The Lies We Tell

  Jude loosened his grip and stepped just out of reach to lean against the kitchen worktop by the sink, noticing for the first time his skin was damp and his hair wet. He must have showered already. ‘You’re up early,’ she said.

  He lifted the kettle and filled it with fresh water. ‘So are you.’

  ‘I’ve got things to pack. I’m leaving for camp today, in case you’d forgotten.’

  ‘I’d not forgotten,’ he smiled, rinsing out two used mugs under the hot tap. ‘I wanted to see you off.’

  ‘Oh.’ Jude turned towards the open window through which she could now hear the distant clink of bottles from the milk van parked on the street a few houses down.

  The trip to Gallows Hill had been her idea. Though organised by the school, the trip wasn’t compulsory but when the confirmation slip arrived Jude knew she had to get away, just for a few days. To have some time to herself – away from Kat, away from Siobhan – to clear her head. Decide what to do. But now, although her exams were over and she was free to embrace the summer that lay ahead, she was having second thoughts.

  For one thing, Kat was now going. Initially, she’d dismissed the opportunity as her dad was supposed to be taking them all away on the family break that had never quite happened at Easter. But then his plans had changed again of course and, despite her initial qualms, Diane had unexpectedly agreed to let her daughter go. Jude had teased Kat about not signing up for the trip at first, taunting her for lacking any spirit of adventure. But then when she’d discovered the real reason, that Charles was taking them all away, she’d felt bloated with envy and resentment.

  Now the girl would indeed be there Jude’s mood grew even darker. Because she didn’t care about Kat. The only person she now wanted to see was Andrew. Andrew, who she’d not managed to speak to since that awful afternoon a few weeks earlier, would be leaving on his round the world trip soon after their return. There was so little time left to try and see him one last time, to try to explain.

  Then there was the tiny life beginning to stir inside her. She’d still not confided in anyone, choosing to immerse herself instead in last minute exam preparation. Although she knew this would change soon enough, once she began to show.

  ‘Jude?’

  Stepping towards her, Dave reached out and loosened her hair from the rough ponytail she’d scooped it into and let it settle, loose, around her face. Sliding his free hand down to her waist, he grasped the satin bow she’d just re-tied and tugged her towards him.

  Jude wanted to tell him to stop, but as his hand untangled her hair all she wanted was for her body mould into his. Then, as he leaned against her, pushing her back against the worktop with the force of his body, securing her firmly, she was thrown off guard momentarily by a familiar aroma she couldn’t quite place. A floral smell, light and zesty, with a hint of pine. ‘She’ll be a while,’ he said.

  Dave kissed her again, harder this time, forcing her head back against the cupboard door, filling her mouth with his tongue as she tried to blot out the voice now nagging from somewhere deep inside her head that asked her whether it might be possible, just a few minutes earlier, that he’d been upstairs with Siobhan sharing that bath. And then she knew what she could smell on him. Her mother’s special Bronnley soap which she’d used for years and guarded so preciously.

  Any doubts, though, were quickly overwhelmed by desire as Jude blindly pulled him towards her. Oblivious of the silk now slipping to the floor. Excited by Siobhan’s close proximity. Eager for Dave to be inside her. For the discoveries of recent weeks had made her reckless, and the strain of keeping her secrets had left her craving sensation and risk. Not knowing she’d been living a lie. Now she knew, though, she realised that for the first time in as long as she could remember she felt truly alive.

  Their bodies parted at the tell-tale surge of the bath water draining away through the pipes from the bathroom above. As he darted into the utilities room to wipe himself down, Jude hastily rearranged her kimono and re-tied her hair. She glanced up at the clock on the wall above the kitchen window. If she didn’t get a move on, Siobhan, who’d found a temporary job at the local Co-Op, would be late. She rinsed out another mug and made three teas as Dave walked back into the kitchen dressed in an un-ironed T-shirt and old pair of tracksuit bottoms he now used only for DIY.

  The pair took a seat at the kitchen table where the contents of an information pack for the outward bounds centre at Gallows Hill were spread out. Dave picked up the photocopied map. ‘We could meet, you know – ’ he began, stabbing the paper with his forefinger. ‘Here, at … Coulter’s Copse.’ Casting a glance at the printed itinerary on the table he rubbed his hands together. ‘It looks like you’ll have plenty of free time to slip away.’

