Want to Know a Secret? by Sue Moorcroft Page A

thin, blue-chequered paper napkins. It was all right, but all right was only all right. He would never have dreamt of bringing Valerie here, or Tamzin, Natalia or Alice.
    As a director of Furness Durwent he received a big beaming salary, bonuses, dividends and profit sharing. Investments added to his income. Valerie had a private income from the chain of department stores that had eventually swallowed up Myers . All three of his daughters were beneficiaries of grandparental trusts.
    His family were used to plenty: plenty of money, clothes, a lovely house, new cars; they were used to being pleasantly and materially spoilt.
    He wished that he could return Diane to that kind of comfort.
    Certainly, he could’ve taken her to a nicer restaurant – her clothes were slightly crazy but always good. She would’ve enjoyed a decent restaurant and he would have enjoyed her enjoyment. And they would have lingered longer over a meal that wasn’t bashed out in the kitchen of a chain of pubs. It would have been good for both of them to lay down their respective burdens for a while.
    ‘And did you blame Gareth?’ he heard himself ask.
    Thoughtfully, she shook her head. ‘No, I never did. For being an ordinary man? It’s hardly a crime, is it?’
    ‘You must’ve loved him, to marry him?’
    She smiled suddenly and he wished he could capture it, like a photo, capture the light in her eyes and the lazy way she turned up the corners of her fine mouth.
    ‘Yes. I think I loved him. He was what Bryony would called “ so cool” with his scooter and Parka. He stopped to help me when I had a flat tyre at the side of the road, me gazing at the jack, mystified. By the time he’d changed the wheel, I was in love. Gareth was quite –’ She drew in a long breath. ‘He was quite different then. Assured, capable, friendly, sexy, good-looking. He only had to smile and I’d melt. Of course, I quickly realised he had issues. He was all attitude and grievances, very us and them . It took me a while to realise that I would never be anything else but them .’
    James’s meal was only half-eaten but he was getting a bad taste in his mouth. He laid down his knife and fork. ‘Surely that’s not why he “forgot” to tell you about Harold and Valerie? And about the money?’
    Her eyes managed a tiny twinkle. ‘I’m afraid that was good old-fashioned tit for tat. My parents left everything to my brother, Freddy, when they died. I refused to allow him to make half over to me.’
    James tried, but failed, to conceive of a grudge so black and bitter that it continued past the grave. Of parents who’d let their child and grandchild live in straightened circumstances while they rested on their fat bank account, a husband who’d condemn his wife to unnecessary adversity out of spite. It went against his nature. At various times his family had given him to understand that he was managing, controlling, overprotective and/or an obsessive provider, but if any one of them were to be listening to Diane, they might even begin to feel grateful. He was always there for his own, even though it was a long time since Valerie had deserved it. ‘Has money … been a big problem?’
    She laughed, but he saw that her eyes shimmered. ‘If you mean the lack of it, then desperately! And Bryony was ill so much that I was always rushing to the village shop for cough medicine and paracetamol stuff. The doctor used to put as much as he could on prescription for her but just getting to him – in Holbeach – was almost impossible, sometimes. Her asthma meant I couldn’t hold down a full-time job. Hence the sewing.’
    After coffee – as if to make up for the almost uneaten sandwich, she drank two cappuccinos, each with double sprinkles – they walked out to the car park. The air was soft with rain and the dusk smelled pleasantly fresh.
    Inside the car, Diane patted the leather dash. ‘So it’s really fast?’
    ‘Very fast,’ he agreed, as he steered towards the