The Lies We Tell

  ‘Bliss? How can never knowing my dad, being brought up by a selfish cow with a string of greasy lovers be ignorant bliss. It’s anything but. Face it, Mum, none of this would have happened if you hadn’t been such a slut.’

  Her mother’s slap was as sharp as it was unexpected which made Jude’s cheek throb and tears, finally, prick in her eyes. ‘Don’t you ever – ever – talk to me like that again.’ Siobhan’s voice was low and hollow. Menacing. ‘It wasn’t like that. He never told me he was married, let alone that she was pregnant, so how was I to know? I was young, Jude, and he was – well – persuasive. He bought me nice things. Told me he’d look after me. Then when I fell pregnant he dropped me like a stone.’ She paused before continuing, eager for some sort of response from Jude who was doing her best to stare stony-faced into the middle distance.

  ‘I only saw him once after that, about a month before you were born. I was walking past his house – he used to live at the top of town, along Pilgrim’s View. And that was when I saw them: his wife, a pretty woman, standing in the doorway, waving, as he left for work. She was holding a little baby. There was a tricycle on the front lawn. He saw me and offered me money to go away. £2,000. Enough to start again. More than enough, he said, to fulfil his obligations. Nanny P and I left for the south coast a week later.’

  ‘More fool you.’

  ‘Do you know something, Jude?’ Siobhan snapped, rising to her feet. ‘You really are a cold-hearted little cow.’ And with that she strode towards the bedroom door. Flung it open. Disappeared from view. Then, a few seconds later, from her bedroom the far side of the landing came the sound of a hair dryer’s angry roar.

  If I am you made me so, seethed Jude, as she lay back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. She closed her eyes, and as her breathing calmed she realised she felt oddly dislocated from the situation, almost as if she’d just observed her mum arguing with someone else. So her real dad was still alive. In the light of that, her mum’s apparently random decision to move back to Surrey now made sense. Did they move her so she could see him? If so, why, if their last meeting really had been as bad as her mum just described. Besides, wouldn’t he and his family have moved on long ago? Perhaps it was pure coincidence, then. Unless Siobhan was lying, the woman was good at that.

  Rolling over onto her side, something crumpled beneath Jude’s thigh. Glancing down she saw it was the spoiled photograph of the stranger who, for years, she’d believed was her dad. Why did you do it, Mum, she murmured. Why did you lie?

  Tugging free the picture Jude stared at it for a moment, bade it goodbye, then carefully folded it in half and tore along the crease. Then she repeated this action once, twice, three times. Again and then again she folded and tore until the confetti of false memories filled her lap. Cupping her hands, she gathered up the fragments then threw them into the air, upwards, with all her force, scattering the false truth Siobhan had concocted across the bedroom floor.

  *

  ‘Here you are!’ Kat cried. ‘I’ve been looking for you all over!’

  Jude felt her cheeks flush with anger as the two sixth formers she had just been talking to broke off their conversation mid-sentence to monitor Kat’s approach with expressions of undisguised contempt.

  ‘Hiya,’ Kat smiled at Jude’s companions. ‘Hope I didn’t interrupt anything!’

  The two senior girls exchanged a withering glance, then smiled. ‘Not at all,’ said the taller of the pair, a girl known as Jinx. ‘The grown-ups have finished talking.’

  Jude turned round with a mixture of pride and satisfaction to register Kat’s mortification, pleased by how naturally the older girls had counted her as one of their own. ‘Just a minute –’ The brusque wave of her hand caused Kat to stop a few paces away from where the other girls stood. ‘It’s OK,’ she said in a low voice, turning to Jinx. ‘I won’t say a word … so long as I can come to the party on Saturday, too.’

  ‘What do you think, Alex?’

  Her companion nodded. ‘I think it will be a laugh,’ she said, her voice dropped conspiratorially. ‘But don’t forget your entry pass.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ Jude grinned. ‘My mum’s boyfriend has a limitless supply of booze and cigarettes.’

  ‘Gav is simply going to love you!’ Jinx, declared, patting Jude on the arm before the pair moved away.

