Should You Keep a Secret? Read online

  Should You Keep a Secret?

  Lisa Darcy

  Copyright © 2022 Lisa Darcy

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  The right of Lisa Darcy to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  First published in 2022 by Bloodhound Books.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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  www.bloodhoundbooks.com

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  Print ISBN 978-1-914614-83-5

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Stella

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Jesse

  Chapter 5

  Carly

  Chapter 6

  Stella

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Jesse

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Stella

  Chapter 12

  Carly

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Jesse

  Chapter 15

  Stella

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Jesse

  Chapter 19

  Stella

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Carly

  Chapter 22

  Jesse

  Chapter 23

  Stella

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Jesse

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Louisa

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Jesse

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Carly

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Jesse

  Chapter 36

  Stella

  Chapter 37

  Jesse

  Chapter 38

  Stella

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Jesse

  Chapter 41

  Stella

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Louisa

  Chapter 45

  Carly

  Chapter 46

  Jesse

  Chapter 47

  Louisa

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Stella

  Chapter 51

  Carly

  Chapter 52

  Louisa

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Stella

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Jesse

  Chapter 58

  Louisa

  Chapter 59

  Stella

  Chapter 60

  Carly

  Chapter 61

  Stella

  Acknowledgements

  A note from the publisher

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  Also by Lisa Darcy

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  To my readers all over the world, thanks! I write because of you.

  Chapter One

  Stella

  When I said ‘I do’, I never thought I’d end up saying ‘I don’t anymore’. Divorce? Not me. Ever.

  And I’m not divorced … yet. But my husband and I are separated. Garth has a girlfriend. Actually, he’s living with her. I’m not feeling sorry for myself though, I’m in a good place. Happy with my life, friends.

  Garth and I met in the early noughties at an inner-city bar in Sydney. He came out with the ridiculous pick-up line, ‘Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk past you again?’ Yes, it was dumb and cheesy, but obviously I was in the mood for dumb and cheesy, because I laughed. He was cute. It helped that he was unsure of himself and nervous as hell. And at least he didn’t say, ‘What time do you have to be back in heaven?’ I have standards.

  Within a week, we were in love. Three months later, we moved in together. The following year, Harry was born. I often wonder whether we’d have stayed together if Harry hadn’t been conceived. We were running on a treadmill of relentless forward motion. Then I fell pregnant with Hannah. Two kids! Marriage would complete the circle. So Garth and I did what was expected. Three months before Hannah was born, we united as Mr and Mrs. I even forwent my maiden name – Templeton. I know that’s not politically correct, but I liked Garth’s surname, Sparks.

  Stella Sparks. It had a glamorous ring to it. Besides, the name Stella Templeton had never done me any favours. I hoped Stella Sparks would.

  Our marriage was good, really good … until it ran out of steam.

  The bartender coughed and handed over my change.

  It was my shout. Place? Local pub, a rooftop bar in an oasis of luxurious greenery. Three girlfriends hanging out on a Thursday night, catching up for drinks. Date? January thirtieth, two days after the start of the school year. It felt more like two months. Teenagers!

  Loud conversations and laughter bounced off walls. I picked up the bottle of wine and headed back to the girls.

  ‘So,’ Carly said as I sank into a comfy wicker cane chair, ‘what’s everyone’s mantra for the year?’

  She’d asked the same question the last three years, and I couldn’t for the life of me remember what I’d said twelve months ago. I poured the wine instead of answering.

  Jesse groaned. ‘I’m not playing this game.’

  ‘Why not?’ Carly snapped. ‘What else are you doing?’

  We clinked glasses, and she took a large gulp before continuing. ‘Anyway, I’ve got mine – fuck buddy.’

  ‘Carly!’ Jesse shrieked.

  I shook my head. Carly could be a loose cannon, especially after a few drinks. She liked to shock people, and Jesse always fell for it. I wasn’t sure if Carly was serious or not. Her marriage had been through its ups and downs over the years, but she hadn’t complained about Brett recently.

  ‘That’s not a mantra,’ I told her.

  She smiled and flicked her long blonde hair behind her shoulders. ‘My game, my rules.’

  With a slow, deliberate movement, Jesse picked up her glass. ‘I know what I want.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ I asked.

