Lies Love Tells (Eastcove Lies Book 1)

by Gina Dickerson

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  ***

  Wednesday, 6th March 2013

  Disappointment Daughter.

  18: 35

  Daughter held sentry at the window, waiting impatiently for Mr Him, whose phone was conveniently off. I couldn’t bear to watch her so I made cheese twists, taking my anger out on the dough.

  19:23

  I swallowed my pride and sent a questioning text message to Kelly’s phone, who replied with:

  “He’s still ill. Don’t contact me again.”

  Daughter wanted to know when he’d be better so I text she-bitch-from-hell back, asking for Mr Him to call Daughter.

  20:15

  Daughter had soaked my top with her tears. Her body was hot in my embrace, her face covered both with sweat from the ferocity of her emotions as well as tears. She was so upset she didn’t even want cheese twists.

  ‘Sweetheart, it’s time for your bath.’ There was a suction release as I eased her limp body free from mine.

  ‘No. I want Dad, he promised to see me today.’

  I held her close again. ‘He’s not well that’s why he hasn’t rung.’

  Daughter wriggled free. ‘He hasn’t rung because he doesn’t want to talk to you!’ She pointed at me. ‘You made him leave. It’s all your fault.’ Her eyes blazed furiously. ‘This is his flat too!’

  I shook my head at her. ‘Not anymore.’

  Daughter nodded vigorously. ‘Dad said half is his and you have to pay him or we have to move out!’

  ‘We’re not moving,’ I assured her. ‘Come on, bath before bed.’

  ‘You’re sooo moany. Dad never moans at me or makes me do things I don’t want to. You won’t even let me have my own laptop but Dad did. You’re mean!’

  I stiffened. ‘Your father doesn’t see you enough to moan at you. I can’t afford to buy you a laptop.’

  ‘But I want one!’

  ‘Stop acting like a spoilt brat!’ I instantly regretted the words.

  ‘I HATE you!’ Daughter burst into tears and ran from the room. She stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door. I considered following her but decided against it. I knew she was hurt by her father’s inactions but I was injured by her words.

  Half an hour later Daughter grumpily retreated to bed with two cheese twists and a book she was reading for consideration for the school library. She suffered my goodnight kiss. Guilt bit at me: a nibble for having separated from her father, a nip for not allowing him to stay, a gnaw for the absence of his affections but the biggest chomp fell for not wanting him, and for wishing she could see him as he was. I was heartily sick of his lofty status she had awarded him and wanted the ache in my neck to disappear.

  Posted: 20:50 4 Sazements

  Orange Michelle: Really feel for you. I asked my husband about the new numbers in his cell. He claims they’re colleagues. Maybe I’m paranoid. I’ve signed up with a counsellor. I’ll give it a month, see what goes!

  SxyGrrl: Sorry to hear your ex’s not stepping up to the plate with father duties. My sister rung wanting to meet this evening to clear the air.

  Saze Monnivan: Good luck with the counsellor, Michelle. “SxyGrrl” Not seeing G tonight?

  SxyGrrl: No G tonight. He has some business thing. I told my sister to be at Café Rose for 9pm, failed to mention I wouldn’t actually be there.

  ***

  Dry Spell.

  22:00

  I’d bathed and was mid towel-drying myself when the ringing of the intercom prompted me into action and I grabbed the first item I could from my wardrobe, sliding it over my head while I hurried to the door.

  ‘What are you doing here at this time?’ I demanded.

  ‘May I come in?’

  I shrugged. ‘I’d just finished having a bath. I wasn’t expecting visitors.’

  ‘Really?’ Mr Dry sounded sarcastic as I allowed him in. He continued to look at me in a strange fashion.

  ‘What?’

  Mr Dry chuckled. ‘Are you aware your dress is completely see-through?’

  I looked down at my “dress” in confusion. It was a night dress. A floor-sweeping number made entirely from sheer chiffon and with a thigh-high split to boot. I wondered if I could brazen it out. Possibly could have pulled it off as a new fashion, if I had been wearing underwear. ‘Shit! I’ll be right back.’ I cringed at the thought of him ogling my wobbly bottom.

  ‘Wait.’ Mr Dry grabbed my arms and pulled me to him. He tipped his head and sought out my lips. It wasn’t a lazy-familiar-Mr Him sort of kiss. It was a knee-buckling-breath-taking-blood-rushing act of passion. If he hadn’t been holding onto my arms I would’ve ended up a rippling pool of wanton at his feet.