  As the two older girls headed back across the playground towards the sixth form block. Jude smiled. Saturday night was quiz night at The Fox & Hound which meant her mum and Dave would be out all evening. Gav Morton’s parties were legendary, and this one should be a classic as his parents were out of town. She turned towards Kat. ‘Did you want something?’ she sighed.

  ‘I just … wondered where you were, what you were up to,’ Kat answered, awkwardly.

  ‘Well I’m going to Gav Morton’s party on Saturday night, for one thing.’ Jude declared, crossing her arms triumphantly. ‘What do you think of that?’

  ‘Great.’

  Jude frowned. ‘Well you could try to look a little impressed. But then again, it’s not really your sort of thing, is it? Parties, I mean.’

  ‘That’s not fair – ’

  ‘Parties,’ Jude repeated, despite herself. ‘Booze. Boys. Sex. It’s not really your fault you’re a late developer, is it, though? Just look at your mum and dad. At the end of the day it all comes down to genes.’ A bubble of laughter welled up from some place deep inside at the sudden memory of Kat holding out her virgin denims for Jude’s approval. What would Kat have said, Jude wondered, if she had told her Diane had bought her the wrong sort? Cried, probably, then taken them back to the shop, unworn. The wimp.

  ‘That’s not fair,’ Kat retorted, crossly.

  ‘No, you’re right,’ Jude admitted, surprised by a sudden feeling of remorse. ‘But it is true, isn’t it? Now don’t get upset, but I’ve been thinking this for some time. You need to sort yourself out. Start acting your age. I know things have been difficult at home recently – ’

  Kat’s eyes glistened, but with tears of anger this time. ‘Don’t bring my parents into it,’ she cried.

  ‘OK.’ Jude raised her hands as if surrendering in defeat. ‘But when you’ve got a lot going on at home sometimes it’s easy to lose sight of the bigger picture.’ She patted the other girl’s arm. ‘You could make so much more of yourself, Kat,’ she added, silkily. ‘Clothes. Make-up. Just the way you carry yourself. I only want to help. If even you can’t be bothered with yourself, how can you expect any of the boys out there to ever be bothered with you?’

  Kat looked away. The sound of shouts and laughter as a mob of younger girls charged across the playground faded to a distant hum. ‘It’s not easy,’ she said at last. ‘Dad’s moved out for a while, Mum’s always sad, and now Andrew’s getting into trouble at college. I’m just trying to keep my head down.’

  ‘And quite right too,’ Jude said, softly. ‘The bastard,’ she added, softly.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Your dad. Like all men. Bastards. I mean if he wasn’t playing away from home – ’

  Kat rubbed her face on the back of her sleeve. ‘Who said he’s been doing that?’

  ‘Well he must be, mustn’t he? Why else would he move out?’

  ‘He hasn’t,’ Kat scowled. ‘They’re just having a break from each other to sort things out.’

  Jude sighed. She almost felt sorry for her friend. Because that’s not what Andrew had said. The thought of Charles’s son, however, now made her frown. He’d been away for the past three days on some kind of college field trip and she was desperate to see him. ‘Sort what things out?’

  ‘Things. I don’t know. But he’s not having an affair, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Jude soothed. ‘But how can you be so sure?’

  ‘It’s not the only reason couples quarrel.’

  ‘No, but it’s one of the main ones.’

  ‘Well it’s not that, OK? Besides, we’re all going to France together for Easter �
� Mum, Dad, Andrew and me. Mum told me last night. Why would we be doing that if he was having some affair?’

  ‘Lucky you,’ Jude said, dryly. Given how bad Kat claimed her parents’ marriage to be, it was ridiculous how desperately they all tried to play happy families when it suited. She wondered briefly about her own dad – whether Siobhan and his marriage would have turned out similar if he had lived and they had married. Infidelity was, surely, an inevitability because how could anyone stay together with the same person for year after year after year?

  ‘It’s not Dad’s fault,’ Kat repeated. ‘Or Mum’s. It’s just that sometimes relationships don’t work out as you expect them to, that’s all. Besides, all marriages have their ups and downs, Mum said so.’

  ‘You’re right.’

  Turning towards the main school building, Jude glanced at her watch. The bell would soon ring for afternoon classes. Glancing back towards her friend she concocted up a smile. What was she doing, needling Kat like that, she wondered. Why did she so often annoy her so? But not any more. The cloud had lifted, and her mind was racing ahead. It would be unfortunate to fall out just now, not least because of what Kat might tell Andrew.

