Page 47 of Lie For Me

‘Eurgh, come on.’

‘It’s nice,’ Jack said. ‘I don’t even remember seeing my parents kiss when they were together.’

Lucy cringed as she thought of what Jack had shared with her earlier.

‘Sorry. I forget it’s very different for you.’

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Jack said. ‘It’s just nice to be around a family who actually enjoy each other’s company.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ Lucy mumbled.

Jack’s hand was on the small of her back, guiding her to a table.

‘Take a seat, I’ll get us some drinks,’ he murmured in her ear.

He disappeared in the direction of the bar and was soon swallowed up in a throng of giddy guests and new arrivals, all clamouring for the bar staff’s attention.

Lucy spied Heather, standing across the room with Mark and their kids Peter and Thomas, clock Jack’s departure. Patting Mark on the arm and disengaging herself from the boys, she made a beeline for Lucy.

Uh oh.

‘Hello, Little Blister.’ Heather sank down into an empty chair beside Lucy, greeting her with the nickname from their childhood. ‘How are you?’

‘Hello, Big Blister,’ Lucy replied.

Heather was elegant, though a little sternly dressed, her hair drawn back in an updo so tight that it looked as if it could iron out wrinkles. Lucy ran a hand through her own loose and wavy hair.

‘It’s a nice evening,’ she said, looking around at the milling guests, half-empty plates and brimming glasses.

She eyed her sister warily. It had been two years since they had seen one another. Since Heather, drunk on red wine at Peter’s christening, had made a point of telling Lucy that it was her decision not to make Lucy godparent to either of her boys. Lucy, unfazed, had smiled and said okay, she understood. Heather and Mark had a lot of friends, people who lived closer to them—it made sense to ask them.

But Heather, having started, was keen to wield the knife. She told Lucy she hadn’t asked her because she thought Lucy would be a poor role model, because she didn’t have a decent job and, as far as Heather was concerned, lacked ambition for both her career and her personal life, which wasn’t the example she wanted for her sons.

Lucy was, Heather said, ‘drifting aimlessly through life.’

Heather had laughed, flashing teeth stained blue with red wine, as she mocked Lucy’s ‘little job' at Dulcetcoombe, where she ‘looked after the old people and decorated the place at Christmas.'

Lucy had tried to stand up for herself. She said that Heather didn’t understand her job, said that she was happy in her life and money wasn’t everything, which made Heather snort with derision.

‘That’s what people with no money tell themselves to justify their crappy choices in life, sis,’ she had snarled.

Heather and red wine had always been a toxic mix, but Lucy also knew that Heather believed what she was saying. Good manners and sobriety normally enabled her to keep it to herself.

Upset and taken aback by Heather’s nastiness, Lucy had stumbled outside in tears. Her mother, seeing her leave, had followed and told her not to make a scene—this was Heather and Mark’s day. Lucy had left the christening reception as soon as possible and hadn’t spoken to Heather in nearly two years until Ollie intervened.

Neither of them had called the other, and Lucy had found excuses not to be with family on Christmas Day (the only time they usually saw one another), visiting her parents later in the holidays once Heather and her family had gone. Lucy wasn’t entirely sure how much Heather remembered of their fight—but it was enough to maintain a stony silence until Ollie’s wedding forced an uncomfortable truce. They’d agreed to let bygones be bygones, said it was water under the bridge and other things which, in practice, simply meant they’d never speak of it again. Forgiving and forgetting were another matter.

‘It’s lovely, isn’t it? Ollie hasn’t stopped smiling. Sophie is the sweetest and keeps hugging everyone and crying with joy.’ Heather leaned in. ‘I think she’s a little tipsy, to be honest.’

Heather pulled a face suggesting this was not exactly how the bride should behave the night before her wedding.

‘But,’ Heather continued, ‘she’s a lovely drunk. Ma and pa and Sophie’s parents seem delighted with it all and with each other…all in all, it’s going well.’

Heather glanced in the direction of the bar and then back to Lucy. ‘So, Jack….’

Heather got to the real reason she had chosen this moment, when Jack was absent, for their first chat. Lucy was nervous, wondering if Heather was looking for ways to find fault. She looked over at Jack standing at the bar, penned in by her nanna and Aunty Jacques and smiled. Nanna held herself up by holding onto Jack’s arm, which he held out for her like a brace, and Aunty Jacques, who had no sense of personal space or propriety, was touching his hair and smoothing it behind his ears.

‘Mum said you’re a couple now.’ Heather arched an eyebrow. ‘Nice to see you with someone.’

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