Page 28 of A Game of Lies

‘Apparently he’d rather be doing Aliyah,’ she says bitterly to herself, before draining her glass of wine and going to the kitchen for a refill. She slides a ready meal into the microwave and jabs angrily at the controls. Earlier this evening, she’d watched Jason tell AliyahI won’t drop you, darlin’, then blatantly stare down Aliyah’s vest top as the woman bounced (and boy, did she bounce – those things must be made of rubber) down the side of a rocky outcrop.

Kat has never seen her husband flirt. If she had, she might have found the first three episodes ofExposureeasier to take. She and Jason have a good marriage, and Kat keeps herself in shape. If Jason flirted with her mates when they were out for drinks, it wouldn’t bother her. She’s secure in their relationship.

But she has never seen this side of Jason. The sideways glances when Aliyah takes off her fleece; the appreciative nod when her T-shirt rides up to reveal taut, toned flesh. The mere fact that wherever Aliyah is, Jason will always, always be there too. It’s like watching a stranger, and if he’s capable of flirting like this, what else is he capable of? What else is he hiding?

Kat, Belle and Aimee-Leigh had watched the first episode together, tucked up on the sofa with hot chocolate and a bowl of popcorn. Kat had had T-shirts printed –Jase’s Girls– and they’d taken selfies for Instagram.You can do it, Daddy!she wrote in the caption, and her phone had flooded with hearts. Kat didn’t have a huge reach, but she used the #ExposureTVShow hashtag and her follower count exploded.

She was putting a fistful of popcorn in her mouth when Roxy Wilde made the big announcement on the first episode ofExposure. Kat had frozen, too stunned to chew. You fuckingwhat?

‘That lady’s so pretty,’ six-year-old Belle said.

‘It’s wrong to have secrets.’ Aimee-Leigh, eight years old and bright as a button, had turned to Kat. ‘Why does Dad have a secret?’

It’s a bloody good question. Kat and Jason have been married for ten years, together for twelve. They’re not supposed to have secrets. Kat has spent the past two days tearing the house apart, looking for something – anything – that will shed some light on what her husband has been up to.

Although, looking at him perving over Aliyah now, Kat’s got a bloody good idea.

The pair of them have always known each other’s passwords, so Kat has been through all Jason’s bank statements and his phone records but found nothing untoward. Should she speak to the other firefighters to see what they know?

‘You must be so worried,’ Kat’s mum had said when she called – the second the credits rolled on episode one.

‘Not a bit,’ Kat had lied. ‘Jason and I don’t keep secrets from each other.’

Last night, Kat had seethed at the telly as Jason relaxed in the hot tub with the accountant, Henry. Aliyah had just left and Jason was talking about her.

‘She’s so fit.’ He’d closed his eyes and rested his head back, a smile on his face. ‘Perfect tits, gorgeous arse. The full package.’

Kat had felt she should be chucking the remote at the telly or running upstairs to slash Jason’s favourite shirts. But she couldn’t move. She’d sat numbly in the centre of the leather sofa, tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. All through today, her phone has pinged with notification after notification: friends checking if she’s okay, frenemies revelling in her public humiliation.

‘The sex,’ Jason told Henry last night, ‘is phenomenal.’ The camera had cut away to Aliyah stepping out of the shower, a towel wrapped around her perfect figure. Kat’s heart had splintered.He’s slept with her.

She knows she shouldn’t have turned on the telly again tonight – that watching it is the worst form of self-harm – but she can’t tear herself away from the car crash that is her marriage. Jason and Henry are back in the hot tub today – mercifully without Aliyah – and Kat turns up the volume, keeping one eye on the lounge door.

‘I’m thinking of ’fessing up. Ripping the plaster off, you know?’ As Jason talks, the image on screen is replaced by an earlier shot of Aliyah and Jason laughing in camp. No prizes for guessing what Jason’s thinking of ’fessing up to, Kat thinks bitterly. She wonders how he’ll do it. Whether he’ll call her when he leaves camp or wait till he gets home.

‘What would you use the prize money for?’ Henry’s saying to Jason.

‘Whatever makes her happy.’ Jason smiles, and Kat squeezes her eyes shut as the camera follows his gaze to where Aliyah’s sitting in camp, her hands cupped around a coffee. ‘I’d definitely book a holiday somewhere,’ he says. ‘Sun, sea and …’ He finishes his sentence with a wink, and Kat’s eyes fill with hot tears. She and Jason have never been abroad together and their honeymoon was two nights in her mum’s caravan. He’s known this girl all of five minutes and he’s ready to hand over his prize money to her.

By the time the men leave the hot tub – all back slaps and winks, and that stupid gun thing men do with their fingers to sayI got you, bro– Kat’s had enough. She’s about to switch off, vowing she won’t put herself through this tomorrow, when the footage cuts to later in the day. Henry’s now dressed and on his way to the confession pod. Despite Kat’s angst, she’s gripped. Is he going to confess his secret? The microwave beeps insistently from the kitchen, but Kat doesn’t move.

In the confession pod, Henry is looking into the camera. ‘I’ve agonised over whether to say what I’m about to say.’ He rubs his head, messing up his still-damp hair. ‘I’m not good with words – I’m a numbers guy – and if I’m honest, I’m not good with relationships.’

Kat leans forward. Has Henry been cheating too? Has everyone? Maybe the producer has brought these contestants together to expose their infidelity. There is some small comfort, Kat thinks, in not being the only partner going through this.

But Henry is talking about Jason. ‘He’s a cool guy, and I feel bad doing this, but that’s the game, right? Survival of the fittest. So here goes … I expose Jason.’

Immediately, the show cuts to an ad break. Kat lets out a cry of frustration. She drops to the carpet and drags herself to the telly; stays crouched before it while the adverts play and her phone pings with messages she daren’t look at.

WhenExposurestarts again, the contestants are gathered in camp for the live segment that rounds off every episode. The meat of Henry’s accusation has been dangled out of reach, and now Roxy is striding into camp with her perfect hair and glossy lips, and Kat wants to die.Just tell me, she thinks.Rip off the plaster.‘What have you done?’ She directs the question at her on-screen husband, who – by the relaxed look on his face – has no idea he’s up for exposure. Or perhaps he doesn’t care. Maybe he put Henry up to it; maybe this is Jason’s way of ripping off that bloody plaster.Hey, Kat, hey, kids – I’m leaving you for a woman I just met!

Roxy addresses the camera. ‘Earlier today, Henry made a bid to expose Jason. Let’s see if he was right.’ There’s a flash of images: Jason’s betrayed expression; Henry’s discomfort; the shock on the others’ faces. ‘Remember,’ Roxy says, ‘if Henry’s wrong, he’ll face the confession pod himself.’ She turns to Henry. ‘Tell everyone what your phobia is.’

Henry blinks rapidly. ‘Um … water.’

The screen cuts to an empty confession pod, water rushing in through a pipe in the wall, filling the narrow, windowless booth. Up and up the level rises, till Kat feels her chest tighten in vicarious panic.

Roxy hands Henry a key and gestures to the box of secrets, padlocked to a wooden pillar by the fire pit. ‘The moment of truth. Open the box and give me Jason’s secret.’

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