Page 63 of Lie For Me

‘I’m coming out,’ she called as she turned the handle. ‘You’d better be decent.’

Jack was lounging on the bed as she opened the door, one ankle looped casually over the other, reading a copy of Hello! Magazine. He had kicked his shoes off, and they were lying half under the bed.

Lucy wrinkled her nose.

‘Why are you reading that?’

‘What? Don’t tell me you don’t keep up with the lives of,’ Jack consulted the magazine, ‘Lady Tittingbourne and Mrs Bunce?’

Lucy snorted. ‘You made those names up.’

Jack held up three fingers. ‘Scouts honour, that’s what it says here.’

Lucy sat down at the dressing table and began untangling her wet hair, teasing it apart with her fingers. She caught Jack watching her in the mirror, but he snapped back to his magazine when she met his gaze.

‘How was Ollie when you left?’ she asked as she brushed her hair.

‘Oh, he went off to get ready.’ Jack licked his finger and flipped a page. ‘And Dave seemed to have gone too, but not before your mother had a word with him.’

Lucy wrapped her hair back up in a towel.

‘I heard her tell Ollie that he should,’ he made air quotes with his fingers, ‘consider the kind of company he keeps as friends.’

Lucy gave a wry smile. ‘I bet she did. Poor Ollie.’

‘Oh, he seemed pretty impervious to it all really,’ Jack said.

‘Yes,’ Lucy replied, thoughtfully, dabbing cream under her eyes. ‘We used to call him Teflon; nothing sticks to him. He doesn’t really get wound up about anything, and mother never stays cross with him.’

Jack tossed the magazine onto a chair.

‘Well, I’d better get showered. Your mother told me she knows she doesn’t need to nag me, like she has to tell Ollie and Dave.’ Lucy pivoted to face him. ‘Because I will no doubt be dressed smartly enough to make the ladies swoon. Which I assume is her way of saying I’d better not let the side down. Or else….’

‘Oh my goodness,’ Lucy said, clasping her hands to her face, ‘that’s exactly what she meant!’ She cackled. ‘You already speak Valerie. You’re a marvel!’

Jack laughed. ‘Yes, she made herself clear that it was time we all went and got ready by having the waitress clear the table.’

Lucy burst out laughing.

‘Sounds about right. My mother runs a tight ship, and we are aaalll under her command.’

Jack stood and stretched, his T-shirt riding up to reveal taut stomach muscles. Lucy dragged her eyes away and forced herself to concentrate on vigorously rubbing moisturiser into her face. When he clicked the bathroom door shut behind him a moment later, she let out a deep breath and slumped in her seat. What was happening to her?

While Jack was in the bathroom—singing Kenny Rogers’ The Gambler in a surprisingly tuneful baritone—she hurried to finish her makeup and get dressed. She didn’t want to be caught hopping around in her underwear when he came back out. She tipped the contents of her make-up bag across the dresser.

She rarely wore much makeup, so occasions like weddings stretched her limited skills to the limit. After a few minutes, she sat back to survey the results of her attempts at a smokey eye; not bad, she thought. She dried her hair and twisted it into a loose, low bun, soft strands falling free to frame her face. With Jack now crooning out, Hit the Road Jack, she dug her best underwear out of her bag and wriggled into it.

Her dress hung in the wardrobe, zipped inside a dress carrier she had borrowed from Cassie. The one item of clothing she had brought with her that didn’t now need ironing. She slipped the bottle-green satin from the hanger and undid the zip, stepping carefully into the pool of fabric and pulling the plaited straps over her slender shoulders. The fabric settled over her hips and fell to just above her ankles. The dark green of the dress highlighted her creamy pale skin, the smattering of golden freckles, and her honey-coloured hair. Cut low at the back, the dress fastened with a small clasp and zip. Lucy reached around behind her but couldn’t get hold of the two tiny parts of the hook and eye. She was starting to sweat with the effort of contorting herself when the bathroom door swung open, and Jack walked back in amidst a cloud of steam.

He stopped in the doorway, his hand on the door handle. A towel was slung low around his hips, and the dark hairs on his chest were slick with moisture.

‘Wow,’ he said, in a low voice, running a hand through his wet hair. ‘You look…’ he trailed off.

Lucy was still holding the dress together behind her, and felt herself blush.

‘Um, could you please help me do this up at the back?’ she said.

She was working hard to keep her eyes on his face.

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