The Worst Lie

by Shauna Bickley

  Having received Helen’s tacit approval for Renelle’s inclusion, Madelaine chatted away about making the film with Spike until they reached the point where Gareth needed the directions to Renelle’s. Madelaine pulled a piece of notepaper out of her handbag and read the instructions as Gareth drove along a series of residential streets until they found Oldbury Crescent.

  Renelle must also have been watching out for them as she appeared at the front door of a three-storey end of terrace house while Gareth reversed into a parking space. Judging from the vertical line of buttons and plastic nameplates, Helen guessed the Victorian house had been turned into flats like most of the others in the area.

  Madelaine and Gareth got out of the car to greet Renelle, and Helen joined them. She and Renelle shared a brief hug and an air kiss. Helen’s reserve due simply to her natural reticence with people she barely knew. Renelle’s long dark hair was pulled up into a casual knot, and she wore a white top which emphasised her olive complexion. Her green eyes were accentuated by the fullest eyelashes that Helen had ever seen. Was this a trick that Renelle learned through working in the make-up profession or had she been born lucky?

  ‘I know there’s lot to catch up on,’ said Gareth, glancing at his watch, ‘but let’s chat as we drive or we’ll never get there.’ He opened the car boot and Renelle stowed her bag next to the others before getting into the back of the car next to Helen.

  ‘What are you working on at the moment?’ Helen asked Renelle once she’d directed Gareth back to the main road. ‘I think it was a theatre production when we met before.’

  ‘Taming of the Shrew perhaps, or Othello. I did those back to back. They were the first I managed after the commercials, although I shouldn’t complain as commercials don’t pay too badly. Better than some of the small theatre productions. Anyway, my current job is on a small independent film, Death of a Zombie.’ She managed a smile as she said the title. ‘It’ll never get an Oscar nomination but it’s fun and the make-up work is quite intensive as you can imagine. The budget’s small, hence why I got the job and not someone with more experience, but it’s all good for my work profile.’

  ‘If I only listen to the honest gossip,’ said Madelaine, ‘then I think we all begin in much the same way. It’s only those with famous parents who get to start in major films.’ She turned around for a moment. ‘For me, at least the commercials never took much more effort than simply learning the lines. I’m sure we’ll both make it big.’

  ‘And get to make a speech when we accept some fancy award.’ Renelle pulled a face to show she was joking.

  Madelaine reached across from the front seat and tapped her knee. ‘We will. You just need to believe.’

  ‘And keep on working.’

  They talked for a while before falling mostly silent and gazed at the passing countryside.

  ‘Is everyone coming?’ asked Renelle as they saw the sign for Little Stillford.

  ‘Yes, we’re all booked in at the same place.’

  The building appeared less like a hotel and more like a weathered and much-loved family home, although more on the scale of a country manor house. It had a sturdy, no-nonsense rectangular outline softened by the mellow, cream stone walls, roses trailing over a trellis arbour and sweet peas wafting scent on the light breeze.

  Mitch and Eden’s vehicle was the only one in the car park and they appeared from the building as Gareth parked. Madelaine got out of the car, squealing with delight as she and Eden hugged.

  ‘It’s so good to see you again, it’s been ages.’

  Renelle opened the back passenger door and climbed out. Helen noted the expression that flickered across Eden’s face. Shock, perhaps annoyance, she wasn’t sure. However, Eden settled on a smile and gave Renelle a brief hug.

  ‘This weekend is such a wonderful idea. It’s been way too long since we spent time together. Catch up dinners are fine but never long enough to cover all the news.’

  They were pulling bags out of the car boot when a motorcycle roared up.

  ‘Laurence, when did you earn enough for a Harley?’ Mitch was the first to recognise the leather-clad figure.

  There was another round of hugs and quick snatches of catch-up conversation before Eden took the girls into the hotel, leaving the guys to look over Laurence’s bike.

  The building’s wide front door opened into a sizeable entrance hall with a sweeping staircase to the left. Upright armchairs stood either side of an empty fireplace and three softer, more comfortable chairs surrounded a polished wood coffee table. The window seats were furnished with cushions in a bright, floral pattern. On the back wall, a waist-height table held a phone and notepad at one end and a plastic display rack of flyers about local attractions at the other end. The hotel apparently functioned on an informal basis as there was no reception area.

