Page 48 of You Lied First
Guy looks over to her villa. ‘I gave her a shout but she’s probably had more than enough of us by now!’ He gives a little shrug. ‘She’ll come if she wants. Dig in.’
They pack after dinner, then the adults clean out the villa, empty the bins, and finish everything up ready for their departure. By the time that’s all done, Margot’s so physically tired she thinks she might never wake up again, but then she remembers Celine’s phone. Will the person who finds it just take out Celine’s SIM and put in a new one? Will they wipe it and sell it? Celine won’t be reported missing for a day or two. There aren’t yet any dots to be connected to a crime. Could it be that simple?
The alarm’s set to go off in the middle of the night, and she dozes fitfully, her mind going down a rabbit hole of what will happen if this is ever traced back to them. Aside from the legal ramifications and the terrifying possibility of extradition and jail, if it comes out that the Forrests have anything at all to do with a woman going missing – let alone a dead one – the media will destroy Margot’s Mansions. It’s a business built on trust and word of mouth; built on the wholesome image she projects on social media, and the media loves it when people like her fall from grace.
Next to her, Guy lets out an enormous snore and then a fart rumbles out of him. Margot sighs and rolls over to face the other way as another even more devastating thought hits her. What they’ve just done binds her to Guy forever. If she ever entertains the idea of leaving him, he’ll hold it over her, she knows he will. Perhaps that’s why he was so keen to cover it up and run. It’s one more tool he can use to control her.
38
SARA
It’s 2 a.m. when we rouse ourselves to go to the airport, eyes screwed up against the electric lights. We move largely in silence, each of us lost in our thoughts and anxieties as we close up our bags. We pre-booked two cabs before we went to bed and they arrive early, waiting outside, engines running, as we do a last sweep of the rooms, checking we’ve left nothing behind.
Nothing at all. Not a hair. Not a nail clipping. Nothing that could be traced back to Celine’s presence in the house. I’d even disinfected every surface and mopped every floor. The Forrests go in one cab, and Liv comes with me. We agree we’ll go through check-in, passport control and security separately ‘just in case’ – ‘just in case’ what, no one wants to say. We’ll meet again once we’re airside. Liv and I ride in silence, each of us looking out of our respective windows at the passing landmarks. As we draw closer to the airport and see the tail fins of the airplanes on the ground, I realise that my mouth is dry. I’m scared: scared that they’ll look at my passport and call us into a private room with no windows. Scared that we’ll get a tap on the shoulder from a uniformed official. Scared that they’ll whip out handcuffs at the boarding gate and put them on us right there and then.
I’m scared, yet I know my fear is illogical. Celine hasn’t been reported missing. No one could have reported us. I place my hand on Liv’s.
‘Had a good holiday?’ I ask.
‘The best,’ she says. Her face is grey in the half light. ‘I wish we weren’t leaving early. We could have stayed. You’re always going on about value for money, but leaving early isn’t.’
‘I know, I know. It’s just that the Forrests had already changed their tickets and I thought you’d like to travel back with Flynn. Shall we try to get into a lounge when we’re through? Would you like that?’
‘Whatev.’
Liv closes her eyes and turns away with a small exhale, the poor, hard-done-by teen. I squeeze her hand, and the returning squeeze is so faint I may have imagined it. Then we’re there. The taxi driver opens the boot and pulls out our bags, and we join the bustle and clusters of people heading into the terminal. Ahead of us, I spot the Forrests already at a check-in counter. Liv and I wait patiently in the queue.
‘Here for a holiday?’ the woman at the check-in asks with a bright lipstick smile as she opens my passport. ‘Did you enjoy it?’
‘It was lovely, thanks,’ I mumble with a faint smile. She stares at my passport long enough to make me squirm, then repeats the process with Liv’s, looking at her and then down again at the passport photo.
‘Olivia,’ she says. ‘Lovely name.’
My smile is tight and then she’s printing out baggage tags and dispatching our bags and I’m clutching the boarding passes and the baggage receipt like they’re hard-won treasureas we turn away from the desk. There isn’t much of a queue at passport control, maybe four people ahead of us, and we stand in silence while we wait our turn.
‘Morning!’ I say with a smile as I hand over the passports. The official smiles back absently, her mind on her task, while my heart thumps like a bass drum. Why is it you look shifty when you try too hard to look innocent? The wait for the computer to process our passports seems interminable. But then it’s done and she’s holding out our passports without calling the police. Of course she is.
‘Have a good flight,’ the official says, and my knees almost buckle with relief. Security is quick and easy and then we’re airside.
‘Give me a high five!’
Liv smacks my hand lamely, not understanding my relief.
As significant journeys go, our flight’s distinctly unremarkable, which is exactly what we need. When we reach Dubai, Guy doesn’t want any trace of us checking into a lounge together, so we eat whatever breakfast we can force down at a restaurant close to the departure gate, and pay in cash. The Birmingham flight’s on time. The ground staff wave us through, and the cabin crew welcome us on board with painted-red smiles. Despite our late booking, the five of us sit in one row: Flynn, Liv and me on one side of the aisle and the Forrests on the other. I distract myself with movies and, before I know it, lunch is served and then we’re landing in Birmingham. The sky outside is bleak, raindrops streaking across the window, and the sight fills my heart with joy. Despite my little fantasy about moving abroad, when the chips are down, this is home.We’ve made it. We’re safe. As the plane taxies towards the stand, I look across the aisle at Guy and gurn a relieved face. He widens his eyes in agreement, then the intercom crackles and the captain speaks.
‘Good morning once again from the flight deck. Just an update on landing. I’ve been informed that there’s going to be a police check at the aircraft door so we’ll be disembarking from the front exit only. Please have your passports ready to present as you disembark the aircraft. Thank you.’
39
MARGOT
Margot stares straight ahead at the seat in front of her, wondering whether it’s an option to hide in the bathroom. Claim she’s got food poisoning and not leave the toilet till the police are gone. She’s shaking – not just her hands, but everything. This is it, she thinks: game over. She wonders if it would be better if they just confess and get it over with. Would the police be more lenient on them? She feels Guy squeeze her hand, and she knows it’s meant to be reassuring but all she can think is: this is how it ends. The feeling of inevitability she has is acute: how did they think they could get away with leaving a dead body buried in the desert? The idea is incomprehensible now.
Around Margot, people are standing up, stretching, rummaging for passports, opening baggage racks and pulling down their bags.
‘Ready?’ Guy pats her knee. ‘Come on, Mar. Time to go.’
He sounds calm, but Margot can see from the tic in his jaw that he’s as tense as she is. He stands, stretches extravagantly – which is another ‘tell’ to Margot – opens the overhead bin and heaves down their bags. Margot sees Sara, looking perfectly relaxed, doing the same with hers and Liv’s. When Margotnotices that she’s the only one still seated, she realises she has no choice but to move. She stands up slowly and puts her hand on her belly, half thinking she might actually make a dash to the toilet, claiming diarrhoea. Then she realises that they need to stay together and gathers her things then waits in the aisle for the queue to move forward.
