All the Little Lies

by Chris Curran

  The beach and promenade were deserted and Stella guessed it was too early in the year for many tourists. And there she was, unbelievably, at a table in front of a big hotel. Sunglasses on top of her head, long brown legs crossed elegantly at the knee as she talked to a waiter. Stella froze then moved slowly into the doorway of a little shop. When the waiter had gone Pamela slipped her sunglasses down onto her nose and looked out to sea.

  A breath – come on you’ve got to do it – and she strode forward trying not to think of anything. Just to focus on getting there. ‘Do you mind if I sit here?’

  Pamela stared and without waiting for an answer Stella took a plastic chair. Pamela looked around and glanced back at the hotel.

  ‘It’s just me,’ Stella said.

  Pamela adjusted her sunglasses and folded her arms tight across her blue linen blouse. ‘I don’t know if you’ve come to gloat or to get more money out of me, but if that’s what you’re after you’re out of luck. There is no more. I tried to explain that to her, your friend.’ She jerked her head to indicate the lane that led up to Maggie’s house. ‘Between the two of you you’ve ruined our lives.’

  It was a relief to feel angry. Made it easier to stand up to her. ‘I think most of your problems are due to Ben’s behaviour. He’s the one who gambled on the stock market. Then decided to get involved with forgery.’

  ‘He certainly made some very poor decisions. Not least with the kind of company he used to keep.’ Although her voice had developed a quiver her dark glasses made her unreadable.

  Stella started to speak, ‘I’ve come down here to …’ But Pamela talked over her.

  ‘What I can’t bear is not just your greed, but the ingratitude. Whatever Ben may have done he also gave you a chance to make a successful career.’

  ‘That has nothing to do with it.’ If only the woman would let her speak. Get this over with.

  But Pamela carried on, her voice choked, whether with tears or fury Stella wasn’t sure. ‘I suppose you imagine £10,000 is nothing to people like us. And of course it is nothing compared with everything else we’ve lost, but it means we’re likely to lose our home unless I can persuade my parents to help. It’s going to cost a fortune to take care of Ben for the rest of his life. It’s so humiliating for him. Can you imagine how it feels for someone like him to have to rely on other people for everything?’

  ‘I’m very sorry for him and for you, but his accident had nothing to do with me. As I keep trying to tell you.’

  A sharp crack of laughter.

  Stella said, ‘I came to explain that I didn’t know Maggie was planning to blackmail you and I want no part of it. I’ve never claimed Ben was my child’s father. Maggie and he used my work in the forgery scam, but I knew nothing about it and the last thing I want to do is broadcast it. I’d rather pretend it never happened.’ She stopped, breathless, but glad she’d got it said.

  Pamela touched her sunglasses as if she was going to take them off then seemed to think twice about it. It looked as if Stella had finally managed to surprise her. But when she spoke she didn’t sound relieved. ‘And how is this supposed to help?’

  ‘You can demand the money back.’

  ‘And that wretched girl is just going to hand it over, is she? And that will be it?’

  Why did she suddenly feel so ridiculous? ‘If she doesn’t, you can tell the police.’

  A sigh as she reached into her bag, took out a tissue and dabbed her nose. ‘Oh dear. You’re very young and naive, aren’t you?’ She raised a hand to stop Stella from speaking. ‘Going to the police would expose the whole shabby business. Your dear friend knows we can’t risk that.’

  Although she hadn’t meant to say it, Stella couldn’t resist. ‘Well, as I told Maggie, if you won’t do anything I shall speak to them myself.’

  Pamela was silent for a long moment and when she spoke her voice cracked, ‘You wouldn’t do that.’ Then the hotel door opened and she stopped abruptly as the waiter came to the table. With a smile at him she sat back, her normally ice-cool complexion blotched pink through its delicate layer of foundation. The waiter placed a tiny cup of coffee in front of her and a bottle of Coca Cola next to Stella. Pushing her sunglasses up into her thick blonde hair again Pamela looked at him. ‘No, no.’ She thrust the bottle towards him. ‘I don’t want that.’