  ‘It means I know what I want from life, and this is my year to go for it. That and maintenance. I’m finding wrinkles on my ears. I can’t wing it these days. I need to look after myself, otherwise…’

  We all had issues. Jesse thought her husband, Steve, was having a mid-life crisis because he was arrogant, rude and hated her friends. He wasn’t having a crisis, he was just a prick, full stop. But Jesse seemed devoted to him and did everything she could to keep him happy, including Botox, beauty care and endless sexual
favours. She hoped that if she kept herself looking gorgeous and him feeling manly, one day he might tell her he loves her like he used to. And she does look great – flawless olive complexion, intense green eyes, wavy sandy-coloured hair. Jesse’s a real catch, unlike Steve, who’s rather ordinary.

  ‘What about you?’ Carly asked me, snapping her fingers to bring me back from my mental drifting. ‘We need your mantra.’

  ‘I can only commit to a month. Anything beyond that’s a bonus.’

  She sighed. ‘Get on with it.’

  I took a sip of wine. ‘Fun.’

  ‘Too short,’ Carly said.

  ‘How about “I take control of my life”?’

  Jesse and Carly looked at each other. Carly swigged her wine before answering. ‘You can do better.’

  ‘What? It’s not like maintenance and fuck buddy are so great.’

  Carly shrugged and cast her eyes around the room.

  ‘What about “I choose to be happy”?’ Jesse said, looking anything but.

  Jesse had great highs, where she was on top of the world, all smiles, hugs and good times, tempered by times when she felt low, sad and uninteresting. She’d been in a depressed phase since before Christmas and was finding it hard to pull herself together. Her little quirks had returned too – foot tapping, repetitive counting.

  ‘Finding a suitable fuck buddy would definitely make me happy!’ Carly cut in.

  ‘What’s got into you tonight?’ I asked.

  ‘Nothing. Just being honest.’ She nodded towards a group of men at a nearby table. ‘Maybe one of them is up for the job.’

  I rolled my eyes, then turned a deep shade of pink when I followed her gaze and realised who she was talking about.

  I’d met Mike seven weeks earlier at Harry’s end-of-year school speech night. We were both seated towards the back of the hall, and I’d noticed him immediately. He was tall and tanned, had collar-length salt-and-pepper hair with a bit of a fringe thing happening and an easy smile. Even more interesting was the absence of a wedding ring…

  After the speeches were over, I’d made a point of bumping into him in the canteen line-up for weak tea and heavily sugared chocolate slice.

  ‘Come here often?’ I’d asked. A pathetic opening, but it was all I had.

  ‘Only when I’m certain there’ll be attractive women here.’ He smiled broadly.

  I extended my hand. ‘Stella Sparks.’

  He took it. ‘Mike Thompson. Divorced?’

  ‘Presumptuous.’ I grinned. ‘Separated.’

  ‘Me too.’ His tone was light. ‘Sorry. People talk. You’re in fine company though.’

  ‘I dread to think what else you’ve heard.’

  ‘All good, I promise.’

  Instant rapport? I wouldn’t go that far, but he was laidback and handsome. Bonus points: he didn’t appear up himself or sleazy. Another thought struck me: if he knew about my marital status, he must have noticed me before.

  We got talking, and the following week, we met for coffee … And that was as far as it had gone.

  ‘Can I interest you in a library card?’ was one of the lamer sentences I’d uttered. Yes, I’m a librarian, so it wasn’t completely random. Still.

  ‘Is it hot here or is it just me?’ was another one. Idiot. We were sitting outside under pine trees in the summer sunshine. Pink crepe myrtle and white gardenias were in full fragrant bloom. Cows roamed a neighbouring paddock. Idyllic.

  The meeting was a disaster. I spilt coffee down my white linen shirt and struggled to make conversation even though our speech night encounter had been easy.

  Mike reached out and placed his hand over mine to stop the trembling. ‘Everything okay?’ He had a wide generous smile, and a relaxed confident manner.

  ‘Yes, no. I’m nervous. Worried people will see us and talk.’

  ‘Stella, we’re drinking coffee, not groping each other in the middle of the street. At peak hour’ – he laughed – ‘with our kids, ex-partners and ex-in-laws looking on.’

  ‘Or kissing in the library.’

  ‘Do tell.’

  ‘You’d be surprised.’

  Mike raised his eyebrows. ‘I’ve been missing out.’

