Lie For Me Page 6

  I boil the milk and add the chocolate power, then stir it and bring it to the table where Molly is sitting expectantly.

  I put the glass down before her, warning that it’s hot. I lift up the blind over the sink, slowly. The garden is empty, strewn with lifeless winter leaves. Beyond the fence, the park is barely visible. But it’s there, and so might be the person I saw the other day. I lower the blind quickly and check the kitchen door to the garden is locked.

  I hear a sound at the front door. A quick glance at my wristwatch says it’s half past five, too early for Jeremy to come back home.

  Fear blossoms inside me. “Stay here, Molly,” I say, and run to the front door. As I feared, I forgot to lock it. These days, I have made it a point not to leave the door on the latch. Today I had other things on my mind. Damn it.

  The key is turning still and any second now the door will open. Panic surges through my body like electricity. I fling myself at the door to close it. I hear a muffled exclamation from the other side.

  “Jesus, who’s that?” It’s Jeremy’s voice. I put my hand to my forehead, trying to control my breathing, my racing heart.

  I reach out and open the door, feeling silly. Jeremy is in his work suit, tie undone, staring at me quizzically.

  “Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

  “Who?” he asks, coming in with his briefcase. He doesn’t kiss me. I step back and let him close the door.

  “One of these people who knock on doors trying to sell things. They can be burglars sometimes.”

  Jeremy turns around, a half-smile on his lips. “Darling, you’re watching too much Crimewatch.” He comes to hug me, but I move away and into the kitchen. I am tense, nervous. With shaking hands I get myself a glass of water. Is it my nerves, or is it guilt?

  Jeremy says hi to Molly when he comes into the kitchen and I can feel him standing behind me. I turn around.

  “I’m sorry. Just got a bit scared, that’s all.”

  “This is a safe neighbourhood. Don’t worry.”

  I know that, but right now my heart is telling me something else.

  CHAPTER 16

  Eight years ago

  It had been two years since I had moved in with Clive. We had a two-bed ground-floor apartment in a lovely Victorian conversion just outside Wimbledon. It had been a whirlwind romance, and I knew we were meant for each other. We had travelled around the world, stayed in his villa in Marbella, and he had met my father. I still hadn’t met the rest of his family, but his mother lived in Slough, outside London, and I would be seeing her soon, he had promised.

  When we went up north to see Dad at the farmhouse, it was great to see how well Clive got on with my dad. Despite being a city slicker, he helped Dad tend to the pigs and chickens, and woke up at the crack of dawn to take the buggy out to the hills, where Dad and Pixie, our German Collie, herded the sheep. Dad had never had a son, and I felt a lump in my throat at seeing how well the two of them bonded.

  Back in London, reality had hit. There was a crisis of funding in the banks, and the sub-prime mortgage disaster was just unfolding in the USA. Apparently, so-called wizard bankers had given million-dollar mortgages to convicts and drug dealers, thereby creating a boom in the real estate market. Now the boom had turned to bust, and the ripples had spread all over the world.

  Our sales had sunk to almost nothing in the last eight months. Clive had become stressed and frustrated and spent a lot of time outside the office. Before the financial crisis hit, he had been in talks to open branches in Richmond and Putney, two important markets for us. Now the loans had been withdrawn, and Clive had meetings with new fundraisers every day. I hardly saw him. When he came home, I was often asleep.

  One summer evening, I was waiting for Clive while he finished up a business meeting in the city. I comforted myself with a tub of Ben & Jerry’s chocolate chip ice cream and a chick flick. I was curled up on the sofa with my feet tucked beneath me when the phone rang. It was Eva. We spoke for a while, swapping stories. She was in London, but her work meant long hours, and she was calling me from the office. She had a new bloke in her life, too, a guy called Richard, who worked for a securities firm.

  I hung up when I heard Clive come in the door. He looked exhausted. I got up and gave him a kiss. He responded slowly, like he did when he was tired.

  “Gin and tonic?” I asked.

  “Please,” he said, sitting wearily down on the sofa. I made the drink and brought it back to him.

