How To Keep A Secret: A fantastic and brilliant feel-good summer read that you won’t want to end!

There was only one other person there, and she’d known even from a distance that it was him.

She’d had a choice to make. She could step forward, or she could step back.

“THANK YOU ALL for being here.” Her voice echoed around the cavernous space.

A week before she’d been planning Ed’s birthday party. Now she was speaking at his funeral.

She focused on the stained-glass window at the back of the church because that was easier than staring at the people seated in rows. It was bitterly cold. Lauren couldn’t stop shivering.

The night of the birthday party was a blur in her mind. She remembered the police stepping into the house, the sound of Gwen wailing, gawping guests slinking from the house muttering condolences instead of birthday greetings.

And now she was supposed to say something meaningful when none of it held any meaning.

“I first met Ed when I was eighteen and I knew right away that he was the perfect man for me.”

That was true, wasn’t it? The fact that there was one box he didn’t tick on the list of ideal attributes for a life partner didn’t mean he wasn’t perfect.

“We met by chance on the beach in Martha’s Vineyard where I grew up, and we immediately had a connection.”

I was crying. Ed was drunk.

We were both brokenhearted.

Both of us in love, but not with each other.

Choices, she’d discovered, had consequences.

She stared hard at the floor, terrified that her sleep-deprived brain might confuse her speech with her thoughts. What if she made a mistake and said the wrong thing aloud?

What if, for once in her life, she told the truth?

“Ed and I knew we were going to be together forever.” Except that Ed had broken that promise and died. Why? He watched his weight and exercised. People like him didn’t die slumped over their desks. She felt cheated. Angry. Devastated. It took a sob from someone in the front row to remind her she was supposed to be talking. “It was romantic.”

It hadn’t been romantic at all.

It had been practical. Sensible. A decision made by two people who favored planning over impulse.

She stared at the extravagant display of lilies at the back of the church and knew she’d never be able to have lilies in the house again.

“Ed proposed to me on the beach at sunset.”

There were murmurs of approval and sympathy from the mourners who were listening avidly. She wondered what they’d say if she told them the truth.

There had been no proposal. At least, not in the traditional sense of the word.

Ed had flung an arm round her.

You’re in trouble. I’m in trouble. We both chose badly, which is what happens when you let your emotions make decisions. Let’s get married. I like you. You like me. That’s a better basis for marriage than love. Love is for poets and artists. Getting married because of love is like building your house on quicksand. You never know when the whole thing is going to collapse.

She hadn’t been able to disagree with that.

She’d been emotionally numb and frightened about the future.

Lauren remembered Ed hugging her, telling her it was going to be okay, that they’d rescue each other, and the ache in her chest was almost unbearable.

They’d done that. They’d rescued each other. But now he’d abandoned her.

What was she going to do without him?

They’d had a deal—

“We married right away—” Her voice broke slightly and she cleared her throat. “When Mack was born I remember thinking our family was complete. Perfect. Our life together was perfect.”

She glanced at Mack, who was seated next to Jenna, her features a frozen mask. Lauren’s heart broke for her. She’d done everything she could to give Mack a stable, secure family life but she hadn’t been able to save her from this.

She choked out a few more words. How great Ed was as a provider, what a great friend he was and how much he would be missed.

Standing at the front of the church, trying not to look at the sea of faces, she felt lonelier than she ever had in her life before.

No one had ever told her that it was possible to be an adult and still feel as terrified as a child.

She had a sudden yearning for home, for the community she’d grown up in.

When her father had died, Lauren had flown home and stayed three weeks. The fridge had been so full of food, they hadn’t had to worry about shopping or cooking for the entire duration of her stay. Casseroles had appeared in their kitchen, along with homemade cake. Neighbors made a support list. Her mother was asked to write down anything that needed doing from mowing the lawn to emptying the trash and the tasks were divided between everyone. They’d felt enveloped by the community.

Lauren didn’t feel enveloped. She felt alone and exposed.

She sensed movement and saw her sister reach out and take Mack’s hand.

Jenna, who had taken the first flight she could find so she could be by her side. She was wearing a navy coat and her hair was curling rebelliously in response to relentless English rain. Jenna, whose love and loyalty was never in question.

