All the Little Lies

by Chris Curran

  Around six thirty James rolled over in bed and said, ‘You didn’t sleep again, did you? No wonder you can’t work.’

  She sat up and groped around on the floor for her glass of water. She’d only put it there last night, but it already tasted dusty.

  James rubbed her arm. ‘Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?’

  ‘I still feel so bad about Maggie.’ She half-hoped he would say he didn’t believe that was all. Maybe then she could force herself to tell him the whole truth. But when he simply carried on stroking her arm, she lay down again staring at a series of cracks across the ceiling that reminded her of the spokes of a broken umbrella.

  He kissed her, and she let herself forget again as she pulled off her baggy T-shirt and helped him do the same.

  Afterwards, she lay with her head on his chest and reached up to play with his earring. He laughed and squeezed her hand.

  ‘You should get your ears pierced. You’d look lovely with big gold hoops showing through your curls. I’d like to paint you like that.’

  ‘I don’t think there’ll be time.’

  He kissed her hard on the top of the head. ‘Get them done and I’ll work fast. I’ll even buy the earrings.’

  She pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed. She didn’t want to think about this. Him leaving for Philadelphia in two weeks. He had a scholarship for a course in set design and would be gone for at least a year. They both knew it would mean the end of their relationship. It wasn’t love, but she had begun to wish it was because maybe then she could tell him the truth. Or the part that concerned him, at least.

  In the bathroom she opened the window. Outside it was the loveliest summer morning. Down in the garden belonging to the flats there was only a scrubby lawn, but the grass shone with dew and the bushes around the fence were covered in a green haze of leaves.

  In the shower, her face raised to the jets of warm water, she tried not to think, but that was impossible. She was pregnant. She’d done a test yesterday to confirm it. There was no point in telling James because he would be gone in a fortnight and the thought that he might feel obliged to stick with her made her cringe. It couldn’t work.

  For the first time in years she kept thinking about her mother. The mother who had regretted having her and told her so almost every day until she was nine years old. ‘You ruined my life,’ she said. ‘I should have got rid of you.’ And then she was dead.

  Stella came home from school one day and found her slumped with her drug paraphernalia all around her. That wasn’t unusual, so Stella took a packet of crisps and a glass of lemon squash to her room and climbed into bed to keep warm. In the morning her mam was still curled up on the sofa. The way she was breathing made her sound like the old dog that belonged to Mrs Ahmed next door. There was no breakfast and as she left the flat Stella was only thinking about how long it would be until her free school dinner.

  When she got back that afternoon Mrs Ahmed rushed out to her and took her into her own flat. She made Stella sit on her sofa. It was covered in white dog hairs. Mrs Ahmed’s usually smiley face was so serious Stella knew something was wrong. Her mam had died, and after Mrs Ahmed told her she said, ‘Didn’t you see she was poorly, pet?’ Stella shook her head.

  That was when she went to live with her nana. And Nana told her, ‘Your mam wasn’t right in the head. I tried my best with her, but nothing worked. Thank the lord you’re more like me.’ Stella wanted so much for that to be true.

  But now her nana’s mind was gone and she didn’t even recognize Stella. Maggie was gone too, and James soon would be. She rubbed the towel slowly over her stomach. She seemed to lose everyone who meant anything to her. And maybe that was her own fault.

  Eve

  They usually had Sunday dinner with her parents once a month, although Eve had put them off for the past two weekends. But today, eating her dad’s roast beef in the warm kitchen above the shop made everything feel normal again. Alex told her parents they planned to name the baby Ivy, and her dad poured himself more red wine and raised it in a toast. ‘Here’s to Ivy and let’s hope she’s never poisonous.’ Jill slapped his arm and told him not to be horrible, but everyone laughed and clicked their glasses.

  After dinner they usually went for a walk along the seafront, but when David stood and began to pull on his coat her mum stayed where she was. ‘I think I’ll give it a miss this time. Have another cup of coffee and get on with the washing up.’

  Alex hadn’t moved either and he avoided Eve’s eye when he said, ‘No, I’ll do the washing up. You can relax, and Eve and David can have some father and daughter time.’

  Eve guessed it had been planned, but it was still nice to bundle up and hold her dad’s arm as they braved the windy promenade. ‘We’ll just walk as far as the pier, shall we?’ David said.

  Despite the cold wind there were plenty of other walkers out today. A crowd of noisy teenagers, shouting and laughing in French, nearly collided with them and her dad quickly moved in front to protect her, saying, ‘Careful, careful now.’

  She squeezed his arm. She loved him so much. But although she knew he had something to say to her, she wasn’t going to help him out. The way he and her mum had deceived her still hurt.

  A seagull flew so close its wings stirred her hair before swooping down on a woman just in front of them to snatch a chip from the paper bag she was carrying. When the man with her gave a loud guffaw she began pelting him with chips. More screeching gulls dive-bombed the scraps of potato.

  David steered Eve around them, but they were both chuckling. When they reached the pier the wind had died down, so they headed along to lean on the railings at the end where it was quiet and empty.

