Public Secrets

words that sprang to mind. “Bev hasn’t been my wife for a long time.”
Johnno glanced over to be certain Emma was still out of earshot. “That line’s all right for anyone else. Not for me, Bri.” He put a hand on Brian’s wrist, squeezed, then released. “I know it’s going to be hard for you. I just want to make sure you’re ready.”
He lifted his glass, remembered it was empty, and set it down again. Despite the breeze off the water, he was finding the heat oppressive. “You can’t go back, Johnno. And you can’t stand still. So you keep going forward whether you’re ready or not.”
“Oh, that was great!” Emma dropped to her knees between her father and Johnno, her hair streaming. “You should come out.”
“In the water?” Johnno said, tilting down his blue-lensed sunglasses. “Emma, luv, there are things in the water. Slimy things.”
Laughing, she leaned over to kiss his cheek, then her father’s. She caught the sharp scent of rum and fought to keep her smile in place. “Old people sit on the beach,” she said lightly. “Middle-aged people sit on the beach.”
“Middle-aged?” Brian caught a hank of her hair and tugged. “Just who’re you calling middle-aged?”
“Oh, just people who sit on the beach all morning with umbrellas at their backs.” She grinned. “Why don’t you two sit right here, rest yourselves. I’ll fetch you a cold drink. And I’ll get my camera. I can take pictures so you can look back and remember your nice, restful vacation.”
“She’s got a mouth on her, Bri.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Shall we let her get by with it?”
He glanced at his friend. “Not a chance.”
She squealed when they lunged. She could have been quicker, if she’d wanted to, but put up a good wriggling fight as her father grabbed her legs and Johnno hooked his hands under her arms.

“Into the brink, I’d say.” Johnno tossed back his head so that his hat landed in the sand. Then keeping pace with Brian raced to the water. Emma held her breath, and took them under with her.

S HE’D NEVER BEEN happier in her life. It had all been perfect, completely, wonderfully perfect. Days in the sun, nights listening to Johnno and her father play. Cheating with Johnno at cards. Walks along the beach with her father. She had rolls of film to develop, pockets of memory to store.
So how could she sleep? Emma wondered. It was her last night on Martinique, her last night with her father. Her last night of freedom. Tomorrow she would be on a plane, headed back to school, where there were rules for everything. What time to get up, what time to sleep, what to wear, what to think.
With a sigh, she shook her head. It would be summer soon, she reminded herself. And she would go to London. She would see Stevie and P.M. then as well. She could watch while they recorded.
She’d get through the next few weeks somehow. She had to. It was so important to Da, she thought, that she get her education, that she be safe and well looked after. Well, the nuns did that, she decided. There was hardly a moment in the day when you weren’t looked after.
She could hear the water. Smell it. Going with instinct, she dragged on a pair of shorts. It was late. Even the guards would be asleep. She would go to the beach alone for her last night. Alone. She could sit and watch the water, and no one would watch her.
She hurried out, down the hall of the rented villa, down the stairs. Holding her breath, she slipped out of the tall glass doors and ran.
She gave herself only an hour. When she tiptoed back to the villa, she was soaking wet. It hadn’t been enough to watch the water after all. She came in quietly, with the idea to make a dash to her room. When she heard her father’s voice, she sunk into the shadows.
“Just keep it down, luv. Everyone’s asleep.”
There was a feminine giggle, then a whisper, thickly French. “I’m quiet as a mouse.”

Brian came into the room with a curvy little brunette wrapped around him. She was wearing a hot-pink sarong and carrying gold high heels. “I’m so glad you came in tonight, chéri .” She ran her hands up his sides, then hooking them tightly around his neck, brought his mouth to hers.
Embarrassed and confused, Emma shut her eyes. But she could hear the quick, wet moans.
“Mmm. You’re in a hurry.” The French woman laughed, working her way under Brian’s shirt. “I’ll give you your money’s worth, chéri , don’t you worry. But you promised me a party