  He glanced at the scrap of paper on his tray and held it out to her. She waved it away. ‘No, I said no Coke please.’ He shrugged, took the bottle, and walked back inside.

  Turning those blank glasses towards Stella, Pamela said, ‘Please tell me you’re not seriously thinking of going to the police. If it makes you feel better, I’m willing to believe you weren’t party to the blackmail, but it’s best for all of us if you let it go.’

  In a way it made sense. Who would benefit if she went to the police? She stood to leave, but had to say it before she went. ‘I still don’t understand why you told Jill I caused Ben’s accident.’

  Pamela shifted in her seat. ‘Please go.’

  ‘Once you explain why you blamed Ben’s fall on me.’

  Pamela’s voice shook. ‘If you hadn’t come to the house, it wouldn’t have happened.’

  Stella gripped hard onto the back of the flimsy chair. When she could finally speak she said, ‘So you admit I didn’t do it?’

  Pamela ignored that, her voice bitter. ‘Telling him you were pregnant so he had to help you.’ She went to pick up her coffee cup, but put it down again. Dark drops splashed down the side. ‘When I spoke to Jill she seemed to think you were making a very poor job of trying to be a mother. And now I see you’ve dumped the child.’

  ‘I haven’t dumped my child. I’ve left her in safe hands for a few weeks. Don’t tell me you never went away when your son was little.’

  Pamela leaned towards her, speaking in a harsh whisper. ‘If you knew anything about being a mother …’

  The urge to shake her was almost overwhelming. Instead she said, ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if you came back that night and had a fight with Ben yourself. That it was you who pushed him downstairs.’

  Pamela stood, knocking her chair over and grabbing her bag. Stella could see her hand shaking. When she spoke her voice was too. ‘You can believe what you want.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Eve

  It felt strange to be following the same route to Newcastle, but alone this time. She felt very anxious, wishing this was all over and asking herself again and again if she was doing the right thing.

  After a couple of hours she started to worry about a silver Audi with tinted windows that seemed to be keeping pace with her. It was ridiculous, but she was so on edge she couldn’t stop herself watching it, wishing she could see the driver. She had left so early the satnav told her she should be in Newcastle in plenty of time, so she pulled into the services telling herself it was nothing to do with that car. She was just so tired she needed coffee and fresh air if she was to keep going.

  As she walked through the glass doors she switched on her phone. Three missed calls from Alex. She couldn’t leave him worrying, but nor could she face speaking to him. Had to focus. She sent a message.

  I’m meeting Maggie at the Baltic. Very public so no need to worry about me. I’ll call you later and be back tomorrow. Love you both XXXX

  In the Ladies she quickly used the breast pump. There wasn’t time to express much, but it would hopefully be enough to stop any leaks. She must try not to think about Ivy. Just for today she needed to do that and not feel guilty.

  Instead of going back to the car she sat in the café trying to force herself to eat a croissant. Her phone rang and she wondered if she should talk to Alex. But it was Simon. She didn’t answer.

  When she was driving again she switched on the radio. After all there was nothing to prepare. The questions had been running through her mind for months: What was Stella Carr like? How exactly did she die? And did Maggie know who Eve’s father really was? If she could answer those, it might be en
ough.

  But, of course, she hoped for much more. And for the first time she admitted to herself that what she desperately longed to know was if her mother had ever talked about her. And if Maggie thought Stella had loved her.

  The traffic was heavy most of the way, but she made good time. Whenever she spotted a silver car she found herself dropping back or speeding up to get away from it, although she knew the one that had scared her must be miles away by now.

  The satnav hadn’t lied and she arrived at her hotel with a couple of hours to spare. It was the one she’d stayed in with Alex. She wished she didn’t need to be away for the night, but knew she would be too tired to drive back straightaway. And she had no idea how she would feel afterwards. At least it wasn’t the same room, but she kept expecting Alex to come through the door with a takeaway. She had never felt so lonely.

  Then, although desperate for sleep, she rang him. There were more missed calls from him, but he didn’t answer.

