Would I Lie to You?

by Aliya Ali-Afzal

  I laughed and went over to kiss his cheek before I left, but he bent down to get some dishes out of the dishwasher, so that I couldn’t get near him.

  I stayed where I was for a minute, even though I knew I’d miss my bus. I wanted to turn him around and say, ‘Hey! I was trying to kiss you. Come here!’

  I wanted to stand on tiptoes, smile at him teasingly, look into his eyes and kiss him. I wanted to say, ‘Stop being such a grump! See you tonight!’ and see his face break into a grin as he said, ‘OK, I’ll kiss you, but only so you can let me get on with doing the dishes!’

  That was what I would normally have done if he was in a bad mood. I always knew how to make him feel better and he’d always let me, at least in the past.

  But he carried on making packed lunches, and didn’t look at me again. The set of his shoulders, and the look on his face, stopped me this time, for the first time, from going to him.

  I picked up my bag and went outside, running to catch the bus, trying not to think about how things had changed between us, in a way I could never have imagined.

  Forty-Seven

  After my chat with Sofia, I made sure that I had some regular one-on-one time with each of the children, even if it was only half an hour playing Thomas with Alex, or taking Sofia for a Bubble tea. I was especially careful to keep an eye on Ahmed. I was going away for my first business trip, but before I left, I wanted to make sure he was all right. I hadn’t seen him much since I started at HH. Tom had made an effort to keep a closer eye on him, learning one of his PlayStation games so they could play together. But Tom hadn’t been with Ahmed every day since he was born almost thirteen years ago. I could pick up things Tom couldn’t, like a twinge in my psyche when something wasn’t quite right with one of the children.

  The weekend before I was due to leave, I took Ahmed for a walk on the Common.

  ‘How’s the Biology project coming along?’ I said as we sat down on a bench.

  What I really wanted to ask was how he was feeling? His sessions with Dr Keane had gone down to once a month and he seemed to be all right, but because I hadn’t seen him much, it was hard to know if he was hiding any worries.

  ‘I’m good, Mum. Don’t worry. I have some really cool friends now and everything is different. I know it wasn’t me or my name that made those boys bully me.’

  I nodded, trying to blink away my tears. I stared ahead at the pond, watching the ducks. Ahmed’s voice had started to get a little deeper and he’d become even taller in the last few weeks.

  ‘I used to bring you here to feed the ducks, do you remember?’

  ‘Yes, Mum. Look, can I please go to a concert at Wembley next month? Dan’s older brother will take us. The tickets are expensive so I told Dan I couldn’t go because Dad doesn’t have a job but he says it’s fine. He’s loaded so he’s getting tickets for us both. I’m going to pay him back by selling my old trainers on Depop. Also, can he come for a sleepover afterwards?’

  There were so many things to process. As he started to eat his cookie and went on Snapchat, I thought about how things had changed. Ahmed wanting to go somewhere he hadn’t been before, arranging a sleepover with his friend, talking in such a matter-of-fact way about us not having money for the ticket, and figuring out a way to pay for it. I felt a happiness so intense that I wanted to remember that moment forever. I knew that I would.

  Forty-Eight

  The whole team were flying to Amsterdam the next day. There was a lot riding on this pitch. If I was chosen to work on the account, my bonus would be guaranteed

  We’d been allowed to go home early to pack for the trip. Tom was playing Solitaire on his phone and didn’t look up when I went into the living room. I stood in the doorway for a moment.

  ‘Hi. What’s wrong?’ I asked.

  ‘Nothing’s wrong. I’m trying to unwind. Can you please leave me alone for a few minutes?’

  ‘Oh, sure.’

  My face was wet by the time I got to the top of the stairs. It was as if my husband’s body had been taken over by an alien. Usually, if I went away for a weekend, with my friends or with Farrah, Tom looked through travel guides and time zones with me and found me the best route from the airport to the hotel. He always told me to enjoy myself while I was away.

  I sighed. I knew he wasn’t himself. It must be awful for him to be stuck in this limbo, with no idea of when he’d get back to work, and no company or no distraction. I wished I could make him feel better, but I seemed to annoy him even more. Perhaps a few days away from each other would help us both.

