Friends Who Lie

by Paul J. Teague

  The opening bars began on the soundtrack, Gina led the way with the immortal opening words and before the first minute was up, the five women had put their hearts and souls into the performance. Nobody minded that the various spices didn’t seem to know who should be singing and when, neither that only one of them appeared to be able to dance in time with the music. It looked like a badly-rehearsed pop group made up of disobedient cats. But the entertainment value of Gina dancing like a pro – and the stunning sight of her in that dress – seemed to distract the crowd from the mayhem going on among the other members of the rapidly assembled pop group to her side.

  Over at the bar were the three men, Matt, Rhett and Terry, with Emmy at his side, now sipping from a glass of orange juice.

  The five Old Spice Girls were so caught up in their debut stage performance that, had they glanced over towards the bar, they would have seen some very telling body language that might possibly have predicted how things were going to play out over that short break in Benidorm.

  As the crowd got with the flow of the choruses, Wes arrived, guitar in hand, fresh from his stint on stage at Erin’s Bar. Caitlen had, at least, thought to tell him where they were moving onto, but he was pissed with them. He’d gone through all the trouble of dedicating a couple of songs to the ladies, only to watch them walk out halfway through his David Gray number. And now here they were fooling around on stage. He’d been hoping for their support.

  At the bar, Emmy was slipping her hands up Terry’s T-shirt and stroking his back. They were speaking earnestly, engrossed in each other and their conversation.

  Matt was ignoring Wes’s moaning to Rhett, who was patiently listening and attempting to smooth things over. He wished Wes no ill will but he couldn’t help feeling that none of them owed the guy anything and they were free to do as they pleased.

  Matt looked from the stage – specifically between Becky and Harriet – and then to the man just along the bar from him. The one who’d been chatting up Harriet. He was riveted to her on the small stage, clearly waiting for his moment to intercept her once again as soon as they’d finished performing their number.

  Matt looked between the Old Spice Girls and cursed that he’d got caught with Scary Spice. He wanted to switch band members. He wanted to be with Baby Spice. But he wasn’t the only man in that crowd who was determined to go home with Harriet that night.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Benidorm: June

  There was a huge round of applause as the backing track faded and the amateur dramatics members of the Spice Girls looked at each other on the stage and wondered what to do next.

  Gina bowed and waved and the others followed suit.

  ‘More!’ came the calls.

  ‘Get yer tits out!’ came the inevitable cry from a stag group.

  The five women took a final, semi-coordinated bow and left the stage.

  ‘The Old Spice Girls, ladies and gentlemen!’ the DJ announced. ‘Weren’t they amazing?’

  There was another cheer, and the DJ moved on to introducing the next singer.

  ‘Put your hands together for Britney Spears!’

  The crowd had been suitably warmed up now, and gave an enthusiastic reception to the woman who was now stepping up onto the stage. She was well over sixty, but had the confidence of a regular karaoke performer.

  ‘Jesus Christ, Britney Spears isn’t wearing very well!’ Rhett announced, as the music started up again and the woman began to move on stage like she truly believed she was still the same age as Britney.

  ‘You were great ladies!’ he continued, ‘I didn’t know you could sing like that darling!’

  Naomi was beaming at him.

  ‘To be honest with you, neither did I!’

  ‘Gina, you’re amazing, where did you learn to dance like that?’ Caitlen asked.

  ‘Oh, thanks. Down the coast in Alicante, I joined a class there when I first moved out. I thought we did well for a debut performance.’

  Harriet had been intercepted by the man at the bar and was sipping the cocktail he’d bought her. Matt watched while trying to get the gist of what Becky was saying to him.

  ‘That was brilliant, Matt, you’ve got to try it! How about I put you and me down for “You’re The One That I Want”?’

  ‘Yes, yes, whatever you want.’

  She rushed off to write their names on the karaoke list. Harriet’s new friend had popped off to the gents so Matt grasped his opportunity.

