The Keeper of Secrets. Amanda Brooke
with Chris tonight, so I could always bring a bottle of wine and a takeaway.’
Elle was glad her friend wasn’t there to see her grimace. ‘It’s a tempting offer, but do you mind if I take a rain check?’
‘Or how about I come around after Charlie’s in bed so Rick need never know how you arranged to meet up without seeking his prior approval?’ Angie replied. She didn’t need to be standing next to her friend to register her discomfort.
‘He’s not that bad,’ Elle said, although Angie’s assumption had been frighteningly close to the mark. ‘It’s just that there’s so much to go through and I need to stay focused – and I don’t care what you say about helping, you will become a distraction. Unless you’re desperate for company …?’ she added, prepared to face her husband’s disapproval if her newly separated friend was in dire need of her support.
‘No, my offer was completely unselfish. I’m actually quite happy to stay at home in my pyjamas on a Saturday night and keep the bottle of wine all to myself,’ she said.
‘Thanks for understanding. I promise I’ll make up for it next week, assuming you’re still happy to go out with us married ladies?’ It was an arrangement that had been in place since Charlie was born. Rick had more than his fair share of nights out with the boys so she was allowed one night out a month with the girls. In theory that shouldn’t change just because Angie and Chris had split up.
‘Assuming your husband is happy for you to go out with a man-seeking singleton, you mean,’ Angie said. This was where Elle would leap to Rick’s defence and Angie would be forced to play along with the act, so she continued without waiting for or wanting a reply. ‘OK, I’ll leave you to it, but give me a shout if you change your mind. I can be there in half an hour.’
Returning to the task at hand, Elle looked at the stack of cards she’d been preparing to throw away. Her eyes were drawn to the box she had been filling up with mementos. It was the second such box and already heaving. She closed her eyes as she dropped the cards into the bin bag.
It was in the very bottom drawer of the bureau that she discovered a secret box of treasures, although this one needed no key and certainly wasn’t the kind of hoard Rick would be impressed with. The fragile cardboard box was barely held together with yellowing sellotape and contained practically every picture Elle had ever drawn, every card she had made for her parents at school and every school report. There was a scattering of photographs too. The toothy grin of a schoolgirl with a blonde mop of hair that would put Charlie’s to shame made her laugh out loud and even the photos of her standing on the stairs in her brand-new nurse’s uniform made her smile. The wedding photos and grainy baby-scan printout were among the recent additions. The collection had been her parents’ most prized possession and there was no hesitation about whether or not to keep it.
Only when the bureau was completely cleared did Elle’s attention return to the pervading emptiness. Charlie was still outside but when she peered through the kitchen window he was nowhere in sight. It was then that she remembered the shed. Had she told him he wasn’t allowed to go in there?
Other than an abandoned toy spaceship beneath the sycamore tree, the only sign of life in the garden was a set of muddy footprints leading to the shed. Elle’s immediate concern was that Charlie may have stumbled upon hazardous chemicals or sharp knives but as she neared the open door she heard him humming softly to himself and could easily imagine what he was up to. As a child, she too had been lured to the bottom of the garden to explore her dad’s inner sanctum. He had never told her it was out of bounds, but that hadn’t stopped her feeling as if she was doing something wrong every time she had sneaked in there without his knowledge.
A gust of wind pulled the door open wide and she caught a glimpse of the familiar line of tools hanging up along one wall. She had to peer further around the door to spot Charlie and had timed it perfectly to catch him struggling to unhook a trowel. He had his back to her and was teetering on a wooden crate but even at full stretch his fingertips were only just touching the loop of string that kept the trowel suspended out of reach.
‘Nearly there,’ he was telling himself. ‘Then we can start digging for buried treasure.’
‘And what treasure would that be?’ Elle demanded in her sternest voice.
Charlie jumped with fright and was lucky not to topple off the crate. As if in punishment for scaring her son, a vicious gust of wind caught the shed door and slammed against Elle’s back.
‘Mum!’
‘Don’t mum me,’ she said, rubbing her back. ‘What are you up to?’
Charlie scrunched his face. ‘Can’t tell you.’
‘I’m your mother; you have to tell me everything. It’s the law.’
Charlie didn’t look fazed. ‘I can’t tell you. I promised.’
‘Promised who?’
Charlie pursed his lips tightly as he pretended to zip them up, turning an imaginary key and then tossing it over his shoulder. It was a mime they often practised together when they wanted to keep a secret, usually from Rick.
She scowled at him but to no avail. His lips were sealed so she was forced to switch tactics.
Hooking a finger under her chin, Elle began to play detective as she took in the scene. It would appear that Charlie had been busy making use of her dad’s other tools before turning his attention to the trowel. There was a trail of fresh mud on the floor that led to a heavy spade. It had a thin line of mud along its edge.
Rather than force her little pirate into a confession, Elle took a step back into the garden and made a point of inspecting the surrounding area. She could see where the grass had been muddied and squashed by Charlie’s footprints and there beneath the sycamore tree, immediately in front of the toy spaceship, she could make out a series of gouges in the earth. They were about the width of a spade.
She turned back to Charlie, who was looking decidedly guilty, and for a moment she considered offering to help him with his endeavours. The prospect of searching for hidden treasure, imaginary or otherwise was far more appealing than returning to the morbid task of sweeping away her parent’s existence. That was when her mobile began to ring again. It was Rick checking up on her but she couldn’t answer the call straight away. He would hear the wind howling around her and would at best complain that she wasn’t concentrating on the house clearance and at worst accuse her of being up to no good somewhere else. She ordered a sullen Charlie back into the house and only then did she phone Rick back. As she stood in front of the mountain of bags and boxes she had spent the day filling, she went to great lengths to tell her husband how little progress she had made. Rick wasn’t impressed when she explained how much she still had to do and that they were unlikely to be home before the following evening.
With the bitterness of her lies fresh on her tongue, Elle risked the wrath of Charlie, too, by demanding he remain in the house for the rest of the day. It was late afternoon and the colourless day was beginning to darken. Charlie’s complaints were short-lived when she explained that they had the whole weekend to themselves and that if he would consider taking her on as his assistant then they could search for buried treasure tomorrow.
She wasn’t expecting to find anything but with plenty of time on her hands she would enjoy sharing an adventure with her son. Charlie was less enthusiastic but promised to give her offer of help some thought. Unlike his mother, he knew there was treasure waiting to be unearthed, he simply wasn’t sure he wanted to share it.
Charlie had visited his grandparents’ house often in the past but that sense of familiarity wasn’t going to make bedtime any easier, not when he had cried himself to sleep every night since the funeral and not when he would be sleeping in the room next to where his granddad had died.
The spare room had once been her bedroom.