Would I Lie to You?

by Aliya Ali-Afzal

  My whole body tensed. This was worse than all the times someone had flung that word at me.

  ‘I’m so sorry, baby. That’s vile. What a nasty piece of work.’

  ‘He didn’t think he was doing anything wrong. None of them did. They thought it was OK to say it. He didn’t know I was half-Pakistani. Everyone thinks I’m English, or sometimes Spanish or something.’

  ‘Oh God, that’s awful. No one spoke up? Did you say anything to him?’

  ‘I told him it was racist to use that word, but I didn’t tell him I was half-Pakistani. I wish I had, but I couldn’t…’

  I gave her a hug and she sank into me without her usual resistance.

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s always hard to know what to do when someone is racist like that. I really hoped you wouldn’t have to deal with all this crap, but this kind of hatred is creeping back. Most people are nice, though, in my experience. You did the right thing to tell him he was being racist.’

  I kissed her head.

  I wondered if things really had changed. Maybe I’d just moved my children out of the pathway of the sort of racism I’d experienced, so they didn’t come across it every day. They knew it existed though – they’d heard a group of teenagers shout out ‘Fucking Paki’ to me as we queued up for ice cream on holiday in Dorset, and had been with Ami when someone on the bus told her to ‘Go back home!’ when she was speaking Urdu. They watched the news.

  Even in our bubble, though, I sometimes felt its presence, like a bad smell, that had lingered, though grown less pungent. I wondered if the National Front signs of the Eighties had infiltrated into spaces where I thought we were safe. I remembered the way Julia had said the words ‘BAME’ and ‘your culture’ to instantly signal that I was, above all, different.

  Sofia shrugged.

  ‘I was just shocked. No one’s ever said anything like that to me before. I mean, they weren’t even saying it to me, but it was about me. Next time I’ll know what to say, because it’s just wrong.’

  ‘You are lucky to have two amazing backgrounds, Sofia. Don’t pay attention to this kind of ignorance.’

  She nodded. ‘I know, Mum.’

  I thought about all the times that I’d heard someone make a comment or say something that felt a bit ‘off’, and how I never challenged them. I’d felt the way Sofia had, but at least she’d acknowledged that she should have spoken up. Next time, I wouldn’t stay quiet either.

  Forty-One

  The final meeting for the charity auction was at Julia’s house. As it was the last session and Julia wanted everyone there, she held it on a Saturday. As soon as I saw the group text, I knew I had to get out of it. Harry would be home on a Saturday. I imagined him opening his front door, his shock at seeing me, Julia’s questions, her outrage that I had kept it all from her – and Harry finding out that I had lied to him. I’d have to pretend that I was sick and tell her at the last minute.

  The day before the committee meeting, a chance remark from Ivan solved the problem.

  ‘I’ve got to wake up at five tomorrow, to catch the plane to Geneva. I wish Harry had picked a more civilised time.’

  ‘You’re going to Geneva? With Harry? Tomorrow?’

  ‘Correct,’ Ivan smiled.

  ‘When are you back?’

  ‘Monday night.’

  ‘So, your flight is tomorrow, Saturday? At what, 7 a.m.?’

  ‘Yes. Would you like to come and see me off?’ Ivan laughed.

  ‘Sorry! I just can’t believe Harry would drag you off at that time on a Saturday,’ I said.

  I leaned back in my chair, relieved. Harry wouldn’t be at home. He wouldn’t even be in the country. I could attend the meeting after all. I didn’t want to lose touch with the school crowd. For Sofia’s sake I needed to know what was going on with the teachers and the university applications. I’d also see Sam after ages.

  The next day I was sitting in Julia’s living room, while she held court, checking that everyone had ‘achieved their objectives’. She was doing a casual, at-home look, wearing white linen shorts, a white shirt knotted at her waist, with intricate lace cut-outs in the sleeves and Chanel pumps.

  Sam sat next to me, her blonde curls scooped up in a messy knot on top of her head. She’d probably taken thirty seconds to do it, but it looked perfect. Lizzie waved to me from across the room. She was in yoga pants and a fuchsia vest, glowing despite wearing no make-up. I was glad that I’d made an effort too, wearing skinny jeans and a pale blue silk top. Despite the range of clothes and hairstyles, there was a level of gloss in the room that could have been prepared for a quintessential yummy mummy photo shoot.

