Her Best Friend's Secret

by Anna Mansell

Genres: General Fiction; Family Life; Literary Fiction; Small Town & Rural; Women's Fiction

Synopsis

Your best friend deserves the truth. But it will ruin her life. What would you do?It's been over twenty years since four very different teenage girls sat on that beach at Goran Haven, and swore to be best friends forever. Their lives went different ways after Emily left. But each remembered that promise. And none truly found friendship like it again.Now, Emily's back, with a secret she can't face. She tries to hide away, take time to heal and make some difficult choices, but she runs into one of her old friends, and soon the four are reunited. Lolly, warm as ever, is a successful physiotherapist, married with kids. Yet smart, strong Amanda, who cherishes her teenage daughter, is alone and seemingly stuck in a dead-end job. And creative Jess is so much quieter than Emily remembers.The bond is still there, and Emily realises their friendship might keep her together, but there are reasons why the women fell out of touch. Secrets that have lain dormant for decades start to surface, and then one of the women discovers a betrayal so big, it could turn each of their lives upside down.It's always those we're closest to who have the power to tear us apart. Can friendship give Emily and her friends the strength to survive a devastating shock, or are some things unforgivable?Full of truths about friendship, marriage, and the relationships that define us, Her Best Friend's Secret is a powerful, relatable and emotionally gripping novel for fans of Jojo Moyes, Diane Chamberlain, and "The Silent Wife". Readers are loving Her Best Friend's Secret:'Totally loved it! The intricate storyline, the beautiful settings and the fascinating yet flawed characters. I could not stop reading... A truly amazing piece of escapism, dramatic and insightful.' Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars'Should be on your must-read list for the summer... heartbreaking and gripping! It is also thought-provoking and eye-opening, and you will find yourself having a favorite character as I did. And if you are also like me, you will get swept up in the beautiful writing and outstanding story.' Cara's Book Boudoir, 5 stars'I'm a huge fan of books that celebrate strong, independent women and this is definitely one of those... There was a brilliant OMG moment midway through the book which had me reeling,.. A warm, funny, enjoyable read.' Mrs Roadley Reads.Author has sold over 30,000 copies to date and is a top 20 Amazon CA and top 70 Amazon UK author.-

Release date: April 1, 2019

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 388

Sample

It was Amanda’s third shower of the day. Thursdays could be like that. Thursdays at the end of the month, particularly so. She got it; she’d be the same. Except when she used to get her pay cheque it was a gorgeously unusual pair of Irregular Choice shoes that she’d spend the surplus on, not sex. Still, she wasn’t judging, she had bills to pay. And she desperately wanted to invite her daughter Zennor on holiday. She missed the bones of her, the way she used to laugh at Amanda’s jokes, or complain at her when she moved a stray hair from her face. Amanda missed showing her teenage daughter tenderness because long before she moved out, Zennor didn’t want to see it, or feel it any more. Amanda had always hoped it was a phase, just hormones getting in the way of being open to signs of love and affection from her mother. But then she moved to live with her dad and things got progressively worse. She rarely picked the phone up to Amanda now, never mind allowed her to show her love. Could they get that back? With a week in the sun? She had to at least try so the extra cash from all these clients might just make the pipe dream a reality.

Amanda perched on the edge of the bath, drying herself, leaning into the memory of her last holiday: Tenerife, the warmth of the sun on her back; two weeks of lounging by the pool with a good book. Admittedly, her last trip away had been paid for by a client, the kind of client who genuinely just wanted her company. An escort in the truest sense. The kind of escort job she’d signed up to do when this business was first offered as a viable alternative to cleaning holiday lets down in St Agnes. She hated cleaning. She was crap at it. And at £10 an hour – on a good day – it was a tenth of what she could earn an hour doing what she did now; and she’d never once had an orgasm whilst cleaning the grout on a fishing loft conversion.

Not that she got them with Mr Tenerife. The physical side of their relationship didn’t progress beyond escorting, but they’d become good friends. He’d tell her how he felt less lonely when with her. That she had been one of the things to turn his life around after his wife passed away. Companionship on his terms. They read books side by side, put the world to rights over dinner, she’d listen to him reminisce over his life and times, she’d hold his hand as he spoke of regrets: the lack of children being his biggest. When he grew too ill to visit her, she popped in to see him, first at home, then at the hospice. When he passed, she hadn’t expected the grief that followed. She still missed Mr Tenerife.