  Close to the pier the sea churned and foamed with white but further out the grey clouds had turned it into swirls of molten steel. David coughed and touched Eve’s gloved hand on the railing.

  ‘Are you still in touch with Simon Houghton?’

  She put her hand in her pocket. ‘Of course. He could be my brother and, even if he isn’t, he’s one of the few people who’s happy to talk about Stella.’

  ‘Does Pamela know he’s seeing you?’

  ‘I have no idea.’ She turned away from him to look back at the town and the cliffs rearing behind it. ‘And, before you say he was only a kid at the time, he was fourteen and he remembers Stella coming to their house to tell Ben she was pregnant.’

  A long silence. Then he took her arm again and they began walking back towards the promenade. ‘Well, if Simon really did hear that it seems pretty convincing. All I can say is that we never heard anything like that from Stella.’

  They had reached the pier café and he said, ‘Let’s get a coffee, shall we? Warm up a bit.’

  At a table facing the sea they sat stirring their drinks and Eve said, ‘Pamela may be able to stop me seeing Ben, but she can’t prevent me from keeping in touch with Simon.’

  ‘That’s true, but …’ He was leaning both elbows on the table and it trembled as he took a noisy breath. ‘The thing is, if you’re going to keep seeing him there’s something I should tell you. Something you’ll probably find out anyway if you go on like this.’

  A heavy thump from her heart and an answering kick from her baby girl. She rubbed her bump. ‘Go on.’

  ‘You say Simon told you about Stella coming to their house?’

  ‘Yes, that’s when he heard her say she was pregnant.’

  ‘And that’s all he said?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He picked up his mug, took a long drink of coffee and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. ‘He didn’t tell you when this happened?’

  The baby was kicking hard. ‘No.’

  ‘Apparently it was at the same time as Ben’s accident.’

  A cold band tightened on her throat. ‘And?’

  Her dad gripped her hand very hard, looking into her eyes as he spoke. ‘According to Pamela the accident happened on the same evening that Stella came to the house.’
<
br />   Silence.

  ‘Dad?’ She shifted her bulk towards him. ‘What is it? What are you trying to say?’

  ‘Pamela says it happened during an argument. With Stella.’

  Eve stared out at the swirling sea, suddenly so dark it was almost purple. She couldn’t look at him anymore: couldn’t breathe. But she couldn’t stop herself hearing.

  ‘She says she arrived home to find Ben injured on the hall floor. And …’ He rubbed his hand over his jaw as if checking whether he needed a shave.

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘Ben was still just conscious enough to tell her Stella had pushed him down the stairs.’

  Eve must have made some kind of noise because he pulled her towards him and held her tight as he spoke. His breath was warm on her ear. ‘His back was broken, Eve. He was paralyzed for life. And, according to Pamela, Stella was responsible.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Eve

  As they walked back from the pier Eve’s mind screamed at her that it wasn’t true. Pamela just wanted to discourage her husband’s illegitimate daughter from trying to make contact again.

  It was beginning to grow gloomy as the winter night drew in. The promenade had emptied out, the coloured lights edging it were beginning to flicker on, and the sea was disappearing into darkness. Soon there would only be the shush, shush sound of the waves. They walked in silence, matching their paces, arms linked.

  Finally, Eve burst out, ‘If that’s what really happened. Why didn’t they tell the police?’

  ‘Apparently Ben begged Pamela not to say anything. He told everyone else he had no memory of the accident and insisted on her backing up his story that he must simply have tripped.’

  ‘What about Simon? Does he know?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. And she only reminded me so you would know why you can’t see Ben. It would be cruel to force him to think about Stella. And you looking so like her would make it painful for him to meet you.’

  They had been walking steadily, but Eve stopped and turned to face him. Over his shoulder she could just make out the stark outline of the pier dotted with a few lights.

  ‘You said she reminded you of this. So you already knew?’

  ‘Yes, Pamela told Mum years ago, but we were never sure if it was true.’

  ‘Do you believe her now? I mean if Stella and Ben had an affair, and I’m the result, I can’t imagine his wife being keen on me.’

  He leaned forward to kiss her cheek with very cold lips. His nose was red, there were purple blotches on his cheeks, and she registered for the first time that he was getting old. When they moved on he put his arm around her, their bulky coats making it difficult to get close. ‘That did cross my mind of course, but …’

  ‘What?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nothing.

  In the car on the way home Alex didn’t ask her what she and her dad had talked about. Instead he chuckled. ‘I don’t think my washing up met Jill’s standards, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she started doing it all again the moment we left.’

  Eve forced herself to smile, grateful that he was giving her a breathing space, and he rubbed her knee.

  When they got in he went straight up to his office. ‘I’ll come down about nine and we can have a snack and watch that TV programme if you like.’

  She lit the living room fire and checked her phone. There was a message from James Stone.

  I’ve been worrying about what I told you in my last message. Didn’t want to imply that your mother was always miserable. She certainly wasn’t and we had some wonderful times together. She was only twenty, twenty-one, and at that age we all go through periods of unhappiness and insecurity, don’t we?

