Page 67 of The Lie
‘A minute, then,’ Grace eventually replied. ‘Sam’s meeting me.’
Romy nodded. By tacit agreement the two women began to walk east along the road, the setting sun to their right, the ice-cream van and the remaining tourists behind them. But now Grace had agreed to talk to her, Romy did not know where to begin. It was Grace who spoke first.
‘Sam doesn’t know.’
‘OK … I understand. Listen, I really don’t want to upset you … I just wanted to say that I’m so sorry for what happened to you.’
Grace was silent. Romy could feel the tension coming in waves off the woman walking stiffly beside her.
‘Have you asked him about it?’ she said eventually, in a very small voice.
Romy hesitated. ‘Yes.’
The woman stopped and turned to her, eyes defiant, but her voice faltering. ‘I suppose he denied it?’
‘No.’ She took a long breath. ‘But he remembers it differently.’
Grace shook her head, sucking her lips between her teeth as if to stop herself crying. Romy couldn’t ignore the anguish in her eyes.
‘I believe you, Grace.’ Romy heard the words – sounding so purposeful as they spilt from her mouth – with a strange relief. Because she knew in that moment, witnessing her clear distress, that Michael – whatever expedientinterpretation he’d placed on his actions – had done what the girl said he had done.
Her grey eyes brimmed over now. ‘You do?’
She nodded.
Tears slid down her pale cheeks but she brushed them away. ‘That means a lot,’ Grace said, then turned her face away from Romy as she said the next words. ‘I was scared. He really hurt me … He …’ She didn’t go on.
‘I’m so sorry.’ It seemed an inadequate response, but Romy was too shocked by Grace’s words to find better. Spoken like that, with such a chilling lack of emphasis, they could not have been misinterpreted.
Grace shook herself as she dug out a tissue from her shorts’ pocket and blew her nose. Looking at Romy intently, she said, ‘You shouldn’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong.’
‘I did. I took Michael’s side.’ She lowered her gaze. ‘I didn’t want to believe he was capable of such a thing.’But I do now, she thought grimly.
Grace blinked rapidly. She seemed agitated, her gaze flicking to and fro. ‘Sam will be here in a minute. Please, can you go?’
Romy – selfishly, she realized – didn’t want to. She wanted to talk to Grace, to cling to this link with Finch for as long as she possibly could. But before she had time to speak, her phone rang.
‘Tried texting you,’ Darren said.
‘I’ll be right there.’
When she looked up, Grace was walking briskly back along the shore. She hadn’t said goodbye and Romy was too choked to call out. She hurried round the corner tothe car park, devastated for Grace, of course, but also furious with herself. The honesty in the girl’s face had been painful to witness.
Romy listened with half an ear to Darren drone on earnestly about scuttle panels and primers. But her mind was elsewhere.Michael is guilty. It made her feel sick. All these months and years of wanting to believe him, her passionate defence of her husband in the face of Finch’s testimony, the way she’d pointed the finger at poor Grace.There was only one liar.
48
James was already at the table when she went in, a breadstick in one hand – which he was chewing absentmindedly – his sleek, big-screen iPhone in the other. The exclusive Italian restaurant on Aldwych was one he and Michael frequented. She had been there herself, in happier times, to meet her husband for lunch.
‘Romy, my dear.’ James threw breadstick and phone onto the starched white tablecloth and rose to give her his usual tentative cheek brush in greeting – he was not a man comfortable with hugs. ‘This is a rare pleasure.’
Not when I tell you why I asked you to come, she thought, but smiled at him nonetheless as she returned his kiss and sat down, the maître d’ pushing her chair in for her and shaking out her starched napkin, then laying it across her lap with a flourish.
‘So how’s the old rascal, then?’ James asked cheerily, but he was clearly awkward with her. Not least because he had told Michael now that he was looking to take on a permanent replacement.
He probably thinks I’m here to plead Michael’s cause, Romy thought wryly. ‘I’m back home in Sussex now,’ she said. ‘But I hear he’s doing well. Small improvements.’
James nodded, clicking his fingers to get the waiter’s attention. ‘They have a very serviceable Verdicchio here. You happy with white?’
