He shook Sergio’s hand warmly.
‘Come in, come in.’
Sergio introduced me.
‘I’ve seen you before,’ he said.
I managed not to look away. What if he’d seen me at some school event or dropping off Sofia, even if I hadn’t seen him, and he remembered me? Or was he reminding me of that day in the lift?
I nodded. My face burned.
‘In the office,’ he said.
He led us to the sleek grey sofa. I was acutely aware that I was sitting in the glare of the sun and the harsh light must have been picking out every line on my face. Our eyes met and I saw that his had green flecks in them.
‘I’m very glad to finally meet you, Fi. I’m looking forward to our collaborations.’
I couldn’t believe the man from the lift was my boss, and Julia’s husband.
As we were leaving, I couldn’t stop myself looking at the photographs on Harry’s desk. Julia’s eyes seemed to follow me as she stood in the sleek silver frame in a white slip dress, her blonde highlights and smile beaming. Her daughters were in another photograph, standing on either side of Harry, who had his arms around them.
Harry had no idea that I saw his daughters at school drop-off, or that I’d just emailed his wife about the charity auction committee in my lunch hour. I looked away, my mouth suddenly dry. Sergio was still talking, telling Harry how I won the deal with Omersky.
‘I always knew Fi’s Russian would give us the edge. Pity she’s been hiding herself away in…’
I cut in before he could say ‘Wimbledon’.
‘Sergio, you’re embarrassing me now. But thank you,’ I said.
I wanted to leave before Sergio said anything about my children or my also living in the Village. However, when he spoke again, he sent the conversation in a different direction.
‘Fi was at Oxford too,’ said Sergio.
Harry asked me which college and year and what I’d studied and before long we were reminiscing about the halls of residence, the dinner ladies and the beloved College porter who’d recently died of cancer.
‘I can’t believe you were in A6 too!’ I said. ‘Life is so strange isn’t it, sometimes?’
He smiled. I thought about Harry sitting on the same benches at breakfast and using the same creaking lift.
‘It is indeed. Although I left eight years before you. Otherwise, we might have been neighbours.’
I didn’t know if I imagined it or if the words ‘or more…’ were implied by Harry. His eyes crinkled, as if sharing a joke with me.
I had deliberately looked away from Julia while we spoke but my eyes were drawn back to her. She seemed angry. Harry saw me looking and picked up his daughters’ photograph.
‘My girls,’ he said. ‘Do you have children?’
Sergio’s phone rang and he went out, leaving us alone. I felt exposed, as Harry looked at me. I wondered if he was also thinking about the day in the lift.
‘Yes, two sons. Twelve and six.’
‘The opposite of mine. Two teenage girls, Amber and Elle,’ he said.
I looked at the photograph that he was holding out, at the faces I had seen many times at school.
Dread seeped through me. Perhaps I should say something after all? If the moment passed, it would be too late. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth, though. Things were going so well for me now but I still had to pass my probation and this deal would help towards my bonus. I couldn’t let Julia mess it all up for me. I just had to keep up the pretence for another few months.
‘They’re very pretty,’ I said, looking at the photograph.
‘They take after their mother in the looks department, thank goodness.’
He smiled at Julia’s photo.
Julia smirked at me.
‘This is my wife, Julia.’
That was the moment I should have said something like, ‘Oh, you’re Julia’s husband?’
I didn’t.
There would be no way out now, if he ever found out. It would be clear that I had deliberately lied.
‘You have a beautiful family,’ I said.
Before he could ask me any more questions about the children or Tom, I said, ‘I’m looking forward to the Omersky proposal. Sergio said we’re kicking off with a meeting tomorrow?’
He looked taken aback at my change of topic, as if he was the one who usually led the conversation. Then he smiled, as if impressed.
‘Yes, I met him a few years ago. I think we have a real opportunity here. Well done on getting this.’
‘Thank you. Sorry, I’d better get back to work. It’s great to meet you.’
Harry’s eyebrows moved up a fraction. He seemed surprised that I was opting to leave an audience with a director before being dismissed, but by the way he smiled at me as I left, he seemed to like it.
Thirty-Five
I had passed my probation. I had a job for the next five months, at which time, if I met my targets, I would get my bonus. I could then pay off the bank loans and put back most of the emergency fund. Sergio also said that if I carried on like this, they might offer me a permanent role.
I sat at my desk, trying to appear calm and carry on working as normal, but inside my joy bubbled like the champagne Sergio opened at our desk, to celebrate. Besides the relief, I felt a sense of confidence that had disappeared from my life a long time ago. I felt as if I had proven myself, at least at this hurdle. At HH all that mattered was that I could do my job. I remembered that feeling from when I worked in the City before. It didn’t matter about my name, or the colour of my skin, or even what I looked like. In the City, the bottom line was that if you delivered the money, you belonged. At least at my level. My confirmation showed that my hard work had paid off and I had been accepted.
I wanted to see Tom’s face when I told him. It was a Friday, so I arranged for the children to be at sleepovers and made sure I left at five.
‘Tom!’
I started calling him while my key was still in the front door but there was no reply. Damn. He was out.