And Lauren remembered that she wasn’t alone.

She felt a rush of gratitude. Having her sister there helped her to stumble through the last few lines of her speech without blurting out anything scandalous.

She kept thinking about that last conversation she’d had with Ed.

She’s not the problem.

What exactly had he meant by that? She didn’t know, and now she never would.

Saying her own silent farewell, she walked back to her seat.

She felt Jenna slide her hand into hers, as she’d done when they were growing up.

Sisters always stick together.

Lauren tried not to think about how she’d cope once Jenna left. Maybe she could persuade her to move in. There were schools in London. Jenna could teach anywhere and Greg wouldn’t struggle to find work either. Almost everyone she knew needed a therapist, even if they weren’t aware of it themselves.

But she knew Jenna would never leave Martha’s Vineyard.

Maybe she’d go back for longer this summer. In the past they’d been restricted by Ed’s need to be in London, but Ed didn’t need to be anywhere ever again. And if Greg was working then perhaps she, Jenna and Mack could spend some time together.

She was about to lean across and tell Mack she didn’t have to speak if she didn’t want to when her daughter rose to her feet.

She walked to the front of the church. For once her back was straight, as if she’d finally accepted her height.

Since the night of the party she’d been even less communicative.

Lauren told herself it was natural for Mack to be withdrawn. She’d lost her father. Lauren had already found a grief counselor who specialized in teenagers. She intended to call her as soon as the funeral was over, and she couldn’t wait for that moment to come.

Lauren willed her daughter to have the strength to get through the next few minutes.

There was an expectant silence broken only by the occasional cough and a muffled sob.

Mack said nothing.

The silence stretched for so long that people began to fidget. Expectation turned to impatience.

Lauren felt a rush of fierce protectiveness.

Why had she allowed Mack to do this? She was sixteen years old. It was too much.

She was about to stride up to the front of the church like a mother hen reclaiming her chick, when the chick opened its mouth.

“I’m supposed to say a few words about my father.” Mack’s voice was clear and steady, cutting through the tense atmosphere of the church.

Lauren relaxed.

Her daughter had aced drama. She could do this.

“The problem is,” Mack said, “I don’t exactly know who my father is. You’d have to ask my mother about that. All I know for sure is that it wasn’t Ed.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Jenna

Startle: to be, or cause to be, surprised or frightened

“WHERE DO YOU keep mugs?” Jenna prowled around Lauren’s shiny perfect kitchen. Every cabinet was neat and ordered. She tried not to think about her kitchen at home, where assorted plates nestled alongside mismatched mugs hand painted by the children she taught. Her mugs said things like World’s Best Teacher and Superwoman. It was like drinking her coffee with subtitles.

Lauren’s mugs were white and they all matched. Not a chip. Not a crack. Not a single accolade emblazoned on the side. Her home looked like something out of one of those glossy magazines she’d been addicted to growing up.

Jenna glanced at her sister. She’d changed into black yoga pants and a black roll-neck sweater. Her hair was twisted into a severe knot at the back of her head and the pallor of her skin emphasized the dark hollows under her eyes.

Her sister could have taken a role in a horror movie without bothering with makeup, Jenna thought. She suspected Lauren spent most of the night crying, although during the day she managed to hold it together.

After Mack’s revelation, the gathering had been more farce than funeral. Her confession had shaken the atmosphere so dramatically the resulting shock waves should have been measurable on the Richter scale.

Everyone’s mouths had been open, with the exception of Mack’s. With hindsight, Jenna wished her niece had closed hers sooner.

At first she’d assumed it was grief talking, but then she’d seen her sister’s frozen expression and had second thoughts. She knew that look. It was the same look Lauren had worn as a child when they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t, like the time William Foster had reported them for letting his chickens out.

Jenna considered what she knew about her sister’s relationship.

Lauren and Ed had met on the beach and married a month later. It had been a whirlwind, but everyone who met Ed found it easy to understand why Lauren had fallen in love with him so nobody questioned it too deeply.

When Mack had been born barely nine months later, Jenna had wondered if Lauren had already been pregnant when she and Ed had married, but so what?