  On the plane, Harry sat next to me. We talked about an upcoming alumni event at Oxford. He asked if I’d like to go with him and did funny impersonations of Professor Hodge, the literature tutor we had both had. It was the sort of thing Tom would have done in the past, making me laugh so much that I forgot my worries for a while. It was just what I needed, after what had happened with Sam and Tom. I was lucky that I’d made a good friend in Harry.

  *

  The night before the pitch, we all went to a bar in the centre of Amsterdam. We were politely thrown out at closing time. The buildings swayed and rippled as I tried to focus. I had broken my ‘one glass of champagne’ drinking rule, and had two. I wasn’t drunk, although I let the others think I was, because it made them so extraordinarily happy.

  I still felt a little unsteady, though. Teresa and Sabine had wisely worn flats for Amsterdam, but I’d been unsure about how to dress for the team dinner and had stayed in heels. My shoes slipped on the cobbles and Harry put his arms around my waist to steady me.

  ‘Never thought I’d see the day,’ laughed David. ‘Now you’re officially one of us.’

  I’d pretended to drink the non-stop stream of wine and cocktails. In fact, I had either poured my drinks in the plant pots by the pool table, or said that my glass had just been topped up.

  Harry hooked his arm through mine.

  ‘I think I’d better hold on to you. We don’t want you breaking your neck before you’ve emailed me the slides.’

  We criss-crossed the canals over tiny bridges, the water ink-black and still as glass. My heels wobbled. The rest of the team were already further ahead, except Teresa, who walked alongside us. She clearly did not want me to have time alone with a director if she couldn’t. When we got closer to the hotel, her phone rang. She walked a little further ahead as she talked.

  The she came back and said, ‘I need to FaceTime my daughter so I’d better run. Is that OK?’

  She looked at me as she spoke and I frowned. If she needed permission, Harry was the one she should ask.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after her,’ said Harry, waving her off.

  I was glad when she left and it was just the two of us. Fairy lights winked at us from the trees lining our route, like a mass of stars that had fallen down from the sky. We walked on in silence. I enjoyed the warmth of being close to Harry. Tom hadn’t been near me for days, not even for a hug or to pull me up against him while we watched TV, and it felt comforting to lean on Harry’s arm. My supposed intoxication meant that it was perfectly correct for Harry to take me up to my room at the hotel and open the door for me.

  He waited until I was inside and said, ‘Will you be all right?’

  His hand was on the door handle.

  Yes please, can you come in and… I stopped, shocked at my thoughts. My cheeks flamed and I shook my head.

  ‘Goodnight, take some paracetamol,’ he said, smiling, and left quickly.

  My head started to throb. I knew it was just the drink, which had left me disorientated, and with this unexpected reaction towards Harry.

  The next morning at breakfast, Ivan said, ‘Be careful with Harry.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘I saw the way you two were last night. I hope you didn’t…’ Ivan leaned forwards and stared at me. I bent my head and sipped my coffee. I didn’t trust myself to speak.

  ‘Harry’s a nice guy but he has a “reputation”. There were rumours
about him and Annie who used to do your job. He usually likes his women younger but you’re just his…’

  I put down my cup. My ability to keep my face arranged in whatever expression was required for the situation was almost an instinctive skill, so my body knew what it had to do, even though my mind was screaming. I widened my eyes, as if in shock, then burst out laughing.

  ‘Sorry, Ivan! I’m afraid you’ve misread the situation completely. I may have been a little tipsy but I’m a happily married, middle-aged mother and Harry was the perfect gentleman.’

  ‘OK, good,’ he said. ‘It’s always best not to get too friendly with the boss. If anything goes wrong…’ He drew his finger across his Adam’s apple, unsmiling.

  ‘Agreed,’ I said. ‘It’s also best not to let your imagination run wild. Honestly, Ivan, this is hilarious. Don’t worry, there will be no…’ I copied his gesture across my throat.

  He seemed satisfied. ‘Sorry if I got it wrong.’

