Here We Lie (37 page)

‘Stop, Rose,
please
,’ I say, wiping away my tears. ‘I’m not upset because of
Jed
. That’s
over.
I . . . I . . .’ I cast wildly around for
a reason to explain my evident misery. ‘I guess it’s just the upheaval . . .’ I finish lamely.

Rose narrows her eyes. ‘What about Dan? Are you crying for him?’

‘No.’
I turn away. I should have realized Rose, who knows me so well and who has the persistence of a wasp, wouldn’t let me alone over this. She’s so used to me
telling her everything. I gulp, steeling myself for the silence I know I have to sustain. ‘I’m sorry, Rose, it was nothing, just all the stress coming out.’

‘Right.’ Rose starts the engine and we drive off. The sun disappears again behind a cloud. The sky darkens. ‘Listen, Emily. I’m sure you
think
you’re right,
but
I
think you’re being really stupid over Jed.’

I stare at her, shocked by the vehemence with which she’s speaking.

‘Do you
really
not love him?’ she goes on. ‘Because you did up until a few weeks ago and . . . and look, you’re all upset now and I can’t see what else it
can be
other
than splitting up with Jed.’

I bite my lip, turning again to stare out of the window. Streets flash past in a blur. Irritation rises inside me. How typical of Rose this is, I realize, to treat me like a child who
doesn’t know her own mind.

‘Talk to me, Emily,’ Rose scolds.

I shake my head, still staring out of the window. There’s no way I can tell Rose about Cameron’s drug running. It would devastate her. She is so fond of him and, of course, adores
our brother.

‘Emily, come on,’ Rose persists. ‘You tell me everything.
Talk.
’

Suddenly I see it all so clearly. Rose loves me, yes, but her being ‘half a mum, half a sister to me’ – as I once described it to Dee Dee – has to develop into something
more grown-up. There are things I can’t tell her for her own sake – and ties that have bound us for a long time which I must now break.

‘I’m really fine,’ I say. ‘And it’s not Jed. And I don’t want to talk.’

Rose purses her lips. I see the hurt on her face and flush with guilt. ‘I’m sorry, Rose, I—’

‘It’s fine.’ Rose holds up her hand, waving away my apology. ‘I just care about you,
so
much, you’ve got no idea . . .’

‘I do, I know,’ I say, feeling awkward.

The rest of our journey passes in silence. There’s not much traffic on the roads and we arrive at my brother’s house in good time. It seems weird to be back here so soon after my
last, awful visit and weirder still to have to go inside and pretend to smile and laugh with Martin and Cameron. They have cooked a roast duck with lots of intricate side dishes. It’s all
delicious but I can only pick at the food. Seeing the two of them together – affectionate and full of gentle teasing – only makes it harder to bear the deceit that is being practised on
my brother, especially now that I am complicit in the lie. Every now and then I glance at Cameron. He is playing his part to perfection. How I loathe his mean, foxy little face and the way that
Martin and Rose both dote on him. I do my best to chat and grin and act as if nothing is wrong.

Cameron gives absolutely no indication that anything passed between us earlier in the week. We make our way through the better part of two bottles of wine. Cameron is just opening a third when I
traipse upstairs to the bathroom. I pee and flush, certain that I’ve succeeded in fooling both my brother and sister. Then I leave the room, to find Martin waiting for me.

I raise my eyebrows as Martin ushers me back into the bathroom.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asks.

I stare at him. I should have known my sensitive, intuitive brother would see through my efforts to appear happy and relaxed.

‘Nothing,’ I say, attempting to fix a bright smile on my face.

‘Not buying “nothing”,’ Martin says, folding his arms. ‘Is this about Jed? Because for what it’s worth I think you’ve done the right thing leaving
him.’

Exasperation pulses through me. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. Why does everybody feel it’s okay for them to comment on me and Jed breaking up?’ I snap.

‘I’m not “everybody”. I’m just asking why you’re upset. I’m
guessing
it’s because you’ve split with your fiancé, but I
don’t know because you haven’t said two words since you got here.’

‘Sorry . . . I’m fine. I guess I am sad that things didn’t work out but I’m okay, honestly . . .’ My heart thuds against my ribs. How can I lie to my brother? How
can I
live
with the knowledge of my lies? It is
wrong
, against everything my parents and then Rose brought me up to believe in.

‘Hey, where’s your bracelet?’ Martin asks, looking at my wrist.

‘I, er, broke it,’ I say quickly. ‘I’m getting it mended.’

