuinely fond of him, she added, ‘It will be lovely to see you.’

  It was eight fifteen before she rushed out of the lift, one hand coming up in an apologetic wave. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, putting her other hand on his arm and leaning in to give him a dry peck on the cheek.

  They ate in a small French restaurant a few metres from the office. It was the type of restaurant she knew Adam would enjoy; heavy white linen tablecloths and napkins, lots of candles and excellent food and wine. Ellie ate there regularly and was greeted by name and taken to their table.

  They chatted about nothing until they’d finished their meals, Adam’s eyes widening when he saw just how little she’d eaten. ‘You’re not having problems again, are you?’

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake, Adam, of course not,’ she said shortly, immediately relenting when she saw his worried face, reaching a hand out to rest it on his arm. ‘I promise. I’m not hungry because we had a lunchtime meeting.’ She smiled. ‘They had crab patties that were to die for. I think I ate most of them.’

  He smiled back, relieved.

  She watched him. There was something he wanted to say, she could tell by the slight furrow on his otherwise smooth brow. ‘What did you want to speak to me about?’

  He didn’t insult her intelligence by saying he’d just wanted to see her. She knew him better than that. ‘We’ve sold the Knightsbridge apartment,’ he said.

  She was stunned. ‘But you love that place.’

  ‘We’ll love this even more,’ he said, taking a photograph from his pocket and placing in on the table in front of her.

  ‘Wow,’ she said, picking it up and staring at the low building on white sand, a crystal-blue sky as a backdrop. Her eyes met his. ‘Where?’

  ‘Barbados.’

  She handed the photograph back with a smile. ‘It will suit you both very well. You and Tyler, I assume?’

  He nodded. ‘I waited until everything was definite before telling you. We’re set to leave in two weeks, Ellie.’

  Reaching across the table, she laid a hand on his arm again. ‘I’m happy for you, Adam,’ she said, the pleasure in her voice sincere.

  ‘There’s just one thing,’ he added, patting her hand. ‘I stopped being your legal guardian, as you know, when you turned twenty-one, but because of Tia’s status I’m still registered as hers.’ He stopped and looked at her. ‘It makes sense for me to relinquish that now, Ellie, Barbados is too far away to react in case of problems.’

  Ellie blinked. This wasn’t something she’d expected. ‘You want me to take over?’

  He nodded. ‘It makes sense, doesn’t it?’

  Of course, it did. It didn’t mean, however, that she wanted to take on the responsi
bility. ‘Couldn’t our solicitor become her guardian?’

  Adam’s eyes became hard and his voice was cold when he said, ‘Well, of course, if you feel you can’t take the responsibility on yourself, then that’s my next option.’

  Ellie bit her lip. Memories came flooding back. Her father and his constant plea: Take care of your sister, Ellie, remember she needs you to look out for her.

  She should have said no, should have explained to him then about her resentment, the relief she’d felt when she was separated from her twin, the feeling of never being good enough when she was with her. But guilt washed over her and she found herself shaking her head. ‘No, that’s okay, I’ll do it.’

  Two days later, she signed the papers. She checked them over, made sure everything was satisfactory and then tried to put it out of her head.

  And now, with her heart breaking, that decision was back to haunt her.

  5

  Will sat on their bed and thought of the child he’d never see born; the best of him, the best of Ellie, wrapped up in one precious little package. He cried silently for a few minutes before snuffling and wiping his eyes with his hand.

  When he’d composed himself, he came out to listen at the bathroom door, taking a deep breath when he heard nothing. He rested a hand on the door wishing he could enter but knowing the door would be locked, and, even if it weren’t, he wouldn’t go in. He’d done so once, in their early days together, and she’d accused him of intruding into her unassailably personal space. He’d been amused at her phrase, surprised at her anger and relieved at her eventual forgiveness. And he’d never tried it again.

  She tried to explain to him later how early years of being forced to share everything with her sister had left its mark and how, now and then, she really needed time and space to herself. He didn’t really understand, but he was an only child so what did he know?