  I replayed my actions from the night before. No, I hadn’t done or said anything inappropriate and there hadn’t been anything in Harry’s behaviour to suggest that he was in any way coming on to me. Quite the opposite, in fact.

  Although Ivan seemed genuine, I wondered if there was something else going on. He’d been so angry about the Vladimir account. He, like the others in the team, was so much younger. Perhaps he felt I had an unfair advantage because I was the same age as the directors and we had things in common, like our social circles and children’s schools. Ivan might be trying to drive a wedge between Harry and me. Perhaps I did need to be careful, but about Ivan, not Harry.

  Forty-Nine

  ‘I imagined he’d have one of those amazing houses on the Keizersgracht,’ I said as we headed towards the coast for our pitch, hurtling down the motorway.

  ‘No, he bought a castle on the beach from the 1800s. Better for the helipad and more security,’ Ivan said.

  ‘Do you know him then?’ I asked.

  I smiled, dread creeping up my chest. Ivan, being Russian and more experienced, already had an advantage over me. But if he knew the client as well, then it was pretty much a foregone conclusion that Misha would pick him.

  ‘Not personally, but we have friends in common,’ he shrugged, and nodded his head in time to Phil Collins singing ‘You Can’t Hurry Love’ on the taxi’s radio.

  My call with Tom earlier kept replaying in my mind. I’d asked him if the headhunter had been in touch about another job they’d been discussing.

  ‘Another “Not hiring yet”, OK? Sorry to disappoint you.’

  I’d tried not to feel hurt at the way he spoke. He was bound to be upset. I could hear Alex coughing in the background and longed to be at home with the children rather than in the sterile, air-conditioned hush of the hotel room in Amsterdam.

  ‘I’m sorry, darling,’ I said. ‘Listen, don’t worry. I’m sure something else will come through.’

  ‘Yes, people are lining up to hire me. Anyway, I don’t have time for this right now. I have to give Alex his antibiotics,’ he snapped and hung up.

  I’d wanted to tell him that Alex needed to sleep propped up on pillows with lots of Olbas oil. Ever since he was a baby, Alex couldn’t sleep when he had a cough, unless he was leaning against my chest as I slept sitting up against the headboard, but Tom hadn’t given me a chance. I kept thinking about how Alex had cried as I was leaving for the airport, and had called out to me just as I got to the bedroom door, ‘Today is the day I’m going to die! You’ll never see your son again.’

  I’d never been away from Alex when he was sick and I was also disappointed that Tom didn’t get the job. He had no right to act this way towards me.

  *

  The countryside became darker. A sudden right turn took us into a trickle of a road where we were hemmed in tight between a high hedge on one side and what looked like a boundary wall on the other. I pulled my arms towards my body instinctively.

  ‘This is it,’ said Ivan, sitting up and tapping his thigh.

  I peered out to get a better look and spotted sharp metal spikes glinting along the top of the wall.

  ‘It looks more like a prison than a luxury castle,’ I smiled. ‘I wonder if there’s a moat littered with bankers who didn’t deliver results for Misha?’

  No one replied.

  I leaned forwards, squinting to get my first glimpse of the house but all I saw were clouds of trees bearing down on us in dense woods. Eventually, the landscape opened up. Manicured trees stood to attention like a military guard of honour on either side of the long, ruler-straight driveway, at the end of which was a six-storeyed castle with all the windows lit up, as if on fire. The taxi crunched to a stop on gravel.

  A butler handed us champagne and ushered us upstairs to the buzz of conversation on a first-floor terrace which overlooked the sea and a private beach. A low Perspex wall allowed uninterrupted views of the inky sky and a slice of the moon, while flickering candles and white roses lay along the edge of the decking.

  ‘Fi, come and meet everyone!’ Harry waved at me.

  Misha looked too young to be a father to the four children for whom he had asked us to set up trust funds. His clothes underlined the youthful image; jeans and a salmon-pink starched shirt with a Patek Philippe watch. He shook my hand and then turned straight back to continue his conversation with the Dragon. I didn’t know what to do next. Harry was in a smaller group a little to the side with Sabine and some others.