There was a knock at the door, loud and purposeful. She could tell a lot by a door knock. She could tell if she’d be the one guiding them in, taking it slowly, settling their nerves. Or if she’d open the door and be suffocated by some bloke’s desire to get his end away. This was definitely an end away kind of guy. Today that suited her though, not least because she’d promised George next door that she’d pop round and re-programme his heating.

She unhooked the silk negligee from her bathroom door, looking longingly at the hoody and lounge pants she was desperate to get in to today. She slicked on lip gloss, ruffled her hair to life, then headed for the front door.

She could see his reflection through the glass. Tall. She liked them tall. He shifted weight from one foot to another. He was broad too. Broad and tall. Broad, tall and knocking again. Broad, tall and eager then. This might actually be fun.

‘Hi,’ she said, smile wide, hair flicked, cleavage gently accentuated as she coquettishly leaned against the door. ‘I’ve been waiting, oh!—’ God. Was that…? Was Sixth Form Trev stood in her doorway? Imaginatively titled because he was in the year above Amanda at school and his surname was Trevelly. ‘Well, hi!’ she said as he pushed through the door, giving her a grin and a wink. She clicked it shut behind her, wondering why the hottest boy from school was now standing in her hallway, all grown up and about to pay for her services, some twenty plus years later. ‘Well… I didn’t expect to see you… I mean… wow.’

He took off his jacket, slinging it on the bannister. ‘Is that okay there?’ he asked, his come-to-bed eyes apparently seeing past her fluster.

‘Yeah, of course. No problem. Uhm, so… again, wow.’

‘What?’ He took a step towards her, groin first.

Amanda recomposed herself. ‘Sixth Form Trev!’ she said, because that was definitely not the name he’d booked under, she might have neatened up her shave had she known. ‘Is that really you?’

‘I’m no longer in the sixth form and most people use my proper name these days, but yes, it’s me.’

Christ. The number of times she’d thought about shagging Sixth Form Trev, back in the day. ‘Do you… remember me?’ she asked, resisting letting her own groin touch his because probably they needed to sort out the housekeeping first.

His face didn’t flinch but he let out a low laugh. ‘Amanda Kenwyn. If I’m not very much mistaken.’

‘Perhaps I’ve not aged that much,’ she purred.

‘No more than me.’ He took another step towards her. She shifted her weight as he leaned closer, she could feel him ready to go.

‘And you’re okay about that?’

Trev fixed her with a look that suggested he was more than okay with that. She swallowed. He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers at first before kissing with an urgency she rarely got from first-time clients. His breath was heavy, his kisses hot. ‘Where do you want me?’ he asked, looking around her hallway.

‘Eager?’

‘It’s been a while…’

She bit down on her lip, resisting the suggestion that they could start off in the lounge, then work through every room in her modest Truro town house. At no additional cost.

‘Through here,’ she said, moving past him and down the hallway to her back room. He followed, his clothes rustling as he dropped them to the floor. ‘The money goes on the side. Do you need a shower first?’

A black ginger and neroli candle burned, the scent welcoming her as she opened the door to her work room, the inviting clean bed sheets turned her on even more and as he dropped two £50 notes on the side, she knew she just had to pretend she was doing him a service, and very much not the other way around…

Emily looked down at her iPhone. Three thirty. Eighteen exhausting hours ago she’d checked in at JFK Airport. The flight home hadn’t been delayed but every single part of her journey since arriving back on UK soil had taken forever. She’d made it as far as Truro but the branch line was down so she had no choice but to get a bus back, her heart – and spirit – deflated on realising there was anything up to two more hours before she’d finally make it home. It was only ever at times like this that she considered whether buying a house in the remote, tiny Cornish village of Gorran Haven had been a mistake. Not that she’d let on to her father when she finally called her parents to explain why she’d not be visiting them in the Hamptons this weekend. She knew that whatever he thought of her buying a sixteenth century farm cottage in a village with barely any phone signal, she would feel peace the second she walked through the stable door. And if Jenny from down the lane had done the shopping as she promised she would, Emily would have no cause to leave the house for days. After the last few weeks… months… jeez, it was probably longer, Emily could not be happier about that. Home. Somewhere nobody gave a shit about who she was, who she’d worked with, what awards she had or hadn’t won. Somewhere she could dress how she liked, eat what she wanted, be the person she wanted to be without criticism or judgement. Nobody remotely cared and that was everything she needed right now.

