Nicci French: Secret Smile

I finally managed to insert a mouthful of steak into my mouth and chewed it vigorously. Brendan inserted a finger and thumb delicately into his own mouth and extracted a thin bone, laying it carefully on the side of his plate then swilling back the rest of his mouthful with white wine. I looked away.

'So,' I said to Kerry. 'How did you two meet?'

'Oh,' she said, and glanced up at Brendan sideways. 'By accident, really.'

'Don't call it accident. Fate,' said Brendan.

'I was in the park after work one evening and it started to rain and this man

'That would be me

Kerry giggled happily. 'Yes. Bren. He said he knew my face. "Aren't you Kerry Cotton?" he said.'

'I recognized her from your photograph of course. Then there she was in front of me in the rain.'

'He told me he knew you – I mean, he didn't tell me about, you know – he just said he knew you. Then he offered to share his umbrella

'Like the gentleman I am,' said Brendan. 'You know me, Mirrie.'

'We carried on walking together, even though it was belting down with rain. We got wetter and wetter, and our shoes were squelching with water.'

'But we kept on walking through the rain,' said Brendan and put his hand on her hair and stroked it. 'Didn't we?'

'We were soaked through, so I invited him to come and get dry at mine…'

'I towelled her hair for her,' said Brendan.

'That's enough,' I said, lifting up my hand, pretending to laugh. 'We'll stop with the getting dry, shall we?'

'I can't tell you how relieved I am that you know,' said Kerry. 'When I discovered about you two, well, for a bit I thought it would ruin everything. I would never do anything to hurt you. You know that, don't you?' She looked remarkably pretty: soft and slim and radiant. There was a small pain in my chest.

'You deserve to be happy,' I said, turning my back on Brendan and speaking only to her.

'I am happy,' she said. 'We've only known each other for a few days, ten to be precise, and it's not been long since the two of you – well, you know… So perhaps I shouldn't say this, but I can't remember being so happy.'

'That's good,' I said. Ten days, I thought.

We ate our meal, drank our wine. Glasses chinked. I smiled and nodded, and said yes and no in the right places, and all the time I was thinking. Trying not to think. Not to remember: the way his tummy bulged slightly over his boxer shorts; the black hair on his shoulders…

Finally I looked down at my watch and gave a fake start of surprise at the time it was, though it was only just gone nine-thirty, and told them I had to get back – early start tomorrow; long drive, no time for coffee, so sorry… We had to go through the whole rigmarole of saying goodbye, with Kerry hugging me hard and Brendan kissing me too close to my mouth and I resisting the urge to wipe the dampness away with the back of my hand, and everyone saying how we must meet again very soon, oh yes, how lovely I'd been, how kind, how good.

He walked me to the door of the restaurant.

'It's been raining,' he said.

I ignored him.

'It's an incredible coincidence,' I said.

'What?'

'I break off with you and a few days later you meet my sister in the street and you start going out. It's hard to believe.'

'There's no such thing as coincidence,' said Brendan. 'Maybe it's not surprising that I'd fall in love with someone who looked like you.'

I looked over Brendan's shoulder at Kerry, still sitting at the table. She caught my eye and gave me a nervous smile and glanced away. When I spoke to Brendan I smiled, so that our conversation would seem friendly to Kerry.

'Brendan,' I asked, 'is this some kind of weird joke?'

He looked puzzled and a bit hurt.

'Joke?'

'If you're playing with my sister as some way of getting at me.'

'That sounds pretty self-centred,' said Brendan, 'if you don't mind my saying so.'

'Just don't hurt her,' I said. 'She deserves to be happy.'

'Trust me. I know how to make her happy.'

I couldn't bear to be with him another second. I walked home through the damp streets, breathing in deeply, letting the air cool my face. Had he really fallen in love with Kerry? Did it really matter how they had met? I walked faster, till my legs ached with the effort.

I often think of positions in families, the difference it makes to you. Would I have been someone else if I'd been the oldest? What about Kerry, if she'd been in the middle, instead of me? Would she have been more confident and extrovert, more like me – or, at least, more like the me the family assumed I was? And Troy, the baby of the family, who came along nine years after me? If he hadn't been all on his own, the obvious mistake, what would that have meant for him? Or if he'd had brothers who could teach him how to kick a football and use his fists and play violent computer games, instead of sisters who petted and ignored him?

But we were stuck with what we'd been given. Kerry had come first and had to lead the way, although she hated being a leader. And I was second, impatient to grow up and chafing to be first, always trying to overtake her, push her out of my way. And Troy was third and the only boy – very much the last, but almost the first as well, thin-shouldered, wide-eyed, dreamy, strange.

I let myself into the flat. It was true that I had an early start tomorrow, but for a while I couldn't get to sleep. I lay in bed, shifting to different positions, turning the pillow to find a cooler spot. There was no photograph of Kerry in my flat, of course there wasn't. But then I hadn't believed Brendan's story anyway, so what did it matter? He tracked down Kerry because she was my sister. Considered from a certain angle, it might seem romantic.

As I drove home from work the following day, the buildings wavered in the drizzle, the skyline was soft and blurred. If it were this time in summer, then it would be light for hours more, but now people were drawing their curtains, turning lights on. In my flat, I pulled off my overalls and stood under a tepid shower for thirty seconds before dressing in a baggy pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. I stood in front of the mirror and pulled in my stomach. What had Brendan said about my weight? I turned sideways to the glass and gazed at myself, dissatisfied. Maybe I should start running. Every morning before going out to work, perhaps. What a horrible idea.

The phone rang as I was leaving to meet Laura.

'Miranda?'

'Hi, Mum.'

'I tried calling before, but there was never any reply.'

'My answering machine's packed up.'

'How are you? Are you all right?'

'Fine.'

'Sure?'

I wasn't going to help her.

'I'm fine, Mum. Just a bit tired. I've been busy at work, now Bill's away. How are you and Dad?'

'I spoke to Kerry. She said you'd had a lovely dinner together.'

'It was nice to see her.' I paused and then relented. 'And Brendan.'

'Miranda, you're being very good about this. Don't think we don't realize the effort. I just wish you'd told us when it all happened. I hate to think of you being miserable and not telling me.'

'There wasn't anything to tell. Everyone's got the wrong idea.'

'If it's any consolation, Kerry is transformed. You saw what she looked like yourself. She's like a different person. I'm happy. But I'm almost frightened as well.'

'You mean because Brendan might leave her?'

'Oh, don't say that! Anyway, he seems to adore her too.' I was silent for a second too long and she said sharply, 'Miranda? Don't you think so?'

'They both seem very happy,' I said.

'So are you really all right?'

'Really. But I'm running a bit late.'

'Yes, but before you dash off, will you come over at the weekend? How about Sunday lunch? Then we can all get together.'