  On an antique chest to one side, there were several family photographs. I felt like a trespasser, entering Harry’s private world. He had no idea that I could see his holiday snaps and an old photograph from his university graduation. There was a TV on the wall opposite and I wondered if he sat in the same spot where I was, his arm around Julia.

  ‘Thank goodness Harry’s away,’ whispered Sam.

  I grinned and gave her two thumbs up.

  ‘I wouldn’t have come otherwise.’

  She smiled.

  ‘How about you? How’s the party from hell?’ I said.

  ‘Hellish.’

  ‘How’s James?’

  ‘I don’t know, Faiza. This strange power his parents hold over him is ruining everything. He has enough stress from working all hours without all the pressure from them. It’s affecting our relationship too. Things aren’t good.’

  I’d never heard her talk like that. Sam and James were solid.

  ‘I’m sorry, that does sound stressful. Tom said he’d heard about cuts at James’s firm. It’s not going to affect him, is it?’

  Sam’s face was suddenly a deep red. She frowned.

  ‘I didn’t think Tom was the gossiping sort. Why are you two discussing James with other people?’

  I put my hand on hers.

  ‘Hey, I’m sorry, it’s not like that. Really, Sam. Tom’s headhunter was telling him about all the layoffs in the City, for Tom’s job search, and that was just one of the companies he mentioned. Tom only spoke to me. We were worried because we’ve been through it ourselves. That’s all.’

  The way Sam had flown off the handle was worrying. It just wasn’t like her. She nodded, her colour coming back to normal.

  ‘I’m sorry too. I overreacted.’

  ‘No problem. Are you…?’

  Julia’s voice was suddenly louder.

  ‘Cora, thanks for arranging Tatler, and Anna’s sister’s husband has persuaded a very famous tennis player,’ Julia tapped the side of her nose, ‘to be our MC.’

  There were murmurs of approval from everyone.

  ‘I’m emailing a list of salons to get your blow-dries, make-up, facials, lash extensions, gel manicure and even,’ she stopped to giggle, ‘vajazzle!’

  I couldn’t help a snort of laughter escaping. I leaned over to whisper to Sam, ‘Isn’t that a cream for itchy privates?’

  She smiled. I yawned, wishing that I had skipped the meeting after all.

  ‘Thank you, ladies! I think we’re done…’

  Julia’s phone, which she was holding in her hand to read her notes from, started to ring. She glanced at it with disapproval, then smiled.

  ‘So sorry, it’s my husband.’

  The others started to chat quietly, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I imagined what Harry was saying to her. I wondered if he called her whenever he landed, and was telling her he’d arrived safely in Geneva and was missing her. Perhaps they did have the perfect marriage that Julia always talked about.

  She hung up.

  ‘I’m so sorry. My husband’s flight’s been cancelled and he’s on his way home with a colleague. I’m just going to leave some sandwiches for them in the study. He’ll be home any minute, so please excuse me. Then we’ll finish off the checklist.’

  Julia left the room and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I looked at Sam.r />
  ‘It’s OK. He won’t come in here,’ she said.

  ‘How do you know? Even if he doesn’t, he’ll be in the house. So will Ivan. He’s in my team. They’ll see me.’

  I knotted my hands together, twisting my fingers till they hurt.

  ‘I can’t even leave now. I might bump into them in the driveway. Sam…’

  ‘Look, it’s fine,’ she said, and swapped places with me so that she was sitting on my other side.

  ‘I’ll shield you. If he comes in here, I’ll sit forward and you can hide behind me. Julia said he had a conference call. The last thing he’ll want is to meet a bunch of school mothers.’

  I looked at the French windows.

  ‘Maybe I could go into the garden?’

  ‘Faiza, stop. What will you do in the garden? Hide? Listen, Harry’s probably going to go straight into his call. He’ll stay well away from us.’

  Sam was right. Julia came back and said that Harry was locked away in his study.

