One of Us Is Lying: A totally gripping psychological thriller with a brilliant twist

by Shalini Boland

  ‘Hey, lovely.’ I give her a hug.

  ‘Haven’t seen you here for a while,’ she says. Her face is drawn and pale, her eyes cloudy and ringed with shadows.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yeah. You know how it is with young kids. Not enough sleep.’

  ‘I remember it well. It does get better. Well, the sleep part anyway! The rest of it is as tricky as ever.’

  We each force out a little laugh, but it’s obvious neither of us is in a chatty mood. Which is ironic, because I have so much I could talk about with her. Too much. I know she’d be sympathetic about Ryan, but I’m not sure what she’d say about Sophie. I think she’d probably be horrified and try to talk me out of it.

  A couple of Sonny’s friends’ mums, Anna and Mo, spot me. They wave enthusiastically and come over. Tia seems to shrink at the sight of them. ‘You sure you’re okay?’ I ask her, wishing I could invite her round for a chat, but knowing I absolutely can’t. Not right now.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ She almost snaps the words out, but I don’t have time to dig deeper because Anna and Mo are giving me enthusiastic hugs.

  ‘Kelly! Haven’t seen you here for a while? How you doing?’

  ‘Fine. You know Tia, don’t you? Her daughter Rosie is in Reception.’

  The two women glance at one another and then nod coolly in Tia’s direction. I’m a little taken aback by their reaction, which is verging on rude. But they’re all smiles again now. Maybe I imagined it.

  Tia’s face is red, as though she’s about to cry. ‘I’d better go,’ she mumbles. ‘Leo…’ She tails off.

  Before I get a chance to say goodbye, she stalks off, and I’m snarled up in my friends’ conversation about school matters. They haven’t mentioned Ryan’s classroom meltdown, so I guess they haven’t heard about it yet. Well, I’m not about to enlighten them. Maybe it will be forgotten about. But I know that’s unlikely. Some child will mention it to a parent and then it will be all around the town in no time. To my relief, the bell rings and everyone’s attention turns to the children streaming out of their classrooms.

  It takes a while for my two to make their way out, and I wave at them to get their attention.

  ‘Mum, what are you doing here?’ Ryan lopes over, his face a thundercloud of resentment.

  ‘Hi, Mum!’ Sonny beams, almost crashing into me in his enthusiasm. ‘We had swimming today and they let us have the inflatables. It was so funny. George Mulcahy had a sharp point on his swim-shorts toggle, and it burst the inflatable crocodile.’

  I ruffle Sonny’s hair and tell him that sounds hilarious.

  ‘Why are you picking us up?’ Ryan persists. ‘Do we have to go somewhere? We haven’t got to go shopping, have we?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. Aren’t I allowed to walk home with my boys every now and again?’ I smile distractedly at some of the other parents. Normally, I’d stop and go over for a chat, but right now I really have to concentrate on the kids. To explain to them about Sophie.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Sonny says, ‘Dr Barton said to say hello.’

  ‘Dr Barton? You mean the dentist?’

  Sonny nods.

  ‘When did you see him?’

  ‘He came into assembly to talk about looking after our teeth.’ Sonny bares his teeth at me to make his point.

  ‘So boring,’ Ryan mutters. ‘He went on and on about it.’

  Sonny pulls a small tube out of his pocket. ‘We queued up at the end to get free samples of toothpaste and Dr Barton said, “Say hello to your beautiful mother,” and then he went red like he was embarrassed.’

  ‘Gross.’ Ryan strides ahead, his shoulders hunched.

  That’s all I need. I really hope Paul Barton isn’t interested in me. If he is, I’ll have to gently set him straight. But right now I have more important things to sort out. Ryan still hasn’t mentioned anything about his outburst at school, even though it must be weighing on his mind. I decide that now isn’t the time for me to bring it up. Not with Sonny within earshot. I’ll talk to Ryan about it later when it’s just the two of us.

  ‘Hey, you two, come and walk with me.’

  Sonny falls back and takes hold of my hand. He may be eight, but he’s not yet too embarrassed to be hugged and kissed by his mum, unlike some children his age who don’t want to be seen anywhere near their parents, let alone have physical contact in front of their friends. Ryan slows to let me catch up, but I don’t even try to take his hand, knowing exactly what reaction I’d get.

