It was impossible to forget about Graham, but thinking about Megan and her shocking deception helped push him to the back of her mind – for the moment at least. In her job, she’d met countless liars and heard innumerable lies, but this? This was different. Who’d have guessed Megan could be such a good actress? Beth would never have thought her capable of such deception.
She poured another glass of wine and rested her head back, closing her eyes and letting the sound of shouting and laughter drift from the TV to surround her. But the noise couldn’t drown out the voices in her head, the ones that were telling her that thanks to Megan’s revelation, her own life was now based on a lie. It had always been in the back of her mind to join the police after finishing her degree in criminology, but it was precisely because of what had happened to Megan that she had chosen the career path she was on. What she had seen that night had haunted her for a long time. She’d decided then, she was going to do whatever she could to make sure that violent men were held accountable for what they did to their victims.
Choosing to work for the Rape and Serious Sexual Offences Unit was the result. She was good at what she did, and over the years she’d helped put some sick sons-of-bitches away. But Megan’s deception was going to haunt her, in the same way as her desolate expression had done for so many years. Because now, it looked as though Beth had made her choice based on a lie. If that had been the only one, it wouldn’t be so bad, but she’d made others over the years, all with the same aim in mind, to make the guilty pay.
The memory of them standing in that damn bungalow, their hands clasped, making a promise to keep what happened a secret, had never faded. It was a terrible shame she hadn’t remembered the promise when she had stupidly told Trudy.
‘I don’t know how you do the job you do,’ Trudy had said, putting a sympathetic hand on her arm.
Perhaps, if she hadn’t looked across the room and seen Megan, she would have brushed Trudy’s concern off with her usual bravado. Instead, stupidly, she’d said, ‘I do it for women like Megan.’
She could have stopped when she saw Trudy’s blank look. Was it the alcohol that loosened her tongue, or her belief that Trudy should know what Megan had been through that made her break her word and tell her?
If Beth had kept her mouth shut that night, Megan wouldn’t have had to come clean about her lie, and none of them would know the truth.
Beth’s hand tightened on the stem of the wine glass as her face hardened. It would have been much better all around.
17
Megan waited to see if Beth would answer her text. When she didn’t, she was tempted to ring her but then, with a grunt of frustration, she threw her phone aside. The earlier text had said Joanne was fine, Megan should probably settle for that.
She’d arrived home from Capel-le-Ferne just after twelve and had hoped to find Trudy at home but the apartment was empty. She wasn’t expected until late afternoon so, although disappointed, Megan wasn’t entirely surprised. Trudy would be either meeting one of her many friends for lunch or shopping for the dinner she’d promised to cook. The thought made Megan smile; she loved to eat out, but a candlelit meal here with the lights of London as a backdrop and the woman she loved cooking was far preferable. It would be perfect; things would be the way they used to be and the ice that had crept into Trudy’s voice would thaw.
Her bag unpacked, Megan made herself a mug of tea and sat on the sofa to await her return while her mind dwelled on the previous evening’s disastrous outcome. She’d known her friends would be surprised and shocked, but she’d not anticipated the violence of their reaction nor their expression of absolute horror and revulsion. And she certainly hadn’t expected Joanne to leave the way she had.
Megan should be feeling relieved that, after all these years, it was out in the open. Trudy would be happy she’d come clean, and they could move on. But Megan couldn’t get Joanne’s wide-eyed look of shock out of her head. Maybe, she should have ignored Beth and gone to see her on the way home, but it might have made things worse, especially in view of Joanne’s reluctance to invite them into her house. For the moment, Megan would do as she’d been advised, and give her time.
She’d known it was going to be a risk telling them the truth, and she’d accepted that she might lose their friendship as a result. But she hadn’t really thought it would come to that and, now that it had, she realised she couldn’t bear to lose them. They, with their advice, support and encouragement had made her the woman she was today, a woman that someone like Trudy could love.
