Page 52 of You Lied First
She knows the answer.
She just doesn’t want to admit it.
42
SARA
Michael drops Liv at mine for the weekend. I’m sitting downstairs scouring the news when I hear the familiar rumble of his car. From the living room, I watch Liv get out: one scuffed trainer followed by the other, a swish of hair, the haul of a backpack onto her shoulder. Nancy, wearing tone-on-tone neutrals with a slash of red, clops around the back of the car, envelopes my daughter in a bear hug then whispers something in Liv’s ear that makes her smile. Then she climbs back into the front seat. Liv hugs Michael tight, which gives me a visceral memory of what it feels like to be in his arms. She picks up her bag and turns towards the house and Michael comes up the path behind her. He loiters after she steps inside.
‘So, how was the holiday?’ he asks.
I shrug. ‘Great. Liv had a good time, I think.’
‘Yeah. She said. Well done. Good call.’
‘Thanks.’ I’m fluffed up like a robin redbreast with this hard-won praise, though, in my soul, I know it’s built on a false premise. ‘Doing anything nice for the weekend?’
‘Nance and I are going away for a night. You know. Hotel, spa. She could do with a rest.’ He shrugs as if we bothunderstand the stress of Nance’s life, though I think I could probably beat her if it were a competition right now.
‘Lovely,’ I say. ‘Well, enjoy.’
‘Yeah, thanks. Anyway.’ He looks towards the house. ‘Tell Livvie I said bye.’
‘Will do.’ I close the door after him and call up the stairs to Liv. ‘Your dad says bye!’
‘Bye!’ she yells back, even though he’s gone.
‘You all right up there?’ I shout. ‘Need anything?’
‘No!’
So, I go back to my search of the online English-language Omani papers, and it’s only then that I notice a snippet of a weather report.
Heavy rains lash Oman as police
warn residents not to use wadis
Thunderstorms are set to sweep across the Sultanate of Oman from today, bringing torrential rains and high winds. Authorities warned of flash floods, hail and dust storms as well as high seas. Residents are urged to avoid wadis, stay out of the sea and take care on the roads. The stormy conditions are expected to last for three days as a low-pressure system passes over the region.
I’m never one to pay attention to weather conditions in far-off countries but, as the significance of this sinks in, it sends me off on a spiral of worry. All I can picture is how shallow the grave is; the erosive nature of high wind and heavy rain on hastily packed sand; and the hand that slipped out from underthe sheet. Is the grave deep enough? Why hadn’t Margot let Guy be the one to stay and dig?
Are we going to be undone by a storm? How often do they get weather like that in Oman, anyway? Of all the luck. Next to me, my coffee grows cold. The little bit I’ve already drunk roils in my stomach, no doubt like the Arabian Sea three thousand miles away
I’m pulled from my thoughts by my phone ringing. It’s Guy. I stare at the screen, paralysed. One of our rules of engagement is that nothing related to what happened is ever to be discussed on the phone, on social media or on WhatsApp. So it must be about something else. Still, my mouth goes dry and my heart pounds. Perhaps he’s worried about the storm, too.
I swallow before picking up and answer with the breeziest ‘Hello?’ I can squeeze out.
‘Good morning, good morning,’ Guy says smoothly. ‘How are we today? Over our jet lag?’
‘We’re good, thank you,’ I say carefully. I smile to myself, hoping that will make my voice sound like I haven’t just been obsessing over my lack of finesse as a gravedigger and whether the weather conditions in Oman are severe enough to uncover a body in a shallow grave. ‘Liv’s just arrived for the weekend. How about you?’
We chat a little about this and that. I ask if Flynn will be coming to mine this weekend, too but he’s going to a sports fixture. He plays basketball – very well, apparently. A-team.
‘Well, the reason I’m calling,’ Guy says, ‘is about the school fundraiser. Will you and Liv be going?’
‘Oh,’ I say. In all the time Liv has been at that school, I’ve never been to the fundraisers. I never really think of myselfas the sort to get dolled up to bid for things at an auction. I’d rather donate to the charities anonymously. ‘I haven’t really thought about it.’
‘I’m buying tickets and I wondered if you and Liv would like to join the three of us on a table. It’s always a jolly evening. Lots of fun, though the wine’s usually a bit of a plonk.’