  “How did it go?” I asked him. He took a long sip of the drink.

  He stared at the glass as he spoke. “Not good, Emma. There’s just no money around anymore. The banks don’t want to lend. It’s not just mortgages. It’s business loans, everything.”

  I hated seeing him like this. His shoulders were slumped, and his eyes had lost their glint. Suddenly, he kicked out with his right foot, and his shoe caught the coffee table, turning it over. The smashing sound rattled the TV. The table fell within inches of the screen.

  “Clive! What are you doing?”

  He didn’t answer. He ran a hand over his face. I stared at him with a stricken face. I knew he was under stress, but I hadn’t realised the effect it was having on him. This wasn’t the Clive I knew.

  “What I wish I could do to these bloody lenders,” he said vehemently. “Blood-sucking arseholes, sit there and talk about return on their investment. Fucking ROI. What they need is a good kicking.”

  He was in a dark, moody place, and I watched his nostrils flare, his face redden. He looked up, caught my eyes, and his face softened. He got up and put the table back up.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s going to be OK. Just going to need some time.”

  I moved closer to him. “Remember you said all business cycles go through ups and downs.” I ran a hand through his hair, and it felt soft to the touch. His head fell back on the sofa.

  “Yes,” he breathed. I leaned over and kissed him on the lips. This time, he kissed me back with more urgency. Soon, all talk was forgotten, and we were entangled in each other, my fingers unbuttoning his shirt.

  *****

  We arrived at work together the next morning. For the last two years, we’d had this routine where I went in, sat down at my table, and he came in with a cup of coffee a few minutes later. He didn’t want others at the office to know, and I didn’t mind. I was reasonable friends with the other girls in the place, and we met up for office socials, but I didn’t know them well enough to hang out. Things could get awkward if they found out about me and their boss.

  Jim, our mortgage broker, answered the phone on his desk and rose up. He hovered in front of my desk and said, “Clive wants to speak to us.” Another one of the agents joined us and we went to the office at the back. Clive was finishing a call as I knocked and went in.

  “Jim,” Clive said without delay, “what’s happening with the mortgage on 345 Hill Walk?”

  “They want more documents from the buyers. Latest payslips and bank statements. It’s all progressing.”

  “No, it’s not!” Clive raised his voice. “I’ve just come off the phone with Mr Jones, the buyer. He said that a mortgage advisor from the bank has contacted him directly. They have told him he can’t have the funds.”

  Jim looked astonished. “But they can’t do that.”

  Clive clenched his jaws tight. “They can and they are. You told me this mortgage deal was in the bag, Jim. We really need this deal to go through.”

  Jim said, “And it will. I just need to speak to them again.”

  Clive stood up, picked up a file from his desk and threw it across the room at Jim. It missed him narrowly, hit the wall behind him, and fell to the floor, papers swaying down slowly. Everyone was shocked. Jim had an open mouth, and he took a step backwards as Clive got out from behind his desk. Clive was a compact, powerful man, and he moved menacingly.

  “Those are the files for the Smith account, Jim,” Clive snarled. “You have been working on this for the las
t four weeks, and you have nothing to show me.”

  I came forward. “I think we all need to calm down. Jim’s doing his best, Clive.”

  He turned on me, and the sheer rage on his face left me breathless for a minute. His face was carved in stone, the colour of lava, a deadly coldness radiating from him. I stepped back, afraid.

  “And what do you know about his best, Emma? Have you been keeping tabs on him? No, it’s all down to me.”

  Clive reached out and slapped a stack of files on his desk, near the edge. They smacked down to the floor, scattering invoices and papers.

  “It’s all going to hell,” he thundered. Jim was cowering against the wall.

  “I’ll do my best. I’m going to call the bank right now.”

  Clive sat down at his desk and lowered his head in his hands. “You do that, Jim. And remember I want good news. Got it?” He looked up at him. Jim nodded, and left the room. Clive’s eyes flickered to me. “Leave me alone,” he said. I was more than happy to. His behaviour had no excuse. I slammed the door shut on my way out.

