Tell Me No Secrets by Julie Corbin

Grace.’ She tries to take my hand. I pull away. ‘This is not about you and me. This is about doing what’s right.’
    â€˜I have paid my dues, Orla. I have.’ I keep my voice low. ‘I may not have been honest with my family or the wider community but I have always been honest with myself.’ I pause; choose my words carefully. ‘I have made good any sin that I committed.’
    â€˜There is a penance to be paid.’
    â€˜I’m not a Catholic,’ I remind her. ‘And this isn’t about religion for me. This is about doing the right thing.’
    â€˜Me too.’ She lets her head drop to one side. ‘I need to do the right thing. Surely you can see that?’
    â€˜And what would that entail, exactly?’
    â€˜Telling Paul.’
    â€˜Why? Why on earth would you do that?’
    â€˜To give him some closure.’
    â€˜At the expense of his marriage?’ My voice is getting louder. I sense the women at the next table glancing across at me. ‘His daughters’ happiness?’ I am horrified. ‘We agreed to keep this a secret.’ I bang my fist against my chest. ‘Paul is my husband. We have two girls together. If you tell the truth about what happened that night, you will ruin all of our lives. Is that really what your priest advised? Is that truly what your God wants?’
    â€˜Put yourself in my shoes.’ Her voice is silky smooth, her eyes black and shiny as hot tar. ‘I need to join the convent with a clear conscience.’
    I stand up and lift my handbag from the floor. ‘I knew you hadn’t changed. You almost had me fooled but I bloody knew you hadn’t changed. You are your mother’s daughter. Everything is always about you.’ I rummage in my bag, find my purse, pull out thirty pounds and slap it down in the centre of the table. ‘Go back to where you came from, Orla. Stay away from me and stay away from my family. I’m warning you.’
    As I turn away she grabs hold of my wrist. ‘Ten days. That’s all you have. Either you tell Paul or I do. The choice is yours.’
    I wrench her off me and, careless of the other lunchers, say loudly, ‘You come near my family and I will have you, Orla.’ I hold her eyes for several long seconds. Her look is fearless. ‘I won’t hesitate to hurt you. I mean it. That choice is yours.’
    I leave the restaurant and hurry along the road back to the station. I realise that I’ve forgotten the book I bought for Paul but I can’t go back for it. I know that I’m crying but I don’t care. I board the first train back home and wonder what the hell I’m going to do now. Always, always, I knew. I knew that this would come back to haunt me. I drive home from the station, rigid, gripping the wheel.
    By the time I pull into the driveway my head is so full of fear, remorse and what-ifs that I want to bang it against a wall and knock myself out. Instead I open a bottle of pinot grigio and watch it glug-glug into the glass. I stand leaning against the counter and drink one full glass down then pour myself another, and another. My life, my girls, my husband, my house, my dog, even my armchair all look like the best anyone could ever have and I know I’m going to lose all of it.
    Ella comes into the kitchen. ‘Where have you been?’
    â€˜Edinburgh.’
    â€˜Jesus! You might have said. You could have bought me those jeans I wanted.’ She kicks the fridge closed with her foot and looks me up and down. ‘What, drinking already? It’s only four thirty.’
    My head is starting to fuzz over. A blessed distance is opening up between myself and the words in my head. Sure, Orla is a bitch but I will find a way to shut her up. I will. Perhaps Euan will help me. I wasn’t entirely truthful with Orla. After Rose died, we made a pact not to tell anyone, but I did. I told Euan. I told him a couple of days