Making her way across the glossy pavements, wet in the Cornish mizzle, she headed from Truro train station, down through town, over to the bus stop. She passed Mannings, the hotel Jackson always made them stop at if they ever visited Cornwall. She always wanted to be by the sea but he felt being in the city was better, even though he’d complain at how quiet it was compared to New York. There was no comparison she’d say. That’s why she liked it. He never got the point of Cornwall and couldn’t understand why she had wanted to buy a place there. He’d taken no interest in it and had never even bothered to visit. He wanted her in New York. He wanted her on hand for auditions, for networking, for smiling and being pretty whenever he needed her to be. She looked down at the clothes she had left their apartment in, twenty-four hours earlier. Elasticated waistbands just as advised. A loose-fitting shirt. Comfortable clothes for an uncomfortable appointment.

Her phone dinged with a message, her Apple Watch replicating the announcement. His name came up and she scrolled down to get rid of yet another desperate text. What was it now? Thirty? One just before the appointment she had ignored because she’d already started having doubts, then every hour after the fact. Thirty texts. Roughly the same number in emails. God knows how many phone calls, initially from his assistant before Emily’s absence was escalated to him calling directly himself. He’d probably also been the one to get the theatre company manager to call on the pretence of checking she was okay after the run had finished. The curtain had come down; the applause dissolved; when she could no longer hear the ringing in her ears, Emily could hear herself think. And whilst she didn’t know what she did want, she was pretty certain of what she didn’t want. Now, with an ocean between them, however long this journey had been, it was only a matter of time before she’d stop looking backwards and start feeling better. She hoped.

Head up. The statue of The Drummer in Lemon Quay in sight, Emily headed back towards the bus station. She marvelled at the drummer’s nakedness, the controversy having made it over to NY via social media, though now it seemed seagull poo pretty much protected his modesty. There was a new Primark open and some kind of food market set up in white tents across the pedestrian precinct. There was a big sign for ostrich burgers and Emily wondered when things had got so artisan.

‘Emily?’

She pulled up sharp at the sound of her name. ‘Emily Nance… is that you?’

In true professional style, Emily painted on the smile that went with signing autographs and taking selfies. The village might not give a damn who she was but she supposed it might be different in Truro, or maybe Falmouth. She spun round, ready to greet her fan. ‘Of course it’s me, hi!’ She tried to hide the American drawl she’d picked up, it had no place now she was home.

‘Oh my god! You haven’t changed a bit!’

Emily peered at the woman before her. She was pretty, a neatly cut bob. Her eyes sparkled and her smile was friendly. She didn’t have a camera phone or a pad and pen for signing. She had a white tunic on, a name badge pinned. Lauren. Lauren?

‘God, it’s been bloody years, hasn’t it! How many? Twenty? Actually, it must be more, what year did you go? Ninety-seven? Ninety-six? Jesus, how are we so old? Though you look amazing. How are you? How’s life? I heard you were in New York now! Did L.A. get a bit much? You’re still acting though, right? I couldn’t believe it when I heard you were doing it, though I don’t know why, you always said you’d be an actress.’ The woman pulled her into a hug. It wasn’t one of those actor type hugs that don’t feel like the person actually wanted to touch you, no, this was like a meant hug, with added squeeze and real-life affection. ‘How the bloody hell are you?’

And as the woman released Emily, her smile grew familiar, her blonde hair was shorter now, but it was the same colour. It was as fine as it ever was. Her mouth was painted with the same shade of frosted pink lipstick she used to wear back when they were teenagers. Emily’s heart leaped. ‘Bloody hell, Lolly? Lolly! It never is… Lolly Teague?’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘that’s me!’