  ‘I said, you’re right,’ Jude repeated. ‘It’s no-one’s fault. Sorry. Look, I didn’t mean to upset you. Let’s not argue. But I meant what I said about making more of yourself. After all isn’t it every young woman’s right to be beautiful and have fun?’ She chuckled, conspiratorially. ‘I could bring some stuff over to yours. Tomorrow night? We could tell your mum we’d be helping each other with revision. It will be our little secret.’

  ‘That would be nice,’ said Kat, fixing Jude with a hard stare. Then, as the bell rang for afternoon lessons, her pale face broke into a tentative smile. ‘I like secrets!’

  Chapter 17

  London – July 2013

  Diane is sitting up in bed eating scrambled eggs on toast when Katy arrives back at the hospital with Joyce seated by her side knitting what looks like it will be a black and white Sarah Lund jumper. Though still reeling from her visit to Jude’s and baffled by the meaning of what she has overheard, Katy is determined to say nothing about the break-in.

  ‘You look much better, Mum,’ she says, leaning forward to kiss her good cheek. The skin feels cool to touch.

  ‘It’s a strange old system, this,’ her mother smiles, dabbing her lips on a paper napkin. ‘The last person in the bed appears to have ordered this for lunch, but at breakfast I got a cheese and tomato sandwich.’

  Katy nods. ‘So what’s the latest on when you can go home?’

  ‘Tomorrow afternoon.’ Diane frowns. ‘I keep telling them how much better I’d be after a proper night’s sleep in my own bed, but no-one seems to listen.’

  ‘They’re just doing their job, you know,’ says Joyce, pulling a large paper bag of grapes from her shopping bag and placing it on the wheeled table that straddles the bed. ‘It’s traditional, don’t you know. They’re washed, by the way. And seedless, too – so help yourselves while I go and get us all a cup of tea.’

  ‘Actually, I’d prefer a cappuccino if you’re going down to the cafe,’ Diane calls as the woman is already striding towards the door.

  Katy grins. ‘And you’d better make mine a double espresso.’

  Diane sinks back against the pillows then pats the bed beside her. ‘Come and sit – you look like you need it. Before you get too comfortable, though, would you pass me my overnight bag. I think the nurse put it in the bottom drawer.’

  ‘OK, but while I do I’d like to ask you a question about your friend,’ Katy begins as she leans forward, hoping her voice sounds casual. ‘You know, Estelle?’

  ‘A lovely girl,’ Diane enthuses. ‘Works at the theatre box office. And also in the cafe, and sometimes as an usherette. Always ready to help, and really helpful when it comes to block-booking tickets for the theatre club – she always makes sure we get the best seats!’

  Bent double, now, Katy opens the bedside cabinet. ‘Known her long, have you?’ she asks, lightly.

  ‘Only a few months, why?’

  ‘Oh, no reason. I just wondered, that’s all.’

  Katy reaches into the cupboard. Inside is a clear plastic bag holding what’s left from the contents of her mum’s handbag. Her purse – now empty of cash. Two matching silver combs with diamante trim. A half-used strip of throat lozenges. A gold-coloured compact of pressed face powder. A miniature notepad bound tight by a twice-looped rubber band. No house keys, of course. She hands the bag to her mum.

  ‘The bank says you should have your new cards in a couple of days,’ she observes. ‘At least you didn’t have too much cash on you.’

  ‘No, just a couple of fives and a few coppers. It’s lucky it didn’t happen half an hour earlier before I’d gone to the bank. I had close to £250 in tens and twenties which I’d collected to buy tickets for the next theatre club trip. No, no –’ she quickly adds as Katy opens her mouth to speak. ‘Don’t tell me, I know.’

  ‘Seriously Mum. You shouldn’t carry large amounts of money around. It’s why banks invented debit cards.’

  ‘Anyway,’ her mother counters. ‘Tell me about the flat. Is Monty OK? I hope someone’s thought to feed him.’

  Katy hesitates, uncertain now is the best time to tell her mum about the break in; eager to divert the conversation before Joyce’s return.