  The first thing she needed was to use the breast pump, and as she did so, she couldn’t avoid thinking of Ivy. When she tipped the wasted milk down the sink, a painful lump rose in her throat, but she whispered, ‘It won’t be long now, baby. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ It would be the first night they hadn’t been together.

  She stood under the shower for a long time. When she was dressed again she picked up her phone. Another missed call that must have come while she was in the bathroom, and a voicemail.

  Eve, darling, I’m sorry to do it like this, but your mum has gone missing again. Your dad is frantic. She’s taken the car so could be anywhere. He wanted to borrow ours to search for her, but I told him you’re spending the night with your friend in Brighton. He’s managed to hire a car and I’m taking Ivy out in her pram to check locally. Please be careful and get back soon. I love you.

  She tried to phone him, but again there was no reply.

  It was nearly time to meet Maggie, but if she set off home now she could be back before midnight. She repacked her bag and picked up her keys. But the meeting would only take an hour at most and she could leave straight after. Her mother was in the car, so not walking like before. Dad was probably just panicking.

  And over there – she looked out at the Baltic, where the lights were shining brighter as the sky began to darken – over there could be answers to everything she wanted to know.

  Stella

  It was nearly dark as she toiled up the hill to the house, her mind racing.

  Hurrying footsteps from behind. Too fast and too heavy, surely, for Pamela to be coming after her. Besides why would she? Her heart was already thumping from moving so quickly uphill, but now her breath caught and she knew she couldn’t avoid whoever was approaching. Best to confront them.

  The boy: Simon Houghton.

  She breathed again, relieved and not altogether surprised to see him. It explained Pamela’s constant looks back at the hotel and, of course, the bottle of Coke. Until now she hadn’t realized that was one of the things nagging at the back of her mind. Pamela had brought her son with her, but obviously wanted to keep him out of it. He must have seen Stella from the window. Poor kid no doubt thought it was just a holiday.

  At least there was no need to be scared. She slowed her steps and waited for him, smiling as he came close. ‘Were you trying to catch me?’

  He was panting and she could smell a hint of sweat. ‘Yeah. I saw you talking to Pamela.’

  She suppressed her smile at how grown-up he was trying to sound. Was sure he normally called Pamela mum.

  ‘OK.’ Best not say too much. No need to upset him.

  He shoved his hands into the pocket of his black shorts, swaying slightly and blinking as a strand of dark hair fell across his eyes. ‘I heard what you said. But I knew what was going on anyway.’ One hand, fist clenched, came out of his pocket to tap his chest. ‘I’m not as stupid as she thinks.’

  Poor boy. She touched his forearm. It was very warm and she was surprised at how strong and sinewy it seemed. And he must be as tall as his dad already. She had been going to say she was sure no one thought he was stupid, but bit back on the words. Mustn’t treat him like a child. Nothing worse than that when you’re fifteen. ‘So what did you want to say to me?’

  ‘I know about the blackmail.’ In the half-light she could only see the pale oval of his face.

  ‘I’m not involved in that, as I told your mother.’

  ‘Yes, I know you’re a good person, Stella,’ his voice wavered on her name. ‘But you’re planning to go to the police about it, aren’t you?’

  A breath. ‘Simon, I don’t think …’

  His arms were crossed now. ‘Please don’t do that. They’re desperate. We’ve lost the gallery anyway, but my grandparents won’t help us keep the house if they find out what Dad has done.’

  This was awful. ‘I’m so sorry. And whatever your mother has told you I didn’t push your father down the stairs that night.’

  A hoarse laugh as he turned away from her. ‘I know that. Of course I do.’ It was just a mutter but it suddenly all made sense.

  Without intending to she found she had touched his back. ‘Simon?’

  And when he turned, speaking in a low gruff voice she knew she was right.

  ‘The way he talked to you. And what he did to you. I was so angry.’

  The tremor inside her and the pain in her throat were not for herself. ‘I’m sure it was an accident.’

