The Lies You Told

by Harriet Tyce

  “But…”

  “You shouldn’t continue to defend yourself,” I say to Jeremy. “But it’s up to you. I’m sure you’ll do exactly what he tells you to do.”

  “Hang on a minute,” Jeremy’s father splutters.

  “Hang on a minute nothing,” I say, spitting out my words. “It all makes sense, him using his mother’s surname, not yours. But like father, like son. You never took responsibility for any of your shitty behavior. Why would he?”

  “I’m nothing like him,” Jeremy says, full of outrage.

  “Ask him about how he behaved toward pupils. Ask him how many he felt up in the pub. Ask him about the official complaints,” I say. “Go on, ask him. He’ll say he doesn’t have the first idea what I’m talking about, but give it a go. Ask him how he used to behave in the nineties. How he behaves still, most likely.” My anger has given me wings. I’m soaring above them, rage coursing through me pure and cold.

  “How dare you make such allegations?” His Honor Judge Michael Forest says.

  “I was the same age as he is now when you groped me up in that alleyway and I had to boot you in the balls to get you off me,” I say, pointing at Jeremy. “You treat him like a child but you were quite happy to try it on with me, weren’t you? Lording your seniority over me and the other pupils, all those nights round Temple. I know you don’t remember me, but I told you to fuck off. I had to kick you hard to get rid of you. And I was terrified for months that you were going to tell my pupil-master. No fucking wonder your son is such a disgrace.”

  “How dare you?” Forest says.

  I turn around and give him the finger. “Fuck off, you lecherous shit. I’m out of here.”

  I walk off. Zora runs after me.

  “What the fuck is going on?” she says. “What’s happened to the case?”

  “I’m sorry, Zora.” Then I pause. “Had you forgotten about that shit? What he did to me?”

  She looks away.

  “Seriously? You’d get me to represent his son? I can’t believe this.”

  “I knew you needed the case,” Zora says. “I thought it was more important to get you back to work.”

  “I told you I didn’t need your charity,” I say. “Especially not for a case like this. Not when they knew he was guilty as sin from the start. I bet you knew too.”

  “What are you talking about?” Zora says.

  “I found the copy of Fanny Hill that Freya gave him in his house,” I say. “It’s so obvious.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me sooner? You’ve had the whole weekend,” she says. My rage fades. She’s right.

  “I’m sorry. It all felt so complicated. And then Robin…”

  “We’ll talk about this later,” Zora says. “You get home. I’ll sort it out.”

  50

  Before I get much further, my phone beeps. I come to an immediate halt to look at it, oblivious to the woman walking behind me who is forced to dodge around me at the last second, hissing at me to watch out for other people.

  I’ve got like fifty missed calls from you. Is everything OK? Went off-radar for a bit but back now—come round for a coffee if you like. Julia xx

  I have to read the message through three times before I can take in what it’s saying. But even when I’ve absorbed the words, I can’t begin to comprehend it. The insouciance of it, the casual way Julia says she’s been off-radar, as if I haven’t been desperately trying to reach her for the last thirty-six hours, as if the police aren’t trying to find her. I don’t understand. All hostilities forgotten, I turn back to catch up with Zora and show her my phone. She comes with me immediately, leaving Jeremy and his father quarreling in the middle of the car park.

  “You need to tell the police,” Zora says, but I’m already doing just that. As soon as I’m off the phone I book an Uber, type in Julia’s address. We wait for it to arrive.

  “Did the police say it was OK for us to go there?” Zora says as we climb in.

  “Fuck the police,” I say. “I want my daughter.”

  The cab moves slowly through the morning traffic. I dig my nails into my hand so hard they pierce the skin, but the pain brings a strange comfort, stigmata of my desperation.

  As soon as we arrive, I fling open the door of the car and jump out, running straight to the entrance. Zora is close behind. I bash on the front door and after a moment it opens. Julia is standing in the hallway, a confused expression on her face.