  Eden picked up the phone on the table and spoke to someone. A few minutes later a plump, curly-haired woman brought the keys for their rooms. No modern swipe cards here. The woman handed Helen a chunky keyring with two keys attached: a large, heavy, old-fashioned deadlock and a smaller key for a Yale lock, apparently they locked the front door at nine.

  Upstairs, the door to her room was ajar. She pushed it fully open and walked into a light, airy room, curtains fluttering in the breeze. The view was of the hotel car park, fortunately small, and the surrounding flower borders and lawns, leading to a wood. The furniture in the room was old rather than antique. A sturdy wardrobe and a set of drawers that didn’t quite match and a slightly more modern bedside table. To her relief the bed was of a more recent era and felt comfortable when she sat on it. The bathroom had been renovated and contained a bath as well as a shower cubicle. Helen unpacked her toiletries and then hung up the few clothes she’d brought for the weekend.

  A vehicle screeched around the bend and into the hotel car park and she reached the window as Spike climbed out of the car. Eden hurried across the car park as if she’d been watching for him. Mitch straggled along behind. Helen zipped up her now empty bag and went to join them. As she closed her door, Renelle came out of her room and they walked downstairs together. Spike gave Helen a welcome hug and air kissed Renelle. Until this moment, Helen hadn’t been consciously aware of any tension, but now she felt something akin to a collective sigh of relief. Perhaps they could all have a lovely weekend.

  ‘Come on,’ said Eden. ‘No point in hanging around here.’

  She unlocked Spike’s door at the hotel and he chucked his bag inside before pocketing the key.

  ‘Drinks at the pub?’ said Spike. ‘First round is on me as I’m the last to arrive.’

  ‘I thought you were already here,’ said Gareth. ‘What with the film and all that.’

  ‘I needed to catch up with a few people in London.’

  A pale blue sky and watery sun hung above them as they wandered across the car park and towards a grove of trees. The light flecked the grass through fluttering leaves as they walked.

  Helen stopped with a gasp as they came out of the trees into a clearing and she saw the stone circles for the first time. The stones of the outer ring were around eight feet high, although several were missing. The inner circle was mostly intact. Unlike Stonehenge, the grey sarsen stones were accessible to visitors.

  Madelaine pointed to a fallen stone that lay with several small rocks raising it at one end. ‘This is where we filmed one of the major scenes. It was so amazing.’

  Helen wasn’t sure whether Madelaine meant the filming or the circles. Eden asked about the scene and before Spike could say anything Madelaine started talking.

  ‘This place is so magical, especially early in the morning. We got here about five and there was mist snaking around the stones. It was creepy and beautiful.’

  Spike nodded and smiled at Madelaine’s obvious excitement. ‘It was the absolute best. I couldn’t have wished for a better morning.’

  ‘I lay on the stone like this.’ Madelaine positioned herself in the middle of the almost horizontal l
arge slab and crossed her arms over her chest.

  ‘Makes you look dead,’ said Laurence.

  ‘Because I am, in the film. I wore a fabulous white dress and it took ages to make my hair spread out just right.’ Madelaine sat up. ‘I was frozen by the time we finished but the scene was amazing. We think we might use one of the shots from that for the promotional poster.’

  ‘This film is going to be a winner,’ said Spike.

  ‘You sound pretty confident.’

  ‘That’s what I was doing in London. I’ve shown my contacts some of our early edits and they’re excited about the film.’

  ‘That’s brilliant news,’ said Gareth.

  ‘We’re hoping to show it at one of the film festivals, that way we can probably get wider distribution.’

  The film talk carried on until Laurence asked the age of the stone circles.

  ‘Similar to Stonehenge,’ said Eden. ‘That was built from 3000 to 2000 BC.’

  ‘Give or take a year.’ Mitch grinned, as Eden gave him a mock yeah, very funny look.

  ‘I’m not sure of the original purpose of these circles. Stonehenge was built within existing burial mounds.’

  ‘You know a lot about this,’ said Gareth.

