Deception Wears Many Faces_a stunning psychological drama that will keep you turning the pages

by Maggie James

  In my pocket, my phone vibrated. I pulled it out, angry when I found another text from Ellie. Please can we talk? I swear you’re dating the guy who stole my savings. I deleted her blatant lie, pained that my sister could malign Scott, this caring boyfriend and brother, for her own selfish ends. All I could do was ignore her spite.

  The next evening, Scott called me with the news that Darcy had found a treatment centre located in California and had made enquiries. The therapy they offered was based on fasting, natural juices and organic food, with two hours of daily meditation, the rest of the day being taken up with what he dubbed ‘wacky stuff’.

  ‘Chakra balancing, for God’s sake,’ he told me, derision in his tone. ‘What the hell is that, anyway? And aura cleansing? This crap might be all very well if you’re healthy, but Darcy’s a sick woman.’ His breath hitched, and compassion filled me.

  ‘Maybe it’s something she needs to get out of her system,’ I replied, aware I needed to tread with care. ‘If alternative treatments don’t work, or if she can’t afford them anyway, then she might be persuaded to consider another round of chemo.’

  ‘If she stays alive that long.’ Despair had replaced derision in his voice. After having seen for myself how ill Darcy was, I understood his concern.

  ‘That wasn’t why I was calling,’ Scott continued. He paused. ‘I wanted to ask you something.’

  ‘What?’

  I heard him take a deep breath. ‘Whether you’d come away with me one weekend.’

  I’d not expected that, although I’d hoped for it. The physical side of our relationship had been limited to passionate kisses so far, and part of me yearned to take things to the next level. Scott pushed every one of my buttons with an expert touch. This man had reignited fierce emotions in me - ones I’d thought had died with my engagement to Richie. I yearned for Scott in a way that both thrilled and terrified me.

  A small voice inside me protested I was out of practice in the bedroom. I shushed it, telling myself sex was like riding a bicycle. You never forgot how to do it, right? It was time, despite my worries over my cellulite and stretch marks.

  ‘I’d love that,’ I replied.

  ‘I was thinking Somerset or Devon, somewhere by the coast. Not so far from Bristol that I can’t come back if Darcy needs me.’

  ‘I know the perfect place.’ The Hunter holiday home ticked all the boxes, and I never tired of staying there.

  Scott’s enthusiasm was infectious when I told him about the cliff-top walks, the local pub, how close the cottage was to the sea. We made arrangements to go the following weekend, the hint of sex filling the gaps in our conversation. After we ended the call, excitement bubbled within me. Two nights in Devon, each one spent making love with this gorgeous man? Bring it on.

  The rest of the week dragged. Scott and I didn’t have any evenings when we were both free; he was either seeing Darcy or working, or else I’d arranged to visit Mum or Caroline. I spent my daytimes painting, shopping or going for a drive. Each time I walked to my car in the underground parking area, I recalled how paranoid I’d been about weirdos in hoodies, and I couldn’t help but laugh at my behaviour. My worries about being stalked had long since evaporated.

  Not so with the sinister texts. Over the course of that week, I received two. I’d convinced myself Rick Montgomery must be too busy fleecing some other gullible female to bother with me, but it seems I was wrong. ‘I’m closing in on you,’ promised one. ‘Watch your back, bitch,’ the second one warned. I refused to reply, persuading myself the bastard was all bluff. He’d soon tire of baiting me if I ignored him long enough.

  I didn’t mention the texts to Scott, being too worried about the can of worms that would open. Another lie of omission, but I judged it wiser to say nothing.

  Instead, I concentrated on our weekend together. On Wednesday afternoon I drove to Cribbs Causeway, browsing the lingerie departments of various stores and buying several sets of expensive underwear. In the fitting rooms, I winced when I realised I’d gained a few inches of flab since my return to the UK. Relax, Lyddie, I told myself. He likes you the way you are. Would he have suggested a weekend away if he didn’t fancy you?

  After I arrived home from my shopping trip, I deleted my profile on Premier Love Matches. It had served its purpose, and I was overjoyed with the result. To add to my delight, I found Scott had already removed his. No love-cheat, my wonderful boyfriend, of that I was sure.

