Mendacious

by Beth Ashworth

  “Always best to be prepared.” I stuff the envelope into the inside pocket of my suit jacket. “Right, are we leaving?” I say to them both.

  ~

  After parting ways with Sean and Benedict in the underground car park, I make my own way over to the offices of SB and park up.

  Killing the ignition and unclipping my seat belt, I look round at the parked cars before casting my eyes up at the building with determination etched across my face.

  You got this. You go and show them you are boss and nothing can touch you. Not her. Not her brother. Not anybody.

  Opening the door and stepping out into the chilly air, I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I walk toward the main entrance and pull it out to check the screen for any caller-id.

  It’s Kelly.

  I should probably answer it, but I don’t. The call drops and adds to the three other missed calls I’ve received. It looks like Alice has been trying to get hold of me, too. But they’ll all have to wait until I have the time.

  I’m on a mission.

  Stepping into reception, I head for the lifts, hoping that I’m going to get through the office without any hassle. I don’t know if anything has been said to the employees yet, or if I’ve been blacklisted, but so far I’ve sailed through given the drama I caused last time I was here.

  I get into the lift and hit the button for Libby’s floor. It’s empty and I manage to get all the way up without stopping off. The doors open on the familiar foyer where I find the same two girls sitting behind the reception desk. Their eyes narrow when they see me, and I see fury spitting from their glares.

  “Mr. Lewis, Elizabeth isn’t here right now,” I hear snottily over my shoulder when I’ve walked past them. “If you would like to take a seat we can ask Mr. Thomas—”

  “Forget it,” I snap, turning on my heel and walking back to the lift. I press the button on the wall, ignoring the seething spite I can feel burning into the back of my head.

  “Well, I’m definitely shit around here,” I chuckle, when the lift arrives.

  Stepping in the car again, I press for the ground floor and lean back against the glass wall with my arms folded. My phone is buzzing again in my pocket. No doubt it’s Alice, again, with some problem at work, or some bill that needs paying.

  I ignore it and walk through the reception hall and out of the main doors. Heading for my car, I unlock the door and slide behind the wheel, furious that I’ve achieved nothing toward my goal.

  Of course it’s bloody typical Libby isn’t here. No doubt she’s with him, cooking up some new little scheme; something else they can sting me with. Not that I’m bitter or anything.

  Pulling the car out of the parking space, I cruise slowly past the office building with a sour taste in my mouth. It was such a waste of fucking time.

  I’m still muttering in my head when I turn the corner at the end of the street and stop in front of a zebra crossing. I just happen to cast my eyes over the pedestrians walking on the opposite side of the road.

  And that’s when I see her.

  Walking up the path and heading right for me, a cup of coffee in one hand and her handbag on the other, is Libby.

  My mouth feels instantly dry.

  She’s as beautiful as ever, but she looks defeated.

  A fallen angel.

  The midmorning sun reflects off of her flawless skin, casting a warm glow across her cheeks and bare legs that aren’t covered by the beige coloured trench coat she’s wearing.

  Without thought, I stop the car, killing the ignition and unbuckling my seat belt. The driver’s door flies open and I step into the road, not caring that I’ve abandoned my car.

  “Libby,” I call, standing on the pavement in front of her. She carries on walking toward me, her sunglasses shielding her eyes from the bright sun. “Libby!” I call her louder this time.

  She snaps her head in my direction and stops dead in her tracks a few metres away. She looks right at me before she says, “What are you doing here?” Her tone is cold and accusing.

  “We need to talk.” I step forward and attempt to close the distance between us, but she backs up with her coffee cup outstretched before her.

  “Don’t come near me,” she barks. “I have nothing to say to you. You are an arsehole, Alex.”

  Sauntering forward with my hands now pushed in the front pockets of my trousers, I keep closing in. “Do you really think that shitty of me?” I arch an eyebrow. “I mean, especially since you’ve been busy plotting with your brother and all.”

  I’m surprised I’ve managed to keep my cool. I half expected to rip her head off by now, but so far so good. Libby on the other hand, I wonder if she’s about to punch me.

  She pushes her handbag on her shoulder, transfers her coffee cup to the other hand, and then pushes her sunglasses off her face to her forehead. There is a defiant gleam in her eyes. It’s almost like she’s daring me to push further.

  “I found out about your brother, Libby. It’s time you come clean about what’s really going on here,” I warn.

  “I don’t have a clue what you’re goin’ on about, Alex.” She forces a sigh and tries to act uninterested, but I catch her body trembling under my gaze.

  I know she’s probably well aware of what’s going on, but for some reason she’s trying to play dumb. “Tell me,” I demand.

  “What do you want from me?” She tries to step past, but I block her path completely. It does nothing but rile her further. “Get away from me, Alex.” Her voice rises and I sense the eyes of various passersby now focusing on our exchange.

  “You heard me. I want to know what you and your brother have been up to for the last six months. I’m not leaving till you tell me.”

  Libby bites her lip. “I don’t know.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I’m not involved.”