  “Where’s my daughter?” I say. “What have you done with my daughter?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Julia says. “What’s happened to Robin?”

  I lunge toward her and Zora steps in fast to pull me back. I struggle hard for a moment, bringing myself back under control.

  “Please, Julia,” I say, lowering my voice with an effort. “Please tell us what you’ve done with Robin.”

  “I haven’t done anything with her,” she says. “I haven’t seen her for days.”

  “But…”

  “Look, you’d better come in. I have a lot of very nosy neighbors,” Julia says, drawing us inside. We stand in the hall. “What’s going on?”

  “We were told that you were bringing Robin back from Aldeburgh yesterday,” I say. “Nicole says you were driving her home. And we’ve been waiting and waiting but nothing. No Robin. And now you’re saying…”

  “I’m saying I have literally no idea what you’re talking about,” Julia says. “I’m sorry.”

  I look at her closely. She appears to be genuinely confused, but that doesn’t mean anything. Her clothes are creased, her hair not as sleek as usual, but she looks pretty much as normal. It’s unreal, as if I’ve dreamt the last days, the darkness into which I’ve been sucked since Nicole told me that Robin had gone. Any minute now Robin might run up the steps and over to me, grabbing me in a big hug.

  “That’s not what I’ve been told,” I say. “I want Robin.”

  Julia starts to speak again, her face earnest, but I can’t hear what she’s saying. There’s a buzzing noise in my ears, a heavy rushing, and stars dancing in front of my eyes. I’ve felt like this before, and I know what it means. I’m about to pass out. Staggering over to the stairs, I sit down heavily and put my head in my hands.

  Zora is shouting now, and Julia crying, and the noise is making my head spin worse and worse. I start shouting too, but I’m so dizzy that I can’t keep upright, slumping instead against the wall. The air is fraught with anguish, the absence of Robin a shard of pain stabbed deep into me.

  At that moment, at the point when everything might explode, there are knocks at the door. Loud, assertive, followed immediately by the voices of the police officers that had attended my house that morning. I open my eyes and see there are three uniforms behind them. I sit up cautiously. “Julia Burnet, I am arresting you on suspicion of the attempted murder of Daisy Burnet. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given as evidence. Do you understand?”

  Zora has backed off, standing next to me by the stairs, and Julia’s face is shocked and pale, mouth open as if to speak, no sound coming out.

  Another man and woman come through the door. They’re wearing white forensic suits. DS Labinjoh addresses Julia again.

  “We have obtained a warrant for the search of your property, which is going to take place now.”

  They lead Julia out. Zora and I follow, my feeling of faintness overridden by shock. As the police are putting Julia into the car, I gather my strength and run over to them.

  “What about Robin? She denies knowing anything about her. Where’s my daughter?”

  “Our inquiries are well in hand. We will contact you the moment that we have information. In the meantime, I’d ask you to be patient. I can assure you that we are doing everything we can to find your daughter.”

  I stand back and the police get into the car and drive away with Julia.
I’m close to tears. Zora takes me by the arm.

  “Let’s go home, Sadie. Come on, let’s go home. They know where to find us. And maybe Robin’s there now, too.”

  I look at Zora, hope blazing naked in my eyes. I take her arm and we stumble together, clinging to each other for support.

  51

  Hours pass. Nothing happens. We sit, we pace. I make a phone call to the police every hour, on the hour, until I’m told very firmly to stop it.

  “We’ve got nothing to go on but Nicole’s version,” I say, the words bursting out of me.

  Zora sighs. I can’t stop the speculation, the loops of hopeless repetition.

  “There’s no reason for her to lie,” Zora says. “And what’s more, the police have checked it all out. You heard them—they told us so. They’ve been to the cottage. They’ve had a proper look.”

  Zora’s words are certain. But I’m still not convinced. Rationally, I understand Zora’s points. But if the police hadn’t told us to stay put, I would have been straight up like a shot to find Nicole, pin her against the wall and ask her exactly what’s going on. Maybe everything she said was a lie? Maybe she made all of it up? Perhaps Julia never went to Aldeburgh in the first place, never saw Nicole or Robin?

