Page 57 of You Lied First
Margot makes a mental note to tell Sara but then her iPad rings. She and Guy both stare at it, then Guy says, ‘You gonna get that?’
‘Er, sure,’ she says, but she waits till Guy’s out of the room before she reconnects with her dad.
Her mind’s not on the things he tells her about – the theatre trip to see a play by the local amateur dramatics group, the keep-fit classes he’s joined and the art club he’s enjoying.
‘Margot,’ he says after she’s responded with yet another automatic ‘nice!’ ‘What’s wrong? Is everything all right with Guy? He sounded angry earlier.’
‘Oh, nothing. Just work stuff,’ she says, but her dad is peering at her through the screen, his eyes close to the camera.
‘Baby girl, you know I don’t have to live in this place, don’t you?’ he says gently. ‘It’s nice and everything, but it’s not the be-all and end-all. The main thing is your happiness.’
‘Oh, but Daddy, you love it there. You’re so happy. The pool, the gardens … your friends.’
‘They’ll still be my friends wherever I am. I’m just saying:don’t let this arrangement with Guy hold you back from … anything you might want – or need – to do. We’ll find a way.’
Margot frowns. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying I know he’s your husband, dear, and I know that you’re very loyal and you try to make the best of things. But, at some point, you have to ask yourself: at what cost, Margot. At what cost?’
46
SARA
After Margot calls me, sounding distressed, I get Liv to take the appeal straight off her socials but I don’t know how many people saw it. Did anyone screenshot it? Forward it? Repost it? In the time it was up, did someone see it and connect the dots that we were there? I don’t know how they’d know, but I’m always surprised by the strange and rather random connections that happen on social media. A couple of days pass by uneasily and I know something’s happened when Guy’s name appears on my phone. I stare at it for a moment before picking it up. I’m so jumpy I’m almost expecting the police to hammer on the door. Will they have sirens on when they come to get me? Probably not. They could be surrounding my house right now.
‘Hello?’ I say tentatively.
There’s a pause then Guy says, ‘Hello, Sara. Margot and I wondered if you fancied meeting us for a coffee?’
‘A coffee?’
‘Yes. A coffee.’ His voice gives nothing away. ‘How are you fixed today? We’re actually at that new coffee shop just down the road from you right now, and we thought we’d be spontaneous for once.Carpe Diemand all that. Are you free?’
The Forrests wouldn’t drive from Charlton Kings to myneck of the woods to visit the mediocre coffee shop at the end of my road for no reason. They just wouldn’t.
‘Okaaay,’ I say. ‘You say you’re there now?’
‘Just got here.’
‘I can be there in fifteen minutes?’
‘We’ll wait. No problem.’
They look, when I arrive, like any other middle-aged couple enjoying a Sunday coffee in a café. Guy has a newspaper in front of him; Margot’s looking at her phone. But, knowing them as I do, I can see tension in the pinch of their faces. Margot’s deteriorated since I saw her at school. She looks worn, like an old kitchen table that’s been scrubbed too many times, thin-skinned and pale, and her eyes are bloodshot and haunted. It makes me wonder what’s being said between her and Guy at home. She pulls me into a silent hug, and clings on for a few extra seconds, as if trying to communicate something. Guy gives me a distracted half hug.
‘It’s a beautiful day. Why don’t you get a take-out, and we can walk?’ he says. He’s already over by the counter. ‘What do you fancy?’
And so, cups in hand, we exit the coffee shop and head, without discussion, towards the park.
‘Couldn’t hear myself think in there,’ Guy says. ‘Much better to be outside.’
‘What happened?’ I ask.
‘Do we need a reason to spend time together?’ Guy says, indicating with his eyes that he’s not going to say anything while our phones are on so we juggle each other’s coffees while we switch them off.
‘Okay, what is it now? I’m dying,’ I say as we set off towards the long path around the perimeter of the park; the one where no one but dog-walkers go. I haven’t been on a recreational walk in months.
Guy lets out a sigh that’s half a roar of frustration. ‘It’s Tom and Di. Fucking stupid Di. I swear.’
