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‘Until her boyfriend came back, anyway,’ Aiden said, and broke the spell of my memory. ‘Then she forgot all about me, and left me to pine alone for what might have been…’
I forced myself to roll my eyes. ‘I see fame hasn’t beaten that sense of the overdramatic out of you, then?’ A tight, uncomfortable feeling swelled up inside me. He wasn’t lying, but he wasn’t telling the whole truth either. And if anyone asked too many questions…
I’d never told Edward that I’d seduced his best friend. That we’d had a brief, but intense, fling that Christmas – or that I’d avoided him until I’d graduated and moved away the next summer. He didn’t even know that Darren and I had broken up that December, or that we’d only made up in the January when he proposed.
As far as Edward knew, Aiden and I had kept each other company watching The Muppet Christmas Carol and eating turkey pasties on Christmas Day.
Which was only a tiny fragment of the real story.
‘I make things up for a living,’ Aiden pointed out. ‘Being overdramatic is kind of compulsory. Besides, I didn’t say it was a bad thing. It let me know what to expect from the big bad world.’
Had he ever told anyone what really happened that Christmas? I studied his face – his burning, knowing eyes, his sharp smile, but I couldn’t read anything into them. The Aiden I’d known, however briefly, was fourteen years away. This was a new man altogether.
At least, that was what I was telling myself.
‘And what about deepest Cheshire?’ I asked, keen to bring the conversation back to the present. The past was too hard to deal with. ‘What should we expect from Rosewood?’
‘Oh, I shouldn’t be the one to answer that,’ Aiden said. ‘I’ve only been here six months.’ Six months? What could have happened to drag him away from his illustrious career as the face of British crime fiction in London for so long? Usually, he was on the telly every few weeks, or pictured at the premiere of one of his film adaptions, or escorting some model or pop star to some hot new restaurant. But, now that I thought about it, the tube posters were all I’d seen of him since the summer.
Not that I’d been looking. Obviously.
Okay, maybe a bit. Aiden was a popular figure, and someone I’d once known. Of course I’d followed his career over the years – but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how it would have brought him to Rosewood for six months.
‘An outsider’s perspective, then,’ Saskia put in. ‘You probably see the place more clearly than the rest of us, anyway.’
Aiden looked from her to me. ‘Okay, then. How about this. Rosewood is a place of stories, of merriment and of celebration.’ Well, that didn’t sound too bad. I could live with that.
Then he caught my gaze. ‘And secrets, of course. Always secrets.’
Our secret. I knew then that he hadn’t told a soul until he came here. Because that had been the deal. No person in the world but the two of us knew what had passed between us that Christmas. But now, I had a feeling the secret was out.
And seeing him again, I knew that despite the years, those two weeks we’d spent together had never left me. From the way he was looking at me, Aiden hadn’t forgotten them either. Not one bit.
‘Oh, come on,’ Edward said, laughing. ‘I don’t think any of us can have any secrets left, do you? Not after publishing the Journals.’
Aiden smiled back at him, easy and open. So, Edward didn’t know then. That was something. ‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe there are no more secrets here at Rosewood. But there is definitely liquor, and I was promised a Christmas cocktail by Saskia’s grandmother, and I intend to claim it. Anyone joining me?’
‘Let me get Mum and Freya and Max settled first,’ Edward said. ‘Then we’ll see. Come on, everyone. Let me show you to your rooms.’
We trailed dutifully up the stairs after Edward and Saskia, our bags shared out between us all. But I couldn’t help but pause at the top of the stairs and look back down into the hallway.
Aiden still stood in the doorway, watching me go. I looked away fast.
Edward had always said that Rosewood was home to ghosts. I just hadn’t realised it would be my past, my secrets, that were haunting me.
Chapter Two
Edward and Saskia deposited me and my bags in a bright yellow bedroom looking out over the Rose Garden, then Saskia promptly retreated to show Mum and Max to their rooms, leaving Edward and me alone.
I got the feeling that this was something of a pre-planned attack.
I could hear Saskia talking to Max as they left. ‘Aiden’s a writer, you know – you might have heard of him. Aiden Waites?’ I groaned as I realised the wider implications of Aiden’s presence at Rosewood. Max had been begging to read Aiden’s books for months – apparently his mates had all read them, something I knew from talking to their mums wasn’t the case. Actually meeting the man himself wasn’t going to make my ‘they’re not suitable for a twelve-year-old’ argument any easier.
Edward shut the bedroom door softly behind him, muffling Max’s excited reply, then leant against the dressing table. I took a seat on the bed beside my suitcase, wondering if there was a way out of the inevitable ‘we’re all worried about you’ conversation I knew was coming.
‘So,’ Edward said.
‘So,’ I echoed.
He sighed. ‘I’m no good at this.’
‘Let me guess,’ I said, taking pity on him. ‘Mum asked you to “have a word” with me, without specifying exactly which words to use?’
‘Oh, she was pretty clear about the words, actually,’ Edward said, giving me a half-smile. ‘Mostly “mistake,” “forgiveness,” and “family”.’
‘Right. Yeah, no.’
‘That’s what I figured.’ He pushed away from the dressing table and came to sit beside me on the bed, the suitcase between us. ‘Is she right to be so worried about this? I mean, I know I’ve been away, but you don’t look like you’re falling apart, and Max seems okay.’
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘I mean, I’m fine. Furious, but fine. But Max… I don’t know. I hoped maybe you might be able to talk with him. See how he’s doing.’
‘Of course,’ Edward agreed, instantly. ‘How much does he know?’
‘Not a lot.’ Darren was still his father, whatever he’d done, and I didn’t want Max to lose all respect for him. All the same, not telling him hadn’t made things noticeably easier between them, anyway. ‘We just told him that as much as we loved him, Darren and I had grown apart, so we were separating. We kind of focused on the “still being a family, just with two houses” thing, rather than the adultery and betrayal part. As far as I know, Darren hasn’t told him about his new girlfriend yet, either.’
‘You realise he’ll have to know the truth eventually, right?’ Edward asked. ‘One thing I’ve learned since coming to Rosewood – the truth always comes out.’
God, I hoped not. ‘Maybe. But not yet. After Christmas, at least.’
‘Okay. So, you okay with being here for Christmas?’
Here, with a houseful of strangers, my disapproving mother, and the man I had the most intense relationship of my life with fourteen years ago? Sure!
‘I’m sure it’ll be lovely,’ I lied. I wasn’t sure at all. In fact, I was pretty convinced it might be hell on earth for three days. My doubts must have shown on my face, because Edward didn’t look at all convinced. I hunted for something else positive to say. ‘Actually, it might do us good to be somewhere with no memories this Christmas. I mean, given everything.’
‘I hope so.’ Edward got to his feet. ‘Maybe we can even make some new family memories, yeah?’
‘That would be lovely,’ I said, and I wasn’t even lying that time.
‘Right. You relax,’ he said, crossing to the door. ‘Take a shower, have a rest, and come down when you’re ready. I’ll take care of Max and Mum.’
He was trying to help, I realised. Trying to make up for not being there when Darren left – for being half a world away
on a book tour when my life was collapsing around me. Maybe for being happy, when I wasn’t.
Except… I wasn’t unhappy, either. And that was something I couldn’t admit to – couldn’t tell Mum, or Max, or Edward. How could I tell them that the end of my marriage felt like the beginning of something new? Of a fresh start for me? How could I explain the relief I’d felt, the day I realised that Darren was cheating on me?
I couldn’t let Max know that I was glad his father had left. Just like I couldn’t tell Mum that I’d given up on my marriage long before it actually ended.
Neither one of them would even begin to understand.