‘Lolly.’ Emily took a moment, unsure how to feel about such familiarity standing before her. It was what she’d come home for but now it was in front of her…

‘I know I’ve said it, but, god you look amazing. I saw that film, the one about the woman who climbed Everest on her own, which by the way was incredible! Did you actually have to climb Everest or was it all CGI? I said to my husband, “Surely she can’t have had to climb it.” We watched it at the Regal. It was amazing. HD and everything, your skin looked phenomenal and I was like, “Can that possibly be real, we are all so old now,” and look at you, here in Truro. Stood right before me in real life definition and,’ she peered at Emily’s skin, ‘yes, it bloody well is real.’

Emily coloured slightly. Mostly because she’d spent quite a lot of money on a dermabrasion before the Everest film and it felt a little unfair for Lolly to think that she’d still look like this without spending thousands on facial routines and not living on a cliff top in Cornwall any more. ‘Thanks, though… I’ve had a bit of help. Perks of the job, you know?’

‘Right.’

Lolly stepped back, her body posture suddenly shifting from excited kid to slightly worn down… nurse? Is that what she is now? Emily wasn’t sure and felt bad that she had no idea. How had someone so important become such a stranger? A stranger. That’s effectively what she was. Time has changed. Life has moved on. So, probably, has she. ‘Lolly, it’s so lovely to see you. I…’ she glanced over at the bus stop and down at her watch ‘… I have to get a bus though,’ she said, apologetically. ‘I’m on the last leg of a horrendous journey – I bought a place in Gorran Haven a while back, it’s time to settle back home.’ She paused and felt her feet throbbing. ‘But if I have to be in these trainers for any longer than is absolutely necessary I think my feet might implode.’

‘Oh, of course. Sorry. Go on. Wow, though. How lovely to see you, I’m—’ She stopped, as if thinking twice about what she was going to say before coming out with it anyway. ‘I’m a big fan. You know, just like I was back in the day. Well done, you made it. You’re doing it. I never doubted you.’

Emily pulled her in for a squeeze, basically to buy herself time to blink back the tears that such sentiment invited. It seemed odd to feel so distant from the woman standing before her, the woman who, when they were teenage girls, pretty much fuelled Emily’s self-belief. Would she ever have made it in life were it not for Lolly’s enthusiastic encouragement? Probably not… a fact that placed Emily even further away from a zone in which compliments were welcome. ‘Thanks,’ she said, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. ‘It’s lovely to see you.’ She released Lolly. ‘I’d better be going…’

‘Sure. Of course. Well… see you…’

‘Yeah… bye.’

Emily moved to cross the road to the bus terminus but a hand caught her arm. ‘Hey, this is my number. In case you wanna catch up. It’d be lovely to chat, you know… I mean, I’m sure you’ve got loads of friends now, you’re probably overrun by people.’ Emily looked down at the scrap of paper Lolly was scribbling her number on. ‘And not cause you’re famous or anything, it’s not that. I just remember how much we’d laugh, when we were kids. And, I feel like I’ve a whole load to tell you and a whole lot of listening to do. If you wanna. No pressure. Just… you know… if you like.’

‘That’d be cool, Lolly. At some point. Yes. Thanks.’

The women stared at each other, each considering the other and their past and the lives they’d not shared and the stories they could tell. And Emily felt her heart drop to her stinky trainers at the prospect of having to tell anybody about the reality of what appeared to be such a life. She buried every part of her that wanted to drag Lolly to the nearest pub and tell her everything, stuffing the number in her jeans pocket instead.

‘Hey, babes, you won’t believe who I saw today!’ Lolly kicked her clogs off, threw her bag in the understairs cupboard and went off in search of Kitt, her husband of fifteen years. She found him at his desk, hunched over his laptop. ‘I swear to god, you won’t guess!’

Lolly still hadn’t got used to his new glasses so peered for a moment from his office doorway. She didn’t look at him much these days, she realised that as she stared. They just milled around one another normally, getting on with life as husband and wife, parents, employees. Did that change when the kids came along? That sense of the other one being almost invisible? Not in a bad way, just in a… life carries on and they were comfortable way. He was starting to look a bit like his dad and she wondered if she looked much like her mum, except that Lolly was now older than her mum, the last time she saw her.

