The Girl Who Lied

by Sue Fortin

  ‘Yes, now, but not on the phone.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m parked up out the front of the café,’ he says.

  I nearly drop the phone in surprise as I jump to my feet and shoot over to the window. I pull the net curtain up and peer into the dusk of the evening. I scan the few cars lined intermittently along the parking bays. A set of headlights flash. A BMW, like the one he has hired before, is parked several bays down from where I left Dad’s car. Three other cars separate them. I hadn’t paid any attention when I had pulled up. Why would I? He must have been parked there all along, waiting for me to get back.

  ‘You’d better come up,’ I say, dropping the net curtain and cutting the call. He has totally caught me by surprise. I sift through the feelings that are charging their way through my mind, a riot of thoughts and emotions.

  I don’t have time to get them into any sort of order before I hear the rhythmic clang of footsteps on the wrought-iron staircase as Ed jogs up the steps. The rap of knuckles on the door announces his arrival.

  Chapter 25

  ‘Why don’t you give it a rest now?’ said Joe wiping the oil from his hands on a rag. He threw the stained cloth into his toolbox. ‘It’s late. Let’s go for a pint.’

  ‘You go. I’ll finish off here,’ said Kerry, not looking up from the spark plug he was cleaning. Despite his chat with Joe earlier in the day, he still wasn’t in a great mood.

  ‘Come on, cuz,’ cajoled Joe. ‘Let’s go to the pub and then you can tell me exactly what’s going on. Whatever it is, it’s bigger than you can handle, judging by the mood you’ve been in all day.’

  ‘Leave it, Joe,’ said Kerry and then, because he knew he had been a bad-tempered bastard added, ‘I’m knackered. I’ll get this done and then go home. Going to get my head down early.’

  Joe wandered over and crouched down beside him. ‘Those spark plugs look pretty clean to me,’ he said. ‘You, my friend, are bullshitting me. Now, come for that pint and tell me what’s really up.’

  ‘Look, it’s nothing,’ said Kerry, placing the spark plug on the cloth spread out beside the motorbike. He wracked his brains for an alternative reason to the one thing, or rather person, who had been playing on his mind. ‘Money worries. I’m on a three-day week now, so, you know…’ He left the sentenced unfinished, confident Joe would fill in the gaps.

  ‘Yeah, it’s tough. If it’s any consolation, I feel bad about it – guilty, like.’

  ‘Hey, forget it,’ said Kerry, glad the conversation had steered away in a different direction. ‘You’ve got Bex and the kids to think about. I’ve just got me.’

  ‘You’ve got a couple of paint jobs to do, though, haven’t you?’

  ‘Mmm, one’s cancelled as he can’t afford it. I’m thinking of getting back to him and giving a lower price, much as it pains me,’ said Kerry, standing up. ‘But I don’t have a lot of choice at the moment.’

  ‘What’s that, the Honda?’

  ‘Yeah, nice bike. Was a nice paint job too.’ Kerry blew out a breath. Suddenly a pint seemed like a good idea. He could do with taking his mind off not only Erin but money worries too. ‘Let’s get that drink after all.’

  Joe gave him a punch on the arm. ‘That’s the spirit.’

  ‘You sure Bex won’t mind?’ He picked up the dog’s lead and whistled for Skip.

  ‘Not at all. You know, Bex.’

  Kerry did know Bex. So easy-going and laid back. She and Joe were a good team together. They were lucky, they had found a kindred spirit in each other and now they had baby Breeze, their family unit was complete. Bex was a great mum and Joe, much to the surprise of a lot of people, although not to Kerry, had not just turned up but had totally owned being a dad. It kept a faint glow of hope burning in Kerry’s heart that, in life, there were parents who loved each other and loved their kids without condition.

  Locking up, they left via the back of the workshop and wandered round to Beach Road.

  It was a clear evening, the longer daylight hours adding to the hint of summer that was promising to come their way. The sound of footsteps somewhere behind him made Kerry look round.

  Two figures, one male and one female, were walking over to the parking bays. They hadn’t noticed Kerry or Joe. Kerry gave another look.

  ‘What the…?’ he muttered under his breath.

  ‘What’s up?’ Joe looked back too.