  As for Love Rats Exposed, I logged on intending to erase my profile, but didn’t. Out of interest, I scrolled the latest posts, stopping when I saw a thread started by Sophie’s mother Anna, called ‘At last!’ Curiosity filled me as to whether she’d persuaded her daughter to inform the police.

  It turned out she had. Despite Sophie’s reluctance, she’d agreed to report the fraud she’d suffered.

  ‘We’re a long way off getting a conviction,’ the post ended. ‘But I’m optimistic. She has stuff with his fingerprints on, along with evidence from her phone calendar of their dates. What with CCTV being everywhere, there’s a fair chance they’ve been captured on camera together. We just need to convince the police about the scam he perpetrated.’

  Great news, I thought. Ellie might not have been conned, but other women had. If Sophie shopped this bastard to the cops, she deserved a medal for performing a public service. And when I find you, and I will, you’re dead, bitch. The memory of Rick Montgomery’s text still frightened me.

  I needed to know how things developed on that front, promising myself I’d check in again soon with Love Rats Exposed. By the time I logged out my profile was still intact.

  On Thursday evening I agreed to catch up with Caroline. I’d not seen much of her since my return to Bristol, and I missed her forthright manner, the way she made me laugh. We’d not planned anything special other than sharing a bottle of wine. As I drove to her house, my anticipation bubbled high at the thought of wowing her with further details of my romance with Scott. I might not have seen him that week, but sexual tension was building between us with every text. Scott wasn’t as reticent on his phone as he was in real life. Nothing explicit, but an erotic undercurrent pervaded his every message. Same with my replies, and I couldn’t have been happier. Soon we’d be a couple in every sense of the word.

  Can’t wait to get you all to myself, one text read. You’re beautiful, Lyddie.

  With love on my mind, my mood was buoyant when I parked outside Caroline’s house bang on eight o’clock. My high didn’t last long.

  I realised she was upset the second she opened the door. Her face wore that pinched look she got when she had something difficult to say but didn’t know how. For someone so straight-talking, that didn’t happen often.

  She didn’t waste time in getting to the point. She sat on the sofa, with me perched on the edge of an armchair. Once she’d poured us both a glass of wine, Caroline leaned forward.

  ‘I had a visit from Ellie earlier,’ she said.

  Shock hit me. My sister and Caroline knew each other, with me their mutual link, but weren’t friends as such.

  ‘She told me stuff. Things that concern me. About this guy you’re dating.’

  I swear if Ellie had walked into the room right then, I’d have slapped her, and hard. As things stood, fury roiled within me, white-hot and boiling. It was bad enough she was continuing her absurd story, but to involve Caroline? Was there no limit to her spite? Ellie had overstepped the boundaries by a mile. Or ten.

  ‘It’s all a pack of lies,’ I said. ‘Whatever she’s told you.’

  ‘The thing is ...’ Caroline’s voice was strained, and tension sat around her eyes. ‘I believe her, Lyddie. To get a visit from her out of the blue came as a shock, as you can imagine. Meaning I took notice of what she said.’

  ‘That’s playing right into her hands. She’s insecure, don’t you see? Craves attention.’

  She took no notice of my outburst. ‘Ellie swears your boyfriend’s the one who duped her. Said she’d met him
at your place, told me he’s the same man, no doubt about it. She seemed so devastated. Why won’t you listen to her?’

  ‘Because she’s a liar,’ I spat out. If Ellie wanted to play dirty, then fine. I’d not hesitate to fill Caroline in on my sister’s lousy finances.

  So I did. ‘She lied to Mum and me,’ I finished. ‘I don’t know if I can forgive that. Or her.’

  Caroline twirled her wine glass between her fingers. ‘Whatever the reason, she tried to kill herself, Lyddie. Never forget how desperate she must have been.’

  My friend was right. The memory of Ellie’s white face, her fragile body under the duvet at Southmead, burst into my mind. Ellie was a liar and messed-up in the head, but like Scott with Darcy, I couldn’t bear to lose the sister I still loved, despite her deceit.

  ‘How well do you know this man?’ Caroline asked.

  ‘Well enough,’ I shot back.

  ‘But you’ve only been dating a few weeks, right? Seen each other a handful of times? How can you be so sure Ellie’s lying?’