Kitt peered up from the laptop, adjusting the bridge down his nose so he could focus on her.

‘Come on, try and guess!’

‘Guess what?’

‘Who I saw today.’

‘God, I don’t know!’

‘You’ll not believe it.’

Kitt fixed her with an exasperated look, before throwing his glasses on the desk and leaning back in his chair. ‘If I’ll not believe it then I’ll never guess so why don’t we cut out the middle man?’

‘Because that’s not as much fun!’ Lolly narrowed her eyes. ‘If you guess it, we can have sex,’ she purred.

‘Wow, we’re gaming for favours now, are we?’ He didn’t sound as turned on by the idea as she had hoped.

‘Come on, the kids won’t be back until six. I make that forty-five minutes.’ She lowered her voice. ‘We could do it right here, on your desk.’ She stepped inside his office, ruffling her hair so it fell across her face in a way he’d once said he found really sexy. She’d laughed because she could barely see out, but at this point in time, she would do anything to get laid and he definitely seemed to need more provocation than once upon a time. ‘You don’t have to do anything. Just sit there, let me—’

‘I have to get this finished, Lolly. I’m late, it should have been in by lunchtime. If I don’t get it done they won’t trust me to work from home again.’

‘Maybe I can help?’ Lolly stepped across to his desk, laying it on thick: a fixed look, open lips, a bend at the hips to see what he was doing so there’d be just enough gap down her top for him to perve. Which he did, just as she knew he would. Some things don’t change. ‘If time is a problem, I can be quick.’

‘Quick?’ he said, moving his glasses from the desk as she straddled him.

‘Really quick.’

She kissed his ear, which always made him groan. ‘It’s the perfect time, babe. I just need your sperm. You don’t have to do a thing.’

Kitt got hold of Lolly’s hands, just as she was about to unbuckle his jeans. ‘It’s the perfect time?’ he said, coldly.

‘Well, I mean, you know…’ Shit. She knew she should have stuck to the come on and not mentioned the fact that her phone app had told her she had a three-hour window to maximise their chances of conceiving, hence practically running home from the bus.

‘You just need my sperm,’ he said, moving her from his knee. She rubbed her wrist where he’d held too tight.

‘I don’t mean it like that, I want you too.’ He shrugged, disbelieving. ‘Of course I want you too, I love you.’ She leant back in to kiss him but as was the case so often of late, he didn’t respond.

‘Lolly, I can’t keep doing this. It doesn’t feel… I don’t know. It’s all so…’

‘What?’ She was pushing him now. The last time they’d had this discussion, he’d said she was desperate and that caused a fair and proper row. They didn’t speak for days after that until she decided to apologise because he’d made it clear how much she’d hurt him and, if she was totally honest, she’d hit the final window in that ovulation cycle and couldn’t bear the idea of another month not being pregnant when she took her next test.

Kitt sighed. ‘We need to take our time, Lolly. I can’t just… perform. You know? I want to feel like you want me, not just my sperm.’

‘I want both.’

‘And the doctor said it might not work. It can take a year or so after the reversal before things are back to normal. We can keep doing this, but maybe it’s just not going to happen. And we’re not getting any younger. I don’t know… maybe…’ Lolly bit down hard on her bottom lip because she knew what was coming next and it wasn’t going to be her. ‘Why can’t you be happy with the two we’ve got?’ he said, quietly.

Her bottom lip wobbled. Her eyes stung. No matter how hard she looked up to the ceiling, she knew she was going to cry and she was even more annoyed that her tears weren’t a result of raging hormones. Not the pregnancy kind, at any rate.

‘Come here.’ He pulled her back onto his lap, holding her tight. ‘I know, I know you want another, but I think you have to be realistic. And besides, I’ve had a full-on day. I’m behind on this, the kids are going to be back soon. Can you imagine the years of therapy if they walked in on us fucking by the fish tank?’

Lolly let out one of those teary sad laughs. She looked over at the fish tank, just able to make out her reflection, refracted by a skull and one of those sunken pirate ship things. ‘I suppose so.’