  I just wanted you to know as much truth as I could tell you. If I am your father I wish she had told me, but I can imagine that giving you up for adoption was a wise decision if she was feeling troubled.

  On that note I’ve attached a portrait I painted of her not long before we separated, which I thought you might like to see. She looks great, and not at all sad, doesn’t she?

  The picture showed Stella sitting at a table with a vase of flowers next to her. Her red hair hung loose and bright in the sunlight from the window behind her and gold hoop earrings glinted among her curls. She was smiling down at a book on her lap. She didn’t look pregnant, but must have been in the early stages. Eve touched the screen. How strange to think she was hidden in the painting too.

  She hesitated for a moment and then posted the picture on Instagram without a comment. It was a long shot, but it was possible someone who had known her mother might see it.

  Then she reread James’s message. She remembered what he’d said about Stella and Ben: it was clear she was angry with him. Angry enough to want to hurt him?

  But, no, Eve told herself, it could only have been an accident. Perhaps Ben had been trying to make her leave and she had pushed him away.

  Still thinking about it she heated up a pizza and called upstairs to Alex. They sat on the sofa with plates on their knees and he went to turn on the TV.

  ‘Before you do that have a look at this from James Stone,’ she said, holding out her phone.

  He put down his plate, but instead of reaching for it he took both her hands in his, looking into her eyes. ‘You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.’

  Eve found herself comparing his eyes with the vivid blue of Simon Houghton’s. Even though Alex was fair his eyes were brown with a ring of gold in the centre. She hoped Ivy would have that too. She smiled at him and when he put his warm palm against her cheek she rested her head there for a moment. ‘I want you to read it. And look at the painting too.’

  He checked the picture first and turned to smile at her. ‘Ah, that’s lovely.’ When he’d read the email she told him what her dad had said about Ben’s accident. A frown creased his forehead as he listened then he drew her to him, holding her firm and tight.

  ‘We may never know the truth. But just remember that Stella Carr is not you. She might look like you, might have given you life and half your DNA, but she isn’t you.’

  Stella

  James finished her portrait before he left, and she had worn the gold earrings every day since. She had also started wearing loose shirts over her jeans because she couldn’t fasten the top button.

  One day she found a note in her college pigeonhole.

  Dear Stella, I’m wondering if you’ve had time to reconsider whether you might be able to do that work for me. It really is very important and I’ll make sure it’s worth your time.

  I’ll pop by your flat this evening and we can discuss it.

  BH

  He must have found out where she lived. The idea that she couldn’t get away from him would have been upsetting anyway, but if he really was mixed up with some dangerous people … Her already queasy stomach churned.

  She screwed up the note then pressed it flat again and tore it into the tiniest possible pieces.

  When she got home there was another envelope waiting for her on the hall table. Maggie’s handwriting was on the front and there was no address or stamp on the envelope, so it had been hand delivered. Inside was a folded note and another envelope addressed to her at the old house.

  The note was from Maggie herself, and she read it as she walked upstairs to her room.

  I came back to check the house before it was sold and found this letter for you. I’m still travelling and don’t have a permanent address so if anyone asks you, please tell them they can get in touch via this PO box.

  That was all – no invitation to meet or words of friendship.

  The letter was from David Ballantyne asking her to call in at the gallery.

  To pick up the painting you didn’t want to sell (although I could have done so several times!) Congratulations again on your success and do keep in touch.

  Stella lay on her bed thinking about Maggie. She must be in London, but didn’t say where she was staying. Stella had passed the old house a couple of times,
but it was all shut up. If only they could see each other so Stella could tell her about the baby. Hot tears filled her eyes. It was just wishful thinking; Maggie didn’t want to know her. She wiped the tears away with the corner of the sheet.

  The pillowcase on his side of the bed still smelled of James and she held it to her chest wishing he was with her. Maybe she should have trusted him, not just with the truth about her pregnancy, but with the Ben Houghton business.

  She must have dozed because the light had changed when she opened her eyes to hear a tap on her bedroom door. Shaking her head to clear it she went to the door. Her flatmate, Laura, stood, pink-faced, in the corridor.

  ‘Ben Houghton’s here wanting to see you,’ she said. ‘The Ben Houghton from the gallery.’ Her face asked a dozen questions.

  A deep breath. ‘Please tell him to go away.’

  A look of panic passed over Laura’s face. But it was no good, he was already bounding up the stairs.

  ‘It’s all right, I won’t keep you a minute.’ A brilliant smile for Laura. ‘Thanks so much.’

  Laura avoided Stella’s eye as she headed down.

  Ben looked as handsome as ever standing in the doorway in jeans and a dark jacket, and she could understand why Laura had been so flustered. She let him go past her and sit on her bed, but stood with her hand on the door holding it open and hoping he realized Laura was probably lurking at the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘What do you want?’

  He glanced past her at the landing. Yes, he knew he could be heard. Good.

  ‘As I said in my note, I was hoping you might have had second thoughts about doing a few more of your wonderful drawings for my contact and his collector.’ He spoke formally and with a smile, but his foot tapped a fast rhythm on the floor and he touched his knee as if to calm it.