  ‘I’ll wait in the kitchen.’ Mr Dry released his hold and sauntered down the hallway.

  Dressed in a fully lined maxi-dress, the one I’d thought I’d grabbed the first time, I found Mr Dry casually leaning against the kitchen worktop, eating a cheese twist.

  ‘Yum,’ he commented.

  ‘Better?’ I smoothed the dress over my hips.

  Mr Dry indicated for me to twirl. ‘I preferred the previous one.’

  ‘Cheeky!’

  A smile crinkled his eyes. ‘You were the cheeky one.’

  My face flushed post-box red. ‘I’m not normally an exhibitionist.’

  ‘You should be.’ Mr Dry’s hands stroked my shoulders, his fingers teasing the straps of my dress free, his lips butter-fling my neck. ‘You have a beautiful neck, so delicate and soft.’ His hands found my waist and lifted me clean off my feet. ‘Bedroom?’ he asked hoarsely.

  ‘Presumptuous much?’

  Mr Dry’s mouth twitched. ‘You don’t want to?’

  My nerves fizzled, I thought of how I hadn’t shown my body to any man, other than Mr Him, for over a decade. Then I thought how bizarrely strong Mr Dry was to be holding me in his arms while my thoughts wandered. I wondered how he would look naked and how his long limbs would entwine with mine.

  ‘Out of here, first door on the right,’ I whispered before I could change my mind.

  Posted: 23:45 6 Comments

  SxyGrrl: Go Saze, go Saze *cheering*. You deserve it after the way that shit treated you.

  Orange Michelle: Woo hoo! So how did he look naked?

  JessyHope: Spill! How’d you meet him? I’m on the lookout for a hot guy!

  SxyGrrl: If you actually read Saze’s blog “JessyHope”, then you’d know exactly how they met. You veer towards stealing other women’s men.

  JessyHope: I can’t steal what isn’t there for the taking, can I? Do I detect green envy?

  SxyGrrl: Not if your profile pic is anything to go by! *wets pants laughing*

  ***

  Thursday, 7th March 2013

  Dry Trail.

  I was woken by a trail of kisses across my back. ‘What’s the time?’ I yawned. The bedroom was still in darkness and not just because the curtains were pulled.

  ‘Two.’

  ‘In the morning?’ I just about made out Mr Dry’s profile.

  ‘I wanted to say goodbye, I didn’t want you to wake up and wonder where I’d gone.’

  ‘You can stay.’

  ‘I can’t.’ Mr Dry sidled out of bed and dressed rapidly. ‘I can come over later. How about this evening?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Mr Dry’s lips pressed against my forehead. ‘I had a really special time, Saze. Call me if you want to see me.’

  It took me a long while to return to sleep after Mr Dry’s departure. It had been a long time since I’d had sex with a man who wasn’t willing to spend the whole night with me. It felt as if Mr Dry had taken a part of me with him and I couldn’t function properly without it.

  Posted: 07:45 5 Sazementsr />
  SxyGrrl: What a tosser! Don’t worry you’ll find someone better.

  GeoffBD: “SxyGrrl”, my driver’s on his way to you, you’re skipping work to spend the day with me. No arguments. Saze – he’s another loser. You’re a beautiful woman and you deserve more. My son’s single...

  Saze Monnivan: “GeoffBD”, you know I’m 33, right?

  SxyGrrl: I can’t afford a day off work. Bank balance looks pathetically sorry for itself. I can see you this evening? Just took a call from my sister, she’s pissed at me for standing her up. She didn’t see the funny side!

  GeoffBD: Saze, my son’s 29 and runs his own business. Email me if you’d like me to put him in contact with you! “SxyGrrl”, I’m not taking no for an answer. Have you checked your bank account within the last day? You may find it’s not quite as pathetic…

  ***

  Cool Champagne and Anger.

  15:20

  Daughter’s headteacher, Mr Cool, knocked into me unexpectedly as I ushered Daughter from the school gate. He passed in a flash but somehow managed to press something into my hand. I studied it as Daughter skipped towards home. It was his business card. Bemused, I flicked it over and was met with blankness. Why had I expected it to reveal a message?