  CHAPTER 17

  Present day

  Jeremy reaches up into one of the kitchen cabinets and pulls down a bottle of red wine. He doesn’t open the bottle. I catch him watching me with a half-smile on his lips. He seems to have got over me slamming the door shut in his face. I still feel silly about it. Who else would have keys to our front door apart from Jeremy? And myself obviously.

  His parents live in Hampshire, miles away, and I know he hasn’t given them a key. I remember thinking about giving Eva a key once, but I didn’t.

  “Are you going to open that bottle?” I ask as I sit down next to Molly. Our kitchen isn’t big. Its ten square metres of space with kitchen counter, oven and hob, and dining table all cramped into one. I keep an eye on the garden as I sit down. Light is fading fast, strangled by dark, threatening clouds. It might rain tonight. A wind picks up, bending the trees in the park. I hope the clouds blow over.

  Jeremy asks, “Do you guys have anything planned now?”

  “No,” I say, wondering why. Then I realise Jeremy has come back home early from work. “Is everything OK at work?”

  “Yes, it is,” he says easily. “I had a half-day due, so decided to use it.” There’s a twinkle in his eyes that I don’t quite understand.

  “Well, if you two aren’t doing anything shall we go for a ride?”

  “Where to?” I ask, even as Molly claps her hands and slides off the chair.

  “You shall soon find out,” Jeremy says mysteriously.

  I lock up the door of our two-bed terraced house, after I’ve set the alarm. Molly is standing next to me, and I take her hand, walking to Jeremy’s car. He doesn’t say anything, and looks straight out of the windscreen.

  “Am I OK dressed like this?” I ask, before he sets off.

  “You’d look good no matter what you wore, darling,” he says, melting my heart a little.

  “Lying will get you anywhere,” I say, suppressing a smile.

  “Who’s lying?”

  “Then tell us where we’re going.” I don’t mind surprises. But it’s been a long day, and I still haven’t told Jeremy about what happened at school. I want to wait till Molly is in bed. Which reminds me of what I need to tell Jeremy about: everything. My good mood starts to evaporate.

  We drive out towards the A3, and head down towards New Malden, a nice, leafy suburb with semi-and detached houses on either side. It’s a far cry from the narrow street that we live on. Our area is nice, very residential, but space fetches a stonking premium in London. New Malden is a little out of the way, but easily commutable by car and train. It takes us half an hour to get from Wimbledon to here. Jeremy parks outside a semi-detached house on the corner, which is easily three times the size of where we live. I can see from the large bay windows that the lounge and bedrooms must be spacious. I can’t help wondering whose house this is, and why Jeremy has brought us here.

  “What are we doing here?” I ask him. He covers my hand with his and leans forward to kiss me. Our lips meet and he murmurs, “Let’s get out and see.”

  I open the door for Molly and she hops out, still in her school uniform. The front lawn needs tending, and the conifers that shade the house from the street are tall and lovely. We open the gate and step inside a path that leads up to the house. When the door opens and a man in a suit steps out, I suddenly have a funny feeling. The man waves at us and Jeremy waves back. He is obviously expected.

  “Mr Mansell, how do you do?”

  They shake hands. I see the property brochure in the man’s hands and there is no doubt in my mind now. We have come to view this property. The estate agent hands me a piece of paper with all the property details on it. I feel a little delirious, this used to be my job way before meeting Jeremy. Seems like another lifetime ago.

  The carpets have a paisley pattern and are old-fashioned. The furniture is also dated, but there is no mistaking the space inside. The house is structurally sound, I cannot see any damp patches or any leaks anywhere. The walls are painted and there aren’t any wide cracks visible. Molly is excited, pulling me out of the back door to see the broad, wide garden. Again, easily three times the size of our tiny garden now. And the rooms are huge as well. Five bedrooms. A kitchen where we can entertain more than ten guests with ease.

  When we get back to the car, I turn on Jeremy. “What on earth?” I am excited and scared at the same time. I know how much these places cost, and I know Jeremy doesn’t have that sort of money. He is a nice, sweet, dependable guy. That’s why I am now engaged to him.

