Public Secrets

Jane snatched at Emma’s arm. “How badly do you want it stopped?”
Deadly calm, Emma turned back. She took one long last look. “Do you think I’d pay you? You’ve miscalculated this time, Jane. You’ll never get a penny out of me.”
“Bitch.” Jane’s hand cracked across her cheek. Emma didn’t bother to dodge it. She simply opened the door, and walked away.

S HE WANDERED FOR a long time, dodging shoppers and dog walkers, ignoring the laughter, the gunning motors, and the frantic Christmas cheer around her. The tears never fell. It amazed her how easily they were controlled now. Perhaps the cold helped, or the noise. It made it so easy not to think at all. So when she found herself standing in front of Bev’s door, she wasn’t completely aware of having walked there, or having intended to.
She knocked quickly. It wasn’t the time to think. It wasn’t the time to feel. It was, she told herself, the time to tie up all the loose ends and get on with her life.
The door opened. Warm air and Christmas carols. The scent of pine and welcome. With the snow swirling at her back, Emma stared down at Alice. How odd it was, she thought, to look down at her old nanny. Time had made her taller, and Alice older. She saw recognition flicker in Alice’s eyes, and the nanny’s lips quiver.
“Hello, Alice.” Her own lips were stiff as she forced them into a smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Alice stood where she was as tears began to spurt out of her eyes.
“Alice, don’t forget to give Terry that package if he makes it by.” Bev came hurrying down the hall, a dark mink over her arm. “I’ll be home by—” She stopped, the little black bag she held slipping out of her nerveless hands. “Emma,” she whispered.
They stood four feet apart with the weeping Alice between them. Bev felt the pleasure first, the need to rush forward and grab Emma close. Then she felt the shame.
“I should have called,” Emma began. “I was in town, so I thought I’d—”
“I’m so glad you did.” Recovered, Bev smiled and stepped forward. “Alice.” Her voice was gentle as she placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “We’ll need some tea.”
“You’re on your way out,” Emma said quickly. “I don’t want to disrupt your plans.”
“It doesn’t matter. Alice,” she repeated. The woman nodded and hurried down the hall. “You’re so grown-up,” Bev murmured. She gripped her hands together to keep herself from reaching out to touch. “It’s hard to believe—but you must be freezing.” Steadying, she took Emma’s gloved hand in hers. “Come in, please.”
“You have plans.”

“A client’s party. It’s not important. I’d really like you to stay.” Her fingers tightened on Emma’s while her eyes searched almost hungrily over the girl’s face. “Please.”
“Of course. For a few minutes.”
“I’ll take your coat.”
They settled, like two polite strangers, in Bev’s bright, spacious parlor.
“This is beautiful.” Emma pasted on a practiced smile. “I’d heard you were making a splash with decorating. I can see why.”
“Thank you.” Oh God, what should she say? What should she not say?
“My roommate and I bought a loft in New York. We’re still having it done.” She cleared her throat, glancing toward the fire smoldering in the stone hearth. “I had no idea it was so complicated. You always made it look so easy.”
“New York,” Bev said, folding and unfolding her hands in her lap. “You’re living there now?”
“Yes. I’m going to NYCC. Photography.”
“Oh. Do you like it?”
“Very much.”
“Will you be in London long?”
“Until just after the first.”
The next pause was long and awkward. Both women glanced over in relief as Alice wheeled in the tea caddy. “Thank you, Alice. I’ll pour the tea.” Bev put a hand over Alice’s briefly, and squeezed.
“She stayed with you,” Emma commented when they were alone again.
“Yes. Or I suppose it’s more that we stayed with each other.” It helped to have the tea, the pot, the cups, the pretty little biscuits arranged on a Sèvres platter. She had no thirst, no appetite, but the mechanics, the simple, civilized mechanics of serving the tea relaxed her. “Do you still take too much cream and sugar in your tea?”
“No, I’ve been Americanized.” There were fresh flowers in a blue vase. Tulips. Emma wondered if Bev had bought them from the flower seller in the square, or if she’d forced them herself.