  ‘He never stops working,’ she said.

  As we left, going into the hallway as a group, I positioned myself in the middle, so I remained hidden. I just needed to walk a few steps to get to the front door. Sam shielded me on my right as we passed the study door which was closed and I kept my head down. Suddenly, the study door opened. I couldn’t help looking at it and, from amongst the throng of women, through one small gap that appeared as someone missed a step, for one split second I looked straight into Ivan’s eyes and he stared back at me. His expression changed as he recognised me. I put my finger up to my lips and shook my head, pleading with my eyes for him not to say anything. He nodded, shutting the door again. I scrambled into Sam’s car as soon as we were outside.

  Forty-Two

  I texted Ivan as we drove away: Please don’t say anything to Harry or to anyone. I promise I’ll explain everything on Monday.

  He texted back: Why were you at Harry’s house? Why is it a secret?

  I replied: I promise it’s nothing weird. Please just keep this to yourself. I owe you one.

  He texted back a very Russian: OK.

  I remembered how put out he’d been not to get the Vladimir account, but we had also become friends since then, and I had no choice but to trust him – and hope that he didn’t use this to get closer to Harry.

  Ivan was back in the office on Tuesday but was in meetings, so it was almost the end of the day when we went for a coffee. Sitting at the wooden table in the café, I clasped my hands around the warm cup. Ivan stared at me, his eyes not hiding his curiosity or suspicion.

  ‘Ivan, you haven’t…?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  I shouldn’t have waited three days before telling him, but I hadn’t wanted to put anything in writing in a text. It was too dangerous. It may have been a mistake to wait though. He might have conjured up all sorts of scenarios about me in the meantime: a stalker, a liar, a corporate spy.

  I decided to tell him the truth, however bizarre the politics of the school run might seem to a twenty-nine-year-old man. The danger was that he’d think my truth was so outlandish that it was a lie. I had to make sure he believed me and keep him on side.

  ‘I knew Harry’s wife, Julia, from before – our daughters are at the same school. But when I got the job, I didn’t know that Harry was her husband.’

  ‘You have a daughter?’ said Ivan.

  I flushed.

  ‘Yes, I didn’t want to say because she’s in the same class as Harry’s daughter.’

  I sounded dodgy, even to myself. Why would he believe anything I said now?

  ‘Why haven’t you told Harry that you’re friends with his wife? It would be good for you, wouldn’t it?’

  I shook my head. ‘Harry’s wife and I don’t get on.’

  ‘She isn’t a good woman?’

  ‘No, she’s fine. It’s just that we’ve never hit it off. So, I thought she might say something bad about me to Harry and then it would spoil my chances of ever making a good impression. That’s why I didn’t tell him.’

  ‘Tell me the whole story. If she’s a good woman and she hates you, what happened? Is something going on between you and Harry? I see you coming out of his office in the mornings.’

  ‘Ivan, please! Harry and I are just friends and I’m very happily married. Nothing happened with Julia either. She doesn’t “hate” me, she just doesn’t like me,’ I said.

  ‘Maybe she’s a racist? Maybe she hates Asians?’

  ‘No!’ My eyes widened. ‘Nothing like that.’

  Julia often made comments that were a little off-key, that might have been considered inappropriate, but she had never said anything openly racist, either to me or in general. At first, I had wondered, like when she always refused to eat any Pakistani dishes that I made for coffee mornings. ‘Oh, too spicy for me,’ she’d say, with an apologetic smile. And I’d felt a little unnerved when she’d talked about ‘too many people who can’t speak English’ in London. There was also the vociferous defence of politicians who made Islamophobic comments. None of that was so different from things I heard regularly at smart London dinner parties, though. It was simply culturally unaware, I told myself, not racist.

  ‘Personality clash,’ I told Ivan. ‘You don’t think Harry saw me, do you?’

  ‘No.’

  I breathed out in relief.

  ‘So, now I can’t let Harry find out the truth. What on earth would he think, if he knew that I had lied about knowing his wife?’

  ‘Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.’ Ivan stood up.

  ‘Thank you so much. I owe you one.’

  ‘Yes, you do,’ he said.

