Free The Secrets Women Keep by Fanny Blake

reached inside for one of the birds. She held it cupped in her hands. A few passers-by had stopped to see what she was doing, but she ignored them. She held the bird up,
looking into its beady frightened eyes, kissed its orange beak then tossed it into the air.
    A knot of people gathered round her, cheering. There was a click of a camera as she reached down for the second bird. Playing to her growing audience, she stood, showed it around, then repeated
the performance. The second bird flew upwards to join the other where it sat on a tree branch. For a moment they looked down at the crowd before disappearing together through the branches above
them into the sky.
    ‘Freedom, Eve. We’re all entitled to that.’ Anna handed the cage back to the open-mouthed stallholder and wiped her hands on her skirt, looking satisfied with what she had just
done.
    Eve said nothing. Perhaps this was not the best moment to remind Anna of birds of prey, of nature red in tooth and claw, of the fact that freedom often came at a price.

 
     
     
     
6
     
     
     
     
    R ose’s harmonious family holiday was in free fall. Experience should have taught her, but she had successfully blanked all those nightmare
holiday moments from the past, which now rushed unbidden into her mind – trapped in a freezing Welsh cottage, rain battering at the windows, with only one jigsaw that was missing the vital
pieces; losing Anna on a crowded beach; Jess burning her hand on a Calor gas light that had been left on the floor during a power cut; the hire boat capsizing when Dan insisted on diving off it
– each one a cause for upset or reproach. Back then, an argument could be resolved, a mood transformed, a doctor called, a game begun, the TV switched on. But now . . . now things were very
different.
    She sat slumped at the kitchen table. How had they ended up with two daughters who, so many years later, could still cause them so much heartache? Was it the way she and Daniel had brought them
up? As for Daniel . . . the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that had been lodged there since the previous day gave another roll. If only everyone would disappear so they could talk. Perhaps
it wasn’t too late. Perhaps she had overreacted and things hadn’t gone as far as she feared.
    Jess had still not returned her phone call. Not even a message. Of course, she was busy managing Trevarrick all day, but was that also a convenient excuse not to contact her? Had Daniel finally
driven a permanent wedge between them? But surely Jess realised that her father would come round in the end.
    Meanwhile Anna, who had endured the drive back from Arezzo without another word to any of them before refusing lunch, was now sulking by the pool. Rose had gone down to try to persuade her to
eat something, but Anna’s head was turned away, her eyes firmly shut, her earphones in. The message was clear.
    Daniel had been unusually quiet since they’d returned. As soon as he could, he had shut himself in the study under pretext of work that needed to be done.
Miss. Love. Come back
. The
words tormented Rose.
    She had noticed Terry’s surprised reaction to Daniel’s departure. When her brother holidayed, he didn’t muddle pleasure with work. Never. His life was organised within an inch
of itself with each of its compartments distinct from the rest. However, since they’d been back, Terry and Eve had clearly had some kind of tiff and were now barely speaking. He had retired
to the sitting room, where he was glued to Sky Sports, the sound of the excited commentary just audible in the kitchen. Eve had disappeared to their room to sleep off the couple of large glasses of
white wine she’d downed at lunch in the face of Terry’s obvious disapproval – again.
    Rose picked up her mobile and stared at Jess’s number. She could put herself out of her misery by simply making the call. Her finger hovered, then pressed the home button. Nothing worse
than a nagging