  Ivan saved me by calling me over and introduced me to one of Misha’s colleagues, Peter.

  ‘Fi is one of us! She knows Russian.’

  Ivan’s eyes kept flitting towards Misha and soon he excused himself, leaving me with Peter. He started talking to me in Russian and despite my recent attempts at brushing up my language skills by listening to audiobooks on my commute, I barely understood anything he said.

  ‘I’m sorry, your English is much better than my Russian!’ I laughed, trying to cover up my terror that someone at HH might discover my lie.

  ‘I want to hear you speak it! Say something,’ he said.

  ‘I can’t really remember much, to be honest.’

  ‘Please! You must, for me?’

  Peter looked as if he’d started early on the champagne. People were beginning to look in our direction and before he became more agitated, I agreed.

  ‘I only remember a few lines of “Medniy Vsadnik”,’ I said.

  The poem was the only thing that had stuck in my mind since my university days.

  I was about to start, while planning my exit strategy, when Peter shouted out, drowning the conversations in the room, ‘Silence! This lady is going to recite Pushkin!’

  There was an immediate hush and I grew ice-cold. Misha looked annoyed at the interruption; Ivan, Teresa, David and Sabine were standing around him, so he must have been in the middle of their pitches. The Dragon seemed to be relishing the spectacle and I couldn’t bring myself to look at Harry. They all turned to face me.

  I cleared my throat. Twice.

  ‘Right.’

  I took a deep breath. I just wanted to get it over with quickly. I started reciting the poem in Russian, as quietly as I could.

  ‘Na bereguy, pusteenisk voln,

  Stayal ohn, doom velikikh poln…’

  I fixed my eyes on the trouser hems and ankles surrounding me. My mouth was parched and my face was burning. I carried on for five lines, then stopped.

  ‘Bravo! Bravo!’

  Peter’s voice rang out and he started to clap vigorously. Less enthusiastic and uneven applause followed from the others. I sneaked a look at the team and saw Teresa and David openly sniggering and the Dragon frowning. I had performed a party trick in front of one of our biggest potential clients at the request of an obviously drunk man, when I should have been pitching my portfolio to Misha.

  ‘Excuse me.’

  I moved towards the edge of the group, to escape to the bathroom.

  ‘How do you know Russian?’


  Misha was blocking my path. This time he was looking at me, rather than through me.

  ‘I lived in Moscow for a year. And I studied it at university too.’

  He began to talk to me about Moscow and we were soon comparing notes.

  ‘Where did you live?’

  ‘Ulitsa Zolotovskaya at Patriashiye Prudy – that huge pond near the Garden Ring. I remembered it from Bulgakov.’

  ‘Which block?’

  ‘The yellow one. Do you know it?’ I said.

  His eyebrows shot up. ‘I grew up there. In that building, the yellow one with the arch. My grandmother still lives there!’

  Misha asked me to sit next to him at dinner so we could carry on talking about the yellow building.

  As the waiter replaced my caviar starter with a main of sea bass, decorated with delicate slivers of vegetables on crisp white china, I caught my breath, thinking about how much my life had changed. I was part of a banking team, quoting financial data to my client, with deals being negotiated all around the table and seven-figure sums and global currencies tossed around casually. I was wearing heels, my nails had been painted a communist red at a Vietnamese nail bar, and my hair was blow dried straight. It was so far removed from what I would normally have been doing in the evenings, before I went back to the City: cooking dinner, washing sports kits, helping with homework, before having dinner with Tom, just the two of us.

  Throughout the evening I was aware of Harry sitting on my right, his leg inches away from mine and his long fingers tapping the white tablecloth. I was missing Tom that was all. He hadn’t held my hand for days or hugged me when I left for the airport. This wasn’t about Harry.

  I had done weeks of intense research and so when Misha quizzed me about my proposal, I could answer all his questions.

  ‘Let’s do it,’ said Misha.

  I beamed.

  ‘You know why I chose you?’ asked Misha.

  ‘Because I lived in the same block as your grandmother?’ I teased, excited at how things had turned out.