The Keeper of Secrets Read Online Free PDF Page B

one for coffee mornings; the other mums she had befriended over the years had come and gone – with the exception of Elle, they had all moved onwards and upwards. Some had found new challenges or returned to work, a few had discovered alternative social circles, whilst for others, divorce had seen them move on to pastures new. Elle told herself she was happy enough in her own company and it made life easier. For one thing, she didn’t have to face a cross-examination from Rick if he spotted something amiss, like an extra mug in the dishwasher.
    After her visit home, the spacious Southport house felt more empty than usual as she rattled through her chores. With the beds stripped and the washing on, Elle poured herself a strong cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. The letters she’d hidden in a box of cereal at the back of a kitchen cupboard were now piled up in front of her. The cloud of steam from her mug warmed her face as she sat staring at the handwritten address on the uppermost envelope. The washing machine was churning away and rain battered against the patio doors. She picked up the first letter, only to put it to one side before picking up and doing the same with the next and then the next until she had created a new pile slightly to the right of the first. She was prevaricating again.
    Since discovering the hoard, Elle had come up with many reasons why she shouldn’t read the letters, the first being that her dad had gone to great lengths to conceal them. The dream about the doves had unsettled her too: she hadn’t wanted to read them and be left wanting in her own life. But a new, more disconcerting reason had presented itself as she sat looking at the unopened envelopes. They were all addressed to her dad, either at her grandparents’ address or care of the forces, but the letters weren’t from her mum. Even if the unfamiliar handwriting hadn’t been enough to convince her, then the 1960s date stamps gave little room for doubt. Her mum would have still been a young schoolgirl and hadn’t yet met her dad.
    She took a gulp of coffee which was now lukewarm, but it wasn’t the caffeine entering her system that made her heart race. Having found the earliest dated envelope, she pulled out the letter and started to read.
    By the time she unfolded the last letter her hand was trembling and her coffee cold. The possibility that her dad had another life before her mum wasn’t unthinkable, but another love? Another soul mate? Elle went back to the first letter and reread them all over again.
    It was impossible to put together the whole picture when all she had were the letters to and not from her dad, but the passion and torment described in Corinne’s elegant script made the love she shared with Harry as tangible as the musty letters themselves.
    Corinne had started writing to Harry when she left Liverpool to begin university life at Cambridge. At first it was difficult to imagine what the two had in common. Harry was the son of a docker and had been prepared for a life of hard physical graft while Corinne had evidently been nurtured to make the most of her intellect. But the letters in Elle’s possession were filled with such passion and judging by the constant references to Harry’s letters that passion had been reciprocated. The descriptions of longing and love made her feel like a peeping tom, made all the more uncomfortable because the desire was aimed at her own father.
    At first, the letters the young couple shared had kept their separation bearable and their love alive, but three years on, the tone of the correspondence had changed to one of desperation. Corinne was at pains to reassure Harry that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. From what Elle could make out, her dad hadn’t thought himself good enough for her. Determined to better himself before taking on such a well-educated wife, he had decided to join the navy with hopes of