Putting my arms around their small bodies, I edge them both in towards me and take a breath, confident that they’re about to settle down at last.
‘Mummy, can we have a snack?’ Leo suddenly springs away and gets to his feet.
‘You’ve just had your tea, Leo. Sit back down.’
‘Mummy!’ Rosie cries. ‘He’s in the way, I can’t even see the telly.’
‘Right, that’s it!’ I stand up and click the TV off.
‘Mummy! Don’t turn it off!’
‘Put it back on, Mummy, put it back.’
‘We’re going out,’ I declare. I can’t sit here doing nothing with these thoughts flying around my head and the children constantly clamouring for my attention. I need to do something. I tried to confide in Kelly earlier, but that didn’t work with Fiona gatecrashing our lunch. And even though I’ve texted Kelly a couple of times since, she still hasn’t replied. I guess she’s busy with work and the kids, but I did think she’d have made a little bit of time for me, her best friend. And I won’t even be able to talk to her tomorrow at the regatta, because Ed and the children will be there, not to mention Fiona and Nathan.
There’s only one other option I can think of right now… ‘Okay you two, how would you like to go out and see your Uncle Ash?’
‘Unkash! Unkash!’ Leo cries and starts bounding around the lounge.
‘I’m going to tell Uncle Ash about those mean boys at school so he can put them in prison.’ Rosie folds her arms and nods.
This is the first time today that Rosie’s mentioned those boys at school. I wonder if I should ask her about them. See whether they’ve been persisting with their story.
‘Can I bring Shorty?’ she asks.
‘Quickly then.’
Rosie races up the stairs to fetch her toy giraffe. She’s obviously not upset anymore, so I decide to leave it. There’s no point talking about those boys if she’s happy right now. I’d only be dredging it all up, and the last thing I want is Rosie in tears again.
‘Right, let’s go. Leo, get in your pushchair.’
‘No.’
‘Okay, you can stay here then.’
Leo immediately runs into the hall and plonks himself into his pushchair where I strap him in. He’s getting way too old be pushed about, but his buggy is so handy for keeping him contained when I don’t have the time or energy to manage him. Does that make me a bad mother? Maybe, but that’s a guilt trip I’ll save for another day.
Rosie thunders back down the stairs with Shorty and the three of us leave the house. Stepping outside, I instantly start to feel more positive, the warm evening air a balm on my skin. The simple act of walking and pushing Leo’s buggy makes me feel proactive, less trapped. I’ve always had a hard time sitting still and doing nothing.
‘This is like an adventure, Mummy!’ Rosie cries, skipping along by my side.
‘It is, sweetie. It’s a lovely evening adventure.’
‘Unkash!’ Leo cries again, pointing to the road ahead.
‘Yes, we’re going to see Uncle Ash. You sit nice and quietly and we’ll soon be there.’ My cunning plan is that the motion of the pushchair will eventually lull Leo to sleep. In fact, I’m going to walk the long way around to give him more of an opportunity to get snoozy.
My big brother Ash is a local cop. He always wanted to join the force and it suits his personality down to the ground. He’s a straight shooter, a real good guy who isn’t afraid of anything. His only flaw is that he tends to look down on me, his tearaway sister. When we were younger, I was always the one getting into scrapes, blaming him, and landing us both in trouble with our parents. I love Ash, I really do, but it’s hard living in his perfect shadow. However, the one thing I do know is that he’ll always be there for me. As long as I play by the rules.
Twenty minutes later, Leo is fast asleep in his pushchair, his mouth wide open, a line of drool down his chin, while Rosie walks sedately by my side, yawning, her thumb in her mouth, all her earlier enthusiasm having faded after our long walk in the warm evening air. I get the feeling I’ll be carrying her all the way home.
We stroll along the high street past the silent shops and the lively pubs, past Salinger’s, where I notice that Fiona’s left a light on at the back. I think about texting her to let her know, but immediately change my mind. Maybe she’s working late. And if she is, she might feel obliged to come out and start talking to me. I pass Ida’s Bakery – which is closed for the night – and stick my middle finger up at the window, subtly so Rosie can’t see, but it’s satisfying, nonetheless. I still don’t know why the staff were so rude to me earlier. It’s weird.