  ‘Only because I once did a school project on Stonehenge and a few bits stuck in my mind.’ Eden pointed to two larger gaps between stones. ‘I think they’re entranceways.’

  ‘But it’s not a building,’ said Mitch. He gestured above them. ‘No roof.’

  ‘Not that kind of entranceway.’ There was a frosty manner to Eden’s reply, and she gave him a disapproving stare, eyes narrowing. Mitch didn’t notice, or he was so used to the look that it didn’t bother him.

  When Eden continued, her tone was a little more conciliatory. ‘I’m not sure if that’s where everyone entered the circle, but if they are the entranceways, they’ll be aligned to the sunset of the winter solstice and the sunrise of the summer solstice.’

  ‘When people would dance naked around them,’ said Mitch. This time Eden gave him a light jab in the ribs.

  Gareth caught Helen’s glance and grinned. ‘Good to see that although we’re really busy, important people now, we still take the mickey out of each other.’

  Whether it was the initial shared look, the sunshine or just being with this group, a glow of happiness bloomed in her chest.

  ‘I think that’s enough of the history lesson now,’ said Mitch. ‘Where’s this pub?’

  Spike pointed towards the woods on the eastern side of the standing stones. ‘There’s a track through the trees over there. It’s the narrowest part. A few minutes and you’re in the village.’

  Madelaine pulled a face. ‘It’s lovely during the day but I wouldn’t want to be here on my own at night.’

  Helen understood what she meant. Tourists snapped photographs and young children raced around the ancient stones, while teenagers wandered vacantly listening to music on their headphones and parents tried to round up their offspring. However, once she concentrated and dismissed the babble, she became aware of an eerie sense of other-worldliness.

  She touched one of the stones, the surface warm under her fingertips. What were the people like who built this monument, who worshipped and celebrated the solstices? The chatter faded until she was only aware of a bee humming nearby, sparrows chirping. A baby’s cry broke the momentary stillness and Helen wouldn’t have been surprised to find herself in another time or place. Stupid. She shook herself to remove the impressions and hurried after the group disappearing into the trees on the far side of the clearing.

  As Spike had said, if you walked straight through the trees in a direct line towards the village stores and houses it only took a few minutes, but decades of visitors tramping through the woods had created multiple criss-cross pathways and tree roots caught the unwary. At night, if you weren’t familiar with the route, it would be easy to wander around for longer.

  Beyond the woods there was a wide expanse of grass leading to a row of buildings, mostly pubs and cafés. Helen guessed the far side of the buildings fronted the main street of the village.

  By the trees the grassed area was open like a park, but closer to the pubs each had marked out their portion of lawn with low hedges and some had created small gardens. Tables covered in bright chequered cloths and surrounded by cushioned-chairs created a continental feel, aided by the growing warmth of the day.

  Spike stopped at the first pub and they pulled a couple of small tables together, grabbing some extra chairs.

  ‘All of these places are pretty good.’ Spike gestured towards the other cafés. ‘I’ll order some snacks for us to share while we chat. Madelaine, vodka and tonic? Eden, red wine?’ The others added their drinks to his list and Spike disappeared into the bar to sort out their order.

  ‘How did Spike manage to raise the money for the film?’ asked Laurence. ‘Last I heard he wasn’t having any luck.’

  Everyone turned to Madelaine.

  ‘No one in the US would put up the money for his film script. He tried everyone. Eventually, he rewrote some of the script, changing the exotic scenes and locations, and his parents agreed to fund half the costs if he raised the rest, so here we are.’

  Mitch gave an ironic laugh and shook his head. ‘Lucky git. Always falls on his feet.’

  ‘He works hard,’ Madelaine protested.

  ‘He’d need to work a lot harder if Mummy and Daddy weren’t rich. I don’t care what you say, Mads. Working nine to five is more of a grind than poncing around getting handouts to make a film.’

  Helen remained silent, but agreed with Mitch. No matter how much you enjoyed your work, the day after day sameness did wear you down.

  ‘Are you still playing rugby?’ Laurence asked Gareth in a louder voice.

  Helen glanced up and saw Spike heading towards the table with a tray of drinks.