  “Do you like it?” Jeremy asks.

  I shake my head. “Like it? Listen to yourself, Jeremy. How on earth can we afford anything like this?”

  “Trust me, we can.” There’s a grin on his face.

  “You always complain about how much rent we have to pay. The mortgage on this place will be more.”

  “That depends on how much deposit we put down.”

  “Yes,” I say slowly. “And where is the deposit coming from?” I am perplexed because Jeremy’s parents aren’t wealthy. His dad used to work in the council and his mother is a housewife.

  Jeremy’s eyes are shining. “Our firm completed a long and complex divorce case last month. I was the lead solicitor.” Jeremy specialises in family law so this isn’t surprising. He is fond of saying that 50% of marriages in England end in divorce. I find that number incredibly high. That’s every other marriage, basically.

  He continues. “It was a Russian businessman who had loads of money. He was sleeping around and his wife found out. She filed for divorce and his lawyers fought back. We won, and got her a great deal. She’s very happy, and we got a windfall from it.” He pauses, and looks at me with smiling eyes. “So I got a big bonus.”

  “How much?”

  “Enough to put down a 25% deposit on this house and have some left over.”

  I breathe in sharply. That is a lot of money. For a while I am so happy I can’t speak. But then visions from the past come rolling in. Like a high tide, drawn by the eye of an evil moon, submerging all my hopes.

  I look down at my hands, suddenly worried.

  Jeremy’s voice changes. “What is it?”

  I say nothing. Molly has been very good, she is quiet and is observing us with interest from the back seat.

  “Let’s go back home and talk,” I say.

  Jeremy says nothing for the rest of the trip. I reach over and give his thigh a squeeze, and he rubs my hand. He holds my hand as long as he can.

  *****

  When Molly is upstairs to get changed and brush her teeth, Jeremy opens the bottle of red and pours himself a glass. I prefer a white and have a Pinot Grigio chilled. We sit down with our glasses, facing each other.

  “I don’t want us to struggle,” I say, taking a sip of wine. It’s cold, citrus, refreshing.

  “I just told you about my bonus,” he says.

  “I know. But we don’t need a five
-bedroom mansion. To be honest, I am happy where we are. Why don’t you save the money?”

  “For what? The rent we pay is just wasted money.”

  I know he’s right. But I know what happens when the costs start to mount, and…maybe I am just too scared to dream. My dreams have been broken once, and like a broken heart, dreams aren’t easy to fix. I would rather hold onto the happiness I have, for as long as I can.

  As if he can read my thoughts, Jeremy asks softly, “What are you afraid of?”

  CHAPTER 18

  His question jolts me back to the moment. I am staring at him, a hundred emotions running through me. I need to tell Jeremy the truth about me. More than anyone else, he needs to know.

  Once the past is out of the way, we can talk about the future. No, that’s not true. We are talking about the future. The fear is back again, clawing at my throat, suffocating me. If I do tell him, will he think less of me?

  Will I be able to give him everything he wants? Even as I ask myself the question I know the answer. It’s not an answer I like, and never will. I look down at my hands, and the ring flashes like a thousand suns beaming light into my eyes. My heart wrenches inside.

  What am I supposed to do?

  I never thought my heart would be so full as it is now, not after what happened. But even as my life begins to flower and bloom, I can feel the cold hand of the past, heavy on my shoulder.

  I look up at Jeremy. He is watching me with a frown. I open my mouth to speak, to tell all, but the moment has passed. I don’t have the strength to do it now.

  “I don’t want you to become stressed,” I say, and I mean it. “There’s only three of us, and we could easily live in a smaller house, or even a flat.”

  “I don’t want a flat. I want somewhere Molly can play outside.”

  I nod, my shoulders dropping. Of course I want that for Molly.

  Jeremy is speaking again. “And if we have new arrivals…” He leaves the sentence unfinished.

  I don’t look at him. “You know I’ve had problems in the past…”