  I grinned, but he looked back at me without a hint of a smile.

  Forty-Three

  Naila had been messaging me to ask how work was and when we could meet up for a coffee. I hadn’t answered, but now I sent her a quick message: Sorry. Work is manic. Hope all well xx

  If we’d been meeting as we had in the past, then perhaps we could have talked, but my friends and I seemed to be in completely different worlds. I’d only seen Sam and Lizzie briefly a couple of times since I started working. It felt like I’d lost touch with everyone.

  That week I was at Ahmed’s school for a special class assembly. I’d told Sergio that I had a dental appointment so would be in late. As I was leaving the school, someone called my name.

  ‘Faiza!’

  I turned around. It was Naila.

  ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know you’d be here. They invited the new parents too. So, I came.’

  ‘Great,’ I said.

  She stepped forwards to hug me. I kissed her on both cheeks, keeping my distance.

  ‘I’d better get to work,’ I said.

  She walked alongside me as I headed towards Wimbledon station.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she said. ‘You haven’t answered my texts.’

  ‘Sorry, I’ve just been so busy at work,’ I smiled.

  Say the right thing, avoid any upset, pretend everything is OK. The mantra from my childhood, when I was the only one trying to keep the peace between my warring parents, was hard to override. Every step I took, though, I realised that I was walking away from Naila and our friendship. I stopped, and before I could let my natural instinct of avoiding any kind of confrontation win, I started to speak.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were applying to Clissington’s?’

  Naila looked down at the pavement and pressed her eyes with her fingertips, as if she was rubbing away sleep. I waited, wishing I hadn’t said anything. It felt as if I had walked to the edge of a precipice and I wanted to get back to safe ground. What would I gain by being so aggressive?

  ‘I’m sorry, I should have,’ she said, finally looking up at me, frowning and biting her lip.

  ‘I found out from Hannah,’ I said, ‘and I was so shocked. You must have known for months.’

  Naila asked if we could get a coffee at the café near the statio
n. My fear at speaking my mind was starting to subside. Nothing terrible had happened, and although Naila was upset, it wasn’t with me.

  ‘I was embarrassed, after all the things I’ve said to you about private schools. I tried to tell you, but I just didn’t know how. I was wrong, though. I owed you an apology for being so judgey and now I owe you an apology for not being honest.’

  ‘So why did you apply to Clissington’s?’ I asked.

  It was good to have things out in the open. It felt like us again, talking the way we always had.

  ‘You know those lectures I went to at Lizzie’s father’s foundation? She invited me after I met her at your dinner. I realised that Adil would benefit from smaller classes. He’s been struggling at his school. Anyway, Lizzie told me they had bursaries that we could apply for and I thought, why not?’

  She blinked at me, leaning forwards, and sighed. ‘I didn’t know how to tell you. I still feel a bit embarrassed telling anyone. I’m so sorry. I was also worried, now Tom’s lost his job, that you might have to take Ahmed out, and it felt as if we were taking your place.’

  We hugged each other properly when we left. In the train, I felt a rush of energy. I was so glad that I’d spoken my mind to Naila. It felt exhilarating and things were better, not worse, because I had told the truth.

  I wished things could have been that simple with Tom. I wondered if they ever would be again with this enormous lie between us…

  Forty-Four

  I was at Sofia’s school doing one of my last stints selling the tickets for the charity auction before the end of term.

  I told Sergio I had another dental appointment and would be late. He winked and said, ‘You know, Fi, you can come late for other reasons too.’ He smiled. ‘I know how hard you work and we’re all grown-ups here. Take it easy.’

  I felt embarrassed that he’d guessed I was lying about the dentist, but was grateful that I had somehow found a human and humane boss, a rare breed in the City.

  Sam and some of the other mothers were there too, as everyone was going for a class coffee after the ticket sale. Most of the women were in gym clothes, showing off sleek bodies and sleek skin. Lizzie was in pale-pink yoga gear, Sam in black leggings and a T-shirt showing her company’s logo, and Julia was all in black – vest, leggings, trainers, almost Cat woman-like, with her blonde hair in a high ponytail.