  I needed every ounce of self-control I possessed to keep my temper. Why was Caroline taking Ellie’s side? Did she value my judgment so little?

  My tone terse, I outlined the same arguments I’d flung at Ellie. How I’d visited Scott’s home, met his sister. How he’d never once hinted at money issues or asked me for cash.

  ‘You should see him with Darcy,’ I said. ‘He cares so much about her. He’s devastated about her illness. If Scott’s a con artist, I’m Jabba the Hutt.’

  ‘These men are skilled liars, Lyddie. Remember that.’

  ‘You don’t think I can spot a bullshitter? Not after Gary McIlroy?’

  ‘Just be careful. That’s all I ask. Don’t give your heart to this man until you’re one hundred per cent sure he’s the real deal.’

  ‘He is. I’m certain of it.’ My heart was a lost cause anyway. I couldn’t wait for our weekend in Devon. No way could I mention it to Caroline anymore without sullying it.

  I stood up, set my half-empty glass of wine on the windowsill. ‘Time I was going.’ Impossible to hide the irritation in my voice.

  Caroline got up, moving to hug me, but I stepped back. Hurt flashed across her face.

  ‘Don’t be mad at me, lovey,’ she said. ‘If there’s even a chance this guy isn’t legit, then of course I’d be worried.’ She gave me a shaky smile. ‘All I want is to see you happy.’

  ‘I know you do.’ She meant well. So why did I suspect our friendship had suffered a serious setback?

  14

  When Scott arrived on Friday evening, I wrapped my arms around his body, holding him tight. ‘God, I’ve missed you,’ I murmured against his neck. He smelled of shampoo and soap, an enticing blend of citrus and coconut, and I breathed him in, filling my lungs with his essence.

  He laughed as he disengaged himself, his hands gentle. ‘That’s quite the greeting. I could get used to this.’

  ‘Sorry. It’s been a strange week.’

  He frowned. ‘Is everything all right?’

  I nodded. ‘Shall we get going?’ I didn’t intend to mention Ellie’s appalling behaviour in visiting Caroline, or how my best friend had betrayed me. This weekend was about Scott and me, not them.

  As we were about to leave, he reached out a hand, his fingers tracing the fake gold beads of my bracelet. ‘I love the fact you wear this so much,’ he said. ‘One day I’ll buy you the real thing, I promise.’

  The journey to the cottage was smooth, the traffic sparse, and we arrived just after eight that night. The light was fading from the sky, the horizon a dusky pink, a hint of ocean salt in the air. After we got out of the car, the breeze turned chilly and I hugged my silk wrap around myself. The distant sound of waves crashing over rocks played in my ears, and I felt the tension drain from my body.

  Scott stood to one side of me, staring at the cottage. ‘Wow,’ he said. ‘Your family owns this? It’s gorgeous.’

  He was even more appreciative after we’d taken our bags inside, letting out a low whistle when he spotted the oak beams, the wood-burning stove. A moment of awkwardness settled around us when I showed him into the master bedroom, placing my suitcase by the left side of the bed. Scott set his down near the right, and my brain fast-forwarded to when we would make love. Heat rose into my cheeks.

  ‘Come on,’ I said, concerned my face would betray me. ‘I’ll introduce you to the local pub.’

  Over fish and chips in the Royal Oak, washed down with cider, we made plans. A walk along the coastal path on Saturday followed by a picnic lunch on the cliff top, then a boat trip around the bay, our afternoon ending with a stroll on the beach. The weather forecast for Sunday was mixed, so we decided not to plan that far ahead. So long as we were together, nothing else mattered. Everything except the man beside me slipped away, and I couldn’t have been happier.

  Once we finished eating, Scott patted his jacket pocket, a frown on his face. ‘I could have sworn my wallet was in here, but it seems to be missing. Maybe it fell out inside your car.’ He stood up. ‘Let me grab your keys so I can check.’

  I fished them out of my bag. ‘Here you go.’

  While I waited for him to return I browsed the dessert menu. My mobile was on the table, next to my glass. As I went to take a swig of cider, it pinged with an incoming message.

  My thoughts still on Scott, I picked up my phone. The next second my fumbling fingers sent it crashing to the floor.