  The thought of secretly meeting Dave during her stay at Gallows Hill stirred Jude’s spirits. ‘What will you tell Mum?’

  ‘Not your problem,’ he grinned. ‘Anyway, I’ve been planning a bit of a surprise.’

  Jude frowned.

  ‘Don’t worry. Trust me.’ As he tapped a finger against the side of his nose he started to laugh. ‘Just meet me there on the first afternoon at four, OK?’

  ‘What’s so funny?’ asked Siobhan, hurrying into the kitchen to make a cup of tea . She was wearing her staff uniform FOR WHERE?, a navy long-sleeved dress and matching waistcoat both made of the same rough fabric, and had her hair scraped back into an unfashionable bun.

  ‘Oh, just the idea of Jude in hiking boots and a rucksack, orienteering,’ Dave replied without missing a beat. He pointed to the grinning figures on the outward bounds centre brochure cover. ‘Anyway. I’d better be off if I’m going to make it to Birmingham in time.’ He rose from the table and picked up his motorcycle helmet and a small rucksack. With his free hand he reached round Siobhan’s waist to tug her towards him for a goodbye kiss, then gave her bottom a swift pinch as he pushed her away, dismissed. ‘See you later, girls!’

  As the door had closed firmly behind him, the smile swiftly faded from Siobhan’s face. ‘Do you think he’s going off me?’ she asked, pushing the mug and its tepid contents away from her, then slumping back in the kitchen chair.

  ‘Why do you say that, mum?’ Jude stared intently at the map as she spoke, eager to conceal both her surprise and sense of satisfaction sparked by the frankness of her mum’s admission.

  ‘Oh, you can always tell,’ Siobhan replied, vaguely. Reaching deep into the pocket of her waistcoat she extracted a ball of tissue which she quickly used to dab her eyes. ‘I’ve a lifetime’s experience in that department. Besides, he’s not as … affectionate … as he used to be.’

  ‘Mum,’ Jude grimaced. ‘Do I really need to know?’

  ‘Don’t come all Little Miss Goody Two Shoes with me. I know what you get up to when I’m not looking,’ Siobhan snapped. Without looking up, Jude bit her lip as she scanned the brochure for a moment then snapped it shut, straightening the loose papers inside with a single, brisk tap to the table top. ‘Yes. You’ve been seen,’ Siobhan pressed on, clearly warming to her theme. ‘In various pubs down by the river on the far side of town. And with a number of different boys. So don’t play the innocent with me. Staying over at Kat’s, indeed. I’ve a good mind to ring her parents.’

  ‘But you won’t, though, will you?’ Jude retorted, narrowing her eyes to glare in silence at her mum, challenging her to say more until, eventually, the older woman looked away.

  Preoccupied now with folding and refolding her tissue into a neat and tidy parcel, Siobhan stared at her busy fingers in silence as, at last, their work completed, then slipped the wadded paper back into her pocket. Picking up her mug, she went to the sink where she tipped away the un-drunk contents then made her way into the hall. Only once she’d pulled on her coat, slung her bag over her shoulder and had her hand on the front door catch did she pause.

  ‘Don’t make the same mistakes I made, Jude,’ she said, turning back to look at Jude who was still sitting in her dressing gown at the kitchen tab
le, pretending to read the local paper. ‘You deserve better than that.’

  Chapter 29

  Kew – July 2013

  The Ruth Creighton who opens the door is not what Katy expects but tall and slim with none of the dumpy awkwardness of her teenage years. Her hair is blonde, too, not a dull, washed-out brown and when she opens her mouth to speak the full extent of her transformation is most apparent. Once too self-conscious to talk without a protective hand hovering to shelf the metal framework encasing the inside of her mouth, her smile now is immaculate and uninhibited.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she says, snapping a pair of Marigolds off her hands. ‘Sorry, just scrubbing the barbecue,’ she adds in explanation. ‘We’ve got people coming round.’

  Katy feels her cheeks flush. ‘Actually …’ she mumbles, falteringly. ‘I wonder if you can … I’m looking for – ’

  ‘Directions! I’ve an A to Z if that’s of any – ’

  ‘No, I’m not lost, Ruth,’ Katy interrupts with a nervous laugh as the woman standing in the open doorway before her stops smiling. ‘I’m – ’

  ‘Kat?’ The word hangs in the air like a bad smell between them as Ruth’s mouth tightens. For her, at least, there is nothing more to say.

