Page 58 of Lie For Me

‘So that,’ Jack said softly, as they lay in the dark, ‘was an informal, low-key, casual welcome dinner.’

Lucy snorted into a pillow.

Jack continued, ‘I can’t wait to see what a full-on actual wedding party looks like tomorrow. I am assuming the police will be called at least once.’

Lucy chortled.

‘Probably. My money is on poor Margot, whoever she is. She’ll be declared missing, along with that suitcase. Someone will get a drink thrown in their face, two people will file for divorce, and Nanna will have another episode and get whisked off to the hospital in a helicopter.’ She drew a breath. ‘But Ollie and Sophie will get married on time, because my mother will see to that.’

‘It seemed like that argument with Heather was a long time coming,’ Jack said, his voice floating out of the darkness.

Lucy swallowed. The noise sounded amplified in the darkened room.

‘Mmmm,’ was all she could manage. She hesitated, then, ‘It’s a sort of low-level ongoing fight, really. I’ve never felt like I fit in with my family.’

Jack was quiet.

‘I don’t feel like they’ve ever really understood me. Mum and Dad love how sporty and competitive Ollie is, and Heather has basically been destined for some high-flying career since primary school, but me…’ she paused. ‘Me, they didn’t really know what to do with. I’m terrible at sports—’

‘I know,’ Jack interjected. ‘I threw a ball to you once, and you ducked.’

‘I think that’s a good instinctive reaction when someone throws something at you.’

‘To you, Lucy. I threw it to you.’

‘Pfft. Anyway, I wasn’t good at sport. I did okay at school, but that doesn’t mean much when you can’t move for tripping over Ollie’s sports trophies and Heather’s certificates of achievement. And I was quite shy, which is,’ she sighed softly, ‘a cardinal sin in our family. I think maybe it would have been okay if I was just a bit more extroverted. And still now, nothing I do is ever really good enough. Goodness,’ she let out an awkward laugh, ‘poor me, so hard done by. Sorry, I know you had a much tougher time, and there are people out there who—’

‘Don’t do that,’ Jack said gruffly.

Lucy was taken aback for a moment, the rough words jolting her.

‘Don’t diminish how you feel because you think there are others worse off. It’s not a competition where only those who have had the very worst lives are allowed to feel grief or let down. You’re entitled to your feelings.’

As Jack’s words landed, Lucy felt like someone had let pressure out of a tyre. She let out a long breath. She gave herself permission to feel her feelings. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she buried her face in a pillow. Unable to speak, she concentrated on evening out her breathing. After a while, she found her voice again.

‘When you told that story, about us getting together,’ she let out a stubby laugh, ‘about how you saw me at the Christmas Fayre and talking to that man and…how I was managing it all…in the middle of it….’ Lucy’s voice wavered. ‘It sounds daft, but I really loved that. I felt like you...’ She paused, struggling for words that felt honest, emboldened by the darkness. ‘Understood something. About me. More than my family does. Minus the part about the silver sequins, of course.’

A soft chuckle emanated from the darkness, and the chaise creaked as Jack shifted his weight. It was on the tip of her alcohol-fuddled brain to invite him to share the bed. Just as friends, of course. A pillow between them, perhaps. But she pressed her lips together and swallowed down the words.

‘You might not feel your family understands you, Luce. But your friends do.’ He paused. ‘I do.’ The chaise creaked, then the room fell silent.

In a quiet voice, Jack said, ‘I see you.’

Lucy let out a shaky breath and twisted the sheet in her hands. A tear ran down her cheek.

‘Good night, Jack.’

19

Sunlight sliced between the gap where the curtains didn’t quite meet and fell across Jack’s face. He groaned under his breath and stretched, easing out the kinks and aches from a night spent on the chaise longue. Across from him, further into the shadows of the room, Lucy slept on, curled up on her side, her hand cradling her face, hair curled around her neck and shoulders.

Jack thought back to the kiss the night before. He didn’t know where it had come from, that sudden urge to kiss her like that. He couldn’t recall any gap between feeling that it was the only thing it made sense to do, and taking her face in his hands. She had opened up to him so easily; if they hadn’t been interrupted, who knows how things might have ended.

He levered himself off the chaise longue and stretched to the ceiling, feeling his muscles shake off the shape of the chaise. He slipped on a pair of trousers, pulled a T-shirt over his head and sloped off in search of coffee and food.

The smell of hot, buttery toast and fresh croissants pulled at his empty stomach as he strolled into the restaurant. It wasn’t that early, but most of the hotel guests were guests at the wedding, and many of them had been up late the night before, so the breakfast room was quiet. He saw Ollie’s best man, Dave, sitting with their friend Greg across the room at a window table. Dave looked pretty green, and Greg was pouring him more coffee and pushing toast in front of him. They glanced up, and Dave managed a tremulous smile before his eyes fell back to the table. Greg gave him a thumbs up and made an eek face about Dave. Jack grinned.

Lucy’s Aunt Paula was sitting next to an air-conditioning vent and periodically holding a glass of ice-water to her cheeks while consuming a full English. Georgia, one of Sophie’s bridesmaids, appeared to have been up bright and early and was sitting in a corner wearing a demure gingham sun dress, eating a bowl of fruit with a fork and determinedly making eye contact with no one.

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