The Lies She Told: A wickedly twisted psychological thriller that you cannot put down!

by Paula Johnston

  The plane journey home was frosty, and I had expected it to be. I had missed out on a fun week with my friends – my real friends, and I couldn’t join in on any of their gossip or private jokes. I had spent all my time with you and ruined what should have been such an amazing trip.

  I was sitting next to Georgia and had tried to make small talk but she wasn't having any of it. She was still mad at me. When I thought about giving up and just putting my headphones in and sitting in silence, she eventually spoke to me, bringing up the subject of you of course, what else? And I reluctantly filled her in on everything that had happened during the week. She followed my lead and fed me snippets of her holiday. There was such a stark contrast between our two trips; she had spent her week tanning her perfect body and drinking sangria whilst I spent my time befriending my husband’s bit on the side.

  I wasn’t going to, but I ended up telling her about Jack from the bar, and how you were a crazy bitch, stripping my body of clothing and encouraging a stranger to take advantage of me. She was horrified, but listened intently, scraping her thick blonde hair into a high pony as if somehow that would help her soak all the information in.

  After a while, Georgia stopped speaking again. Her green eyes pierced the back of the chair in front of her as she sat in icy silence. It sent shivers down my spine, I just wanted her to comfort me both physically and emotionally, to tell me that I had done the right thing by not outing you. I craved her guidance on what I should do next but she refused to give me anything more. I decided to leave her to digest everything I had told her. She was understandably stunned by the whole thing and I knew better than to push her. If you think my temper is bad, you should see hers.

  Chapter 31

  Now that I’m back home, I’m really struggling to be around Jacob. Knowing that he could even betray me with anyone, never mind someone so hateful and devious made me question who the hell I had married. How could he find those traits attractive in any way, and if he did, why did he marry me - I am nothing like you.

  Sometimes I've caught myself watching him as he goes about his day; washing up or lounging around on the sofa watching the TV. His face, that beautiful, strong, smouldering face that so often made me melt was now making me want to heave. I recoil every time he tries to touch me because it feels wrong, it feels like a lie. Things can't just snap back to normal, it will take some time for me to get over this, for us to be able to go back to the way we were. I still don't really know what I'm going to do going forward but my week with you is still too raw, too fresh in my mind to push aside. We will get through it though; I haven't gone through all this shit just to hand him over.

  The secret between you and I simmers away in silence and I'm prepared for the lid to blow at any minute. That's why I make sure that I text you every day, it helps keep the connection between us active even if it is from miles away. It makes me feel like I have the upper hand by keeping you sweet, but it sickens me to chat idly with you. I imagine you feel pretty pleased with yourself that you've returned home safe and sound with something you believe invaluable to use against me; leverage for a rainy day.

  I haven’t spent much time with the girls since we got back because I have kept them far away from the house, warning them not to show up unannounced and only meeting them for coffee or drinks in town. Often, I have lied to Jacob and told him that I was working late and just going straight to bed as soon as I got home. I can’t risk any of them saying something to Jacob about what they know, and even though it wasn’t their place to, I didn’t trust them not to. I'm just glad things are back to normal now between me and the girls. Georgia had filled them all in about our night with Jack and they all came around quickly. I knew they would anyway, because Georgia and I were fine now and they wouldn't have seen sense in carrying on a feud without their strongest member.

  I think Jacob has become a bit suspicious about why he hasn’t seen any of them floating around our house – especially Georgia, which I understand because it’s completely out of character for me to isolate myself from everyone. I am the social butterfly amongst my friends, the host, the party planner; not the recluse I have become. Often, he would come home to find spontaneous dinner parties or last-minute Friday night drinks. For some reason, and one I'm not complaining about, he hasn’t asked me for an explanation behind my peculiar shift in behaviour, and I haven’t offered one.

  I told him about you though - Zara of course, not the real you, obviously – and he asked the usual questions that any husband would: where did you come from and what were you like. I was more than happy to tell him to be honest because I wanted to test his knowledge of you. How much of what you had told me was the truth? Did you tell me aspects of your life that were genuine or was everything that came out your mouth just one big filthy lie?

  I watched his chiselled face carefully for any flicker of desire in his eye or any hint of interest in your beauty, your personality, your demeanour, but this is where the two of you differ because his poker face is and always has been excellent. Yours on the other hand, not so much, eh babe?

  My train of thought is interrupted by my guest taking her seat at the table. It feels so good to have her here, my best friend. We’ve spoken over text and phone calls since we arrived home, but tonight is the first I have seen her in person. I can tell from her bright smile that she is in high spirits and she looks phenomenal. She’s had her hair lightened, and her previous sun kissed, golden locks are now a strikingly sharp shade of platinum blonde. It suits her. I could never pull off such a prominent look.

  There’s something else different about her though, but I can’t put my finger on it. The energy that surrounds her, her aura – it’s vibrant and glowing. She would absolutely kill me for thinking it but dare I say she might even have gained a few pounds. Not in a bad way though, not at all, in fact she looks all the better for it. It’s not that she was unhealthily skinny or anything, just that she is always overly careful about what calories she consumes and what the fat content of absolutely everything is. That’s why I was even more surprised when she joined me in ordering both a starter and main completely overloaded in carbs. My stomach grumbled at the thought of gooey mozzarella sticks and chilli nachos covered in chunky salsa. My appetite hasn't been great since being home, but that's just down to stress, I'm sure it will pick up again soon.