  ‘Yes,’ Katy presses on, trying not to think of the times she stood by while others, Jude especially, bullied her mercilessly. ‘Look, sorry to drop in unannounced but I was just passing and, well, I wondered … if you might be able to help.’

  ‘Aren’t I the popular one now?’ Ruth exclaims then, taking a step back to steady herself, her manner becomes more formal. Clinical. She checks her watch. ‘Well, I’m sorry but I’m not working today – ’

  ‘No, not like that. I meant as a friend.’

  ‘A friend, now where have I heard that before?’ The woman muses, fixing Katy with a grey-eyed stare that makes her conscience squirm. ‘That’s … rich.’

  ‘Listen,’ Katy blurts, noticing how Ruth now grips the side of the front door in anticipation of forcing it shut. ‘Just let me say something before you ask me to leave, please?’

  Ruth hesitates, momentarily disarmed by her visitor’s directness. She checks her watch then, with a sigh, beckons Katy inside. ‘Alright. Straight on then first on the left for the sitting room. Take a seat while I put the kettle on.’

  A reluctant intruder, Katy makes her way into a large, timbered room to perch on the edge of a three seat brown leather sofa facing a stone-clad open hearth. Behind her, at the opposite end of the room, an entire brick wall has been replaced by concertina glass panels beyond which she can see an expanse of garden. The house, though double-fronted, had looked modest in size and predictably Victorian from the front. The rear, however, is stylish and modern and its design is bright and airy. She wonders how Ruth can afford such a lovely home on a local GP’s pay. Clearly, her old classmate has done well.

  Turning her head towards a large, ornately-framed mirror on the wall to her left she sees a family gallery of framed photographs hung on either side. Twins, a girl and a boy, pictured at a range of ages between birth and eight or nine are a recurring theme. In a number of images, Ruth poses beside a striking, dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes.

  Fighting the urge to leave her seat to take a closer look, Katy quickly turns towards the door at the sound of approaching footsteps. ‘Your children?’ she asks lightly, waving a hand in the direction of the photographs as Ruth enters the room holding a tray.

  With a nod, the other woman hands Katy a mug of tea. ‘Archie and Ellie. And that’s my husband, Geoff.’

  There is something in the tone of her voice that makes Katy think some sort of comment or response to this is called for. ‘What a good-looking family!’ she declares.

  ‘Surprises you, does it?’ Ruth sits back in a chair then crosses her legs. ‘That someone like me could end up with something like – all of this?’ The words sting.

  ‘No.’ Katy puts down her mug on the latest edition of Condé Nast Traveller that sits on a low table by her side. ‘Not at all.’

  Taking a deep breath, she looks up to see Ruth observing her embarrassment with a wry smile, calm and in control. ‘I’m not proud of how we all treated you at school, you know. We were horrible, especially me and Jude. But kids are like that, aren’t they?’ She laughs, awkwardly. ‘Desperate not to stand out. Eager to go along with the gang. They lack the imagination to put themselves in other people’s shoes, I suppose.’

  Ruth takes a sip from her mug but says nothing, deepening the void between them that Katy now feels obliged to fill.

  ‘Anyway, I’m not here to say sorry,’ Katy presses on. ‘We both know the way people behaved was wrong – and that by not standing up for what’s right I was just as bad as Jude. But what’s done is done. If I could change it I would, but I can’t.’

  ‘Well that’s honest, I suppose,’ Ruth says quietly, her expression softening. ‘I think if you’d sat down and said you were sorry I’d have asked you to leave. Back then was a lifetime ago. An experience I stopped dwelling on a long time back. So go on, you’ve got my attention. Why are you here?’

  Though excused, not exonerated. Katy smiles. ‘I know I’ve got a real nerve coming here, but as I said: I need your help. It’s about the summer I had the accident – you remember, while we were all staying at Gallow’s Hill?’ Ruth nods. ‘Well I need to ask you something – ’ Ruth nods again, waiting for her to get to the point. ‘It’s about Jude.’

  Now Ruth’s cheeks redden. ‘Jude.’