  17:40

  Daughter jumped in and out of the bath quicker than a flea bites a dog. I traced wet footprints to her bedroom.

  ‘Do you need the hairdryer?’ I asked, pushing the door open.

  ‘Mum!’ She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Get out!’

  I suppressed a giggle. ‘Is that my bra?’

  ‘You can’t just walk into my room. It’s MY room. You have to knock!’ Her cheeks blazed.

  I studied her closer. ‘Have you put socks in it?’

  ‘No!’ She yanked a jumper over her head.

  ‘I remember when I was about your age my friends and I filled our bras with tissue from the girls’ toilets. We wanted to see what we’d look like with boobs. Is that what you were doing?’

  ‘No,’ Daughter said glumly. ‘Alex told me I looked like a cheetah-chest.’

  ‘Cheetah-chest?’ I asked quizzically. ‘Don’t you mean pigeon-chest? I’ve never heard of cheetah-chest.’

  Daughter was adamant he’d said cheetah. When probed further it appeared such reference probably referred to her freckles. Afraid Daughter will have a cheetah-freckle-complex.

  18:45

  Mr Him leant on the intercom buzzer and I was so relieved he’d actually appeared, I overlooked his lateness.

  19:45

  Text: “Will keep MY daughter here tonite. Make up for being ill. Asked her and she says yes.”

  I was certain Mr Him made the rules up as he went along. I replied telling him she’d need her school uniform.

  “Grab Sam’s school uniform as well so u can drop both off at mine & Kelly’s.”

  Replied telling him to collect them himself as am not his skivvy.

  “R u determin’d 2 make my life difficult? Y can’t u just get the stuff & drop it here?”

  I resent him my previous message.

  “Whateva. I’ll come 2 collect OUR daughter’s stuff if I have 2. Don’t bovver about Sam’s.”

  20:10

  I wondered if it was too late to call Mr Cool? I hadn’t discussed Daughter’s performance with him so thought it would give me a reason for contacting him, wouldn’t it? I dialled the number and hung up as soon as I heard the first ring.

  The landline phone rung but when I answered it I was met with silence. ‘ARSEHOLE!’ I yelled into the cordless receiver.

  ‘Saze?’ Mr Cool’s voice asked. ‘Are you suddenly suffering from a case of Tourette’s? Did you call?’

  I coughed nervously, pleased he couldn’t hear my blush. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you hung up?’

  ‘I’d put something on the hob and it was bubbling over,’ I lied.

  Mr Cool laughed. ‘What did you phone me for?’

  ‘I wondered how my daughter’s been at school.’

  There was a brief pause. ‘You could have waited until tomorrow to ask that. It’s gone eight in the evening.’

  ‘I… err… um…’

  ‘Did you need to talk to someone?’ Mr Cool asked.

  ‘Errrmm…’ Honestly, I’d turned into a blathering idiot!

  ‘I’m listening,’ he prompted.

  Why was I tongue-tied? I shook my head to clear my thoughts and heard a distinct buzzing.

  ‘Is that your doorbell?’ Mr Cool’s voice questioned.

  I felt absurdly pleased realising I hadn’t burst an eardrum. ‘Hang on a sec?’

  ‘Sure,’ replied Mr Cool smoothly.

  I buzzed in Mr Him. ‘Got the bag?’ he demanded crossly.

  ‘You’ll have to pack it. School uniform is hanging in her wardrobe.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Mr Him complained loudly. ‘Can’t you be bothered to do anything? Do I have to do everything? I suppose you’ve been faffing around making poxy cakes again?’ Despite his complaints a hopeful look crossed his bottle-tanned face.

  ‘I’m on the phone,’ I said pointedly.

  Mr Him glared and stomped off into Daughter’s bedroom.

  ‘Sorry for the interruption,’ I spoke into the phone.

  ‘No problem,’ came Mr Cool’s disembodied voice. ‘Trouble?’

  ‘Just my extremely rude ex collecting things.’

  ‘Do you need to sort it out?’

  I shook my head before realising Mr Cool couldn’t see me. ‘No.’

  ‘I was wondering,’ Mr Cool cleared his throat. ‘Are you’re free this weekend?’

  I squirmed with unexpected pleasure. ‘Why?’

  There was more throat clearing. ‘I wondered if you’d like to have a meal with me.’

  ‘Sure,’ I replied, hoping I sounded calmer than I felt.