  I decide to stick to soft drinks seeing as I have brought the car and order a coke and she follows my lead by ordering a jug of water for the table. I can't help but laugh because Georgia never misses out on the cocktail menu no matter what time it is and especially when I have the car knowing she will always bag a lift home. I chalk it up to nerves because as steely as Georgia Person is, she is an utter melt deep down and I guess she’s feeling just as anxious as me about our first get together. She just doesn't want to rock the boat by getting wasted and spoiling our reunion.

  Out of nowhere, and completely off topic, she is the first to mention you, which is a little annoying because I want to spend my time with her and just her. I don't want our nice lunch to be invaded by your nasty ass energy. I've had enough of that recently to last me a lifetime.

  ‘So, I’ve been thinking about… well you know what about.’

  I lean on the table with both elbows and clasp my hands at the bridge of my nose, bracing myself for what she is about to say.

  ‘OK, shoot’ I reply.

  ‘I think you should bring the bitch here - to London I mean, not this restaurant.’

  I take a sip of my coke, breaking eye contact between us. I know what she means, but I’m stunned at her suggestion. I don’t know why she thinks that is even remotely a good idea; bringing you closer to my husband. If anything, I want to keep you as far away from him as possible. As if she read my mind, she answers before the question escapes my lips.

  ‘Just think about it, Lauren. She’s got something on you, and that bastard is still lying to you. It’s time for you to do something about it. Something they won’t forget. It’s ti
me to stop being such a pushover.’

  It had never once crossed my mind to invite you here. I didn’t want you anywhere near me ever again, but Georgia did have a point. I did have to do something; I just wasn't sure what. Jacob wasn’t about to admit that he was still in touch with you any time soon, that's for sure, and you were cradling delicate ammunition that could potentially destroy my marriage if manipulated in the correct way.

  I take a deep breath and twirl the paper straw around my glass, rattling the ice cubes loudly.

  'OK then, what do you have in mind?'

  She beams at my acceptance and together we come up with the perfect plan for you, my dear friend. We spend the next few hours going over the finest of details and how to expertly get the ball rolling. My heart swelled with love for my best friend; appreciative at her newfound interest in my battle with the enemy and just how invested she was in bringing you down. She didn't once ask me if I was going to leave my husband, because she knows me well enough to know the answer to that. It reminded me just how much I would be lost without her. She was loyal, a true friend - family even - and both you and my husband could learn a thing or two from her.

  Chapter 32

  This morning when I open my eyes, I have no desire to go back to sleep. I am eager to get the ball rolling. Jacob is lying next to me still comatose. His alarm hasn’t yet sounded to wake him up for work. He looks so content, so happy, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, as if he hasn’t been lying to his wife every day for God knows how long. I wonder how he does it, how he manages to look me in the eye every day and tell me that he loves me. I hope he is making the most of his slumber because this will be the last morning where he sleeps peacefully with his deceit tucked carefully away beneath the surface.

  It took three failed attempts to reach you yesterday but on the fourth you eventually answered your phone. I know you were doing this on purpose. We're always battling for that upper hand, aren't we? I do my very best to sound weak and pathetic as I explain to you that none of the girls are speaking to me because they are still so angry with me for ditching them on holiday, and that I desperately need someone to talk to. I need you to believe that ‘someone’ is you. I tell you everything that Georgia and I came up with; that the guilt has eaten away at every part of me and that I’m thinking of coming clean about the whole thing. I knew that you wouldn’t allow that because if I did, you would no longer hold any power over me and then what would you do?

  You act just as I suspected, playing the role of my new best friend, empathising with me, telling me that you wished that you could somehow be there for me. I know that you had picked up on the hint before the question was even asked and you will probably think that this whole thing was your idea. You will believe that I have given you a fresh opportunity to worm your way into my life but you have no idea that by asking you to visit, I am really preparing to bring you crashing down to earth with an almighty thud.

  You agree to the trip after a bit of false reluctance, but decline the offer of my spare room, which is fair enough, I didn’t expect you to say yes anyway. I mean you're stupid, but you're not that stupid. You will want a base of your own, somewhere where you can safely slide off your devilish mask and morph back into the slimy reptile that you truly are.

  Although I always knew you would say yes, I was still a little surprised at just how quickly you were willing to drop everything to come down here. I don’t know much about your commitments back home, but you managed to clear your schedule pretty damn quickly. That only made you look all the more desperate though, I hope you know that, and just to make sure that you couldn’t back out now if you did happen to have any second thoughts, I booked and paid for your flights myself. ‘A little gift’ I told you, to say thank you for being such a great friend.

  Everything is now perfectly in place. You will arrive early tomorrow morning and in only a matter of days you will be sent on your merry way right back up to Scotland, defeated and devastatingly humiliated but most importantly without my husband.