I stood still for a second and then spun myself around in the hallway, my arms spread out. We were safe! We could go back to being us. Tom would never need to know what I’d done, and I would never lie to him again.
I heard a sound upstairs. Tom was home. I ran up.
He was standing at the window in our bedroom, staring at the sky. This room was always gloomy in the evenings but he hadn’t turned on the lamp. I stood in the doorway. Poor Tom, alone in an empty house all day. I couldn’t wait to fling my arms around him and see his smile. I knew that he’d be just as excited at my news.
I ran towards him, but stopped when I saw his face. When he looked at me, his eyes were hard as marble and his face taut. The skin around his eyes was blotchy, his hands hung clenched at his sides.
‘What the fuck have you done?’ he shouted.
His voice was like a slap. I took a step back, so shocked that it took a second before I realised what he’d said. Even then, I wondered if I’d heard him correctly.
He held out a piece of paper that he’d been holding in his fist. I smoothed the creases quickly, wondering what it could be. Then I saw the bank’s logo and my eyes filled with tears.
He knew.
‘What does it say?’ he said.
Each word felt deadly. My hand trembled.
‘What does it say?’
He repeated his question with clipped precision.
I sat down on the bed. My heart pounded through my chest, my head, my ears. I wanted to tell him that I was sorry, to beg his forgiveness, say that I’d pay back every penny. I knew none of that mattered, though. Nothing could excuse what I had done.
‘I went to the bank,’ he said. ‘All the money’s gone. The emergency fund was our safety net. For our family, for the children.’
His hands gripped my upper arms and pulled me up. His face was distorted, as if in physical pain. I had done this. When he spoke again it was as if in a daze. I covered my face with
my hands.
‘I got an automated call saying that the account didn’t have enough money for the safe deposit box. I thought it was a mistake, or some kind of fraud. The bank said there was no fraud. They gave me the balance from April, a seven-hundred-pound overdraft. There was seventy-five thousand pounds in that account, Faiza, and you only put ten thousand in the current account. Where’s the rest?’
I couldn’t say anything.
‘They said my name’s been taken off the account and only you can operate it. I told them there must be a mistake, it’s a joint account, but she showed me a form which she said I had signed to remove my name. I never signed anything like that.’
I had no fight left. I wanted to tell him everything. Confess. That was how criminals probably felt when they pleaded guilty, after months of protesting their innocence. My arms felt weak and I suddenly felt very tired. How long could I keep up this pretence? I let myself submit to the inevitability of it all and started to cry quietly.
‘Look at me! What the hell have you done with our money? How was my name taken off the account?’
He came closer, standing over me as I perched at the edge of the bed. My breathing was faster, louder, as if I’d been running.
I had to tell him.
‘OK, I’m sorry, I did sign your name for you and take you off the account but—’
‘You did what?’
His anger filled the room. I had to say something, anything.
‘That time you were in Argentina, the bank told me about a great investment bond that was only available for a couple of days. But to transfer the money for the bond, we both needed to sign, because the emergency account was a joint account. I signed a form on your behalf, to take your name off, so then, only my signature was needed, and I could buy the bond. It was such a great deal; I didn’t want to miss out on it. I just forgot to put you back on the account later.’
I didn’t know if any of it made sense. I had lost control of my lies and of my life.
‘You forged my signature? Faiza, that’s fraud. I can’t believe you’d do something like this.’
He spoke as if in a daze and looked at me as if he didn’t recognise me.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Still crying, I went up to him. ‘I know I shouldn’t have done it, Tom, but I was just trying to help.’
‘That’s no excuse! I trusted you, but you’ve forged my signature like a criminal. Where’s all our money? Tell me the truth!! That was everything we had. You’ve been lying to me, haven’t you? Is it all gone? Tell me!’
‘Tom, please…’
‘Tell me what you’ve done with the money or I’m leaving now and I’m not coming back!’
Tom never made empty threats. I froze. He started to walk towards the door. I couldn’t lose him, not now when everything was going to be all right. I ran after him and blocked his way.
‘I haven’t done anything! Would I lie to you about something like that?’
‘Why is the account empty then?’ I heard the hesitation in his voice. He wanted to be wrong. ‘Where’s all our money?’
My mind raced. He hadn’t seen the statements so he had no idea what had happened. Adrenaline surged through me.
‘I can’t believe you’d say these things to me,’ I said, and stared at him accusingly. If I was going to do this, I had to believe my own lies.
I started to speak, unsure of what I was going to say, until I heard the words myself.
Thirty-Six
‘I put it in the Post Office,’ I said.
I’d remembered a conversation with Sam a few years ago.
‘What?’
He looked at me as if I’d gone mad.
‘Iceland. I moved the money to the Post Office after what happened in Iceland in the last crash. Remember how Jules and David lost millions? Sam and James moved their money to the Post Office because of that. She said the government guarantees 100 per cent of your savings, but if a bank collapses it can take years to get your money back.’
He didn’t pull his hand away when I took it. He wanted to believe me. The more he wanted to trust me, the worse I felt as I told him lie after lie. But it was for the best, it really was. When I got my bonus, I’d put everything right. He need never know what I’d done. What would he gain from knowing, anyway?