  ‘You know he’s got his eyes on you, don’t you? He could have slipped anything into that drink of yours. It’s not just teenagers who have to watch out for date rape drugs, you know.’

  ‘Look Matt, I’m a free agent right now, okay? How do you think it makes me feel knowing that you’ll be spending the night in the same bed with Becky? You know I want us to be an item. But I can’t hang around forever. You need to end it with her or settle in for the long term. You have to make your mind up, Matt.’

  ‘And what, I have to look on while this guy hits on you?’

  ‘He’s not hitting on me, he’s just a good laugh. I have no intention of sleeping with him, okay? It’s just a night out, we’re probably going to a quieter bar when we’ve finished this drink. It’s just a bit of company Matt, you don’t have to go all psycho on me. But I can’t stand here all night watching Becky pawing at you. I’ve got feelings invested in this too, you know.’

  ‘I’ll do it, I promise. I just have to pick the right time. She’s difficult, you know she is. Just give me some more time ...’

  ‘You alright mate?’

  Harriet’s companion was back.

  He’d immediately singled out Matt as a cock-blocker and had every intention of dispatching him fast.

  ‘It’s okay, he’s a friend,’ Harriet said. ‘Matt’s fiancée is over there, she was just on stage.’

  The use of the word fiancée immediately reassured him, but Matt was in no mood for a macho face-off. Besides, he would always lose. The only way a man like Matt could ever win a fight is by sneaking up behind. He knew it too, and wasn’t so stupid as to lock horns with this man. He returned to the main group, but could not stop monitoring their progress.

  ‘So, anybody up for a re-run?’ Gina asked. ‘How about we put together a Boyzone or Take That group with the guys?’

  ‘I’ve done enough singing for one night,’ said Wes, eager to draw them back to his own performance. Gina wasn’t taking the bait, but Naomi and Rhett were fast with the compliments.

  ‘You were great up there, man. Sorry we couldn’t stay, but you sounded awesome!’

  ‘I hope you heard your dedications ladies?’ he asked, seeing that Harriet couldn’t hear him anyway. He looked at Gina, but she didn’t bite.

  Becky came back.

  ‘We’re on after Elvis,’ she beamed. ‘I put us down for “You’re The One That I Want”, hope that’s okay?’

  Matt cursed that she’d actually gone ahead with it, she seemed to be on a roll now. She was very up and down like that, at least she was on an up tonight.

  ‘Where the hell is Terry?’ Caitlen asked. ‘And Emmy? Did anybody see where they got to?’

  There were blank looks all round.

  ‘They probably went back to that heavy metal bar, that’s much more their kind of thing.’

  Elvis got up on the stage and began to sing ‘It’s Now Or Never’.

  ‘We’re up next!’ Becky said to Matt, excitedly taking his hand. ‘Make sure you cheer us when we go on, won’t you?’

  There was general excitement as Caitlen moved to one side to text Terry to find out where he’d gone. They’d only got the one key card for the apartment. She cursed how tight the apartment reception desk had been with the key cards, considering how they’d had to divide the rooms up after the booking error. If they went their separate ways later, she’d have trouble getting into her own digs. The ones she’d paid for with her money.

  Elvis was mercifully brief, and Becky had Matt ready to jump back on t
he stage. He looked as if it was the last place he wanted to be.

  ‘A big hand for Mike from Redhill!’ the DJ said.

  ‘And now, make some noise for Matt and Becky from Newcastle. These two love birds have only just got engaged, so let’s make them feel welcome!’

  There was a loud cheer and the opening bars of the song began.

  Matt was first up. He looked like John Travolta on poppers. He nervously spoke the open words of the song. His lacklustre delivery inspired an almost inaudible groan among the audience. That changed when Becky began to sing. At least there was something nice to look at in the form of Olivia Newton-John.

  Harriet finished her drink and turned to speak briefly to Naomi. She then headed towards the door with her male companion.