  ‘So,’ I begin, ‘I wanted to let you know, we’ve got a visitor staying with us for a day or two.’

  ‘A visitor?’ Sonny’s eyes widen.

  ‘Her name is Sophie, and she’s a friend from when I was younger.’ I hate lying to my kids, but if Sophie really is hiding from an abusive relationship, then I can’t let it get out that I’m giving shelter to a stranger, in case whoever she’s running from susses out where she is.

  ‘Why’s she staying with us?’ Ryan asks.

  ‘Because she’s my friend and she’s having a little holiday in Ashridge Falls.’

  ‘How do you know her?’

  ‘Well, she’s actually not feeling too well at the moment, so it’s best not to bother her with lots of questions, okay?’

  ‘You could make her some celery soup,’ Sonny suggests. ‘Like you do when we’re not very well.’

  ‘That’s a very kind thought, Sonny. It might be a bit hot for soup though.’

  Ryan huffs. ‘Why have we got to have people staying? I like it when it’s just us.’

  I almost smile at his words – he sounds so like his father. But then I remember that Michael isn’t here any more, and my almost-smile dies on my lips.

  ‘You’ll hardly know she’s here. She’s very quiet and she won’t bother you if you don’t bother her, okay? Sonny, can you zip your bag up? Your books are going to fall out if you’re not careful.’

  We wait for a moment while he sorts out his bag. Ryan doesn’t say anything more. Just scuffs at the dusty kerb with the toe of his shoe. I have to restrain myself from telling him to stop it, that he’ll ruin a perfectly good pair of shoes. I look away and resolve to give him a little bit of space when we get in.

  ‘So while you two were at school, guess what I’ve been doing?’

  ‘Working at the shop?’ Sonny guesses.

  ‘Better than that…’

  Ryan feigns disinterest.

  ‘I made my famous Victoria sponge cake for the regatta.’

  ‘For the regatta?’ Sonny frowns. ‘But that’s not till Saturday.’

  ‘It’s lucky I made two then, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes!’ He punches the air. ‘So can we have some when we get in?’

  ‘Maybe.’ I wink.

  We turn into our road and walk the remaining two hundred yards to our house.

  ‘Oh, and, boys, there’s one other thing I need to ask you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’d like it if you didn’t tell anyone else about Sophie staying. Because if you do, everyone will want to come and visit us.’ I realise it’s a very unconvincing reason, but I’m hoping that it will sway them both to keep schtum. Sonny always wants to please, so I’m sure he’ll keep the secret. And Ryan might agree to do it if only to prevent the threat of more visitors descending.

  ‘So it’s a secret?’ Sonny asks.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What, we can’t tell anyone?’ Ryan looks momentarily interested.

  ‘No one at all,’ I say. ‘Do you think you can both manage that?’

  ‘Okay.’ Sonny nods vigorously while Ryan shrugs.

  My phone buzzes as we reach the house. I check the screen and see that Tia’s sent a text:

  Got time for a chat?

  She seemed quite down earlier. Maybe she wants to tell me what’s wrong. I’d usually call her right back, but there’s too much I need to sort out here. I’ll call her later. I stuff my phone back in my bag and we go inside. Once the boys are settled in the
kitchen with huge slabs of cake and tall glasses of iced lemonade, I race upstairs to see how Sophie’s doing.

  ‘Knock, knock,’ I say outside the bedroom door.

  ‘Come in.’ Sophie’s lying on the bed reading a magazine.

  ‘Hi, just wondering if you want to come down and meet my kids?’

  She looks a little taken aback.

  ‘It’s just… if you’re staying here, it’s probably best if you say hello. In case they bump into you on the landing or something.’

  ‘Oh, okay, but what if they say something to their friends?’

  ‘Don’t worry, they’ve promised not to say anything to anyone. I’ve told them you’re an old friend come to stay.’

  ‘Are you sure they won’t talk?’ Her forehead creases in concern.

  ‘It’ll be fine, honestly.’ Although I sound more confident than I feel.

