The Liars

by Naomi Joy

  I padded into the bedroom, locked the door, and moved over to the window to shut out the night. At that moment, the moon emerged from behind a cluster of bruised clouds, revealing its hard, white surface. Its luminescent rays flared through the window and covered me completely, exposing me, its innocent snow-white face disappointed. Why did you do it? It asked wistfully. I felt a terrible sense of guilt and closed the flimsy blind with a quick flick of my wrist, shutting out the accusation. I crawled into bed, gathered the covers up round my shoulders and turned away from the window but, as I drifted off into a fitful sleep, I could still feel the moon as it glared through the cracks in the blinds. You can’t hide forever, Ava. I know what you did. I know your secret.

  2

  Jade

  I shot my eyes up from my monitor, nearly eleven o’clock. Well, well, well, guess what the cat dragged in: the usually perpetually early and perpetually perfect Ava. Late night, was it?

  Others in the office had clocked her tardy arrival too and I watched my colleagues, Josh (6’3, Superman, the future Mr Jade) and Georgette (6’0, Essex, bitchy) eyeball her as she walked in, head bowed, and closed the glass door to her office. She didn’t often do that, not that the transparent panes afforded her any more privacy than usual. I strained my eyes, squinted, and read Georgette’s lips.

  ‘What do you think all that’s about? Olivia?’

  I almost guffawed from my desk. Of course. If anyone could make an inquest into someone else’s death all about them, it was Ava. Clearly she was still milking Olivia’s passing for all it was worth. My see-through stockings stuck to my legs, clammy and irritated. Well, I’d managed to make it into work on time and I’d worked with Olivia for eight years compared to Ava’s paltry one. In fact, Olivia and I had been extremely close colleagues, we’d both joined W&SP around the same time and had spent the years working our way up the slippery ladders of power side-by-side. Ava had joined last year and, as Olivia and Ava had known each other at university, she’d slotted right into our clique – perhaps a little too well. Then Olivia passed away, turning our threesome into a double act, and it wasn’t long before everything turned into a competition between Ava and me: who’d known Olivia better, who’d been more affected by her death, who’d been best placed to take on her clients, who’d step up to try and fill her shoes. Looking back, I was even jealous that Ava had been with David the morning they’d found Olivia’s body; it had only brought Ava closer and pushed me further away.

  ‘Psst! George!’ I whispered sharply to Georgette, motioning for her to come over.

  ‘What?’ she mouthed at me from across the room.

  ‘Come here!’

  She moved away from her conversation with Josh and back over to our shared desk. As she clip-clopped my way, I dismayed at her outfit: A T-shirt dress comprised entirely of aquamarine sequins. I decided not to comment on how inappropriate it was – mermaids should never inspire one’s office attire – and made a mental note to bring it up another time.

  ‘Wot?’ George cawed, her overly contoured face and the near-monobrow she’d created with a few overzealous licks of her brow brush appearing dead opposite me, inches away, like a full-size, full-on jack-in-the-box.

  ‘Pathetic!’ I exclaimed in a whisper, leaning over the desk so we were closer still. ‘Absolutely pathetic.’

  Georgette didn’t exactly spring out of her box to agree. ‘Seeing your workmate the morning after an overdose is probably gonna mess you up for a while, right? The inquest will only have brought it all back.’

  I refused to comment, keen to deflect from talking about Olivia’s death. It brought back awful memories for me too; it wasn’t just Ava.

  Georgette covered my silence. ‘Josh was just saying he feels really bad for her too.’

  My heart sank and my eyes turned a darker shade of green. ‘He said that?’

  Josh was mine. Well, perhaps that was going a bit far. Josh would be mine, one day. I knew that sounded disgustingly desperate: a grown-up woman with a tragic crush. But I couldn’t help it. He’d always been mine. It should have been me he was feeling bad for. I’d known Olivia, and him, for years longer than Ava.

