Page 82 of You Lied First
‘Just the two of us,’ Guy sings. ‘Romance never dies.’
Margot feels his eyes on her as she shuffles some papers on her desk.
‘I know you think I did it,’ she says. ‘But I didn’t.’
‘And I know you think I did, but I didn’t. So who’s lying?’
There’s a tense silence, then Guy breaks it.
‘Well, I suppose you ought to get on with that mansion on the off-chance that we’re not in jail before the delivery date.’
After he’s left the room, Margot lets her head drop backwards, drained by the morning’s conversations. She’d imagined that Sara would encourage her to ask Guy straight out if he’d done it and she’d hyped herself up to ask him with Sara there as a safeguard should Guy turn violent. She’d pictured the two of them banding together against him, but Sara’s response that they should let things lie floored her. Sarasaidthat she doesn’t think Margot did it, but the fact that she wouldn’t agree to asking Guy if he did it indicates that she must have doubts; she must be wondering about Margot. Are the three of them going to be stuck forever in this dance of ‘who did it?’
Margot massages the taut ropes of muscle that run up each side of her neck and presses the tender spot where they joinher skull behind her ears. She can’t do this. Her brain isn’t designed for sleuthing. Maybe she should just listen to Sara. Sara’s a counsellor who spends her life telling people how to act, and Sara has said that she doesn’t think Margot should prod this viper’s nest any further.
And maybe she won’t. But knowledge is power, and what she suspects after today is that she’s married to a man who’s not just a liar and a bully but also man who more than likely murdered his lover.
65
SARA
Sitting in traffic as I make my way home from my chat with Margot, I thump the steering wheel in frustration. I don’t know what Margot was getting at. Celine was right about one thing: I should never have got involved with the Forrests. I should have stayed in my lane. If Liv and I had got an EasyJet to Munich last December instead of poncing around the Middle East with them, none of this would have happened. None of it.
My mind drifts back to that dreadful morning in the camp. By the time the sun rose, I’d had more than enough time to think about how I was going to deal with the situation. The mess I was in was a galaxy away from pushing a woman down the stairs and pretending it was an accident – and the consequences would be significantly more than a suspended sentence. Celine was dead, I’d done it, and I had a simple choice to make: cover it up or confess.
By dragging the body back into the tent that night and erasing the evidence of a scuffle from the sand in the camp, I’d already begun the process of covering up my crime without even thinking about it. What I hadn’t realised was how easy Guy was going to make it for me to continue; and how suspicion wouldn’t rest naturally on me because I’d liked her –and I genuinely had liked her. Right up to those last moments, when – I tell myself – her true colours began to show through. My precious Liv had been right; Celine was a fake friend. The woman I killed was not the saint that the media’s been portraying.
The traffic moves forward, and I finally make it past the lights and merge into the lane I need to queue in for the big roundabout. Everything around me looks so normal: the cars, the people wiping condensation from the inside of bus windows, the motorcyclists weaving around the cars. This is my world. This is where I belong. What happened in the desert feels like it happened to somebody else.
That evening in the campsite really had been idyllic. Guy was right to insist we experience the desert at night. I remember the twinkling fairy lights reflecting off the tents, and the delicious aromas wafting off the barbecue. I remember the stars emerging in the canvas of the huge, inky sky; the humming excitement of the teens; and the beat of the ’80s tunes Guy played through his Bluetooth speaker. And I wish more than anything that is where it had ended.
After I’d gone to bed, I’d fallen into a drunken sleep but woken later with a dry mouth and a pounding head. I’d tossed and turned for ages listening to the scurries, rattles and clicks of faceless insects before realising I really was going to have to brave going outside the tent to get some water. I undid the zip quietly, trying not to wake Celine, whose tent was next to mine, and crawled out, only to see that she was already up.
I padded over to her, rubbing my hands together. The air was still and very cold. A thousand stars hung in the purplesky above me and the air smelled fresher than any laundry detergent’s promise as the sky edged toward the idea of daybreak. From the big tent came the sound of someone’s open-mouthed snores.
‘What you up to?’ I whispered.
In Celine’s hand was a beer bottle and it was apparent from the way her body lolled loosely in the canvas chair that she hadn’t sobered up at all. Far from it.
‘Drowning my sorrows,’ she said with a rueful laugh. ‘Wanna join me?’
‘I need water, actually. Shall I get you one?’
‘Nah.’
As I reached across, I saw the glisten of tears on her cheeks.
‘Hey, you okay? What happened?’ I leaned on the car next to her.
‘What we were talking about earlier,’ she said as if she hadn’t heard me. ‘The things you do to protect Liv … the best thing you can do for her right now is keep her away from the Forrests. Cos I can tell you one thing: that family’s fulla shit.’
‘They’ve been perfectly nice to me. I mean, Guy arranged all of this just so Liv and I could experience the desert. I really appreciate that.’
Celine scoffed and took another swig of her beer.
‘And Liv really loves Flynn,’ I said. ‘He’s been so good for her. He’s really helped her.’ A warm glow lit my belly as I thought of how happy Liv had been lately; how settled Flynn had made her feel; how everything was finally coming together. ‘Maybe they’ll go the distance. And if they do, the Forrests’ll be my in-laws, so I need to keep them onside!’
‘You don’t get it, do you?’ Celine said. She hauled herselfunsteadily to her feet and jabbed a finger at me. ‘They’re toxic. I’m telling you. You need to get Liv away from them or she’ll end up like me. Chucked out after the fun’s over. Like a used condom. That’s all Liv is to her precious Flynn. Like I was to his fucking dad. Yeah, that’s right. He dumped me. Tonight. After all this. Arsehole.’