  He was looking down. His hair and clothes so dark she could hardly make him out in the dusk. ‘He hurt you. I saw him at the gallery that night.’

  A flash in her memory of his stricken face, so young, as she left Ben’s office with her dress torn and her make-up smudged. ‘He upset me, but I wasn’t hurt.’

  A gleam of white as he raised his head. ‘I heard what you said to him and how horrible he was to you. When you’d gone I had to tell him he couldn’t treat you like that.’

  Of course he had been in his bedroom right next to the landing where she’d spoken to Ben. She should have guessed.

  ‘He was always upsetting my mum and that was bad enough, but you’re different. You’re young. You didn’t have anyone on your side.’

  ‘Oh, Simon.’

  ‘I only wanted to stop him being so cruel to you. To get him to help you, but he just laughed at me.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And now he … now my dad …’ This time the waver in his voice turned into a harsh sob, and she wanted to reach out to him. Tell him it was all right. But she knew it would only make things worse. ‘He can’t walk. He won’t ever walk again. So please don’t hurt him or my mum anymore.’

  ‘Does your dad remember what happened?’

  ‘He says he doesn’t.’ It was almost a whisper.

  ‘Then why don’t you tell him. It might make you feel better.’

  ‘I can’t.’ This time it was low and sullen.

  She felt so sorry for him, but he was fifteen and she was tired of people lying to her. She wouldn’t do that to him. ‘Simon, I have to tell the truth – I have to go to the police – because otherwise I couldn’t live with myself. Deceiving people, deceiving yourself, never works in the end.’ She shook her head. It was hopeless. She’d said it all wrong.

  He moved closer and laid a big, warm hand on her forearm. His voice cracked and became a little boy’s again. ‘Please, Stella.’

  She reached up and touched his damp hair. ‘I’m sorry.’ He muttered something she didn’t catch before she added, ‘I have to do what I think is right.’

  When she turned away and headed uphill again he didn’t follow. She looked back to see him going down. Hands in pockets and head bowed.

  Eve

  As she left her hotel a silver Audi with tinted windows drove past and she froze. Wished she’d noticed the number plate of the one she’d seen on the motorway. But, no, she was being ridiculous. The car was soon gone, and anyway there were plenty of people about.

  She was five minutes early as s
he crossed the Blinking Eye Bridge. The walkway was separated into two sections. The lower half allowed bikes and the upper, where she was walking, was for pedestrians only. Nearing the end she heard a whizzing sound behind her and a boy skated past so fast he almost collided with a small woman in a black coat. As Eve went to pass her she reached out a gloved hand.

  ‘Hello, Eve.’

  Maggie.

  Eve looked at her, but she had already started walking towards the Baltic, and Eve could only call, ‘Hello.’

  Hurrying to catch up she heard Maggie say, ‘I’m glad to see you came alone. I wasn’t sure you would.’ She was trying to connect this figure with the Maggie of her imagination. Or rather the two Maggies from her imagination because she sometimes saw the young woman who had befriended Stella – the vivid girl from the paintings – and at other times someone of her parents’ age.

  From what little she could see of her, in her heavy coat and black beanie, this woman didn’t fit either image. Eve had expected she would be small, like her, because in the picture with Stella they looked to be a similar height. When they got inside and she took the bulky coat off, she also seemed to be as slim as she had been thirty years ago.

  She was wearing a heavy white sweater with a roll neck, slim jeans and white trainers. Under her black beanie her hair was light brown, a short pixie cut, with paler threads that could have been natural grey or have been added by a hairdresser.

  When they reached the glass lifts Maggie pointed to a set of doors to one side saying, in a slightly gruff voice, ‘Let’s use the stairs.’ She spoke very deliberately almost as if she was unused to English, which might be the case if she’d lived abroad for years.

  The stairs, with their metal steps and balustrades, looked industrial enough to have been here when the building was a flour mill, but they could equally have been designed to make visitors think they were original. The foyer area had been quiet, but as they climbed they were so completely alone they might have been the only people in the building, and Eve was glad when Maggie went on ahead. Going up surprisingly fast.