The Lies We Tell

by The Lies We Tell (retail) (epub)

  Swallowing hard, Jude struggled to beat back the resentful swell of emotion the thought triggered. Gazing behind her mum, she saw the steamed-up wine bottle and glass standing on the porcelain beside the taps. Both looked empty.

  ‘Is there any hot water left? I’d like a shower before going.’

  ‘Out?’ Siobhan rubbed her eyes which, Jude now noticed, were puffy and blood-shot. She checked her wrist but wasn’t wearing a watch. She seemed confused. ‘Where?’

  ‘The youth club. It is Friday night – ’ Jude waved a dismissive hand towards the wine bottle. ‘ – in case you hadn’t noticed.’

  Though she frowned, Siobhan refused to take the bait. ‘Well make it quick,’ she said. ‘I need to talk to you about something first.’

  Jude turned the shower onto its strongest setting and stepped inside. Adjusting the temperature to as hot as she could bear, she washed her hair. Vigorously massaged her scalp. Stoically ignored how the water needled her skin. Relished its rough touch, almost wanting it to hurt more. She craved sensation – pain, even – anything that might make her feel alive again. Dislocated from conscious thought, she reached for the nailbrush and moved it in controlled sweeps across her body. Her skin began to throb. Shampoo stung her eyes. But at last, she was starting to feel clean.

  ‘What did you want to talk about?’ she asked a short while later as she walked downstairs and into the kitchen, her gaze fixed on the fridge. Siobhan, who was leaning over the kitchen counter by the window, had her back towards her and her shoulders visibly flinched at the sound of her daughter’s voice. Slamming down the phone, she spun around.

  ‘Jude!’ she exclaimed, raising a shaking hand to her mouth. ‘I thought you were upstairs.’

  ‘You said you wanted a word,’ her daughter retorted, reaching into the fridge to extract a packet of sausage rolls. They were a supermarket variety – the meat looked grey, the pastry under-baked – but they’d line her stomach for the evening ahead. ‘So go on, what’s so important?’

  Siobhan took a seat at the kitchen table then straightened the cloth with awkward fingers. ‘I need to ask you if you are taking precautions.’

  Jude was silent. This she had not expected.

  ‘Precautions?’

  ‘Yes. A little bird tells me you’ve been hanging out at The Three Pigs on Maiden Lane.’ Looking up at last, Siobhan narrowed her eyes as she stared accusingly at Jude.

  A bubble of laughter welled in Jude’s throat which she fought hard to push back down. How dare she? Of all people! She rolled her eyes.

  ‘You know you have,’ Siobhan said sharply, then unexpectedly she softened her tone. ‘Look, I’ve not forgotten what it’s like being fifteen. But you’ve got to watch out for yourself.’ She laughed briefly, a tinny sound. ‘Or you never know you might end up like me.’

  ‘God forbid.’

  ‘That was a joke, Jude. But I hope you know what I mean,’ Siobhan muttered, her tired face knotting into a scowl.

  Jude stared at her mum, hating her for putting her on the spot. What business was it of hers what she got up to? How dare she demand an answer? ‘Of course I’m taking precautions,’ she sneered. ‘Which is more than some people my age. Because you can never be too careful, can you, mother. Especially if you’re doing it with a married man. Like Charles Parker.’

  What colour there had been in Siobhan’s face paled to laundry grey. ‘What?’

  Too angry to think straight and too late to grab back the words, Jude pressed on. ‘I said when you’re doing it with a married man like Charles Parker. It was him, wasn’t it? My dad?’ Defeated, her mother buried her face in her hands as Jude walked over to the kitchen table to take up position by her side. ‘So I’ll take that as a yes, then.’ Siobhan said nothing. ‘But I have one other question. Quite a simple one, actually. Why?’

  Her mum was crying now and her body shook with silent, heaving sobs. ‘Why … what?’ she said, eventually.

  ‘Why come back here? Why send me to St Mary’s – not just any school, but the school his own daughter went to in not just any year, but the same year as me?’ Jude’s voice was an angry shout against the emotional whirlwind roaring in her ears, loosening what remaining grip she had left on self-control.