  He on the other hand will spend days, weeks, possibly even months begging for my forgiveness, and I will bathe in the chance to watch him suffer. The best part about his up and coming suffering is that I already know that when I am satisfied that he has been tortured enough, I will undoubtedly let him stay. This was never about getting rid of him; it has always been about you – only getting rid of you. I feel giddy with excitement. Georgia was right, this has to happen for everything to go back to normal. God I am so lucky to have her.

  I gently swing my legs out of bed and pad across the hallway to the spare bedroom where I’ve already laid out my outfit for today. I will wear my favourite pair of black skinny jeans with a plain white t-shirt and throw on my studded leather jacket. It's a non-complicated, no fuss look; and yet a fierce one, one I feel confident in; an armour fit and ready to tackle anything that you throw at me today.

  After my shower I tie my hair back into a sleek ponytail and push a pair of large hoops through my ears. I look tired. I am tired. I'm tired of all your shit and it shows. Usually I would layer on that concealer till the cows came home but not today. I may be dressed well, but I don’t want to look well. I want you to really believe that I am suffering, really believe that I am in dire need of your help and support.

  Now for that little something extra that will surely spike your interest if you notice. I pick up the unfamiliar dark purple bottle of perfume that was sitting on one of the bedside tables and spritz it over my neck and wrists. I noticed it sitting on your dresser in Tenerife one of the times I was in your room. It’s funny because for the past few weeks I’ve been wearing your favourite perfume and Jacob has turned his nose up in disgust. Turns out, it’s not to his taste, and neither are you.

  I stand under the doorway of an old derelict cafe that has been closed down for several years. I stand here for a while, doing nothing but watching you. I watch as your head swivels as you turn to admire the photographs hanging on the walls. You're fiddling nervously with a gold chain that's hanging around your neck and I like that you're so nervous, because you should be. You look at your phone a handful of times, each time dropping it back down on the table in obvious frustration. I assume that you are checking the clock and wondering why I am so late. You don't deserve my time, so if I’m giving you any of it, I'll always make you wait.

  You pick up a teapot and pour yourself a cup of warm tea. I can’t help but think just how rude that is of you to not wait on me. What terrible, terrible manners you have. I shouldn’t be surprised though, not really, because you don't possess the qualities that resemble anything close to respect.

  As you take a sip from your cup, I decide to make my move, swiftly crossing the street and pushing open the door as a gust of wind chases me inside, blowing the napkins from a handful of tables. You spot me and clamber clumsily to your feet to greet me. You hug me tightly, and I notice a distinct difference in your demeanour. It’s softer, much more relaxed, like you're simply meeting an old friend, but I remain rigid under your touch. I can’t help it, being so close to you is killing me. I notice that your nose twitches slightly as you pull away from me – you've recognised my new scent. I slide off my jacket and hang it over the back of my chair.

  ‘You look amazing' you tell me.

  I shake my head, dodging your weak attempt at a compliment. We both know that my face is a portrait of stress and angst but you just can’t help herself, can you? The lies spill from your mouth so easily.

  When I take my seat, you reach across the table and take my hand in yours. It feels like an electric shock but I somehow manage to keep it together, fight the urge to pull my hand free and smack you with it. Instead I allow you to cradle my hand in your soft palms. My saviour.

  'I'm so happy you're here, Zee' I lie.

  You smile and begin to chat away, pleasantly and freely. You seem happy and genuinely pleased to be in my company. Something has significantly changed about you. I can see it in the way you look
at me. There’s less malice, less danger, more admiration and more warmth. Could it be that you actually think that we are friends? Best friends even. No, surely not, even you can’t be that delusional. I pop a piece of cake into my mouth to mask the laughter that has begun to escape. What a ludicrous idea; you, my best friend. That will never happen.

  Our afternoon has been as good as it can be when dining with your enemy. It was difficult to enjoy the delicious treats from tea because the heavy nauseating feeling lodged deep in the pit of my stomach wouldn’t allow it. I carried on our merry little dance for as long as possible. I listened to you and joked with you and I actually surprised myself at just how good of an actress I could really be, but now I realise that we are done here and I can't let you leave straight away. I don't want you to have any spare time on your hands to sit around your fucking cauldron, plotting and scheming of new and inventive ways to get close to my husband, so I encourage you to browse the high street with me. You agree and I make sure that we take our time dipping in and out of as many shops as I could convince you to.

  As the sun starts to fade and the wind begins to chill my face, a combination of impulse and impatience takes over. OK, let's go for this then. No time like the present.

  ‘Why don’t you come back with me to mine babe? We can grab a bottle of wine on the way home?’

  Your eyes widen with surprise, and I could have sworn that you were just about to greedily accept my offer but instead you blind-sight me, shocking me with your answer.

  ‘Do you know what Lauren, I’m so tired from traveling early this morning. I think I’ll get an early one tonight.’

  I grit my teeth and feel my fists clench by my side. I want to scream at your sheer defiance. This should have been a no brainer for you; the chance to enter my home and meet my husband. I was giving you an in, a way to finally get what you want but you turn me down. What the hell is going on? I take a deep breath and roll my eyes, for the very first time my mask is betraying me.