Thoughts kept spinning around Megan’s head as the afternoon drifted on. She tried reading, picking up a book she’d started the previous week, only to throw it aside, minutes later, when she found herself staring at the pages without seeing the words. At four, restless and edgy, she made a mug of camomile tea in the hope that it would soothe her racing brain, and stood sipping it as she looked out the window. The light was fading over a view she never tired of, the bustling heart of a city she loved, and usually it soothed whatever ailed. But not today.
It wasn’t until nearly six that she heard a key in the door and turning, the empty mug still held in her hand, she watched as the woman she loved came in. Megan’s eyes softened automatically. Trudy had a rare timeless beauty; high cheekbones, slightly pointed chin, perfect mouth, and creamy skin. Megan had met her at an art exhibition she’d been looking forward to for weeks, but afterwards, trying to remember the artwork, the only thing she could recall was Trudy’s beautiful face. She’d been introduced by a mutual friend, but had been struck dumb by an instant attraction and only managed a pathetic, squeaky hello before she’d been swallowed up by the crowd that surrounded them.
For the rest of the evening, fascinated by her, Megan had watched as Trudy moved around the gallery, stopping to speak to various people, using her slim hands to make a point, or throwing back her head as she laughed. Love at first sight, she’d said, much later, but then it was just an overwhelming awe that robbed Megan of courage and she’d left without speaking to her. Unable to get her out of her mind, she’d gone to every art exhibition in London over the next month hoping to see her again.
Finally, as she was about to give up, she walked into a new gallery in Camden Town and saw Trudy standing in front of a large painting. Heart beating with excitement, this time she didn’t hesitate and pushed her way rudely through the crowded room to get to Trudy’s side and stood barely able to breathe, staring at the painting and desperately trying to think of something witty, clever, or at least not completely stupid to say. ‘It’s a little Monet meets Jack Vettriano, isn’t it.’
Trudy had turned with a smile of amusement. ‘Do you know I was thinking exactly the same thing. How strange!’
They’d continued around the gallery together and to her surprise, amazement and absolute joy, that was all it took. They’d chatted, and afterwards, had gone for a drink to a nearby pub that was so busy they were crushed together. They’d stood and drunk their trendy gin and tonics surrounded by loud voices and laughter, managing only a disjointed conversation, heads close together, Trudy’s spicy exotic scent tickling Megan’s nose.
When Trudy mentioned she hadn’t had time to eat, they wandered out in search of food, finding a perfect little Italian restaurant where they sat in the window overlooking a small courtyard garden strung with solar lights. It was pretty and romantic but Megan had eyes only for the captivating woman opposite. Later, reluctant to say goodbye, she’d suggested a walk along the Thames Embankment. And somewhere along that magical walk, with the lights sparkling in the water, and her heart thumping, she’d dared to reach for Trudy’s hand. When she didn’t pull away, when instead Megan felt Trudy’s long fingers curl around her hand and give a little squeeze, Megan knew she was, for the first time in her life, in love.
If there were still moments when she couldn’t believe her luck, times when she caught their joint reflection in a window and cringed at the question of what such a beauty was doing with such
a beast, she tried not to let it show. She loved Trudy; Trudy loved her. She couldn’t imagine living without her.
‘Hi,’ she said, putting her empty mug down on the coffee table and walking across the room. She reached out for her, taken aback when Trudy stepped away. ‘It’s all good,’ Megan said quickly, trying to sound far more positive than she felt. It wasn’t necessary to give her the details of what Beth and Joanne had said or how they’d taken her disclosure, Trudy just needed to know they’d been told, that her deception was no longer a secret. ‘I told them everything, they were surprised, of course,’ she said, blinking as Joanne’s horrified expression popped into her head, ‘but I think they’ll be okay, eventually.’
Trudy said nothing, passing Megan by without a glance.