‘I almost had a heart attack when I saw the balance.’
‘I’m sorry, Tom, I should have told you,’ I said.
I put my arms around him and he sighed. We held on to each other, each of us grateful that this storm had passed. I couldn’t stop myself from crying again, this time with relief. I would put things right and I would never make this mistake again.
I looked up at him.
‘Guess what? I passed my probation!’
‘Well done! I always knew you would, though.’
He lifted me up and swung me around.
We went downstairs, his arm still around me, talking about going out for dinner to celebrate.
‘Darling, please transfer all the money back from the Post Office into the current account.’
I stopped, grabbing the banister.
‘Why should we touch that money? We have my salary now.’
‘Darling, your salary won’t cover everything. We need the money in our current account and we need cash flow. No banks are collapsing, trust me.’
I went into the kitchen and turned on the kettle. I looked for a mug, rifling through the whole cabinet before taking one out.
‘The money’s tied up in bonds, though. I can’t transfer it overnight,’ I said.
‘OK, twenty-five thousand then. We must sort out the roof before winter, plus the boiler needs to be replaced, remember? Then the school fees will be due next term. Let’s go first thing tomorrow – the Post Office is open on a Saturday – so you can add my name to the account too and then I can manage it myself.’
I told him I was too tired to go out for dinner, so we got a pizza, which we ate while watching Casablanca. I couldn’t stop sobbing at the end and carried on crying till we went to bed.
He was expecting to see sixty-five thousand pounds in a non-existent account in the Post Office in the morning.
Once Tom was asleep, I crept downstairs. I curled up on the sofa and wrapped a blanket around me. I had made everything so much worse. I should’ve admitted the truth. Instead, I had built a whole new universe of lies.
I drifted off. I felt myself falling, dropping fast through the sky, about to die. I woke up with a jerk, just in time. As the birds started their morning chatter, I held my head in my hands and tried to quash an idea, but it kept getting louder and more insistent. I could see no other way out, even though the thought made me feel as if I was committing the worst kind of crime.
I put my hand on Tom’s shoulder as he slept and made my decision.
I would have to take the money from Ami and Baba. I thought about my anger at Farrah, for taking their money, but I was going to do the same.
To save my marriage, I would have to betray my parents.
Thirty-Seven
I used my keys to let myself into Ami and Baba’s flat and went straight into the kitchen, juggling a wet umbrella and two bags of groceries. In the living room, I saw the scene that I expected to greet me at ten in the morning, or at any time of the day, in fact.
Ami was in ‘her’ armchair, with headphones on, watching a Pakistani play on TV, one of several she had on the go at any one time. She was frowning at the usual mother and daughter-in-law intrigues playing out on the screen. She was wearing a freshly ironed floral salwar kameez and tiny matching turquoise earrings.
The room was silent as the headphones blasted the TV straight into Ami’s ears. Baba was reading the International Herald Tribune. Their neighbour, a millennial banker whose parents had bought him the flat next door, and probably an unused subscription to the newspaper, always saved it for Baba. He was already shaved and dressed in his daily uniform of blue and white checked shirt and navy trousers.
The
y were both wearing the furry slippers I’d bought for them last year.
‘Salaam alaikum.’
I kissed them both.
‘I’ve brought the cleaning things you asked me to pick up. Shall I make some tea?’
On the way to the kitchen, I knelt down and wiped away the drips from my umbrella in the hallway with a tissue. These days, I found myself ‘elderly-proofing’ their flat the way I had child-proofed my own house years ago – uneven rug edges that could trip them up, or a bedspread corner trailing too low on the carpet. They seemed so vulnerable now, as if anything was a threat.
As I waited for the kettle to boil, I rehearsed my lines. The mugs rattled as I carried the tray with clammy hands.
Baba had asked for some of my business cards and I handed them over. He took a deep breath in as he looked at them. His eyes crinkled behind his glasses. He smiled, nodding his head.
‘Very good, Beti. Client Investment Manager. Very good. I’m proud of you.’
‘You’re proud of me whatever I do, Baba. You were proud of me when I decided to stay home with the children and you’re proud of me now.’
‘That’s true. Why shouldn’t I be? You’re a wonderful daughter.’
Ami put my card inside her small black phone book.
‘Mashallah! I’m going to call all my friends and my sisters and my cousins to tell them about your new job.’
We chatted about their hospital appointments, and news about their friends, and after asking me about work and the children, they went back to their activities. I bent my head over my phone, pretending to scroll through my emails. My resolve was weakening with every passing moment. When I thought about asking them for the money, I felt my windpipe contracting, narrowing, as if it might fuse.
What would I say anyway? I couldn’t tell them what I’d done. Besides my own shame, I had to consider theirs. They would blame themselves and talk for months, years even, asking themselves what they had done wrong. That sort of shock and worry was the worst thing for Baba’s health. It could kill him.
There was an idea that had been germinating in my mind all night. It was plausible enough. They would believe whatever I told them. That should have made me feel more confident, but it made me want to cry.
Would I Lie to You? Page 15