There’s something odd going on that I can’t quite put my finger on. Like everything in my universe has slightly shifted. I think it could have something to do with the crazy rumour at Rosie’s school about me being a murderer. As long as it’s nothing to do with the photos. My skin tingles. What if I did do something with that man in the photograph? What if it’s common knowledge and lots of people saw me that night? They might think I’m carrying on behind Ed’s back. If that’s the case, then Ed is sure to find out. Someone will tell him. Maybe he already knows…
I can’t think like this. No one knows. Of course they don’t. I’m just being paranoid. They’re probably fake images anyway. Please God, let them be fake. I haven’t heard anything more from the person who sent them – not since they texted Ed. But I’m sure it’s only a matter of time until they get in contact again. And when they do, it’ll be worse than last time; I’m convinced of that. Whoever it is wants to ruin my life. But why?
Rosie stops and holds her arms up to me. I hoist her onto my hip and she rests her sleepy head on my shoulder. I’ve become adept at carrying her while pushing Leo in the buggy; it’s second nature. But I know that soon my arms will start to ache. Quickening my pace, I stride along the rest of the high street, turn right after the library and head towards the police station. If Ash isn’t working tonight, his house is only around the corner. I don’t like to turn up unannounced, but I don’t want to text either, to give him the chance to say he’s too busy to see me.
I push Leo’s buggy up the ramp into the police station. It’s Friday night so things will soon be busy with drunken fights and lovers’ spats, but for now it’s empty in here. Just Sally Payne on the front desk, her blonde hair pulled back into a neat bun at the back of her head. She’s a couple of years older than me and has worked for the local police force since leaving school.
She looks up briefly with the beginnings of a smile on her lips. But when she sees me, the smile dies.
‘Hi, Sally,’ I say tentatively.
‘Tee. Can I help?’ I’m taken aback by the lack of warmth to her greeting. Maybe she’s had a stressful day.
‘I’m here to see Ash.’
‘Oh. Well, he’s only just clocked on.’
‘Is he free for a quick chat? I won’t keep him long.’
She gives a barely suppressed huff. ‘Fine, I’ll see if he’s got a minute.’
‘Don’t do me any favours,’ I mutter under my breath as she ducks into the back office. I set Rosie down on one of the vinyl chairs where she immediately curls up and resumes sleeping. Leo is also still sound asleep. Poor babies, they’ll be disappointed that they missed seeing their uncle. But at least it’ll make it easier for me to chat to him without constant interruptions.
The door to the back office swings open with a squeak and my brother walks through in his uniform, a hesitant smile on his face with an accompanying raised eyebrow. He’s tall and broad, dark and handsome. My brother used to be the school heartthrob, only he never knew it. He got married really young to Lyndsay Daniels, a quiet girl who lived up the road from us. They now have three kids, aged fourteen, twelve and nine.
‘Hi, Tee. Everything okay?’ He comes around the front and gives me a hug. I squeeze his shoulders a little too hard and a little too long, my eyes beginning to fill up. I sniff and try to compose myself before he sees my fa
ce again. But he obviously senses something’s up. ‘Hey, Tee, you okay?’ He pulls back and stares at me.
I tut and roll my eyes to throw him off the scent. ‘I’m fine. How’s things with you? Lynds and the kids okay?’
‘Yeah, all good.’ He nods in the direction of my two. ‘I see my niece and nephew are out for the count.’ His baritone reverberates through the small reception area.
‘What’s up with Sally?’ I note that she hasn’t come back to the front desk yet.
‘Sally? How do you mean?’
‘She was a bit off with me just now.’
‘Really? She seemed okay to me…’
‘Oh, okay, never mind. Sorry to drop in on you at work. I just have a quick question.’