  ‘Shall I pick you up?’ Mr Cool asked. ‘Eight?’

  ‘Which evening?’

  An embarrassing silence ensued. ‘Saturday?’

  ‘Okay.’ There was a knock at the door. ‘Sorry, someone’s at the door again,’ I said into the receiver. ‘It’s probably my neighbour with Sam’s bag.’ I opened the flat door and my hand holding the phone drooped.

  ‘I’ve brought champagne, I hope that’s okay.’ Mr Dry held aloft a bottle. ‘The main door was open so I just came in.’

  I stared at him. I seriously hadn’t expected him to actually turn up.

  ‘I’ll take it through and uncork it.’ He kissed me on my surprised mouth and sauntered into the kitchen, the scent of his aftershave and the wintry night air lingering behind him.

  Guiltily, I remembered Mr Cool.

  ‘I must go,’ I mumbled hastily into the phone to Mr Cool.

  ‘Are you sure everything’s alright?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine, fine,’ I replied somewhat high pitched. Bugger, Mr Him was still in Daughter’s room! ‘I’ll be looking forward to Saturday evening!’ I said, ending the call.

  ‘Saze?’ Mr Dry called from the kitchen. ‘Are you planning on standing in the hallway all night?’

  I hurried into the kitchen. ‘Keep your voice down!’

  The door to Daughter’s bedroom opened and slammed shut. Mr Dry raised a questioning eyebrow.

  ‘What the fucking hell are you doing here?’ Mr Him stared, red-faced, from the kitchen doorway.

  Mr Dry looked at me. I looked at Mr Him and back at Mr Dry.

  Mr Him huffed. ‘Slut, acting all high and bloody mighty when you’re screwing someone else before our bed’s cold.’

  ‘You abandoned the bed and me!’ I screamed.

  Mr Him faked a shudder. ‘Bloody good thing too, I wouldn’t want to touch it now it’s had his bastard arse in it. How many more blokes have you had in our bed?’

  ‘It’s MY bed!’

  ‘Bet it’s crawling. I hope my daughter hasn’t met him.’ Mr Him glared at Mr Dry, who was quietly leaning against the work surface, arms folded across his chest, dark eyes glittering.r />
  Mr Him’s audacity made my head spin. ‘She’s met Kelly.’

  ‘That’s different, she knows Kelly. I don’t want her influenced by your slutty behaviour. I don’t want her growing up thinking it is okay to shag different blokes. You’re nothing but a common—’ Mr Him was abruptly silenced by Mr Dry shoving him out of the doorway.

  ‘I’ve had enough of you,’ Mr Dry said slowly.

  Mr Him shoved him back. ‘What you gonna do? Smack me? I’ll have you up for a disciplinary at work. You wait until the new owner takes over.’

  Mr Dry drew himself to his full height. He looked down his long nose at Mr Him. ‘Meaning?’

  Mr Him smirked and tapped the side of his nose. ‘You’re not as smart as you think. Me and the lads have known for ages about there being a new owner in the pipeline.’

  ‘Do you know who it is?’ Mr Dry stiffened.

  Mr Him shrugged. ‘If I did, I wouldn’t tell you. Bet you’re scared now. The company needs people like me.’ He jabbed himself in the chest. ‘People who go out on the forecourt and talk to the customers. Not tossers like you, who spend all their time hiding in the office playing with poncey laptops.’

  Mr Dry clenched his fists. ‘Get out.’ He gritted his teeth.

  Mr Him lifted his chin. ‘You can’t tell me what to do in my own flat.’

  ‘It’s MY flat,’ I interjected. ‘And I want you out.’

  Mr Him slung Daughter’s rucksack over his shoulder. ‘Whatever, slut-features, you’re welcome to this whore house.’

  With a roar, Mr Dry swooped on Mr Him and manhandled him to the front door. Mr Him’s legs and arms flailed futilely as he was propelled forward. I raced to open the flat door and Mr Dry tossed him out.

  ‘This isn’t over,’ Mr Him warned. ‘Why don’t you come outside and we’ll settle this like men?’

  ‘I would,’ Mr Dry retorted crisply. ‘But I only see a boy standing in front of me.’ Mr Dry closed the flat door and turned to me. ‘Am I forgiven for leaving so early this morning?’ he asked with his lopsided grin. ‘Considering I’ve defended your honour?’