  Matt hadn’t taken his eyes off her from the moment he’d stepped onto the low stage. He watched the body language. Whatever Harriet had told him, the man was intent on one thing. Would Harriet be able to resist?

  Becky sang on but it was coming to the chorus, and it was clear to her that something was up. Her words ground to a halt at the beginning of her first line, leaving the crowd half-singing along, half looking at each other in bemusement.

  ‘Harriet, stop. I’m in love with you. I love you. Please don’t go.’

  ‘He wants to be singing KC and the Sunshine Band!’ some drunken man from the audience shouted, before a hush descended on the full bar. Matt’s words were amplified over the sound system.

  ‘I’m ending it with Becky. I’m doing what you asked. Don’t walk out of that door, please.’

  Sensing a moment, the DJ faded out the musical soundtrack.

  Even the stag party had settled down and were watching the entertainment play out on the stage. It had said nothing about this in the TripAdvisor reviews.

  By the bar, Caitlen looked at Naomi in horror.

  ‘What? What’s going on?’ Wes asked.

  ‘Can’t you see?’ Gina scolded, impatient with him. ‘Matt’s in love with Harriet.’

  ‘I knew I should have started with Damien Rice,’ he sulked.

  ‘Seriously Wes?’ Gina replied, tersely. ‘Is that all you can think about right now? You’re a needy little shit aren’t you? And you’re using Caitlen too ...’

  ‘You bitch!’ Becky shouted from the stage, making full use of the PA system at her disposal.

  There was an intake of breath from the crowd.

  ‘You can’t leave him alone can you, you little slut? You can’t find anybody quite like him, can you? Does your casual shag over there know that you’re damaged goods?’

  ‘Really Matt, this is what you meant by picking the right time? You bloody idiot!’ Harriet shouted. She was crying now, distressed not only at the way that he’d decided to declare his love, but also by the immense embarrassment of it having been done so publicly. She was completely humiliated.

  ‘Come on!’ she said, taking the hand of the man that she’d met at the bar. She stormed off, out of the club, into the Benidorm night.

  ‘Harriet, wait!’ Matt shouted after her, dropping his microphone on the ground and getting ready to exit the stage. Oblivious to the entranced crowd, he ran off after Harriet, followed by a crying Becky.

  ‘We’d best head out after them.’ Caitlen said, ‘I’ve a feeling this is about to get even more ugly.’

  They left the bar and there was silence for a few moments.

  ‘Okay, sorry about that ladies and gentlemen!’ the DJ said, still a little shocked about what was going on. ‘Let’s get back to the karaoke. Here’s Les once again, this time he’s singing David Soul’s “Let’s Have A Quiet Night In” ...’

  Chapter Eighteen

  Porter and Dr Barbara Lawrence: May

  ‘How long have you been having these dreams, Porter?’

  Barbara Lawrence studied Porter’s face, searching for any sign of agitation or stress. He remained calm, with his twitching thumb the only giveaway that what was coming out of his mouth and what was going on in his head were misaligned.

  ‘Over three weeks now. I feel like the past has come back to haunt me. It’s been so long since I thought about it. Now ... well, it’s like I’m there again.’

  ‘Have you told Emmy yet?’

  She could see from his reaction that he had not.

  ‘You need to share what happened, Porter. It’s a traumatic experience, it’s been life-shaping for you. Emmy is your wife, you have to try harder to trust her. She accepts you for who you are.’

  ‘Only, I’m not sure that she does, Dr Lawrence.’

  She let that one hang. If she waited long enough, the silence would become uncomfortable and he’d venture something else. The longer she waited, the more uncomfortable the silences became, the closer she’d get to the truth. Even better, she was getting paid by the hour, so she even made money when they were saying nothing.

  ‘I think she’s having an affair. Either that, or she doesn’t love me anymore. I’m not even certain that she ever did. She thinks I’m a fool.’

  ‘Did you try the CBT exercises that we discussed?’