  Kerry pulled Joe by the sleeve of his jacket. ‘Come on.’

  ‘That’s Erin and Dick-Ed.’

  ‘I know. Now, come on.’ He gave Joe a shove forwards.

  ‘Thought we’d seen the last of him,’ said Joe.

  ‘So did I.’

  As they rounded the bend, Kerry gave one final look back at the parking bays. The engine of a car sounded and it reversed out of its space. A rev of the throttle, followed by the tiniest of wheel spins, and the BMW accelerated along Beach Road, passing them both, heading out of the village.

  ‘Dick-Ed,’ said Joe.

  ‘You can say that again.’ Trouble was, Ed wasn’t the only one that fell into that category, thought Kerry, as they walked on towards The Smugglers. He felt a complete dick-head himself. He had thought there was something between himself and Erin; that she had meant it when she finished with Ed. Now, it seemed, she had only been using him, rebound material, and Ed was back on the scene. Yep, Kerry had been a dick-head to fall for that one.

  Two pints later and Kerry was still brooding. He had tried to make all the right responses to Joe’s chatter, nod in the appropriate places, look happy, look sad, laugh as necessary, but he wasn’t actually listening. All the time his thoughts were recalling the conversations he and Erin had shared, her upset at the barbecue, her confession about having a baby, the intimacy they had shared on his sofa and now his own reaction to seeing her with Ed.

  On the one hand she came across as troubled and fragile and yet, on the other, she was cold-hearted and arrogant. She had played him, that was for sure. But he was also sure that sooner, rather than later, every lie she had built up around her was going to come crashing down.

  ‘You’ve not listened to a word I’ve been saying, have you?’ said Joe pushing his empty pint glass to the centre of the table.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Kerry, supping his pint.

  ‘Seems to me you have two options, cuz. Either get over it, or more like get over Erin.’ He raised an eyebrow at Kerry.

  ‘And the other option?’

  ‘Do something about it. Because you’re one miserable fecker like this.’ He stood up. ‘I’d better get back. There is a limit to Bex’s understanding. You coming?’

  Kerry drummed his fingers on the table, pursing his lips then, coming to a decision, looked up at his cousin. ‘You go on home, Joe. I’m going to take your advice and do something about it.’ He took his phone from his pocket. ‘Need to sort something out.’

  ‘Okay, I’m all for you taking my advice, just nothing stupid, eh?’

  Kerry gave a mock salute. ‘Nothing stupid.’

  The meal is probably good, after all it is a nice restaurant, a top restaurant. Ed wouldn’t bring me to a run-of-the-mill one, that’s not his style. And the food is, no doubt, of the highest standard, but I could be eating cardboard for all I notice. My palate is tasteless, each mouthful dries in my throat and I have to force myself to swallow the food down.

  Ed is very attentive. Overly so. There’s a distance between us, a tension as we play out niceties.

  The talk we have both been avoiding finally comes as dessert is placed in front of us. I toy with the cheesecake, usually one of my favourites, but like the main course, this too is tasteless.

  ‘I’m sure your dad will be okay,’ says Ed, taking my disinterest in my food as a sign I’m worrying about my dad. ‘The doctors know what they are doing. He’s in the best-possible place.’

  Platitudes, but I nod and thank him all the same. ‘That’s what we keep telling Mum,’ I say, avoiding any reference to my own emotio
ns. The truth is there’s still a blank space, for the most part. Every time I visit Dad, tiny edges around that space erode and break away. At first I thought it was for Mum, but my visit today summoned up a thread of compassion, which I realised was for Dad. Perhaps only now am I really appreciating the seriousness of his condition and how thin the line between recovery, and not, is. Some deeply buried trace of feeling for him is beginning to surface. I’m not quite sure how to deal with it, so long has it been since it was out in the open, certainly before I was a teenager.

  Ed’s hand reaches across the table. ‘You know I’m here if you need me,’ he says.

  I look up and meet his eyes. I can’t read them. I’ve never been able to. I thought I knew him. I thought I knew he loved me, but did he just love the notion of rescuing me? He saved me then, did he want to save me now? Was he saving me or serving his ego?