  ‘Well, some of the things she – ’

  ‘They called me a liar,’ Ruth butts in. ‘For what I said I saw there, out on the heath that day. Either I was mistaken or else I was making up lies to get her into trouble, that’s why they said. When the local paper interviewed me, though, I mentioned what I saw. But they didn’t put it in because by then, as no one else had seen anything, it was all down to me.’ She sighs. ‘Me and my over-active imagination.’

  ‘I’m sorry – ’

  ‘But the real liar, of course, was Jude.’

  ‘Well yes, that’s what I was hoping …’

  ‘Hoping what?’

  ‘That you could tell me what you meant that day, just before the exams. When you warned me about Jude saying things behind my back about me, my mum and my dad.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘You did, yes.’

  Ruth frowns. ‘Well Jude said a lot of things, none of them pleasant.’

  ‘I know, but – ’

  ‘And then she told everyone I was the liar, even when I know what I saw. Meeting in secret, out on the heath – Jude and her lover.’

  ‘Lover?’

  ‘No question. I saw them, together, earlier that week. I used to go out walking alone, you see.’

  A nerve buried in the skin somewhere just above Katy’s left cheek bone begins to twitch as her focus on the story unfolding, the woman opposite, the room around her, starts to slip. ‘Not really, what do you mean?’

  ‘Then, the afternoon of the fire, before I went to get help, I saw him again – a tall man, with dark hair, dressed in black – ’

  Katy raises her hand to rub her face. Her fingertips brush the fine white line of scar tissue just beneath her eye where when Jude slapped her, that last day on the heath, the intricate silver setting of the amber ring she always wore caught the skin just below Katy’s left eye. A shadow shifts making her stomach flip. She should leave. Right now. But it is too late. Something is stirring in the darkness, flexing its limbs as it slowly comes back to life.

  ‘– good looking, too, in a David Essex kind of way –’

  Him, it was definitely him, Katy thinks, her throat tightening. The darkness inside her is moving, and for a moment there is a flicker of memory just beyond her reach. Until she experiences the fleeting sensation of cowering within dense foliage. Hiding from something. Someone. So Ruth saw him, too. But why hadn’t this part of the story come out? What did Jude know that she’d chosen not to say?


  ‘ – only this time he was on the ground – ’

  Her palms are moist now and she almost drops the mug of tea. Because now she sees him. A man on all fours. Straddling someone. Stop it! Thrusting, beast-like. His pelvis pumping. Making her friend scream. Run, Jude, run! And then a voice inside her screaming. No. She hears a whimper. The sound has comes from her, but Ruth’s not yet noticed.

  ‘ – injured – ’

  Smashed and broken.

  ‘ – I thought there’d been some kind of accident …‘

  His head all caved in.

  ‘That something dreadful must have happened to Jude. But by the time the people from camp arrived there was nothing –’

  The make-shift weapon dangling from her own hand.

  No. This didn’t happen, not really. Because it’s just fantasy. Something she saw on a movie once. A waking dream. And yet she knows Ruth is telling the truth. That this is the shadow – the thing that made her run and refuse to look back. The thing that’s kept her running every single day since it happened. Running so hard as to obscure the truth with the dust kicked up by her heels.

  ‘Katy? Are you OK?’

  She is on her feet now, swaying slightly as she tries not to spill the un-drunk tea. She puts it back onto the side table then swings her bag over one shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she gasps. ‘I’m feeling a little … Terrible morning sickness, you see,’ she presses on. ‘And what with the heat and everything. So sorry, but I think I really should go.’

  Stumbling out of the room, Katy retraces her steps to the front door.

  ‘Can I at least call you a cab,’ Ruth asks, eyeing her belly anxiously.

  ‘No, no – I could do with some fresh air,’ Katy gasps. Thank God she parked round the corner. At least she won’t have a debate with the woman whether she is in any fit state to drive. All she needs is distance. Space. To get away from Ruth. To catch her breath and gather her thoughts. To think.

  But no she cannot think. Because to think is to look back and see the truth of what she did that day. The very wicked, evil thing that no matter how hard she has tried to outrun it, inter it, obscure it from view, has never gone away. For it is part of her, she thinks, her blood now pounding against the inside of her skull. It’s who she is, and why. A very bad, bad person.