  But I can’t go there in my mind. It’s a black hole around which I’m skirting all the time. If Julia didn’t take Robin as Nicole said, then I have no explanation for her disappearance, no clue as to where she might be, and the thought throws me into such a void of despair that I can’t countenance it for even a second.

  “I should make us something to eat,” I say, trying to break the cycle of worry. I haven’t eaten properly all day.

  I scramble eggs, make toast. The bread is moldy, but only at the edge so I cut off the crusts, throwing the spoiled parts in the bin. I put a plate of food in front of Zora and sit down to eat my own, the mouthfuls sticking to the back of my throat. I manage to force half of it down before giving up.

  Zora is the same. She’s got through a bit of it, but with the same lack of enthusiasm, pushing it around her plate before giving up too. I pick up our plates and start washing up. Maybe it’ll calm me down a bit to tidy up. We should talk about the case, but I can’t bring myself to care.

  Once I’ve finished the washing-up, I sit back at the table and look at my phone. There’s a text from Nicole.

  Back in London now—I kept Pippa off school today. Let’s have coffee tomorrow after drop-off. Thinking about you. Nxx

  I show it to Zora, holding my phone out wordlessly to her. “What do you think?”

  “That the police were happy for her to leave Aldeburgh. If they’d thought there was something to suspect, there’s no way they’d have let her go,” Zora says.

  The black hole in my mind recedes a little. “Maybe you’re right,” I say. “But we still don’t know where the fuck Robin is…” My voice cracks, my chin trembling. I’ve run out of self-control. Hunching my shoulders over, I burst into tears, great sobs jagging out of me.

  I’m crying so much that I don’t register the knock at the door at first. They keep on banging, though, and I run to the door to find the two detectives there.

  I take them through into the front room, trying to pull myself together a bit, though it must be obvious what kind of a state I’m in. They look at me with kind expressions across the room as they each sit in one of the ancient armchairs. I fight an urge to explain that this isn’t really my house, that I’m doing it up, so they don’t judge me on the state of it. Not that they care. I just want to break the silence, keep movement going around me so that I don’t crack up again.

  DS Hughes clears her throat.

  “We’ve had some developments,” she says.

  My head shoots up.

  “We are limited in the information that we can give you at this stage,” the detective continues, “but as you heard earlier, the investigation into Julia Burnet has taken a new turn. We have received certain evidence that has turned the situation surrounding her daughter, Daisy, into an attempted murder inquiry.”

  “What evidence?” I say.

  The detectives look at each other, and DS Labinjoh nods at DS Hughes to continue.

  “We have received the results of the toxicology report on Daisy. It’s showing significant quantities of modafinil and also of diazepam.”

  “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “It means that she has been receiving improper amounts of medication, that weren’t medically necessary. Modafinil is usually prescribed for sleep disorders, to manage conditions like narcolepsy, but it’s misused by some people. It’s easy enough to get hold of it online. Students sometimes take it to stay focused and awake for long periods of time so that they can get work done.”

  “Why would Daisy be taking that?” I say, aware as soon as I say it how stupid the question is.

  DS Hughes is kind enough not to sneer. “That’s not the hypothesis on which we’re working. Our theory is that someone has been giving that drug to Daisy, perhaps in an attempt to enhance her performance at school. Have there been any exams recently? Or tests of some importance?”

  I can’t control my shock. “The entrance exams for the senior school. It’s just an exam at the beginning of next term for entry to the senior school. I mean, it’s a competitive school, but drugging your child? That’s insane.” I get up and stride across the room, back again, trying to get myself back together. I can’t sit still any longer.

  “The diazepam wouldn’t help with focus, though, would it?” Zora says. She’s also looking shocked.

  “No,” Hughes says. “Quite the reverse. And that’s the second part of our hypothesis. That the tranquilizer was given in an attempt to calm the child down, after an overdose of the stimulant.”

