This Secret We're Keeping by Rebecca Done Read Free Book Online Page A

ready.’
    She nodded up at him, hands wrapped round the coffee cup. He’d surprised her with a dinner reservation at Burnham Manor, where apparently there was no leeway for being late as they served the food in a single sitting, shouting out the Michelin-starred menu to a room full of salivating food fanatics.
    ‘Dress up,’ he threw over his shoulder as he exited the cottage. ‘Wear your new shoes.’
    She glanced over to where her anniversary present – a pale brown paper bag bearing the famous scrawling logo of Christian Louboutin – was resting by the fireplace. Inside, a matching cardboard box stuffed with folds of creamy tissue paper, and nestled down amongst it all, a pair of shoes – flawless black patent with distinctive scarlet soles, heels not much sturdier than chopsticks.
    Her stomach had churned when she’d opened the box, partly because she suspected Zak was still basing all his gift choices on the things that had made Octavia happy, but partly because the shoes were two sizes too small, and she hadn’t had the heart to tell him.
    As lunchtime approached, Jess took a shower, soaping her skin in something vanilla-scented and finishing with a blast of cold water for her damaged leg – admittedly not the ice she’d been advised to use, but the sole item currently in her freezer was an oversized portion of home-made beef lasagne, and she could only think that combining it with compression and elevation would result in half-thawed beef and marinara sauce becoming inconveniently smeared across her sofa and thighs.
    She finally chased away the stubborn dregs of her hang-over with a late lunch, caramelizing some cauliflower in the Aga with olive oil and coarse sea salt before devouring it greedily from a soup bowl with loosely scrambled yellow eggs, her thoughts rotating steadily between Zak, Octavia and Matthew. Finishing off with a damp slab of banana bread, she exchanged a couple of texts with Anna as she ate, although she was currently unable to say much about last night without wanting to caramelize her own head.
    While the air was still warm, she popped several ibuprofen,eased on her wellies and headed for the beach with Smudge at her side.
    Walking extra slowly, they made their way on to the perfect expanse of empty marsh, transected at its horizon by a dense block of clouded sky. Jess took time to savour the salty breeze, allowing it to whip her bob of blonde hair across her face.
    The southern edge of the marsh closest to the village was where children came to play on the hot summer mornings of their school holidays, to cake themselves in mud the colour and texture of treacle and hunt for slim, silver fish in the creeks and pools with bright, cheap fishing nets purchased from Wells-next-the-Sea. It was where dogs could charge freely and parents could stand idly chatting, collecting plump strands of electric-green samphire from the damp ground, getting clay between their toes and salt spray in their hair.
    The tide was going out, so the mud was still wet and the creeks half full. Together Jess and Smudge picked their way expertly across the thick carpet of sea lavender and fleshy crops of sea purslane, Smudge bounding along his favourite well-worn route over the winding channels, the white patches of his coat quickly turning grey. Jess favoured her own path across the uneven ground, averting her eyes as she always did from the small wooden cross planted near the bridge.
    Sunk deep into its own little patch of wiry sea lavender, nobody else would even have known it was there, but Jess did. It stared her down every single time she passed it, but she never stopped and she never looked.
Just keep walking
.
    The roar of the outgoing tide crescendoed and the breeze became a stiff wind as they approached the beach. Smudgepicked up speed, jumping and delighting in the vast stretch of deserted sand ahead of him. They crossed it together to the shoreline, where Jess stared out at the horizon and thought – as