  ‘That’s enough,’ Siobhan cried, springing to her feet. A command, not a request. ‘I came back here in good faith, convinced he and his family had moved on long ago. He was always very ambitious, you know. Always gave the impression that this town wasn‘t big enough for him. It seemed a good thing to do, for both of us. There was a good job for me here and for you, well, a great school. How was I to know he sent his daughter there? Charles was the last thing on my mind.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Jude sneered. Walking towards the door that led into the hall. Pausing in the open doorway. Pointing to the envelope clearly visible sticking out from beneath the mat by the front door. ‘So what’s that, then?’

  With a cry of relief that sounded more like a wild animal in pain, Siobhan lunged forwards. Dropping to her knees on the mat, she hungrily pawed at the envelope before remembering herself then stuffed it deep into her dressing gown pocket. Slowly, she rose to her feet and turned around. ‘It’s just – ’ she began.

  ‘No need to lie, Mum. I know what it’s just. I opened it earlier, saw the money, read the note. And worked it out.’

  ‘No,’ Siobhan cried. ‘You don’t understand.’

  ‘Oh but I do,’ Jude shouted. ‘It’s from him, isn’t it?’ Siobhan hesitated for a moment then nodded. ‘To keep things quiet?’

  ‘No, it’s not like that,’ her mother pleaded, sinking down onto the bottom stair. ‘I bumped into him quite by chance soon after we arrived and was as horrified as he was. The money was for you, Jude. He felt guilty, I suppose.’

  Jude strode into the hallway then stopped to stare down at her mother’s bent head. ‘For me?’ In spite herself she felt a jolt of excitement. How much could it be? She made some quick mental calculations. If this had been going on for, say, eighteen months on the basis of that morning’s payment it could be at least a thousand, if not more. ‘Well where is it, then. The money?’

  ‘Some of it is in a high interest account for when you’re older.’

  ‘Some?’

  Siobhan coughed, still unable to look up and meet her daughter’s gaze. ‘What’s left after the extras we’ve had to buy for school,’ she mumbled.

  The excitement Jude felt just a moment before was gone, replaced by a taste at the back her mouth like metal. So that would be most of it gone, then. On all those little extras. How stupid of her not to wonder where her mum had got the money from. ‘How very … convenient,’ she said at last, through clenched teeth. Siobhan said nothing. As if sapped of all strength, her body slumped against the wall. Bored all of a sudden, Jude glanced at her watch. It was almost half past seven.

  Siobhan flinched but said nothing as her daughter stepped onto the stair on which she sat.

  Without slowing her pace, Jude retraced her steps back upstairs to her room to discard the clothes she usually wore to the youth club in favour of a black pencil skirt and a skin-tight, stripy top. From her make-up bag she applied a thick mask of make-up with angry relish. A firm rim of liner then three coats of mascara accentuated her almond-shaped eyes. Then, using a fresh stick of lipstick – pillar box red – she traced the cut-glass line of her lips and the twin peaks of her cupid’s bow.

  ‘I’ll be off then,’ she said to Siobhan, who hadn’t moved from the bottom stair. Grabbing her stone-washed denim jacket from the peg by the door, she hesitated only briefly to cast a final approving glance in the mirror before freeing the catch, her mind now full with just one thought: seeing Andrew. ‘Enjoy your evening, mum. Oh, and don’t bother waiting up.’

  *

  ‘Fancy a drink, gorgeous?’

  His breath was stale and his voice slurred, but when Jude looked up she was immediately struck by the piercing blue of his eyes. She had seen him in The Bridge on previous
Friday nights. Usually he sat in the snug on the far side of the public bar. Sometimes he spent the evening alone cradling a beer, at other times joking loudly with a friends. As soon as she had walked in tonight, however, she’d noticed him pacing the floor with an intangible, pent up energy that made her think of a caged lion.

  ‘Fuck off.’ Jude took a carefully calculated step back in an attempt to impale his foot with her stiletto, but the heel glanced off the reinforced toecaps of his Doc Martin boots. As she struggled to regain her balance and clutched onto the silver-capped rim of the bar the barmaid, Cherry, shot her an anxious glance.

  ‘I said: do you fancy a drink?’ he repeated, accompanying his request this time with a clumsy attempt to put his arm round her shoulder.