  Her words fall into the silence of the room like stones in a pool. I feel a reverberation around me.

  “How could you do that to a ten-year-old?” I say.

  After a moment, Zora says, “This is all very terrible, but what does it have to do with Robin?”

  I sit back down next to her. Fear is gnawing at my guts.

  “We’ve received evidence to suggest that Julia was taking these exams very seriously,” Hughes says. I nod in agreement. “We’ve also received information that Robin, your daughter, was scoring very highly. Is that right?”

  “Yes,” I say. “She’s very bright. She enjoys tests. I wasn’t putting any pressure on her, though.”

  “That’s not what we’re suggesting, Mrs. Roper. Don’t worry. We think there may be a connection, though. If Julia thought that your daughter was some competition to Daisy, perhaps? Likely to take her place?”

  “I’m sure Daisy was going to get her place at the school, no problem.”

  “Or perhaps there was some kind of prize?”

  I stop, think. “The scholarship. There is a scholarship. But surely…”

  Again the detectives look at each other. DS Labinjoh speaks for the first time. “We want you to look at something, see if you recognize it.” She reaches down into a black briefcase that’s at her feet and pulls out a clear plastic bag with something small inside. I recognize the bag as the kind the police use for evidence in trials, and I swallow a whimper.

  Labinjoh pulls on a pair of disposable gloves. She reaches into the plastic bag, removing the item, holds it up to me.

  It’s a soft toy. A little one. A knitted meerkat, wearing a green vest and black trousers, a safety pin through its ear. The toy Zora made for Robin all those years ago, from which she’s never been parted. I leap up and try to grab it from her but the detective moves it out of my reach.

  “Do you recognize this?” she says to me. I’m still trying to get to it. “Please, don’t touch it. This could be very important evidence.”

  I sway where I stand. I feel hands on my arms, guiding me backward to my seat, pulling me down and keeping hold of me. It’s Zora.

  “Yes,” I say. “Yes, I recognize it. It’s Robin’s meerkat. Where did you
find it?”

  Another long pause. Another look shared between the detectives. I’m thrumming with the tension in the room.

  “In Julia’s car,” Hughes says. “Right underneath the front seat. Was it something Robin carried around in her pocket at all?”

  “Yes,” I say. “She always had it with her.”

  “We’re working on the theory that it fell out somehow, and no one spotted it.”

  “And where is Robin?” I say, my voice very quiet.

  “We don’t know,” she says. “But I promise you, we are going to find out.”

  52

  The detectives leave soon after. They’ve given me firm instructions to stay put, not to try and do anything, no appeals on social media, nothing. They are on the case—they’re certain that Julia is implicated and they will discover Robin’s whereabouts very soon. Their confidence seems unshakable, no chink of doubt, but my terror is unassailable, too, claws hooked deep into me. I’m out of energy, though. The day has drained me.

  “You should go to bed,” Zora says.

  “I can’t sleep.”

  “You need to rest, at least. It’s no good if you fall apart.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Have you heard anything from Andrew?”

  “Nothing,” I say. “I told you he didn’t care.”

  Zora doesn’t react. She doesn’t have to. “Go on, go and get some sleep. I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

  I go upstairs into Robin’s room, lying down on the small bed. I want proximity to the daughter I love, not the mother who hated me. But until my daughter is home, I will never have the proximity I want. I lie awake for hours, tracing patterns between the glow stars, my heart sore.

  I sleep in the end, just before dawn, but I’m dragged from sleep by loud knocks at the door. I jump up immediately, certain it must be the police, bringing Robin home to me. Moving fast, I miss the top step, and fall headlong down the stairs, bashing my head on the banister at the bottom. I lie for a moment, my leg twisted under me, before there’s another bang at the door and Zora opens it. I get to my feet, stumble, head and knee both throbbing, but I don’t care, it doesn’t matter, I’ve heard Zora’s voice talking to someone and it must be Robin, surely it must be Robin.