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

by Paula Johnston

  'Oh, come on, babe. I won't keep you late', I try again, but you rebuff me once more.

  ‘Fine’ I tell you sulkily. ‘But tomorrow you are coming over to the Salon, I’ll give you a fabulous blow dry with my own fair hands.’

  I force my smile to reach my eyes as I beam at you, praying that you say yes. Fortunately, you do and I suppose you had to really because what other excuse could you have conjured up? What else would you be doing?

  After we say our goodbyes, I phone Georgia immediately. This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go; you were supposed to be in our house when Jacob arrived home for a little surprise.

  'Hey George, it's me, listen we have a problem.’

  'What's wrong, where are you both?'

  'She didn't want to come back to mine, I don't know why. I didn't know what else to do so I panicked and invited her to the salon tomorrow', I blurt out, barely taking a breath.

  'OK, that's fine. In fact, don't even worry about it. I have a better idea.’

  Chapter 33

  I twist the barrel brush around Mrs Young's ash white hair as I blast the dryer. You should be here any minute now.

  ‘Becky!’ I shout across my bustling salon. ‘Are there any spaces left at all today?’

  ‘Nah babe, totally full’ she shouts back over the noise.

  Good. I knew there wasn’t, but I wanted to double check. I purposely filled the diary to the max ensuring there was no room for walk-ins or last-minute appointments, and definitely no sign of a booking for anyone named Zara.

  'OK Hun. Just remember that we aren't taking any strays in today, even if we get a cancellation.'

  The bell jingles as the door opens and I catch your reflection in the mirror as you approach the reception desk. Your hair is scraped up into a bun and you’ve dressed in a playful canary yellow sundress. The dress should have been hideous, but it looks good on you because you've paired it with a black leather jacket and chunky biker boots. You've also applied a startling red lipstick which has undoubtedly transformed the whole thing into something along the lines of a rock-chic vibe. I remember when you used to hide the way you dressed, dulled yourself down so that you appeared less of a threat, but look at you now.

  I can’t hear what you're saying because of the noise but your face tells me everything I need to know; it looks mortified by whatever Becky has said to you. Becky is a terrific stylist, but her people skills are something to be worked on for sure, which is why I purposely put her on desk duty today when our usual girl phoned in sick. If there isn’t an appointment for you in the diary, she won't mince her words in telling you that you will not be seen by anyone. I wouldn't take it personally though, that's just the way she is and she would say the same to anyone. My lip twitches into a smile – but of course you don't know that's just how she is, and absolutely will take it personally.

  I finish brushing out the tight curls on the head in front of me before applying a firm hold hairspray and then tap Mrs Young on the shoulder gently, letting her know that she is all done.

  I swipe any stray hairs off my jeans and make my way over to the reception desk to fetch you.

  ‘Zee!’ I coo and pull you towards me, dismissing Becky and then linking arms with you before leading you over to one of the vacant basins. I pull your jacket from your shoulders and hang it on the coat stand. You do look very pretty today, and it's really not sitting well with me because I don't want you to meet him when you look so fit.

  I wrap the black cape around you tightly, encouraging you to take a seat. You look a little confused, and I guess you're wondering why I'm doing all this nonsense myself when I have plenty of people to do it for me, but what fun would that be?

  I let the showerhead run for a minute to gauge the temperature, it's lukewarm, perfect for washing any normal client’s hair, but you aren't any normal client so I turn the temperature up a notch. You flinch as the burning water runs over your head and trickles down your perfectly made up face, but choose not to say anything. I scrub at your head, my nails furiously attacking your scalp. After I rinse the shampoo clear, I don’t bother with much conditioner because I've spotted another opportunity to have a little fun with you. The condition of your hair up close is visibly damaged by heat and I know that it’s going to be sore and tough to try and comb it through, which is why I don't give your hair a chance to soften, that would only ease the process and we wouldn’t want that now, would we? I drop your head, allowing it to fall back down with a sharp thud against the white ceramic. It’s a petty move and I know it is, but it feels so good.

  After wrapping a towel round your head and taking you over to a chair, I begin to wonder just how far I could push you. If I don't want you to look good for my husband, then isn't it up to me to make sure that you don't?

  'You know babe, your hair could really do with a good chop to spruce it up a little, what do you think?'

  'Oh, don't be daft, I appreciate the offer but honestly I'm fine thanks. I don't want to waste your time'.

  OK then, not so easy. Nothing a little bit of sulking won't fix though.

  You hate the silence between us and eventually agree to let me take a little of the ends. Of course, my little and your little are going to be two completely different things. I smile at you brightly in the mirror as I take the first chop at your hair without even looking at your head, without drawing attention to where I had positioned my scissors - three inches high.

  This is too good, I notice your eyes begin to water, and you can't help but flinch in your chair with each snap of my scissors. I bid a joyous farewell to your lusciously long locks and silently thank you for being so eager to please me. If you had just stood your ground, insisted that you were fine as you were, maintained that you weren't bothered about a few split ends, then maybe you wouldn't have been in this predicament. It's your own fault, what's happening, really it is.