  ‘And I said: fuck off.’ She took another sip from her glass. Where was Andrew, she wondered, crossly. How dare he be so late?

  ‘What did you say? Hey bitch – ’ the man added more menacingly when Jude didn’t look up. ‘– don’t fucking ignore me.’ He gave her shoulder a sharp push and the force of the impact knocked her off her stool. Scared now, Jude glanced around the bar in search of a friendly face. At the other end of the bar Cherry had her back towards her as she shared a joke with a couple of squaddies. Should she call out, she wondered. But before she could decide, her tormentor was at it again.

  ‘Fancy some more, do you?’ he muttered, and as he lunged towards her once more Jude braced herself for the inevitable impact. But then she heard another voice. Low, forceful and strangely familiar.

  ‘Stop it, Mikey.’

  Looking up, her heart leaped as she saw it was Dave. Realised his arms were firmly pinioning those of her would-be attacker. Leaning closer towards Mikey, who Jude now realised was not much older than she was, he whispered something in his ear that made his face melt into a leery smile as he turned back towards Jude.

  ‘Sorry, darling,’ he grinned, punctuating the apology with a hearty belch.

  ‘Mikey was just going outside to get a breath of fresh air, weren’t you, Mikey?’ Dave said lightly before frog-marching him out of the pub. ‘You OK?’ he added a few minutes later when he was back, standing by Jude’s side.

  ‘Sure,’ she smiled nervously, uncertain what Dave would say about her being here.

  ‘So. What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?’ He smiled then, before she had a chance to say, anything quickly added: ‘No. Don’t answer that. D’you fancy a drink?’

  ‘Vodka and tonic, please,’ she dared, braced for his refusal. Unlike the bar’s regulars, he knew her real age. But he didn’t say a word. Instead, he ordered the drink and a pint of Guinness for himself and beckoned Jude to take a seat by his side. Which made her smile at the thought of how annoyed Andrew would be when he saw her sitting with someone else when he arrived. But sod it! That would serve him right for being late. So she perched beside Dave and they sat and drank until the awkward silence was broken by another stranger’s voice.

  ‘So this is where you’ve got to!’

  The woman’s face was thin with a blood-red slash of a smile and a halo of unfeasibly black, back-brushed hair. What struck Jude most, though, was the suspicion in her pale grey eyes as she looked from Jude to Dave then back again to Jude. But no introductions were needed, it seemed, as Dave coolly turned towards the woman and lightly patted her on the bottom. ‘Not tonight, OK, Jeanette? I’ve got something to see to.’

  ‘So I can see,’ she quipped, dryly, before teetering away.

  Jude looked back at Dave with an inquiring look but said nothing. He took another sip of his drink, wiped the froth from his top lip on the back of his hand, then lightly tapped the side of his nose with his finger. ‘Ask no questions and I’ll tell no lies,’ he said softly. She raised her glass in a silent toast in agreement, then smiled.

  The pair talked until last orders, although no reference was made to what had just happened. Or home. Or even his trip to the Isle of Man. And especially not Siobhan. Instead, Dave pretended they’d only just met and asked her all the questions strangers encountering one another for the first time in a pub the wrong side of town might ask and Jude was more than happy to play along. Only when Cherry and the bar manager started emptying ash trays, upturning bar stools and stacking them onto tables was the illusion shattered as they were forced to leave. He helped her into her jacket and led her out onto the street.

  Outside the wind was icy, late snow was forecast for the weekend, and she started to shiver. She should have worn a proper coat but as the bedsit where Andrew and she had planned to stay was close by she’d not planned on walking far. As he zipped up his leather jacket, Dave pulled a pair of gloves and a scarf from his pocket and handed them to her. At first they walked side by side, but after a few minutes Dave slipped his arm round her shoulders and began gently guiding her step. She could feel the warmth of his body through the thin padded fabric of her jacket but now, with all thoughts of Andrew long gone, she didn’t think of turning away.

  ‘So this is what you get up to when your mum’s back is turned,’ he said, stopping suddenly.