There’s a pause. Downstairs I can hear the clatter of plates. Is that Rose and Cameron clearing the crockery away?

‘What’s really going on, Emily?’ Martin asks. ‘What aren’t you saying?’

I’m itching to tell him. Surely I owe him the truth?

‘I can see that you want to tell me,’ Martin says softly. ‘You’ll feel better when you do.’

He’s right. The thought of the coming months and years and me keeping this terrible secret from him fills me with horror. Suddenly I wonder if it wouldn’t be better just to make a
clean breast of it after all. However hard it is for Martin to hear, whatever the risk to Dan, surely anything is better than living a terrible lie?

‘It’s difficult,’ I begin. ‘But it all started last summer when—’

The bathroom door swings open, stopping me in my tracks. Cameron stands in the doorway, his emerald eyes glittering dangerously. ‘Is there a problem?’ he asks.

Fear freezes my face. ‘No, not at all,’ I stammer. ‘I just had a bit of a tummy ache.’

Cameron holds my gaze. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Martin frowning.

‘Nothing you ate here, I hope?’ Cameron asks. He’s smiling, but there’s a menacing edge to his voice.

‘No, I’ve had it all day,’ I say. ‘It’s just stress.’

‘Well, come back down,’ Cameron says, putting his arm around me and ushering me out of the bathroom. ‘I just remembered we have some Christmas crackers. I got the same as last
year, with proper jewellery inside.’

I can’t look at Martin as I head down the stairs. He makes no further attempt to ask me what’s wrong and I make a superhuman effort to look like I’m enjoying the crackers and
the rest of the meal. Cameron says nothing either but his gaze is never far away: hard and sinister, casting a shadow over my heart.

I am whispering because it is very, very early and my bedroom in the villa is right next to Rose’s and along the corridor from Lish’s. Tonight is our first night
in the villa and OH MY DAYS this place is SO cool. There is FREE WI-FI so Daddy can’t moan at me going online AND a HUGE pool out the back. There are so many rooms and corridors I lost
count!!!! But there are three of us on this floor like I said plus a big, white bathroom and my room is SO pretty with green shutters and a low couch like a proper sitting room and a four-poster,
not all Barbie and pink but really elegant with satiny sheets. Daddy and Emily are upstairs and Uncle Gary and Iveta down in the room behind the kitchen and they each have their own bathrooms
too.

It is hot here but not like it was in the south of France when Daddy kept dragging us to CULTURE and MUSEUMS and GALLERIES. He says we have to go into Calvi to see the cita-something,
whatever that is, tomorrow, which sounds REALLY boring BUT at least we will see Martin and Cameron again. We met up with them on our way here yesterday and we went on the boat and it was SO amazing
and Emily says we are going to go out in the boat again because they are sailing here. IMAGINE, sleeping on a boat, I wish I could do that, all under the stars. SO romantic. Tomorrow they will be
in the harbour at Calvi, Daddy says with all the ‘super-rich buggers’, and we are going to meet them and go out on the boat.

So . . . well . . . that is something to look forward to but there have been some bad things too like Lish hardly speaks to me, mostly just to Martin and Cameron. Actually they are great and
Rose is nice too, though not fun like Martin and not cool like Emily, like she’s trying to be friends but she doesn’t really know what to say. BUT Dad gets cross all the time, he
doesn’t like me to have puddings and he always says ‘go on then, let her have what she wants’ with a sigh if Rose or Emily ask what I’d like off the menu and I know he
thinks I am too fat and clumsy. He got snarky yesterday when I broke my sandal then a bit later I overheard him saying to Emily it was cos I was FAT, but it wasn’t my fault, the strap just came
off. At least Emily always asks if I need anything and if I want to call Mum but not like I HAVE to. Which I don’t want except Daddy makes me every other night and Mum is all ‘I hope
you’re having a lovely time’ in a voice which means she doesn’t want me to be having one at all, like I’ve done something wrong. But if I moan to her then Daddy hears and
gets cross and says I’m wasting the education he’s paying for though I don’t see what school has to do with it. I don’t want to think about going back to school. I’ve
been texting and texting with Bex and she always texts back, she is SO lovely but SO sad about her mum I am worried she will hurt herself, she says she has cut herself which I don’t know what
to say to. Like on her legs where no one will see.

Oh my days I am not sleepy at all but I am fed up of whispering.

Ooh, wait, I just heard a noise. I’m going to take the phone in case I need a light though there is a big moon outside . . .

