Alice Ross - A Summer Of Secrets

‘She was, um, a bit of a party girl,’ he said at length.

Candi bit her lip.

‘Do you like parties?’ he asked, wincing at how naff that sounded. Anything to veer the conversation away from him and Bernice, though.

Candi shook her head. ‘Not really. I don’t drink. It makes me throw up.’

Huh. That was weird. Rich was similarly affected after only a couple of glasses of wine. ‘So what do you do with yourself?’ he continued. ‘I presume you’ve left school now.’

She nodded. ‘Last summer.’

‘And are you planning on going to uni?’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘No. It’s never appealed, to be honest. I don’t know what I want to do really. I guess you could say I’m having a year out to assess my options. I’m earning a bit of money working in a clothes shop at the moment. But, as corny as it sounds, I feel like I need to find out who I am and what I really want before I trot down some route just for the sake of it.’

Wow. A wise head on young shoulders. Rich liked that. What he wasn’t so enamoured with, though, was the distinct air of sadness that hung about her.

‘So, what about you?’ she enquired. ‘Apart from owning the hot-tub business, I don’t know a thing about you.’

Oh, God. He really didn’t want to talk about himself. He’d keep it brief. ‘Not much to tell, really. I’m married to Alison and have a six-year-old daughter …’ – Bollocks. Should he have said “another daughter”? – ‘Bethany.’

‘What’re they like?’

Despite his reticence, Rich smiled. ‘Bethany is hilarious. Six going on sixteen. And Alison is beautiful and clever, as well as being a superb businesswoman. We started Bubbles together a few years ago.’

‘And it’s going well?’

‘Very well. Much better than we’d ever imagined.’ A sudden unpleasant thought struck him. Was he being particularly dense here? Had she contacted him because she wanted money or –?

‘Sorry,’ she said, as if reading his mind. ‘I only asked out of interest. Please don’t think I want anything. Money, I mean, or anything like that. Because I don’t. I just wanted to meet you. To find out a bit about you. But if you’d rather not –’

Rich reached across the table and squeezed her hand. ‘I would,’ he said.

***

‘I can’t believe it,’ admitted Annie, clearing away the remains of the vegetable lasagne her husband, Jake, had made for dinner. ‘I mean, I thought –’

Portia nodded as she sliced off a sliver of Stilton from the hunk on the board in front of her. ‘That there’d be loads of money left?’

Annie grimaced. ‘Not that it’s any of my business. But I merely assumed –’

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