  Hello, friend. Don’t assume you can ignore me. When I catch up with you, you’re history.

  I retrieved my mobile before anyone trod on it. Another ping. Those who play with fire get burned, as the saying goes. You’ll regret ever threatening me with the police.

  Oh, I already did. I’d been wrong - blind and foolish - to hope Broken and Betrayed’s ex might tire of our little game. Although I knew the dickhead was toying with me, that he couldn’t have uncovered my identity, I was scared. Angry, too.

  A third ping. Guess what? I think I know who you are.

  Impossible. He was messing with my head, right? No way could he have tracked me down. But he could, of course. I pictured the unidentified hooded man near Caroline’s house, at the Harbourside, by the car park entrance. Perhaps I’d not imagined being stalked after all.

  Panic engulfed me. My fingers still trembling, I deleted every text the fucker had sent me, then put a block on his number, something I should have done the day I realised Steven Simmons had never existed. Maybe I should have kept them as evidence to show the police, should the threats ever escalate, but terror had trumped common sense.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Absorbed with my phone, I’d not noticed Scott returning from the car park.

  ‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter.’ I refused to allow Rick Montgomery to sour my weekend with this wonderful man.

  ‘Are you all right?’ He took my hand and squeezed it in his. ‘You look upset.’

  ‘Can I have a hug? Please?’

  ‘Of course.’ Scott pulled me to my feet, and I lost myself in his embrace, his heartbeat a steady lub-dub of comfort in my ears.

  ‘Thank you,’ I murmured against his chest.

  ‘Is something wrong, Lyddie? You can tell me.’ He sounded so concerned, and I hastened to reassure him.

  ‘Nothing you need worry about.’ I saw no point in telling him about the texts. They belonged to the past – or so I hoped, despite the evidence to the contrary - and Scott was my future. ‘Did you find your wallet?’

  He patted his pocket. ‘Yeah. It was on the floor under my seat, thank God. Shall we head back? You look all done in.’

  He took me in his arms the moment we stepped through the door of the cottage, his kiss urgent and insistent. ‘Lyddie,’ he breathed against my hair. ‘Let’s go upstairs. Now.’

  Both my body and mind were one hundred per cent on board with that idea. All traces of nerves faded away, along with the vile texts, leaving only desire. I led him towards our bedroom, my thoughts on the silk cami
sole with which I’d tease him. Not that I planned to wear it for long.

  And I didn’t. Any initial awkwardness vanished in seconds, lost in kisses and exploring hands. Our bodies soon grew slick with sweat. I held my man tight, desperate to dissolve into him, make us one flesh. I no longer cared where I ended and Scott began. Before long his breathing turned harsh and noisy, which drove my own pleasure higher. My entire being shuddered with the force of my orgasm, one that melted every muscle in my body. Afterwards we lay in each other’s arms, sticky and sated, the moment perfect beyond words.

  We never made it to the coastal walk the next day, or had our picnic lunch. Neither did we manage the boat trip or stroll on the beach; it was three o’clock before we eventually emerged from bed. Instead, we spent what remained of the afternoon in the garden, the sun hot and strong on our faces. Gulls swooped overhead, their squawks harsh and loud, the sound of the sea a distant roar as we hatched more plans. I pitched the idea of opening an art gallery in Bristol, Scott displaying an endearing modesty when I mentioned stocking his paintings. He told me he’d been his dealership’s top salesman so far that year, how he’d whisk me away somewhere special when he received his performance bonus. All thoughts of Ellie and Mum, of Caroline and Richie, vanished. Nobody existed besides the two of us.

  Sunday dawned overcast and cool, a hint of rain in the air. We got up about one o’clock this time, with me insisting on a coastal walk even if we had to don waterproofs.

  As we approached the path that led to the cliffs, Scott’s mobile pinged with a text. He frowned. ‘Do you mind if I check that? It might be from Darcy.’

  ‘Fine by me.’ His devotion to his sister always touched me to the core.

  Scott’s face was a mask while he entered his pass code, then read her message. He tapped out a reply, his fingers quick and urgent.

  ‘Is she okay?’ The selfish part of me prayed she was all right, that we wouldn’t have to cut short our Devon idyll. He nodded, but his expression remained tense.