‘Look, let’s make some time this weekend. Ted’s got a sleep over and Stan won’t hear a thing when he’s asleep. We can take our time. Make love. Be together because we want to be, not just because your temperature is right and you need my sperm.’ He kissed her, gently. ‘I love you.’

He hadn’t been this affectionate for months. She couldn’t remember the last time he looked her in the eye like he was doing now. Was he still inside? The man she fell for all those years ago? The man who rescued her? Who promised her everything so long as they were side by side?

‘I love you too,’ she said.

‘Then let me finish this,’ he said, with a half-smile, before moving her out of his way. ‘Come on. It’s nearly five thirty and you’ve not got your PJs on yet. The world could very possibly end.’

Lolly nodded because it was true, she had been in the house for more than five minutes and hadn’t yet taken off her bra. If she hadn’t been desperate to get pregnant this would basically be unheard of. ‘Okay. Okay. Sorry.’

‘I know you are. It’s fine. I get it.’

Lolly wasn’t sure that he did. Not really. Partly because she’d never said that actually, she was desperate to have another child on the basis that the odds had to work in her favour. She wanted a girl. And she knew it was selfish and she knew it wasn’t right to have a preference and she knew she was a bad person and if she told anyone she wouldn’t blame them for judging her, but it was how it was. She wanted a girl. She wanted what her sister, Joanna, and their mum had had. What she had never experienced because her mum passed away when Lolly was small. She wanted to fix the past with a new future. She wanted that bond. That connection between mother and daughter. She loved her sons, of course she did. They were… everything. She just really, really wanted a daughter too. No matter how guilty that made her feel.

‘You off home?’ Jess asked from behind her laptop.

‘Yeah, got a date with that bloke from last week,’ said one of the juniors, Vicky.

‘Wow, really? The one who squeaked?’

‘Thought I’d see if it was a one-off. Or if he could mimic any other animals during intercourse.’

‘So it’s research.’

‘Right.’

‘And not at all because he knows how to find your G spot without using Google.’

‘Definitely not that.’

‘Well, have fun. Perhaps don’t text me straight after this time. I couldn’t get back to sleep, every time I closed my eyes I had visions and audio that I just don’t need.’ Jess went back to her laptop, making a few more notes on the pitch she’d been working up all day, distractions, distractions. ‘Oh, Vic!’

Vicky popped her head back round the door. ‘Yeah?’

‘Top job today, really good. I reckon they’re gonna be your first new client.’

‘Fingers crossed!’ Vicky beamed.

‘And the new guy, Jay, he should be good to work with on it. He knows his stuff, so… you’ll make a good team.’

‘Do you think? I’m nervous. New job, new boss. I liked working with you. I don’t like change. And what if he’s a dick?’

‘He’s not a dick.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I know him,’ she said, because there was no point hiding that fact at least. ‘I’ve known him for years. Not… closely, you know. I guess I know of him, more than know, know him. But he’s good. He’s great. You’ll be fine.’

‘Yeah, and I can still talk to you if needs be, right?’

‘Of course you can. Always!’

‘Cheers, Jess.’ She went to leave, then paused. ‘You’ll be a tough act to follow. As bosses go.’ Vicky smiled, then left, leaving Jess alone in the office. Again.

Normally, she didn’t mind this time of night. She’d always got most of her work done between six and eight of an evening. It was rare she had company, unless there was a really big project that all the team were involved in. And since she would start later than most, mornings not really being her thing, it suited her. The office would shut down, phones would go quiet. Lights in corners of the open plan would automatically sense a lack of motion, sending corners into darkness. Which was fine until one randomly came on and Jess shit herself thinking someone had come back in to spook her… or worse. Her imagination totally made her great at her job. Advertising, marketing, it all needed wild thinking and a creative brain. It’s just that the same brain was also capable of making her think she was about to be cut down by the water cooler, despite the treble locks and Dave the security guard downstairs.

Dave the security guard. Bless him. He’d asked her out again this lunchtime, just quietly, on the down low. Keen not to embarrass her but keen for her to realise he was serious. That he had been for months now. She felt bad for him, she’d known about unrequited love and she knew it. . .