  I slip my hand away. ‘Thank you.’ I don’t know what else to say.

  ‘The other week, when we had our row,’ says Ed. ‘I know I stormed off, but I must admit, I was quite shocked by what you said. I realise now how much pressure you must have been under, are still under. Anyway, I thought I’d give you a bit of space.’

  ‘I meant what I said.’

  ‘I’m sure you did,’ says Ed. He gives me a patronising smile. ‘But now you’ve had time to think, how about we get things back on track? You should also think about work. I could still take you back.’

  I can’t believe his attitude. ‘I’m not a child. I do know my own mind. I meant what I said,’ I repeat the last sentence to make my point.

  ‘Everything?’ He has that supercilious look on his face. The one he uses when someone has told him something totally ridiculous.

  I put my spoon down and push the cheesecake away. I rest my arms on the table. My fingers pinch the stem of the wine glass. I think of Kerry and what he means to me. What he could mean. How can it ever compare to what I had, or can have, with Ed?

  ‘Yes, everything,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry, Ed.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Erin, you can’t mean that.’ Ed too pushes his plate away. He downs the last drop of wine in his glass. ‘You think it’s better being over here in the arse end of nowhere with simple country folk. Really?’

  I feel myself prickle. ‘Yes. Really,’ I snap. I lean closer. ‘As a matter of fact, despite everything, I do prefer it here. Here is real. Here is where my family is. People I love. Here is where my heart is.’

  I sit back, my words surprising me as much as they appear to surprise Ed. In the heat of the moment, I’ve spoken without thinking. I realise my true feelings have come out. Defending my family, my heritage and my loved ones from the scorn of a London city snob, who can only measure happiness with a price tag.

  Ed studies the bottom of his empty wine glass, which hangs between his finger and thumb. He lowers it back on to the table.

  ‘How I misjudged you,’ he says. He signals for the waiter and asks for two coffees. ‘I take it you’re still drinking coffee after a meal or would you prefer a cup of Barry’s Irish tea?’

  I don’t dignify the cheap shot with an answer. I smile at the waiter. ‘Coffee will be fine, thank you.’ Once the waiter has left, I rise from the table. ‘I’m just going to the toilet.’ I need a bit of space to break the tension and row that is threatening to erupt. I also need time to let the thoughts that have bombarded me and taken me by surprise to settle.

  Piped music filters through into the ladies’ washroom. I inspect myself in the mirror. I’ve just discovered something about myself I didn’t know existed, or rather something I thought had long been resigned to Room 101. The love for my family, in all its shapes and forms. Some loves might be greater than others and some loves might be on different levels for different reasons, but there is no doubt about it, the love is still there. The more I acknowledge this love and let it in, the stronger it becomes. I realise that love isn’t painful. It’s the not having love that hurts. The rejection. The betrayal. The loneliness. They hurt. Love doesn’t.

  The sobering thought of Roisin crashes to the front of my mind, shoulder-charging all other emotions to one side. Roisin has the power to destroy my family, to break it up and scatter it across the village. I can’t let that happen. Despite what Fiona thinks about Roisin and her motives, I know Roisin better. I know what she’s capable of. She wants to bring my family down. I have a bad feeling that she just might, somehow. My love for my family fuels the primal instinct to protect. I have to protect my family first. To protect them is to love them.

  I rest my hands on the washbasin, my head bowed while I consider my options. There is no place for the faint-hearted here, only the brave.

  I need to get home. Away from Ed. I have things to sort out.

  I return to the table, where my coffee is waiting. Ed has already drunk his.

  ‘It’s probably cold now,’ he says nodding towards my cup. ‘Would you like me to order you a fresh one?’

  ‘No, it’s fine, thank you,’ I say, noting the lack of confrontation in his voice.

  ‘So, it’s really all over?’ he says. He looks sad, but I decide it’s probably a sadness that he has been defeated rather than a sadness that he has lost me.

  ‘I think so,’ I reply. ‘And, about my job…I won’t be coming back for that either.’

  Ed nods. ‘Saves me trying to think of a legitimate excuse to sack you.’ He gives a laugh, which I’m not entirely sure he means, but I let it go. I have other things on my mind.