  I hardly remember the rest of our conversation … Mike acted light and flirty, and I guessed I came across as some moronic twit. But I’d put it behind me, determined to focus on my children and newly found freedom.

  Then, horror of horrors, I’d run into him at the supermarket two days ago in the fruit and veggie section. I’d stammered something about how nice it was to see him again, that I was meeting friends that night and wouldn’t it be great if he could come along. Lo and behold, there he was, barely three metres away and smiling at me.

  I smiled back. Jesus! I felt sixteen again, although I had absolutely no intention of revisiting that annus horribilis.

  ‘See,’ Carly said. ‘You’re eyeing them off too.’

  ‘You’re all talk,’ I said, dismissing several erotic thoughts from my head. I wasn’t looking for a romantic interlude. I liked Mike, but I was terrified of falling in lust only to have it fall apart. Yes, I was getting ahead of myself, but that’s me.

  ‘I’m not and I’ll prove it to you.’ Carly stood and walked towards their table.

  Several men turned to look at her. Carly’s a stunner – athletic, tall, a bit like a greyhound. A good-looking greyhound with long blonde hair. Lately though, when we’re out together, I feel as though I’m minding an eighteen-year-old. It gets tiring, especially when I have to go home and deal with my own teenagers.

  Maybe if I’d stopped Carly – grabbed her arm and pulled her back – events wouldn’t have escalated the way they had.

  Chapter Two

  ‘Everything okay with you?’ Jesse asked, refilling my glass.

  ‘Sure,’ I said.

  ‘Kids doing okay?’

  ‘They’re teenagers. Their lives revolve around themselves and their friends. They’re not happy with the separation and Garth’s new girlfriend, but they’re handling it.’

  ‘It can’t be easy.’

  ‘No, but there’s no alternative.’

  Jesse glanced at Carly, who was flirting up a storm with her new friends. ‘Should we do something about her?’

  ‘She’s a big girl. Give her ten minutes.’

  Jesse nodded. ‘Sometimes I envy you. You’re free. Have no one to answer to.’

  ‘Except my kids.’

  ‘That’s different. They won’t always be living with you. You can have your own headspace. You can please yourself, not always be worrying about what your husband thinks.’

  ‘How’s it going with Steve?’

  ‘Same old, same old. He can’t get enough sex, but he doesn’t care about me enough to introduce me to his new colleagues. I had to beg him to take me to the company Christmas party. A couple of times when I joined in the conversation, he frowned, as if I was about to say something wildly inappropriate.’ She sighed and looked up from her glass. ‘And you know what, Stella? I never do. I keep it all hidden.’

  I wanted to tell her to wake up to herself and dump her dickhead husband. But I’d told her that a few times already. I wasn’t going to spoil this conversation by suggesting it again.

  ‘I’m just being dramatic.’

  I wasn’t so sure. And what did she mean about keeping things hidden? From what Jesse had told me, Steve spent a lot of time working late and hardly noticed her when he was around, except when he was after a blow job. He hadn’t always been so dismissive of her. When I’d met him several years earlier, he’d been open, accommodating and much kinder to Jesse. These days, I hardly ever saw him. Before Garth and I split, we’d occasionally had them over for a barbeque, but Steve usually ended up drifting away from the conversation towards whatever the kids were watching on television, or else he’d sit there raising an eyebrow if he didn’t agree with what was being said, leaving the impression he thought he was superior to us, that we should be honoured he’d dei
gned to be in our company.

  ‘And,’ Jesse said, ‘I really want another baby.’

  I took her hand. ‘You any closer?’

  She sipped her wine, then shook her head. ‘I don’t blame Steve. I know he’s busy, tired and fed up. He doesn’t want to add to the pressure by having another mouth to feed.’

  ‘You can afford it.’

  ‘Emotionally, Stella. Steve says he doesn’t have the energy or time to devote to raising another child. Although he’s also said it would be “fiscally irresponsible to bring another child into this unpredictable world”.’

  ‘You’re talking about a baby, not a new car.’

  She shrugged, and we both looked at the empty bottle on the table.

  ‘Should I buy another one?’ she asked, just as Carly bounced back.

  ‘I’ve met the most amazing guys,’ she told us. ‘Mike’s a dad from school, and the others work with him. We’re all heading to a party later. Want to come?’

  I glanced at Mike who was looking sheepish.