  I don’t however want you to think that I have in any way shape or form sabotaged your hair on purpose, so I do my best to look as focused as I can, when all the time I'm really not giving a rats arse about how it's going to turn out. I finish off with a beautiful bouncy blow dry, which would have looked terrific on you had I not just sliced away at your length, but not now, because any girl who looks after themselves knows that curls on short hair will only make the hair appear even shorter.

  'Ta-daa! All done babe!' I squeal in pleasure.

  Oh god, you look horrified by what you see in the mirror, it's bloody fantastic. I wait for you to say something, anything but you don't – not even a simple thank you, which isn't very nice now, is it? What a rude little bitch you are.

  You sulk your way over to the pink sofa at reception and I head through to the staff area to collect my things. In the safety of the back room, I slam my hands down on the table and close my eyes tightly. Being around you and acting like your friend, it just gets too much sometimes.

  The destruction of your hair wasn't actually part of the master plan, that bit was all me. I just couldn't help myself though when I saw how pretty you looked, and I there was just no way I could allow you into my home like that. I can't wait to tell Georgia when I get the chance, she will be proud of me, I know it. I use a couple of precious moments to compose myself and get my shit together before carrying on with our day.

  I still have a little time to kill before taking you home with me because I don't really want you in my home any longer than absolutely necessary, so I suggest that we go for a coffee at one of the locally owned cafes down the high street. The sun is beaming from the sky, so I insist that we sit outside. You keep fidgeting with your hair, dragging your fingers through the curls, attempting to straighten them out, extending what length you have left. There’s not much chit chat between us right now, but I don’t try to force it because it’s normal for friends to be able to sit comfortably in silence.

  Two blokes walk past our table and you jerk your head towards your chest, diverting your eyes from their attention. Oh wow, you are just as bad as th
at song. How does it go again? You’re so vain. You're so eager to be liked, so desperate for attention even from strangers, two men that you will never see again in your life and yet their opinion of you matters - it’s pathetic.

  ‘What’s wrong Zee?’ I quiz.

  ‘Oh, I just, I thought I felt a drop of rain.’

  I peer dramatically up the crystal-clear sky in amusement. There is no rain, none whatsoever, but I ignore your moment of stupidity and finally ask if you fancy coming over to mine for a bit and I am delighted that this time you agree. Everything is slowly coming together, just like we planned. There was a slight hesitation before you accepted though, that's how I know you only said yes because I told you that we would be home alone. I must admit, I am a little confused as to why you're so keen to avoid him. After all, isn’t that really what you came here for, to be with him? Nevertheless, you can't hide the excitement that's started to spread widely across your face; anticipation blazes through your eyes in desire. That poker face again, you really need to work on that.

  Chapter 34

  When we arrive at my house, I park the car at the back door and lead you over the red cobbled path rather than present you in plain sight to my full neighbourhood because I don’t want anyone asking me who my guest was. When you're gone, I want to forget about you, I don't need any reminders. I also know that by parking here, Jacob won’t see my car when he arrives home as it's too far down to be seen from the front door. There's always method in my madness.

  You hesitate before entering but now that you're inside I can see that you are transfixed on my house. You turn to close the door gently behind you and your fingers linger a little too long on the handle, which is strange. I study you as your eyes graze over all my possessions, under a jealous spell, bitterness oozing from you.

  I urge you deeper into the house, through the alcove that leads us into my living room and tell you to take a seat and you pause to take your boots off, which is baffling because it’s a bit too little too late to discover some manners now.

  You are in a world of your own, somewhere far, far away from me; I bet you can't believe that you are really here.

  'Don't be shy, sit down and make yourself comfortable.’ I puff one of the cushions to entice you and then ask if you would like a glass of wine. My words startle you – you aren't interested in me right now.

  ‘Yes please’, you accept, still not meeting my eyes, too focused on everything around you.

  I head back into the kitchen and pull the bottle of rose that I bought two days ago from the fridge and take two glasses out of the cabinet. I pause before I interrupt you because your expression catches me a little off guard. It's no longer inquisitive and childlike; it's darker, more dangerous and I realise why by following your gaze. Our wedding photo has caught your attention. I cock my head to the side as I watch your forehead wrinkle and your jaw clench, you seem really triggered by that, as if you haven't seen it before.

  I move quickly, kidnapping the opportunity for you to study it any further and pour pink liquid into your glass first, handing it to you with a wide smile. I notice that your eyes have changed colour, like a mood ring does when it senses a change in your emotions. They are much deeper shade of blue now, almost black and nowhere near as fragile and vulnerable as before.

  You take a quick sip of your wine and put your glass down on to the coffee table with a thud before excusing yourself and asking permission to use the bathroom.

  ‘Of course, you can, babe. Don't use the downstairs loo though, the tap ain’t working. Use the main one, it's just up the stairs straight ahead. You can't miss it!'

  I take a seat on my sofa, leaning back and melting into its comfort, taking a deep gulp of the floral but fruity liquid. I’ve left all the room doors upstairs partially open just like Georgia told me to. She said that you wouldn't be able to resist sneaking a peek inside.