  They were outside Debenhams near the bottom of the high street. As he stared through the darkened windows where an explosion of gaudy, cut-price spring sale offers punctuated the interior’s gloom Jude gazed at their reflection – huddled together, side by side, almost a couple – and experienced a mixture of guilt and excitement. With the spell broken, Jude braced herself as she chose her words carefully. ‘One could say the same about you,’ she answered, defensively.

  ‘One could,’ he replied, gently turning her face towards him. ‘But your mum’s no fool, Jude. She knows how the land lies. We have what you might call a … flexible relationship. And she likes it that way.’

  ‘She does?’ Jude frowned. She wasn’t sure whether she believe him, but with the touch of his hand and his breath now warming her face she realised she didn’t care.

  ‘She does,’ he whispered, conspiratorially. Her body relaxed into his and her pulse quickened in expectation, but then a beat later Dave had straightened up and stepped away. ‘Let me walk you to your front door,’ he offered, feigning an aristocratic kind of voice before bowing low and offering her his arm to take. ‘Who knows what sort of ruffians are out and about at such a late hour.’

  Confused, aroused and disappointed in equal measure, Jude slipped her arm through his then walked on in silence until they reached the end of the road where they lived. There, standing in the darkness beneath a broken street lamp, enfolded in shadows, Dave firmly pulled her towards him. But her surprise was outweighed by a tidal wave that left her reeling, with relief. With damp palms and a dry throat, Jude could hear the blood in her veins charge like stallions. Feeling more alive than she’d ever done, she raised her face to his and saw he was smiling.

  ‘Kiss me,’ he coaxed. ‘You know you want to.’

  Jude hesitated, unsure what to do for a moment until instinct kicked in. ‘Don’t patronise me,’ she snapped, hastily pulling away. ‘I’m not a child.’

  ‘Of course not,’ he soothed, tugging her back towards him. ‘Any fool can see that. From the way you hold yourself –’ He hesitated, and as the arm that was still wrapped around her waist shifted position she could feel his hand working its way up her back beneath her shirt. As his fingers softly stroked the skin just below the clasp of her bra her back arched. ‘– to the way your body moves beneath your clothes.’ Burying his nose in her hair, he sniffed theatrically. ‘The way you smell.’

  Blindly, Jude moved her face towards his in search of his mouth. With lips parted, she brushed the stubble of his roughly shaven face. She inhaled deeply, intoxicated by the tang of sweat and beer. They stood like this in semi darkness, clenched like covert statues, unmoving apart from hungry mouths and desperate tongues. She wanted him more than anything she had wanted ever before, and didn’t care who might see. But then, as quickly as it had been forged, the physical connection was broken.

  Dave looked down at her,
eyes bright. ‘Another time,’ he murmured, linking arms once more to lead her into the umbra of the next street light and on towards their front gate. ‘Another place.’ And in that split second her decision was made. She would have him, and break her mother’s heart.

  It began the morning after, when Siobhan had gone out to the shops. Dave was still asleep in bed when Jude went into the bathroom and ran herself a bath. Afterwards, she towelled herself down then gently rubbed in handfuls of body lotion before putting on the silk, knee-length dressing gown her mum had given her for Christmas. With a racing heart, she lay back down on her bed to wait until an hour later she heard him go into the bathroom and turn on the shower. As the water surged, Jude opened her bedroom door and padded softly towards her mum’s room. Once inside she turned off the main overhead light, straightened the dishevelled bed covers, then carefully positioned herself on the freshly puffed pillows and closed her eyes.

  ‘I think you’re in the wrong room, Jude.’ He was standing in the doorway, a damp towel knotted around his waist. A few beads of water trickled down his body like sweat.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she murmured, shifting position slightly which made the silk fabric slide upwards to reveal another inch or two of thigh.

  Dave walked across the room to the bed to stand over her, looking down. ‘Is that right?’ he said, reaching towards the belt of her dressing gown.

  As soon as the bow was untied, the fabric slid apart like red silk curtains to expose her nakedness. He took his time, scanning her creamy breasts and taut belly which tapered down to the dark triangle of closely cropped pubic hair. Then he reached out a hand to gently run his forefinger around the darker skin now puckered at the base of the hard button of each nipple. Her back arched as she felt her body tense with anticipation. He smiled as he loosened the towel around his waist.