‘Sure.’ He gives me a look that says he’s wondering why I had to walk all the way over here on a Friday evening to ask him a quick question when I could just as easily have called or messaged.
The thing is, I don’t want to tell my brother exactly what’s going on. I’m not too sure how he’d react if I actually showed him the photos. He might believe they’re real and the last thing I need is my brother’s disapproval. And even if he didn’t think they were real, he wouldn’t have approved of me going out clubbing with the girls while I have a husband and kids at home. Don’t get me wrong, Ash is a lovely husband and he believes in equal rights for men and women. He’s a good guy. The same ethical code would apply to him as to his wife – basically he would never in a million years want to go out with his friends while his wife was at home. They do everything together as a family. Which is lovely. I adore spending time with my family too. But sometimes, every once in a while, I get the urge to cut loose for a night. Doesn’t mean I love my husband any less or that I want to do anything with anybody else, it simply means I enjoy having a laugh with my friends every so often. But Ash wouldn’t understand this. And I can’t face his judgement right now. So I’m going to be a little bit economical with the truth.
‘I was just wondering… how easy is it to fake photographs?’
‘What do you mean?’ His brown eyes narrow.
‘I mean, is there a way of telling whether a photo is real or fake? Like if someone else’s face was put onto a different photograph, are there ways to spot that?’
‘You’d have to show it to an expert.’
‘Isn’t that something you lot would be able to work out? Like, do you have special software or something?’
‘What? In Ashridge Falls Police Station? Most days we’re lucky if we can find the stapler.’
‘Okay, I get your point.’
‘What’s this about? Has something happened?’ His stare intensifies. My brother always has the ability to make me feel instantly guilty. There’s no way I’m telling him about the actual images and what they’re of. I feel sick at the thought of him or anyone else seeing them. But maybe he’s right. I probably need to get them checked out by an expert.
‘So how would I go about finding someone who can tell if the images have been faked?’
‘Tee, are you going to tell me what this is about? If someone’s uploaded images of you online without your permission, you can get them taken down, you know. Give me the link and I can investigate – or is it something you don’t want me to see?’
‘No, it’s nothing like that. This is just a hypothetical situation.’
He folds his arms across his chest. ‘Yes, Tee, you came halfway across town with two sleeping kids to ask me about a hypothetical situation.’
His radio beeps, and a male voice starts talking. Ash holds a finger up at me. He frowns. ‘I have to go, but this conversation isn’t over. We’ll speak later, okay?’
‘Can you give me the name of someone who could help?’
‘I don’t know off the top of my head. Google it. I’ll call you after my shift. You need to tell me what’s going on.’
I sigh and turn away to collect my sleeping kids. As Ash disappears into the back room, talking into his radio as he goes, I instantly feel more anxious and less secure. I don’t visit Ash enough. We need to make more time for one another.
Heaving Rosie into my arms, I realise I’m still no further on in my quest to discover who’s behind the images, and now I’ve also made my brother suspicious. He’s not going to let this drop. I didn’t think this through properly. I probably shouldn’t have said anything to him, and I should have warned him not to mention any of this to Ed. I’ll text Ash, just in case. Except that’s bound to make him doubly suspicious.
The walk home is slow and tiring. Rosie is a dead weight in my arms, and my mind and body are leaden. Ed won’t be home till late, so it will be just me alone at home with my thoughts. I only hope I don’t receive any more unwanted photos or messages. Maybe I’ll do what Ash suggested and try to find a photography expert online. But how will I have the courage to show the photos to a total stranger? To have someone judge me like that. This whole situation is hopeless.
Twenty-One
Lying on the floor, she flicks idly through the magazine her friends brought round, but the pictures are a blur and the articles may as well be written in Chinese for all the sense they’re making. She hasn’t been out of the house for three days. She’s been holed up in her bedroom trying to forget about what happened. But it’s not working. The walls feel like they’re closing in and no matter how many times she brushes her teeth, she can still taste his sour mouth on hers. It makes her gag.
She closes the magazine and eases herself up onto her feet. Walks over to her dressing table and looks in the mirror at her thin face and limp hair. She needs to get out of here and breathe in some fresh air.