  I was just about to dive into planning how I could turn the tide and make Josh feel sorry for me instead when I noticed someone unusual approaching in my peripheral vision. My expression clouded and my mouth bobbed open to form a perfectly round ‘o’. David Stein – company CEO who never came onto this floor, ever – had burst magnificently through the double doors and was striding across the office, his dark hair flecked with grey, his expression drawn and steely. Instinct told me exactly where he was headed: Ava.

  Georgette followed my stare and swung her chair round to witness the scene unfolding behind her. I flicked my focus over to Ava, oblivious to who was coming her way, and watched, hypnotised, as she gathered the long twist of her hair in one hand, tying the thousands of shades of slightly different blonde tighter and tighter together. In one effortless motion she curled her hair up on top of her head and stuck a pen through it, then David knocked on her door and her pen-bun loosened and fell, as though in shock, each strand of her hair catching the spring light as it did so, rippling like a sandy avalanche as it came to rest against her back. Georgette spun back round, happy shock on her face. George loved office drama, in fact, I’d wager procuring office gossip and disseminating the information was her number one skill. And it wasn’t the worst thing to be good at, at a place like this: information was everything at W&SP.

  ‘What’s David Stein want with Ava?’ George whispered, turning towards me for just a moment. ‘You think this is ‘cos of the inquest?’

  I shrugged, lost for words, and watched as Ava motioned for him to come in, then greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. Well, well, well. Although we were all reeling, Ava didn’t look surprised to see him at all. Had they arranged a meeting? Without me?

  My green eyes flashed for the second time in as many minutes – first Josh and now David. My body felt like one of those lightning receptors on top of the Shard or the Empire State Building, just after one billion angry God-like volts had struck. Except I couldn’t survive it. Strike after strike of jealousy coursed through my veins, splitting them open until I was nothing but a heap of clothes on the floor, smoke pouring out of them. ‘Where did she go?’ they’d ask. Would anyone care?

  In that moment I made a rash decision: I had to act, I couldn’t just stand on the outside looking in. Ava didn’t own the rights to Olivia’s death, and it wasn’t fair she was using Olivia’s passing to get ahead. Not if I couldn’t use it, too.

  I got up from my desk, ignoring Georgette’s bleats – Jade, no, Jade, what are you doing, Jade, come back here! – and pushed forward to her office.

  I hated that she had an office. I’d been at the company for eight years and all David Stein had rewarded me with was an area a few metres apart from the communal bullpen, opposite a woman who dressed like a toddler and painted her face like a clown.

  I knocked twice at Ava’s closed door, my angry breath forming furious bullseyes of condensation against the glass, and watched as her face fell when she saw it was me. In that moment, the resentment I had for her swelled and I could scarcely believe what I once saw in her as a friend. We used to have lunch together, talk about the ways we could change the company for the better. We’d been a sisterhood at one point. A unit. A team. But ever since Olivia had died and David had taken Ava under his bony wing, favouring her over me in almost every conceivable way despite her vastly inferior experience, the barriers between us had started to stack up and, rather than help me, she relished in every opportunity to kick me back. To make matters worse, David had put us both up for the same job, a glittering promotion which I deserved tenfold over her: Team Head.

  So, here I was. Fighting for my career.

  I didn’t wait for her to beckon me in.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ I asked, pushing my way into their clandestine one-to-one. ‘The news about the inquest was
pretty tough reading yesterday,’ I said matter-of-factly, closing the door behind me. ‘Olivia would have hated everything being so public.’

  ‘Jade, could you give us a moment?’ Ava asked curtly, brushing me off.

  There she went again, acting as if there was no way I could possibly have been affected by Olivia’s death. It was like she didn’t even remember what we went through together.

  ‘It’s just—’

  ‘We’re fine, thank you Jade,’ she repeated, raising her voice.

  Before I could speak again, David spat out a rhetorical question aimed at me.

  ‘Jade – do you mind?’

