The Secrets Between Us by Louise Douglas Page A

you.’
    Alexander had his back to me, so I couldn’t see his face. He made a noncommittal noise.
    ‘She asked about us,’ I said. ‘I told her there was nothing between us.’
    He pulled up a chair and sat down.
    ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘It’s for the best. Though there’s no love lost between Claudia and Virginia. Claudia’s loyalty is with Genevieve.’
    I noted that we had managed less than two minutes of conversation before Genevieve’s name was mentioned. I snapped a pillowcase.
    Alexander unlaced his boots, one after the other, and when he eased them off his feet I could smell the hot wool of his socks. I found it endearing. If I had known him better, if I hadn’t known about the squirrel, perhaps I would have gone to his chair and stood behind it and rubbed his shoulders. As it was, my heart had hardened slightly.
    ‘Hey,’ he said, ‘are you all right?’
    ‘Yes,’ I said.
    Then I said: ‘No. Actually, I’m not. Did you kill the squirrel that was trapped this morning?’
    He didn’t apologize or shrug or look remorseful. He said: ‘Yep.’
    ‘Why? Why didn’t you let it go?’
    ‘Because it would have been straight back in the roof. There’d have been no point trapping it in the first place.’
    ‘You could have taken it somewhere else and released it.’
    ‘You can’t do that. Squirrels are territorial. They fight and they spread diseases amongst themselves. It would be cruel.’
    ‘More cruel than smashing its head in?’
    He reached out and took hold of my hand and squeezed. I looked down at my hand in his. It looked all wrong.
    ‘It’s a country thing,’ he said. ‘It’s what you have to do. It’s kinder than poisoning them.’
    ‘It’s horrible.’
    I withdrew my hand and rubbed it with the palm of my other.
    ‘You’re a city girl,’ he said. ‘You’ve got this Beatrix Potter idea of fluffy squirrels and rabbits in jackets and …’
    ‘Don’t patronize me, Alexander.’
    ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘But it’s true. Squirrels are vermin. Real life isn’t like a romantic novel.’
    Now there was anger in his voice, and I didn’t know him well enough to push it any further. I turned away so that he wouldn’t see the heat in my face, and I took the cucumber from the colander of washed salad on the counter and a sharp knife, and began to peel it.
    ‘This is stupid,’ he said, in a more conciliatory tone. ‘Don’t let’s fall out over this.’
    I nodded, but I didn’t say anything.
    ‘If it upsets you,’ he said, ‘I’ll find a different way to get rid of the squirrels.’
    ‘OK,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’
    Alexander had a shower with his son while I finished making the dinner, and then the three of us ate together at the large, dark, wooden dining-room table. I’d given the room a cursory clean but, from the amount of dust and debris, I was pretty certain it hadn’t been used for its original purpose in months. Piles of paper, unsorted washing, riding paraphernalia and other mess lay in little heaps on the seats of chairs and on the sideboard. The huge oil painting of two horses in a field that dominated one side of the room was dull with dust. Genevieve couldn’t have been bothered with housework for a while before she went away. Or maybe she never cleaned the house. Why would she want to spend time polishing and vacuuming when she could be out riding inthis beautiful countryside with the wind in her face, knowing she was one of the best in the country?
    I ate slowly and watched Jamie. He had forgotten his previous surliness and wriggled excitably in his chair. His delighted responses to Alexander’s constant, gentle teasing made me relax and feel happier. The blue teddy sat on the table beside Jamie’s plate. I was relieved to see the boy animated and cheeky, like a child his age should be.
    Alexander had lit waxy yellow candles on the big old mantelpiece that ran almost the length of the room above a cavernous fireplace, and there were candles on