‘Honestly,’ Megan tried again, managing to drag a smile into place, ‘it’s done.’ And then, because she was suddenly frightened of Trudy’s tight closed look, she added, ‘They were okay about it, really.’
‘Really?’ Trudy plumped up the cushion that Megan had been sitting against and returned it to its place, keeping her eyes averted. ‘They didn’t mind that you’d lied to them?’ Her voice was cold.
Megan felt something tear inside and searched for the right words to say, words to make everything better because suddenly she knew there was something terribly wrong. ‘They were upset but they understood,’ she said finally, willing now to lie, to do or say anything as long as it would remove that look from her lover’s face.
But Trudy continued to move around the apartment, moving ornaments, straightening picture frames, never once looking across to where Megan stood, rigid, her eyes filling, her heart aching as if it knew what was coming and was getting ready to break. ‘You said, if I told them the truth, that we’d be able to move forward.’
‘Did I?’ Trudy picked up a picture frame that held a photograph of the two of them outside the Taj Mahal. They were in front of the seat where Princess Diana had sat for that iconic photograph many years before. Afraid of tempting fate, they had refused to sit, standing instead with their arms around each other, beaming for the camera. They’d been so very much in love. Trudy stood looking at it for a moment and then, without warning, she threw it at Megan.
She ducked automatically and yelled out from shock as the frame smashed against the wall behind, pieces of wood and shards of glass crashing to the floor. ‘Trudy!’ Megan said, looking at the smashed frame in horror.
‘Shocked you, did I?’ Trudy stood with her arms folded across her chest, her face screwed up in anger, glaring at her. ‘But the frame can be picked up, it might even be possible to fix it, and the glass can be replaced. It can all look as good as new.’
There was silence for a moment, broken only by their heaving breaths.
Trudy crossed to the window, stared out for a moment and then turned. ‘Trust is a different matter, Megan. You break that and it never, ever, goes back together in the same way. Okay, you can try to fix it with glue, and it might even last for a while, but it’s never as strong and finally, without a doubt, it will fall apart.’ She turned back to stare out the window. ‘It was Beth who told me about the rape,’ she said, ‘not you–’
‘Yes,’ Megan said, moving towards her, stopping at Trudy’s raised hand. Her left hand. With a sinking feeling, Megan noticed she wasn’t wearing her ring.
‘And if she hadn’t told me,’ Trudy said coldly, ‘the lie would have continued and I’d never have known a thing about it.’ When she turned around again, her look of contempt made Megan gasp. ‘So how many other secrets are there in your life that I don’t know about? Secrets that might come out when one or another of your friends imbibes too much?’
Megan took a step towards her, a hand reaching out, pleading. ‘There’s nothing, I swear to you!’
‘But how do I know you’re telling me the truth?’ Trudy’s voice was so quiet and cold that Megan shivered and dropped her hand. ‘How will I ever know you’re telling me the truth again? And if I can’t trust you,’ flint eyes swept over her, ‘we have nothing.’
Shock rocked Megan; swaying, she reached a trembling hand out to grab the back of a chair. She’d felt something tear inside, rip her apart. The pain was agonising. ‘No,’ she moaned. ‘I love you. This is crazy, we can work things out.’
‘It’s over.’ Trudy crossed her arms again and, lifting her chin, she looked down her nose at her as if Megan were some particularly nasty bug. ‘You’ve destroyed it.’
‘We can talk about this,’ she pleaded, taking an unsteady step closer, reaching both hands out, almost begging her to take them. ‘I promise you, there are no other secrets.’
‘How could I ever be sure?’ Trudy shook her head before taking a step away. ‘I never could, could I? You can stay until Friday but then I’d like you to move out, please. I’ll stay with Vikki until you’ve gone.’ Trudy turned to walk away, looking back to say, with a cutting finality, ‘Make sure you take everything; I won’t want to see you again.’