  I take my phone from my back pocket and click on the app that I still have downloaded from my previous plan that I imagined would be successful in catching Jacob in the act. Georgia was right about your crazy ass because as I expected you have bypassed the bathroom and have sneaked into mine and Jacob’s bedroom. I watch you so carefully, completely focused on your every move. It feels like I'm watching some weird psychological thriller on Netflix.

  You run your hand over our bed and successfully identify which side is Jacob’s. I knew you would, because I left his watch on the bedside table on purpose. I can’t see your face now though because you've turned away from the camera, but I notice that you have lifted something into your hand. Oh surely, fucking, not! My hand slaps against my mouth as I hold back my horror, watching as you take a sip from his stale glass of water. Completely stunned, I put my glass down, jump to my feet and begin to pace the length of the living room. You really are a whole different level of bunny boiler and it’s fired something up inside me, ignited fresh fury. Stuff Georgia's plan, this is too much, I don't want you in this house any more. Time is up for you, babe. Time to face the music right here and now.

  'Zee, are you OK?' I’m about four steps up the staircase when my phone rings from the Kitchen. Fuck, what if it's Jacob. I quickly turn back on myself, furious that I have been interrupted.

  ‘Lauren you need to stop what you’re doing. I need to tell you something – urgently.’

  Fuck sake George this is not the time.

  ‘George, I can’t! She’s upstairs right now. She’s just taken a drink out of a filthy old glass of water for fuck sake! She’s crazy! I need to get her out of here!

  There is a brief pause before she replies, just as stunned as me.

  ‘She what?’ Her voice is icy and furious. ‘Never mind that, call the whole thing off, I really need to see you tonight.’

  The phone beeps and the line falls dead without any further conversation. What does she mean, call it off? This was her idea, to punish her.

  The faintest whisper behind me catches my attention; please forgive me. It's so subtle I would have missed it if Georgia was still on the phone but it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The front door opens and closes loudly – Jacobs home. Shit. I whip around to find you standing far too close to me and I yelp in genuine shock, dropping my phone onto the floor.

  ‘Shit Zee, you scared the life out of me there, babe!’

  I try to laugh it off, but you don't laugh with me. You don't speak, you just stare at me, wild and panicked, a rabbit caught in the headlights.

  ‘Please forgive you for what?’ I ask you; a nervous smile pinned across my jaw; my whole body aware that Jacob could enter the Kitchen at any minute. This isn't how it was supposed to go.

  ‘Lauren, I’m really sorry I have to run’ you blurt out, before babbling on with an excuse about a leak or a flood and shoving your feet quickly into your boots. Why are you leaving? I thought you wanted to see Jacob; I don't understand.

  ‘OK... but you’re sweating. Are you OK?’

  I step towards you attempting to grab you, to hold you firmly in position but you jolt backwards, and before I know it you've swung open the back door and fled, leaving behind the scent of our shared perfume.

  Fuck, I breathe huskily. Things got a little out of control there. One minute I wanted you out of here and the next I realised that this might be my only chance to confront you. I don't know what the hell Georgia was going on about either, what could be so important right now, more important than this?

  I hear Jacob exit the downstairs bathroom, of course there is nothing wrong with it, I just needed to give you an opportunity to venture upstairs. I rush to collect our two wine glasses, but he catches me in the act as I'm popping them in the dishwasher so I have to admit that I’ve had a guest; that you've been here.

  'Oh, hey Babe – you're home early', he quizzes. He didn't expect me to be home, that was the point, I wanted to catch him off guard.

  'Yeah, I wasn't too busy today so finished up early to spend some time with Zara'. My fingers grip the edge of the workto
p. ‘You just missed her actually’ I spit. I don't mean to, but it's out before I could stop myself, hide the poison in my voice.

  'Did I?' Where did she go then?' he asks. Is he questioning me? It sounds like he is. Who the hell does he think he is?

  I'm really struggling to hold it together, my anger slowly escaping my grasp. I do my best to calmly explain why you left so abruptly but he doesn’t seem to be listening to me and that only adds to my rage because he was the one who wanted to know in the first place.

  I stop speaking after his reply, and allow the silence to fill the gap between us that seems to be growing bigger and bigger. I busy myself by putting the bottle of wine back into the fridge but I can feel his eyes bore a hole through the side of my skull. Eventually he walks away, rubbing his temples and sighing loudly and I let him go. Before I would have chased after him, apologised for being so snappy, but not now.

  I try to dial Georgia again but she doesn't pick up. I try another three times, but she ignores every attempt. I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do now, she wants me to stop but she doesn't realise how close I came to giving up, how close I came to letting her go. I can't stop now, I need to push forward with the plan, with or without her. She won't get away again.

  Chapter 35

  In hindsight, I realise that it must have been Jacob’s unexpected arrival that caused you to flee the scene. You weren't prepared to see him, you didn't have a plan of your own ready to tackle the situation. You're actually not as bold as you first appeared to be. When we first met you surprised me, the lengths you were prepared to go to were extraordinary. Even just turning up to Tenerife in the first place was a big move, and that was just the beginning – before I knew what else you were capable of.