  ‘Don’t worry, everything’s fine,’ she says. But the ease with which she lies, even though she knows she has to, to protect her mum, makes her think of what she said down by the canal that day about her father not watching her when she slipped and fell. A sudden through which makes her want to bury her head in shame. Though it wasn’t her fault, was it? Her parents’ marriage.

  ‘Although I’m afraid to say one of your pictures got spoiled when Joyce and I were tidying,’ she presses on, eager to open a door on the past – perhaps, in some way, by making some kind of amends. ‘The one of me at Andrew’s wedding? I spilled something on it and I’m afraid it’s ruined. The frame’s still OK, though, and I’m sure Dee will have filed away the negatives somewhere so we can always get another copy. But listen,’ she pauses, bracing herself before diving in. ‘I was looking at that old Polaroid, you know the one of me the day we had that picnic down by the canal?’

  Diane’s face softens into a private smile. She nods.

  ‘Well there was something written on the back I’d never noticed before …’ Awkwardly, Katy clears her throat. ‘I wondered if you could tell me about it.’

  For a moment, the makeshift bridge between them sags heavy with the weight of expectation. Katy’s eyes dart nervously towards the window. Well she’s done it now, knocked on the door. Her spirits stir, kindled by the possibility of the moment. All she needs now is for her mum to let her in; to open up to her, if only a crack. Then, after what feels like an eternity, Katy turns back towards the bed to find Diane is smiling.

  ‘It was something your father gave me a long time after the event.’ She speaks softly. ‘He blamed himself, you know, for you almost drowning – though he never admitted it at the time. Then, many years later, when other things were done and said and it seemed the only thing we could do for all our sakes was separate, he gave me that picture. Even after everything that had happened – it touched me.’ She sniffs, and Katy waits for her to cry but not tears come though her smile fades. ‘It made me think of the man he could have been.’

  But Mum’s wrong, Katy knows. Which is why she now has to speak. ‘I jumped, you know,’ she blurts. How can words that sound so simple feel so awkward to speak, she wonders, as somewhere deep inside her head a secret part of begins to unclench. ‘I jumped,’ she repeats. Because contrary to subsequent Parker family mythology, she was instigator not passive victim. It was she who’d done the bad thing. ‘Into the canal. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. You shouldn’t have blamed him. Dad, I mean. It was me. I wanted to feel what it was like to fly …’

  ‘I know.’

  Katy l
ooks up in amazement as her mum chuckles.

  ‘Don’t look so surprised,’ Diane exclaims. ‘I was watching you, waiting for you to turn away. Only you didn’t. It was quite clear to me what you were thinking – we’re more similar than you’d probably care to admit, you and me. Besides, the expression on your face said it all. Only your father had become so distant and disengaged by that point.’ She sighs. ‘So I suppose it suited me to shift the blame.’

  Fearful of compromising the moment, Katy holds her breath. But she knows she must press on if she is to push open that door a little further ahead of Joyce’s return. ‘What did he do?’ she begins. ‘To make you so unhappy. Why didn’t things between the two of you work?’

  The excursion beyond neutral ground into territory clearly staked out over many years by her mother as strictly private makes Katy’s pulse race as she tries to read Diane’s expression. Embarrassment, maybe. Sadness, and something else. Relief? Emboldened by the suspicion that perhaps, even all these years later, like her Diane might also see that long hot afternoon down by the canal as some sort of emotional touchstone, Katy leaps once more into thin air.

  ‘He must have been a difficult man to live with,’ she murmurs softly, willing her mum to latch onto the bait. ‘And to love.’ As if she didn’t know.

  ‘He was,’ Diane sighs. ‘When we first met he was so authoritative, and rather dashing. Once we were married, however, it was a different matter. I suppose he grew restless and bored.’

  Katy seizes her chance. ‘Is that why he went away so much?’

  ‘One reason.’

  ‘There were others?’ Katy whispers, tentatively feeling her way; eager not to ask too much, too soon.

  ‘Other reasons, yes,’ Diane replies simply. ‘He was unfaithful.’

  I know, Katy wants to say. Somehow I’ve always known. Even when I was small and wasn’t able to understand. Instead she waits for her mum to carry on, but Diane is lost in thought.