Page 79 of Lie For Me

Lucy felt her eyes prick with tears. She stood up abruptly, pulled her shoulders back and struggled to control the tremor in her voice, as she said,

‘Fine. Consider this me showing you the door.’

She turned before Jack could see the look on her face.

As she made her way across the marquee, striving to keep her face composed, she passed Suzy. With freshly applied lipstick, she looked elegant and relaxed, chestnut hair sleek, as she headed into the fray.

25

Lucy moved shakily through the throng. Her mother was waving, beckoning her over to speak to Aunt Paula, but she ploughed on. Weaving through the dancing guests, sweating in suits as they danced to Beyonce, she grabbed a bottle of champagne from an ice bucket as she went. She felt claustrophobic, hemmed in by people and heat and noise. Picking up speed as she passed the huge white and gold sign that said, Welcome to the wedding of Sophie and Oliver, she stumbled back out into the darkness.

A quartet of smokers huddled together outside the marquee, united by their relegation outside. They glanced over, but Lucy veered in the other direction, around the building and towards the gardens where, a few short hours earlier, they had all gathered and posed for photos.

The night air smelt of trampled grass and warm earth, and Lucy moved across the lawns further into the gardens, where it was darker. The fountain the bride and groom had posed in front of was still running, and Lucy stumbled towards it. She kicked off her shoes as she got close, and the feel of the soft, cool grass underfoot soothed her. She clambered onto the low, stone wall around the fountain and swung her legs over, dropping her feet into the water. It was freezing, and she shivered but left her feet dangling there, the cold water calming her. Goosebumps broke out on her arms as a cool, fine spray from the water gently misted over her.

She peeled the foil off the champagne and eased the cork out of the bottle. It shot into the fountain pool and bobbed about maniacally. Lucy took a long swig from the bottle and let out a shaky breath. The sharp, fruity tang of the champagne filled her mouth as she forced it down past a lump in her throat. She and Jack had never fought before. They bickered and bantered all the time, but they’d never had a fight more serious than arguing over who should get the last doughnut.

It was quiet in the gardens, and the tumult of the reception seemed far away, just the occasional peel of music rolling down the garden. Lucy sniveled, swigged some more champagne and wiggled her toes in the water.

Someone behind her swore, and Lucy turned to see who was interrupting her ice foot bath. It was Heather, who had tripped over Lucy’s discarded shoes. Lucy was in no mood for her sister, and spun herself back to the fountain, kicking her feet, splashing water up her legs.

‘Lucy? What are you doing out here?’ Heather sounded terse.

Lucy turned. Heather was clutching her handbag as if Lucy was a highwayman who might steal it from her. She shrugged and pulled a face.

‘What does it look like? Midnight dip.’

‘Where’s Jack?’

‘Don’t care,’ Lucy retorted. ‘Where’s Mark?’

‘Not the foggiest.’

There was a pause, then they burst out laughing for a moment. It was the first laughter they had shared since they had started speaking again.

‘What are you doing down here?’ Lucy grumbled.

Heather looked furtive, glanced around and then took something out of her handbag.

‘Cigarettes?’ Lucy exclaimed. ‘I didn’t know you smoked.’

Finding out that her sister smoked and was hiding it from everyone, and was therefore fractionally less perfect than she tried to pretend, was like the Holy Grail to Lucy. Heather was human, after all.

‘Shhh! Officially, I don’t,’ Heather said, looking sheepish. She perched on the fountain beside Lucy, her back to the water. ‘But sometimes….’ She shook her head. ‘I just feel like I need one, to get through.’

‘Through what?’

Heather didn’t reply and lit her cigarette, the flash of the lighter illuminating her face in yellow, and took a long draw.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, the words so quiet they almost faded into the night.

Lucy wasn’t sure she’d heard right.

‘I’m sorry,’ Heather said, a little more clearly. ‘About last night. I don’t mean to get at you.’

Lucy wasn’t entirely sure about that, but an apology from Heather was as rare as hen’s teeth and therefore just as valuable.

‘I’m sorry too,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean what I said. About you not being happy in your life.’ She felt her throat tighten. ‘I just wish you could see I am happy in mine. Even if you don’t understand how.’

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