  ‘Okay.’ Sophie gets to her feet. Wraps her arms around herself.

  ‘I can lend you some pyjamas and fresh clothes later, if you like. And, I should’ve said before, you’re welcome to take a shower.’

  ‘That would be really nice. Thanks.’ She follows me down the stairs and I walk back into the kitchen more breezily than I feel. Both boys have finished eating and are now fully focused on their phones. Heads down, tapping and scrolling.

  ‘Hey boys, this is Sophie who I was telling you about.’

  After a second or two, Sonny looks up and gives a shy smile. Ryan doesn’t react.

  ‘Ryan, put your phone down for a minute and say hi.’

  ‘Hi,’ he says without looking up.

  I tut and open my mouth to reprimand him but Sophie’s hand rests on my arm. ‘It’s fine,’ she whispers. ‘Leave him.’

  I’m torn between telling him off and avoiding a scene. The latter wins out and I shrug an apology to our house guest.

  ‘You don’t look like one of Mum’s friends,’ Sonny says, staring.

  ‘Why, what do they look like?’ Sophie’s more animated around Sonny than she’s been around me.

  ‘They’re older,’ he says, in that blunt way kids have.

  ‘Charming!’ I shake my head.

  ‘Mum, can I have some more cake?’ he asks, trying his luck.

  ‘No, you’ll ruin your dinner. Maybe later. Sophie, do you want a slice?’

  ‘I’m fine. I’ll go back up, if that’s okay.’ She eyes the window nervously.

  I want to tell her that the kitchen window looks out onto the back garden. That she’s hidden from view. That no one will be peering in. But then I remember that she ended up in my back garden and it wouldn’t be too difficult for someone else to jump the fence or jimmy the gate lock. I give a brief shiver. ‘Okay, sure. Let me know if you need anything.’

  She nods and slips away silently, padding back up the stairs.

  Now that Sophie’s gone, I should probably have a word with Ryan about his behaviour at school today. I don’t relish the thought, but I can’t just ignore what happened, can I? I gaze over at the top of Ryan’s head, remembering when he was younger with those beautiful dark curls rather than the short French crop he now prefers. Suddenly Ryan sighs, sets his phone down on the table and pushes it away. He glances up at me briefly, scowls and then catches his brother’s eye. Something passes between them.

  Sonny frowns and shakes his head.

  I walk over and start clearing the table, psyching myself up to question my eldest son. But I need to speak to him on his own, not with Sonny earwigging. ‘Sonny, have you got any homework?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  My phone buzzes again. I quickly check the screen. It’s another text from Tia. I lay the phone on the table. She’ll have to wait.

  Ryan elbows Sonny.

  ‘Get off!’ Sonny pushes his brother.

  ‘Sonny,’ Ryan growls.

  ‘Shut up. You say it.’

  I stare from one to the other. ‘Okay, what’s going on?’

  Sonny shakes his head, clamps his lips together and folds his arms across his chest.

  ‘Ryan, why don’t you tell me.’

  My eldest son glares at me for a moment, gets to his feet and then storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  ‘Ryan!’ I take a few steps after him. ‘Ryan, come back!’ Maybe I should go after him. No. Probably best not. I’ll let him calm down for a few minutes.

  Sonny interrupts my thoughts. ‘Mum, why’s he mad all the time?’

  ‘Oh, sweetie, I don’t know. I wish I did.’ I use my most gentle voice. ‘Sonny, whatever it was he wanted you to say, I’d really like you to tell me, okay?’

  He scowls and then sighs. ‘Okay. But it’s weird.’

  ‘What’s weird?’ I’m starting to feel more than a little freaked out.

  ‘They’re saying stuff about you at school.’

  I swallow. ‘Stuff? What stuff?’

  Sonny flushes bright red before replying. ‘Mum, did you kiss my teacher?’

  Eleven

  FIONA

  Seated at the conference table with my sketch pad open, I’m trying to work on my new designs for the Carmichaels’ mill house. However, my concentration isn’t what it should be, as I’m hyper-aware of those two interlopers in my office. Even though I’m purposely facing the opposite direction, I keep imagining that they’re looking over at me disapprovingly.

