Page 5 of You Lied First
MARGOT
Sara didn’t use the extractor fan when she boiled the pasta, so it’s stuffy in the kitchen and sweat pools in Margot’s lower back as she rinses the plates before loading them into the dishwasher. She thinks about the dinner Sara ‘cooked’. How difficult is it to chuck some pasta and a jar of sauce in a pan? The cleaning-up is far more work. As she stacks plates, Margot is surprised, then affronted that Sara doesn’t come to help.
When Margot returns to the garden, she sees that the teens have wandered back down to the pool and are sitting with their feet dangling in the water. Sara and Guy are still in their seats, and Sara is laughing at something Guy’s said.
‘Mar, be a love and bring another bottle,’ Guy calls, so Margot goes back in and pulls out the third bottle of the four they picked up at duty-free. She plonks the wine next to Guy, then starts to fan herself with her napkin.
‘There’s only one bottle left. When we run out, you’ll have to ask Tom for more because we don’t have a licence,’ she says, aware that she sounds snippy.
‘I know, I know. I’ll sort it.’
‘I bought two as well,’ Sara says.
Margot’s seen Sara’s choices; the words battery and acidcome to mind. At the very least, they lack taste – a bit like the string lights from the pound shop that Sara’s littered all over the table.
‘That should see us through tonight then!’ Guy laughs as he tops up the glasses.
Margot sits back and lets the sounds and smells of Muscat wash over her. She’s missed the place dreadfully since they left and now, as the velvety night air strokes her skin like a needy lover, she has a satisfying sense of coming home. She breathes in deeply the scent of jasmine and frangipani that wafts in the evening air. She even loves the distant hum of traffic, which blends with the comforting sound of crickets and the occasional splosh as the kids mess around by the pool. To her, these are the sounds of home; of where she should be. Maybe Guy was right after all about staying in the villa rather than the frigid environs of a hotel. They had been so happy here.
She and Guy had met as expats in Oman, and it had always been their plan to stay long term. They were saving to buy their ‘forever for now’ house on the coast, but life, of course, has a way of disrupting the best-laid plans. Guy had been sacked, which led to the family losing their residence visas. The increasing frailty of Margot’s elderly father was the smokescreen they used to brush Guy’s misdemeanour under the carpet. But the suddenness with which they’d had to rip up their lives still bites.
‘So, I hear you have a YouTube channel,’ Guy says to Sara. ‘How did that come about?’
Sara breathes in deeply through her nose and lets the air out slowly. Margot waits. She knows the answer because she’s done her research, but she wants to see how Sara frames it.
‘Well, I run a little agony aunt website where people can get advice for free – it’s kind of my way of giving back, if you know what I mean. Anyway, then I thought that if I gave my answers in video form, I might reach a younger audience,’ Sara says. ‘Because, you know, teens like Liv and Flynn, they don’t really read websites, do they? It’s all videos these days, but they might not know where to turn when they need serious advice. So, I started a YouTube channel to see what happened. People email me with their problems and I make little videos giving advice. I get more traction there than I do on the site these days. The Gen Zs have apparently got a bit of a thing going on with my tagline:What would Sara say?’
Guy leans forwards, steepling his hands like a student interested in a lecture. ‘That’s amazing. Well done, you! So, is that the age group you aim at?’
‘I don’t really aim for any age group but that’s the way it’s grown organically. And now …? Well, it seems to be working,’ Sara shrugs, a smug little smile tugging at her lips.
‘Don’t you need qualifications to do that?’ Margot asks. ‘I mean, can anyone just tell people what to do?’
‘I’m a trained counsellor,’ Sara says. ‘That’s actually my day job. And I only reply to questions where I feel I can add something. If it’s out of my reach – which some problems to do with gender identity can be – I refer on to other, more suitable, sources of advice. Specialists and so on.’
‘It all sounds very noble.’ Margot leans back in her chair.
‘Anyway, I’m super impressed with your website,’ Guy says. ‘I’m going to use that phrase:What would Sara say?It has a ring to it. Shall we open another bottle of wine?What would Sara say?’ he laughs and pats her hand. ‘Love it!’
And then, as if the evening hasn’t been testing enough, Margot hears a sound she assumed she’d never hear again in her life; a sound that is surely set to ruin the delicate balance of this holiday.
‘Yoo-hoo!’ calls a voice from the pool area. ‘Guy Forrest! Don’t tell me it’s you hiding in this villa! I just saw Flynn by the pool! What the hell are you guys doing here?’
Oh, Jesus, Margot thinks as her stomach plummets: now I see exactly why he booked this villa.
5
SARA
The woman yoo-hooing at the edge of the garden is wearing a knee-length swing dress and espadrille wedges that show off her long and lean legs. Her brown hair is tied back in a shiny ponytail that swishes left and right as she walks towards them. Guy’s eyes flick to Margot’s for a fraction of a second then he shoves his chair back and meets the woman with his arms wide open.
‘Celine Cremorne! Good God! Look what the cat dragged in,’ he says, looking her up and down as if she’s an apparition. He gives her a big hug and a showy kiss on each cheek as he holds her shoulders. ‘Who on earth would have thought you of all creatures would still be here?’
He leads her back to the table. ‘Celine, this is our friend Sara – the mother of Flynn’s girlfriend. Sara, our old friend Celine. And, of course, you remember Margot.’
‘Flynn has a girlfriend? Get out of here! He’s old enough for that?’ Celine says, laughing.
‘Celine!’ Margot smiles limply. ‘What a surprise!’