I am shaking. I can’t believe it. It’s like what I saw at the engagement party but WORSE. Much worse. I am going to text Bex RIGHT NOW and tell her.

Rose’s birthday is on the second Sunday in January. She doesn’t want a big fuss but I rouse myself sufficiently from my unhappy thoughts about the secret I am
keeping from my brother – and my enforced absence from Dan – to make her a cake and invite a few of her friends over. I don’t know any of them very well. Mostly they’re
colleagues – and ex-co-workers – from Rose’s many years as a shop manager. Unlike Martin and me, Rose doesn’t have friends from her childhood which, considering she still
lives in the same neighbourhood, is a bit strange, though I guess looking after me must have made it difficult to sustain friendships.

I invite Martin and Cameron too, of course. I am going to have to steel myself better for these encounters. I don’t know which is worse: anticipating the menacing glint in Cameron’s
eye or my brother’s kindness and trust. At least my clothes and other belongings have finally arrived from Jed. I check everything through; nothing of mine is missing while most of our shared
stuff was paid for by Jed and I don’t want it anyway. I brace myself for a note or some other kind of message tucked in among the dresses and books but, much to my relief, there is nothing.
Perhaps Jed is, at last, moving on.

Rose’s birthday begins with a strange visit: a man – well-preserved, probably in his fifties – turns up at the door, a huge bunch of lilies in his hand. He looks startled to
see me, just shoving the lilies in my hand and muttering that they’re for Rose before hurrying back to his Audi and zooming away.

I sneak a look at the card before Rose comes down.

Still a babe! Happy Birthday, Brian.

My mind goes back to the ‘hello, sexy girl’ phone call I intercepted last month. My curiosity roused, I push Rose to tell me who he is but she is as cagey as she was before, simply
repeating her claim that Brian is nothing more than a customer with a crush.

‘Twenty arum lilies delivered in person to your door suggests a bit more than a crush,’ I argue. ‘Have you been on a date?’

‘Course not.’ Rose wrinkles her nose. ‘Brian is
so
not my type.’ And she refuses to say anything further.

Later the party guests arrive and our dinner gets underway. We order a Thai takeaway, Rose’s favourite, which Martin and Cameron pay for. I tuck in hungrily, until it occurs to me that the
meal is being bought with drugs money and my red curry and jasmine rice turn to bile in my throat. I force down a few more mouthfuls, then scurry into the kitchen when Mart’s back is turned.
I don’t want him to see that I’m not eating properly. He seems distracted tonight. Troubled even. Looking over at me from time to time with a worried frown. He’s been asked if
he’s okay and he is claiming he has a headache, but I’m certain he’s still wondering if I’ve told him the truth about what is wrong with me. Rose’s friends leave soon
after the cake, pleading an early start at work the next day.

It’s almost eleven and Cameron and Martin are the only people left in the house. Much to my relief Cameron announces they should leave in a minute and pops upstairs to the bathroom. The
doorbell rings.

Rose makes a face. ‘God, that’s probably Jenny come back. I bet she left her phone here, she’s always losing it.’ She stands up and saunters out into the hall leaving
Martin and me alone at the kitchen table.

‘I know what Cameron’s been doing,’ Martin says in a low voice. ‘I know about the drugs.’

My head jerks up. My brother’s expression is one of utter misery.

‘I know everything,’ Martin goes on, through gritted teeth. ‘I could see something was up with you last week, more than the Jed thing, so I snooped a bit, found some texts. I
thought it was an affair at first. Then I followed him, saw him with Lish, a couple of other guys . . .’

‘Mart . . .’ My heart races.

‘Let me get this out: I
knew
something was wrong. I’ve known it for a long time, but I didn’t want to face it.’ His mouth trembles.

I reach for his hand and he lets me take it and squeeze it.

‘I am facing it now,’ he says. ‘I called Lish, demanded answers, but he refused to talk to me, then I tried Jed. I told him I was going to come and see you tonight, that I was
starting to think all your suspicions about Lish and the drug dealing were right. Jed hung up so I tracked down Dan Thackeray through his work. We spoke just before Cam and I left the house
earlier; Dan filled me in on what he knew. He sounded scared, Emily, for himself and for you.’ Martin pauses. ‘I’m scared too. I talked to Cam on the way over here. He’s
admitted . . . well, enough. I know about . . . about the drugs, how he makes so much money, and I know that he threatened you . . . and Dan Thackeray. I can’t believe what he’s been
doing.’ Martin’s voice cracks. ‘And that poor little girl . . . he says it was an accident and maybe it was, but . . .’