It couldn’t be true. Megan hurried after her and grabbed her by the arm. ‘I love you. We can get through this, maybe go for counselling or something… I’ll do whatever you want. Anything, you want.’
Trudy’s eyes dropped to her hand. For the briefest of moments, Megan thought she was going to put her hand over it, was going to soften and say of course she didn’t mean it, that she was just angry and disappointed but that she loved her too much to want her to go. But her relief was short-lived as Trudy raised her head and glared at her. ‘Take your hand off me. All I want, is for you to leave me alone, okay? I thought we had something special; something pure and good–’
‘We have,’ Megan cried, tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘We still have. This was something that happened twenty years ago, for pity’s sake. I’m not the person I was then. I was young and mixed up and confused. I made a mistake, a stupid mistake.’
‘A mistake? Is that what you’re calling it now? It was deceit, a lie,’ Trudy sneered, ‘and everything you are, is built on that. Everything you are, all that you have become is predicated on that one awful unforgiveable lie. I don’t know who you are anymore. And I don’t want to.’
The contempt in Trudy’s voice made Megan squirm and the pain inside reached a crescendo as she felt her heart shatter into a million painful pieces. ‘But I love you.’
‘That’s your problem.’ Trudy’s voice was cold and sharp.
Megan wrapped her arms around herself tightly, holding herself together as the world crashed and burned around her. ‘But where will I go?’ she said, knowing how pathetic those words sounded as she looked around the apartment she’d called home for the last eight years.
Trudy stopped with her hand on the front door. She didn’t turn around and when she spoke, her voice was no longer cold and hard, instead, and so much worse, she sounded sad and weary. ‘That too is your problem, and nothing to do with me. I really don’t care where you go, just be sure to be gone by Friday.’
Megan would have preferred if Trudy had slammed the door, would have been happy at any sign of anger that would eventually dissipate but the door was closed in her usual calm controlled way. No anger, just calm determination. She wasn’t sure there was a way to fight that.
It was several minutes before she could move, and when she did it was with difficulty, barely making it to the sofa before collapsing. The pain had settled to an agonising burning in her chest and in contrast, everything else felt numb.
A dangerous blade to wave around… How right Beth had been. How could Megan have known the destructive power of the truth, that it could destroy… had destroyed… her life with Trudy… How could Megan live without her?
Did she want to?
18
On Sunday morning, Beth woke with a groan and a pounding head. She pulled the duvet up to shield herself from the light that was driving daggers into her eyes. It’s likely she’d have stayed there the whole day if the doorbell hadn’t chimed, the sound reverberating through the house and
hammering on her aching skull. Pulling the pillow around her ears, she tried to ignore it but, when it rang again and again, she groaned, dragged herself from the bed, threw on a robe, and went to answer it.
She was immediately sorry she had when she saw Megan standing on the doorstep. Her first thought was to ask her to go away, to beg for solitude in her misery, but something in what she saw made her change her mind. Unlike her, Megan was one of those women who would never leave home without perfectly applied make-up and without looking impeccably dressed, so her pale bare face, mismatched trousers and jacket, and a shirt with the buttons incorrectly fastened rang a loud warning bell.
‘You look terrible,’ Beth said, turning and heading to the kitchen, leaving Megan to follow. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you and Trudy always went out for brunch on a Sunday morning?’
Ignoring her questions, Megan perched on the edge of a chair. ‘To be exact, it’s the afternoon,’ she said, eyeing Beth’s robe with a raised eyebrow. ‘I hope I haven’t interrupted something.’
Beth shook her head, immediately regretted the action when everything swam. She couldn’t remember how much whiskey she’d downed the night before, or how much wine. The bottles were still in the sitting room, she wasn’t sure she wanted to look. She filled the kettle. ‘Would you like some coffee?’
‘Sure,’ Megan said, taking off her jacket and throwing it onto another chair.
‘Is instant okay? I have a fancy all-singing-and-dancing machine but I couldn’t bear the noise this morning.’
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