  I’m trying to stay zen about the audit. Que sera sera and all that crap. But the thing that’s worrying me most isn’t what the inspectors might discover, it’s how I’m going to tell Nathan what’s been going on. I don’t want him to see me so vulnerable. I’ve always prided myself on being self-sufficient, and he likes that about me. I hate the expression ‘power couple’ but I feel like that’s what we are. Admitting weakness to Nathan doesn’t come easy. It isn’t how our relationship works. Or, at least, it isn’t how the perception of our relationship works.

  If I were to tell him that my business might be in trouble, would he be sympathetic and supportive, or would he blame me and get angry? There’s no way of knowing, because we’ve never had any major hurdles like this to get over before. Our careers have always been pretty plain sailing. I guess it could go okay if I told him – maybe he’ll give me some practical advice. Help me to get through it. That’s how marriages are supposed to work, aren’t they? You support one another through the good times and the bad.

  Nathan and I met eight years ago at a local awards ceremony for young entrepreneurs, where he was presenting the prize and I won first place. On both counts, it was a big deal. Winning the award got me the publicity to really boost my client base, and meeting Nathan changed my life. I’d only been in one serious relationship before, but that one didn’t work out. Nathan broke down a lot of my barriers and we ended up falling in love and getting married within a year.

  That awards ceremony kind of set the scene for our lives. Success. Happiness. Perfection. Nothing less will do. I sigh. There’s no way I can tell Nathan that my business is under investigation. Pushing my sketch pad away, I stare out through the window at the shops opposite, at the people walking past, going about their daily business. I wonder if they’re happy. If their lives are straightforward and simple. Or if their minds are in turmoil and they’re simply presenting a calm exterior. Sometimes I’m amazed at how everyone in the world isn’t freaking out more.

  ‘Fiona…’

  I look up to see Molly walk in with an armful of next month’s interiors magazines. She fans them out on the coffee table and then straightens up, smoothing down her skirt. I always like to have an up-to-date selection for clients to browse through while they’re here.

  ‘Thanks, Molly. Shall we have a cuppa?’

  She nods and goes over to the coffee machine. She’s always so immaculately turned out – her hair, clothes and make-up are all flawless. I often think Molly would be better suited to a career in fashion than interiors. I’ve tried to get her interested in the design process. I want her to wow
me with fresh new ideas, but disappointingly she hasn’t ever shown any real initiative. She does what’s asked of her and that’s it. She’s a decent enough assistant I suppose, but I don’t think her heart’s in the business.

  She stands at the coffee machine, her back to me, shoulders down. I’m not sure what’s up with her at the moment. She’s been distracted over the past couple of weeks. And while she’s never exactly been the most enthusiastic employee in the world, lately her mind has been elsewhere. I think I’m going to have a word with her, check everything’s okay.

  Finally, she brings me a coffee and hovers awkwardly by my side.

  ‘Aren’t you having one?’ I ask.

  ‘No thanks.’

  ‘Sit down for a bit, let’s have a chat.’

  Her cheeks flush and she pulls out a chair and plops down next to me. ‘Are those the new mill house designs?’ She nods at my sketch book.

  ‘Yes, if you can call them that. I haven’t got very far with them.’

  ‘You will,’ she says flatly. ‘Your designs are always amazing.’

  I’m surprised by how touched I am at her praise – even if it’s said grudgingly. I honestly never thought she was that bothered by what I do. ‘Thanks, Molly.’ I give her a warm smile. ‘You know, we could work on them together, if you like?’ I’m usually quite precious about my designs, but I’m suddenly overcome by the need to be generous towards her. To be kind. I realise I haven’t exactly been the most approachable boss. I haven’t really given her any opportunities to shine.

  ‘That’s… that’s nice of you. But I can’t.’

  ‘Oh.’ I’m disappointed by her response. ‘Sure you can. I’ll help you with it.’

  ‘I don’t mean I can’t. I mean, I’m sorry, Fiona, but I’m handing in my notice.’

  ‘You’re…’

  ‘It’s not that I don’t like the job.’ Her expression changes to one of barely concealed excitement. ‘It’s just… well… I’m pregnant, actually. Me and Josh are having a baby and we’re moving back east to be nearer my parents.’