She tiptoes down the stairs, hoping to sidle out the front door without disturbing her mum. Because, since it happened, her mum has barely stopped crying. And it’s exhausting having to cope with that on top of everything else.
Too late.
‘Are you going out?’ Her mum comes out of the kitchen into the hall.
‘See you in a bit, Mum. Won’t be long.’
‘Shall I come with you?’
‘No, I’m just going for a walk.’
‘I think I should come with you. Hang on, let me get my bag.’
‘No!’ She says it a little too forcefully. ‘Sorry, I just want to be on my own for an hour or so.’
‘You’ve been on your own in your room for days. Why don’t you call one of your friends to go with you?’
‘I’ll be fine. I’ll be back soon.’ She makes her escape and jogs quickly away from the house before her mother has the chance to come after her.
Once she’s a couple of streets away, she slows to a walk and tries to catch her breath. Her body feels sluggish and weak. The jog has made her a little light-headed. She comes to the bus stop and sits on the empty bench for a moment, closing her eyes as the sun warms her face and the breeze ruffles her hair. She should get up and head down to the lake, but she doesn’t want to move. It feels nice to just sit here for a while.
‘Liar!’
Snapping open her eyes, her heart sinks as she sees a group of five or six teens walking down the street towards her. They’re chewing gum, their mouths working furiously. She recognises one of them as being a couple of years above her at school – Sally something or other. But she’s guessing that the one who called out is the girl with the dark hair who’s swaggering up to her now with an accusing scowl.
‘You know he’s been suspended, right?’ The dark-haired girl’s eyes bore into her own. ‘Because of you.’
‘I…’
‘It’s in the Gazette. Mr Lawson’s the best teacher in the whole school. I’ve got my exams next year and you’ve screwed my future up by being a lying bitch. You need to go to the police station and own up. My mum says he would never have done what you said. She says you’re an attention seeker.’
‘I…’ But she doesn’t know what to say. Tears prickle at the back of her eyes, but she can’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry. It’s what they want. S
ome of the boys are nudging each other and laughing. She doesn’t know what to say. What to do.
‘Well?’ The dark-haired girl raises an eyebrow.
‘I wasn’t lying.’ Her voice is weak and shaky. She wishes she sounded more certain.
‘Come on,’ one of the boys says impatiently, ‘let’s go, we’re gonna be late.’ The group slowly moves on down the road, an amorphous mass of hate, but not before the dark-haired girl throws her another sneering glare and calls her a whore.
She lowers her head, scared to look after them in case they see her staring and come back. Her body is numb. Does everyone think she made it up? Does everybody hate her now?
Twenty-Two
Saturday
FIONA
I stand on the deck beneath the shade of the pergola, sipping my double espresso and staring out across the water. For now, the lake is empty, just a few silver ripples disturbing its silent depths. By contrast, up by the boathouse the shore crackles and pops with excitement and activity, the morning air shot through with scattered laughter and coloured bunting flapping in the warm breeze. Later, the surface of the water will be teeming with launches and sailboats, but for now the view ahead is calm and serene.
Today is regatta day and, quite honestly, I can’t wait until it’s over. It’s already hot as hell, and the thought of having to be happy and sociable with everyone is making my head hurt. If it wasn’t for Nathan racing later, I would cry off, cite a migraine or too much work. But my husband is really looking forward to his race, and he needs my support.
Right now, he’s upstairs getting ready, changing into his sailing gear. He woke up in a really good mood, kissed me, slid his hands all over my body and acted as though last night never happened. But it did happen. His cold fury frightened me, so I stayed at the showroom going through receipts and invoices until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer – which ended up being somewhere around 2.30 a.m. I eventually crept home, terrified of waking Nathan. Wondering whether he would even allow me back into the house. I debated whether to even come home at all. But then, what if he grew angry because I’d stayed out all night?
One of Us Is Lying: A totally gripping psychological thriller with a brilliant twist Page 13