  I cock my head to the side and call her bluff. “Tell me the truth, Libby. Why is your brother trying to ruin me? Why do you think it’s okay to scheme against me? It kinda makes you a hypocrite, don’t you think?”

  “I just told you I don’t have a part in this, and you’re still trying to argue that I’m lying!” She pulls her sunglasses over her eyes. “I don’t have to answer to you, at all. You can speak to my solicitor if you’ve got anything else to say.” She tries to move around me again, but I move with her. There’s no chance she’s getting away that easy.

  “Did you know about it?”

  She pauses and huffs out a breath. “So what if I did?”

  “You tried to hide it, why?” My angle is to pressure her with as many questions as I can until she breaks. There is a confession hiding here, I just know it.

  “I’m not discussing this anymore. I’m leaving,” she snaps.

  “Like hell you are,” I mutter, grabbing hold of her arm to stop her dodging past. “We need to get to the bottom of this.”

  There are more people watching me; people watching us. I spot an old lady looking at the grip I have on Libby’s arm, a scathing scowl on her face, and I realise our private conversation is no longer private.

  I need to get her alone. There are too many eyes in public and people could get the wrong idea. It certainly looks like I’m some abusive prick who is manhandling his woman.

  “People are staring,” I say, pulling her into the road. “We need to talk.”

  Her eyes zero in on my car and she puts up a fight. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m on my way to work, Alex!”

  She tries to pull away, but I hold her tighter.

  “Pack it in,” I mutter, rounding the car and opening the passenger side door. I spread my arms, one on top of the roof of the car and the other on the door, effectively blocking her in.

  “So you aren’t going to shove me in the car? Huh?”

  I shrug. “Kidnapping isn’t my thing.”

  “I’m not getting in,” Libby says, putting her coffee cup on the roof and folding her arms.

  “Stop making things difficul
t,” I sigh, my shoulders sagging slightly. “I want to talk. I’m sure you’ve got questions, too. I just don’t wanna do this in the middle of the street. Just get in for God’s sake.”

  “No.”

  My eyes roll toward the sky. “You’re killing me here, Libby. All I’m asking is an hour of your time.”

  Her expression softens letting me know I’ve caught her. She lifts her chin, her eyes lighting with defiance. “One hour, Alex,” she replies, snatching her coffee cup and getting in the car.

  I wait for her to sit down before I close the door and murmur, “You’ll crack before then.”

  Rounding the front of the car, I nod politely at the nosy old woman. “Don’t concern yourself,” I call out before sliding behind the wheel and slamming the door shut.

  “Where are we going?” she asks, when the car starts up and I pull off. Her head is turned toward the window and the buildings passing by. It’s almost as if she can’t look at me now we are in such close proximity.

  I suppose, the last time she was in my car we were driving to a hotel, so I can understand her being cautious.

  But that’s not happening today—no chance.

  I’m after answers, and I’m going to get them. One way or another, I’m going to find out what I need to know.

  “I’m thinking.”

  I catch her taking a sip of her coffee out the corner of my eye. “Thinking about what?” she asks.

  “A place to go.”

  She taps a finger against her chin and I expect a suggestion, but she doesn’t say anything—at all. She just carries on staring out of the bloody window, and I find myself tightening my fingers around the steering wheel.

  The car is filled with tension; an awkward silence that is getting under my skin. My knuckles are turning white from frustration and force of my grip on the wheel. I probably should say something, but I’ve got absolutely nothing.

  “Alex, your phone is ringing.” Libby beats me to it by pointing out the obvious vibrations she can hear coming from the confines of my pocket. Clearly, I’m in a different world, because I didn’t even notice.

  “Shit,” I curse, leaning over to the touch panel in the centre console. My finger jabs at the screen to accept the call via Bluetooth and my sister’s panicked voice suddenly fills the car.

  “A-Alex,” she sobs.

  Immediately, I sense something is wrong, and pull off the road so I can park up. Libby turns her head toward the panel when I say, “Alice, what’s wrong?”

  Her breaths are staggered and I hear her broken sobs. She struggles to get her words out, and I’m getting more and more concerned. “Take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on.”

  She carries on struggling and I can’t make sense of what she’s trying to say. I hear voices in the background, so I ask her to pass the phone onto somebody else, but the next person to greet me is just as tearful.

  It’s my mother.

  “A-Alex?” I murmur an acknowledgement and listen as she breaks into further sobs. “Y-Your G-Grandmother isn’t w-well.” I can’t understand anything else, but I don’t have to. My heart hammers in my chest, and I know I have to get to them.

  “Mum, I’m on my way,” I tell her, not bothering to indicate and pulling out into the traffic. The nursing home is in Coventry, so I decide the motorway is the quickest way to get me there.

  I don’t focus on anything while I’m driving. My thoughts are with my family and what I’m about to face.

  My driving turns more and more reckless. I can hear horns blaring and people flashing me as I weave between cars, but I honestly couldn’t give a shit.