  His words hit like a punch to the gut and my cheeks blazed. Embarrassment opened its mouth and swallowed me whole. I hadn’t expected David to be so rude. Had Ava been busy poisoning him against me? Nevertheless, I didn’t need telling twice and I left in a hurry, floored once again by how Ava had managed to turn an inquest into a way to get ahead at work. I skulked, defeated, back to my desk.

  ‘Jade, what were you thinki—’

  I cut Georgette off. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  I sat down, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular, unblinking, thinking. I was supposed to be Team Head this year. That was the plan. That had always been the plan. But since Ava had turned up it was as though my years of loyal servitude to this company had all been for nothing: not now a blonde-haired damsel-in-distress with less experience than a toilet brush and the constitution of a ferret had entered the fray. No, I couldn’t let it happen. I had to do something, I had to stop this situation running away from me, I had to reverse the trend, put myself back into the ring. Play dirty, just the way Ava was with me.

  *

  I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I became aware of Georgette calling me from across the desk.

  ‘You gonna answer that?’

  My phone was ringing, but my thoughts were still a million miles away, and I sat staring at the black hole of my screen, wondering what my therapist would make of this latest development. Why do you think you react so strongly to female competition, Jade? Comparing yourself to someone else isn’t very helpful. We’re all different. You must rise above it. Tread your own path.

  I imagined myself opposite her now, explaining exactly why she’d been wrong in our last session: Your clichés don’t stack up. The whole point is that there’s only one path: the path to the top. And Ava and I are both on it. If I want to get to the end before her, I can’t be ‘different’: I have to be better. And you know how they’ll decide who gets there first? By comparing us. By weighing us up, side by side. Evaluating myself against her couldn’t be more relevant. In fact, you know what? You’re fired. You just don’t get it.

  ‘Jade!’ Georgette barked, making me jump. ‘What’s up with you today? Honestly,’ she huffed, handing me the phone.

  I shook myself back to the present and took the receiver from her tan-stained grasp, checking the caller ID. I recognised the number immediately. On the other end of the line was W&SP’s most important client: Kai, marketing head of AthLuxe, a high-end new range of activewear that was completely impractical for anything actually, you know, active. Ava and I were both on the account and we’d been jostling to assert seniority on it ever since we landed the business – together, unbelievably, back when we were on good terms. Ava had been especially quick to position herself as the main point of contact with Kai, but now that she was holding a more important meeting in her office, he’d had to resort to calling me. This was good, though. Impressing Kai was of the utmost importance. Him having a high opinion of me would be crucial to securing the job as Team Head and I intended to blow his bloody brains out with how fantastic this call was about to be. This was my chance to win him over. I cleared my throat, said a silent prayer.

  ‘Morning Kai, how can I help?’ Kai didn’t answer my question right away, instead he began our conversation with an expletive-fuelled rant about not being able to get through to anyone but me. I brushed off the implication. ‘Ava’s not taking calls due to a personal issue,’ I explained. I heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by a dramatic pause for effect. Kai told me once he’d attended drama school instead of a regular secondary and I knew better than to interrupt this moment. He was quite fond of practising what he’d learnt there.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He paused again, and I imagined one hand flying to his forehead, mouth open wide. ‘Did I hear you correctly?’

  This time, Kai’s outrage was exactly the reaction I’d hoped for. No client likes to be told they’re second best to anything, let alone ‘personal issues’.

  ‘I know, and I’m sorry. But I’m more than happy to take your calls while Ava’s… incapacitated. What did you want to go through today?’ I skimmed my notes for something to say, some area of the launch I could usurp from Ava and stamp my authority on instead: front-row guests, ticket sales for select members of the public, media attendees, coverage, security to protect all of the above. I started with the most interesting. ‘How about front-row attendees?’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose. I was hoping for an update on that. Go ahead.’