  Gareth shook his head. ‘I haven’t played since the tendon problem. I promised myself I’d go to the gym regularly to keep fit, but that’s a bit hit and miss. Work is great and I love the job, but it’s always so busy.’

  ‘What are you doing now?’ asked Renelle.

  ‘I’m a consultant with Chappell Hirst Associates and work with clients on their projects.’

  ‘Which tells me very little,’ said Renelle.

  ‘At the moment I’m working on a project for a company who are moving their mostly manual manufacturing process to technology-based machinery. It’s really interesting. I’ve worked on other restructures, but this company is making sure they upskill and keep all their staff.’

  ‘You work way too hard and far too many hours,’ said Madelaine. She glanced around the table. ‘He’s bad enough when I’m at home, but I guess when I’m away filming he works every hour possible. It’s not good for you.’

  From Madelaine’s tone, Helen guessed this wasn’t the first time she had moaned about Gareth’s working hours.

  ‘We’re not much different,’ said Eden. ‘Mitch does long hours and while mine aren’t too bad, if we’re working on a story then we don’t go home at five. You must put in some long days when you’re filming.’ Eden’s tone was placatory, the words coming easily. Obviously it was something they’d discussed before.

  ‘How about you?’ Mitch asked Laurence. ‘Are you still playing rugby?’

  ‘I joined the local club in Cardiff, but I’m lucky if I manage to attend half of the organised practices. Who’d have guessed just a few years out of university and we’re already sounding, not old, but…’ He shrugged, lost for words or perhaps not wanting to say what he was thinking.

  ‘How did you manage to afford a Harley?’ asked Gareth.

  ‘A whole lot of moonlighting.’

  ‘Pub work? Something like that?’

  ‘Nah. Not enough money in that. I put my computer skills to good use. There’s always people around who don’t know what they’re doing.’

  ‘They must be willing to pay heaps. Your bike’s not cheap.’

&
nbsp; Laurence shrugged and raised his eyebrows with a whatever expression but didn’t say anything.

  ‘Relaxed Renelle, you’re rather reticent today, but I hear things are going well,’ said Spike. ‘Ed Geary told me you’re doing amazing work with them on the film.’

  Renelle looked surprised at Spike’s comment and then studied him as if waiting for a barbed follow-up before speaking.

  ‘You know Ed?’ she asked eventually.

  ‘The film business is rather incestuous, and the theatre, come to that. Everyone knows everyone.’

  ‘Sounds like you’re doing well,’ said Mitch. ‘Good for you. Should I have heard of this Ed Geary?’

  ‘Not at the moment, but you will,’ said Spike. ‘Most people in the business reckon he’s one to watch. Sooner rather than later he’ll be accepting a best actor award.’

  Renelle was opposite Mitch, rather than sitting next to him. Spike leaned forward to speak to her and Helen noticed Renelle stiffen. Oh please, couldn’t they have a few hours without arguments? But for once Spike must have decided against spoiling the mood and kept quiet.

  ‘I love it when we’re together like this.’ Madelaine filled the silence, stretching her arms to encompass the group and their surroundings.

  The Stone Mason’s Arms was busy but never full. Their group was the one constant during the afternoon, others arriving and leaving like a time-lapse film of the tides ebbing and flowing.

  Helen interspersed her two glasses of wine with sparkling mineral water, but even so sitting in the sun made her feel a little lightheaded.

  She glanced at her watch. Six-thirty. ‘I think I’ll go and have a shower.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Madelaine. She pulled her handbag off the back of the seat and stood. ‘Time to freshen up for an evening of more eating and drinking.’

  They paid the bill and wandered through the wood, past the stone circles and the family groups taking photos, and through the grove of trees on the far side to their hotel.

  By the time they left the hotel that evening black clouds had built up, threatening a thunderstorm, and for Helen the air hung heavy. The clouds darkened the sky and the enormous stones threw shadows as if the monsters of her childhood dreams lived here. Helen shivered as they left the stone circles behind and walked under the canopy of the trees. The sun dappled glade of the afternoon had been replaced by hostile branches catching her hair and tree roots ready to trip her. Like Madelaine, she wouldn’t want to walk through here on her own at night.