  ‘Would you mind dropping me back now?’ I ask.

  ‘Let’s go, I’ve already paid the bill,’ says Ed, rising from his seat.

  We travel back in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. There’s nothing more I want to say. We both know it’s over between us. It was over a long time ago. I could argue it had never really started. Not in the way a true lifelong relationship does, on equal terms, an equal footing, equal motives and equal goals. I was his Eliza Doolittle and there’s nothing equal about that.

  Ed pulls up in the parking bay outside the café. ‘I’ll walk you round,’ he says, his hand reaching for the door handle.

  ‘No, it’s okay,’ I say quickly. I look over at Ed and we exchange a smile of acknowledgement. This is the end. ‘I’m sorry things never worked out the way we wanted. I think this is for the best. For both of us.’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ he says. ‘You never really fitted in with the crowd.’

  Another remark that I won’t dignify with a response.

  ‘Goodbye, Ed.’

  I get out the car. It’s raining, but I don’t care. I stand on the path, watching him pull away until the tail lights disappear out of sight.

  That part of my life is over. I now have a new part ahead of me.

  I check my watch. It’s still quite early. The meal had been a quick affair. I dart in the doorway of the café for cover and take my phone from my bag. I scroll through the contacts list, stopping at the name I’m searching for.

  I take a deep breath and fire off a text. ‘Only the brave,’ I say out loud. ‘Only the brave.’

  Chapter 26

  As the evening wore on, Roisin came to a decision. Asking her mam tonight about Erin would be a bad idea. Diana had shut herself in the sitting room and was now listening to the CDs Niall used to play all the time. It was a bizarre event. A middle-aged woman, ex-GP, listening to music from a decade ago, music that doesn’t sit naturally with her. Music to which she knows the exact words and slurs them out in between sipping her wine whilst slumped in a wing-backed library chair. It was a sorrowful sight.

  Roisin reassessed her plan. She would force the Hurley family’s hand. She was going to make them admit to what she had found out. Roisin had the proof, so even if they didn’t want to, she would be able to force them. She would do it publicly, if necessary. She didn’t care. Not about them. She cared about her mam and what had happened to her family.

  If her mam had something to live for again, if she knew part of he
r son lived on, then Roisin was sure Diana would pull herself together. It would give her the incentive to sort herself out. She could be the mother Roisin longed to have back. The Marshalls would be well on the way to being fixed. There would be another Marshall to love and welcome into their arms. Just how it should be.

  Her phone bleeped in her handbag. Roisin took it out and read the text message.

  ‘Would you look at that?’ she said out loud. She read the message again. A small smile spread across her face. She licked her lips, tasting victory already.

  Grabbing her coat from the hall stand, Roisin wriggled her feet into her shoes. She looked from the closed sitting-room door on the left to the closed living-room door on the right. Would either of them notice if she went out? Would they care? Probably not, to both those questions. Checking she had her car keys, Roisin slipped out the front door, closing it quietly behind her. She would be back before they locked up for the night. She would nip back in, go up to her room and neither her mam nor Daddy would be any wiser.

  The village was quiet. Roisin didn’t notice anyone as she drove along Beach Road, heading out to The Spit. The gravel road that led out to the headland was unlit and her headlights cut through the darkness. The weather had taken an unhealthy turn at some point in the evening. The wind was picking up and as the wheels scrunched along the unmade track that ran alongside the water’s edge, the rain came down heavier.

  Arriving at the end of the track, Roisin parked the car. There was no other vehicle there and certainly no sign of who she was meeting.

  The knock on her window made her jump and Roisin screamed with fright.

  ‘Jesus!’ she said. She couldn’t see that well in the dark, but she knew who it was. They beckoned her out of the car and impatiently opened the door. ‘You could have warned me you were here, instead of lurking in the shadows. Frightening me half to death. Haven’t you got a torch?’ said Roisin, swinging her legs out. The fierce wind swirled her hair around her head. She caught it in her hand, taming it and tucking it into the collar of her coat. ‘Do we have to stand out here? I’m getting soaked.’ But the figure, huddled into their coat, was already walking away towards the end of The Spit. Roisin swore under her breath. She had little choice but to follow.