  ‘You mean that cognitive behavioural stuff? I’m sorry, Dr Lawrence – and please excuse my language here – but it’s a load of old bollocks!’

  She was taken aback by that. Porter didn’t swear as a rule. He was calm, thoughtful and considered. Profanity was how he gave a glimpse into his anger. She pushed ahead.

  ‘It can help many people to re-route their thought patterns and create different behaviours based upon recurring and negative thoughts ...’

  ‘I killed my brother, Dr Lawrence! You don’t erase that memory with a bit of psychological mumbo-jumbo. It doesn’t go away just because I play a CD of whale sounds or try to think happy thoughts when I picture his face.’

  This is what she was looking for. For Porter, it always came back to the same thing. The entire world had moved on from the incident, but Porter was still stuck there, forever locked into his own memory of his teenage self.

  ‘You were both high, Porter, you were only seventeen. It was not your fault, we’ve talked about this so many times. You even have the inquest to confirm it. It was an accident. You were not to blame.’

  ‘But what happened afterwards with mum killing herself like that. It all followed from that night. She couldn’t live without James ... but she found it easy enough to leave me behind.’

  Barbara Lawrence loved her job, but sometimes she saw glimpses in her patients which really scared her. Porter had been coming to see her for two years. He was a private patient, he had the money to keep paying the bills. She had people like him to thank for her new Tesla. Most of them were just bellyaching about childhood slights or petty life crises. Porter’s was more deeply rooted, it made him both psychologically fascinating and an excellent source of recurring monthly income.

  ‘Losing your mother at such a young stage in your life is bound to affect you. It’s the person you need most, choosing to end their life at a time when you’re at your most fragile and vulnerable. But you can’t blame yourself Porter, it was your mother’s choice to leave this world, it has nothing to do with you.’

  ‘So why are the dreams back? I can see James’ face vividly as he fell ... he was grasping into thin air, I was not too far away to reach out to him. He looked me directly in the eyes before he fell. As if he was blaming me for not being there for him.’

  Porter’s eyes reddened as he pictured his older brother falling from the wall of the multistorey car park. What a couple of arses they’d been. High on pot, laughing their heads off, challenging each other to try out new parkour moves which were becoming increasingly dangerous. And then the inevitable happened. He could still hear the sound of James’ head cracking on the pavement below.

  ‘Have you been to the graves recently? Did you try my idea of writing them a letter to express how you feel about those events? You lost two of the most important people in your life within the space of a month. There’s still a lot of pent up anger in there.�
��

  ‘I’m going again after this appointment. I took the morning off work. I haven’t written a letter – it feels stupid to me. But I’ll say it in my head. I want to scream at both of them ... I feel so guilty about that.’

  ‘Don’t. They left you without being able to say goodbye. You never got to sign out properly with them. You need to reconcile that.’

  Dr Lawrence looked up at the clock.

  ‘Well, I think that’s us for this session, Porter. You need to confide in your wife. You have to trust somebody else with this information. It’s fine talking to me, I’m a safe person. But you have to trust other people – your wife, your friends. They won’t judge you anywhere near as harshly as you judge yourself.’

  Porter shook Dr Lawrence’s hand and left her office. He enjoyed their chats. It allowed him to play out what was going on in his mind and speak it aloud. He hadn’t told her everything, only he knew that. One day, he might trust that information with her. But he was a man edging forward, working through a very serious realisation.

  He’d chosen Barbara Lawrence specifically because her office was close to the cemetery. He always went there after his appointment, it had become something of a ritual. He’d see Dr Lawrence, put flowers on the graves then go for a coffee. Each time he did that it would allow him to relive the whole thing.

  There was even a flower shop on the way to the cemetery too. It was a small, local shop, the prices were almost reasonable. He bought a bunch of roses, then walked up the road, into the sprawling graveyard.

  In spite of the cemetery seeming to get bigger every time he visited, Porter could navigate his way directly to the graves. They were looking old, the once pristine marble headstones were now showing signs of weathering.