Now she felt like one of the kids in her class doing a basic math puzzle. If Jane has four apples and Mary takes one away, how many apples does Jane have left?

Could she have had an affair? No. Lauren had already been pregnant when she’d come back from her honeymoon.

How could Ed not be Mack’s father?

Like Mack and the rest of the people at the funeral, Jenna wanted to know the answer to the key question.

Lauren hadn’t spoken a word since they’d left the funeral.

Jenna wanted to call Greg for advice, but since when had she needed Greg’s advice on how to talk to her sister, someone she knew almost as well as she knew herself?

She removed two perfect matching mugs from the cabinet, boiled water and made hot tea.

That was what the British did in a crisis, wasn’t it? They drank tea. Lauren had lived here for sixteen years, which made her as close to British as it was possible to be without being born here. “Was Mack telling the truth?” She pushed aside a stack of papers and put the two mugs on the table.

Lauren stared at the tea but didn’t touch it. “Yes.”

Jenna sat down next to her and took her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t tell anyone.”

I’m not anyone. I’m your sister. “Since when do we not talk to each other?”

“I wanted to protect my daughter. I always planned to tell her, but I was waiting until I was sure she was old enough to understand. I wanted her to grow up in a secure, stable home knowing she was loved. I didn’t want her to have doubts or fears. I didn’t want her to be—” She lifted bruised, exhausted eyes to Jenna. An ocean of memories flowed between them.

“You didn’t want her to be like us.”

Lauren’s eyes glistened. “You’re probably the only person who can understand.”

Jenna felt sweat prickle at the back of her neck. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Please don’t let her want to talk about it.

“No. It’s not relevant.”

It was funny, Jenna thought, how they’d both managed to ignore the past. It was like being in the room with a wild animal and hoping that if you didn’t look at it, it wouldn’t bite you.

“If it’s impacting the choices you make, then it’s relevant.”

“Didn’t it impact yours?”

Jenna felt her cheeks grow hot. “This is about you, not me. You kept a major secret from your husband and daughter.”

“No, I didn’t. Ed agreed we should wait until Mack was older. We were planning on sitting her down and talking to her soon.”

“Wait—you’re saying Ed knew?”

“From the beginning.”

“And he married you in spite of that?”

“He married me because of that.” Lauren let go of Jenna’s hand and reached for her tea. “It’s complicated.”

No kidding.

Jenna was still getting her head round the fact there was a huge part of her sister’s life she knew nothing about. “Did you tell him everything? He also knew about—”

“No. Not that. Just about Mack. And she’s all that matters now. She’s lost her dad, and she can’t even grieve properly because she’s so confused.” Lauren’s voice wobbled and she glanced toward the door that Mack had slammed between them the moment they’d arrived back at the house. “Is she going to be okay? I need you to tell me she’s going to be okay.”

“She’s going to be okay,” Jenna said, hoping it was true. “It will take time of course, but she’ll figure it out and so will you. And you have each other.”

“Right now I don’t think she finds that a comfort. She’s so mad at me.” Lauren blew her nose. “She’s obviously known Ed wasn’t her father for a while. It explains so much. She’s been difficult lately. Moody. I thought there might be something she wasn’t telling me—” She glanced at Jenna, who shrugged.

“No one is better qualified to recognize the signs of secret keeping than the Stewart sisters, right? Do you know how she found out?”

“She was doing an ancestry project at school as part of her history coursework. I guess it must have been to do with that. I haven’t worked out the details yet. But why didn’t she talk to me? Why not ask me?”

“Er—did we ever talk to Mom about things?”

“No, but we didn’t talk to Mom about anything. Mack and I talked about everything.”

Not quite everything, Jenna thought.

“Did Ed adopt Mack?”

Lauren stared at her tea. “No. We talked about it, but at the beginning it would have meant—” she drew in a breath “—contacting the father, and neither of us wanted to do that. Later it would have meant visits from social workers and they would have insisted we tell her right away. We always planned to tell her, but we wanted to do it when we felt she was able to handle it. And I didn’t want that to be when she was young. Also, there was Ed’s Mom.”

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