  It had worked, my question and utmost professionalism had placated him and, even though this wasn’t my area, I felt confident blagging as I trotted through Ava’s documents, reading her notes as though they were my own. I listened with an attentive ear as Kai weighed up paying A-list celebrities versus cheaper bit-part reality stars and advised him that we shouldn’t pay up for anyone he wasn’t completely comfortable with. He agreed: we should hold out for top-end media and absolute stars only. And AthLuxe shouldn’t have to pay. I smiled as I told him to leave it with me. I would make his wish come true.

  3

  Ava

  ‘I’ve had an idea.’

  The clipped and confident tones of David Stein filled the room as he walked into my office. Well, he didn’t just walk, obviously, he strode, like a bony gladiator, a few silver streaks visible in his stubble. Perhaps he hadn’t slept well and hadn’t had time to shave. Or perhaps he’d been lying awake all night thinking about how to help me. I glanced out nervously through the glass, expecting to see a few pairs of raised eyebrows, but my colleagues knew better than that: they tended to whisper rather than stare. Except Jade Fernleigh, of course, who looked like she was performing a one-woman re-enactment of the eruption of Mount Vesuvius over at her desk.

  ‘So,’ David said. ‘You need somewhere to stay while you sort out this mess with Charlie.’

  ‘Right,’ I answered, touched by how quickly he’d come to my aid. He looked at me fondly and smiled, our eyes locking inappropriately like potential suitors across a busy bar in downtown Chicago, jazz dancing in our ears, bourbon sticking to our teeth.

  ‘Listen, I know you’ll have your reservations, but hear me out.’

  He hesitated as we both heard a knock at the door at the same time.

  It was Jade, red faced and short of breath. Was she running from the ruins of a collapsing city or just desperate to muscle in on a meeting she thought should include her? It was difficult to tell. She let herself in and said something about Olivia’s inquest. David and I exchanged a look. I tried to give her an opportunity to excuse herself but, when she kept on blabbering, David snapped.

  ‘Jade, do you mind?’ he growled, irritated. He waited until she’d closed the door to speak again. ‘What was that all about?’

  ‘She’s harmless,’ I said, trying to diffuse the situation.

  He shook his head. ‘She’s a loose cannon. I’ll have to have a word. Anyway, where was I?’

  ‘You were saying I was about to have my reservations…’

  ‘I think you should move into Olivia’s place.’

  My body clenched at the sound of her name, the all-too familiar four-syllable arpeggio whistling in my ears, every fibre of my being rejecting the suggestion. ‘I can’t do that, David,’ I replied, horrified he’d even suggested it.

  ‘It’s Pimlico,’ David
said. ‘Near the office. And it’s just sitting there at the moment, dormant, waiting for someone to breathe some life back into it. I think it’s time to move on now that the inquest is over. It’s been months. She’d have wanted you to, honestly, as long as you need.’

  My first thought, of course, was the way her body had smelt the morning we’d found her three months ago. Then guilt, the things he didn’t know, the rumour mill in the office. David picked up on it as the thoughts flashed across my face.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ He crossed his arms, slotting them into the perfect grooves either side of his chest.

  ‘The last time I was there was the day we…’ I trailed off.

  ‘So, bring some happiness to the place again, it needs it. Plus, it would do you good to confront that memory, don’t you think?’

  I couldn’t think of anything worse. I wrapped my arms round my chair, as if David might have to prise me from it like a limpet from rock.

  ‘The place is worth millions, Ava, it wouldn’t exactly be a hardship.’ His molars set to work on the inside of his cheek. He thought I was being ungrateful.

  ‘People will gossip,’ I said quickly, thinking of anything to stop him suggesting I go back to the building I thought about every night before I fell asleep. ‘What if Charlie follows me back there? He’d break in, he’d destroy everything, at least in a hotel he can’t do that.’

  ‘So I’ll put in a CCTV and alarm system and hook it all up to the police. When I’m done with it, Olivia’s will be far safer than a hotel. Anyone can get a keycard to a hotel room if they say the right things or pay the right people.’