  “Alex.” Libby puts her hand on my shoulder as I speed along the Aston Expressway toward the motorway. “Please remember I’m in the car too,” she murmurs, gently stroking the material of my suit.

  I want to resist her touch, but I feel too weak. Instead, I keep my eyes on the road and my mouth shut. She is coming along for the ride because I don’t have time to drop her back. I just hope my family understand when they see her.

  “Is Margaret sick?” Libby whispers quietly, dropping her hand into her lap.

  I’m itching to respond with some bitter retort, but it’s only going to make the situation worse. “She has been sick for a while,” I mutter, swerving straight into the fast lane on the motorway, and not giving a toss about any fifty miles an hour temporary speed limit I can see flashing on the matrix signs above.

  My family will always be my top priority.

  ~

  Things are pretty quiet between Libby and I when I pull into the nursing home. Neither of us has said anything since I told her how sick my grandmother is. She probably feels guilty, but I want to tell her it doesn’t matter. It isn’t her problem to worry about anymore.

  She divorced me after all.

  Opening the car door and getting out, I hear Libby doing the same, but I’m not looking at her. Instead, my eyes find my mother’s car parked a few spaces down, and I immediately head for the entrance. I don’t linger to ask Libby if she wants to come in or not; I leave her to make her own decision.

  Putting my hand on the door handle, I hear her steps following behind. Her presence is a comfort, but I’ll never tell her that.

  After passing through the authorisation, we hurry along the winding corridors until I recognise the familiar heartbreaking sobs reverberating off the walls. And surely enough, turning the final corner, I spot Alice sitting on the floor opposite my grandmother’s room. Her legs are scrunched up and she has her face buried in her knees.

  “Sweetheart?” I bend down and brush my fingers through her hair. She lifts swollen, tearful eyes at me and I feel a blade dig deep into my chest cavity. “You need to tell me what’s happened. I-Is she dead?” My voice cracks at the end of my sentence and I grip hold of Alice’s knees. “I-Is she dead?” I ask her again, my fingertips pressing into her skin.

  Alice shakes her head which brings me instant relief.

  “S-Stroke,” she chokes, dropping her eyes back to her legs.

  The blade digs deeper as it carves my insides apart. My grandmother has had another stroke. We were told the last time she had one that the next could be fatal. The doctor had told us it was a build-up and that Vascular Dementia or even a heart attack was possible if it happened again.

  I take a deep steadying breath and stand. Libby shifts from foot to foot a couple of metres away, obviously not sure how to approach me or Alice.

  But then she reaches out and takes my hand. Her fingers gently entwining with mine in a show of unity that takes me by surprise. She doesn’t look at me, but she doesn’t have to. The gesture was enough for me. It’s a unity between us. And I’m grateful for her simply pushing the shit aside, even if it’s only for a few moments. Just knowing I have her support is enough to build my courage and push me toward the door.

  “I’m here,” she whispers, her voice enveloping and comforting me more than she realises.

  Bracing myself, I open my grandmother’s door, and feel the instant heartbreak in the atmosphere. My mother is sat by the side of the bed, her hand holding tightly onto my grandmother, like she can’t bear to let her go. Her eyes are bloodshot and her cheeks stained from her tears. She turns in my direction at the sound of the door opening, and the valve of emotion bursts forth once again.

  “How is she?” I say, letting go of Libby’s hand and taking my place on the other side of my grandmother’s bed. I pull the covers up on my side and lean across placing a kiss on her forehead.

  “She keeps drifting in and out of consciousness,” my mother tells me. “Her speech has deteriorated and the doctors are worried she could have another stroke. But thankfully, her body still appears mobile. She was moving her arm earlier.”

  “Can’t they just move her to a private hospital?” I ask, my eyes glued to my grandmother’s face, watching her closed eyelids flicker in a dreamlike state.

  “This is the best place for her, Alex. The doctors and nurses know what they
are doing. I wouldn’t want her in a private hospital with unfamiliar surroundings and—” Mum pauses when she spots Libby standing near the door. She blinks multiple times and turns to me questioningly. “A-Alex?” she stammers.

  I shake my head. “Long story, mum, but I’m glad she’s here. Goopie has asked to see her every time I’ve visited, so I hope she opens her eyes at least once to see her.”

  Mum nods, but I hear Libby gasp softly. She puts her hand to her chest. “She’s asked for me?”

  As if hearing her voice, my grandmother’s eyes flicker open and I see her squeeze my mother’s hand.

  “Hey, Goopie,” I smile, reaching to clasp the other. “I hear you’ve been causing trouble again.”

  Libby steps forward and puts on a bright smile. “Hello, Margaret. It has been a long time, hey?” Tears prick at the corners of her eyes and she moves to stand beside me.

  Despite the stroke, I see my grandmother force a crooked smile. She loosens her grip on my hand and reaches for Libby, splaying her palm across the front of her stomach, as if to symbolise the great-grandchild she wants.

  I’m not going to lie, it is probably the most uncomfortable moment I’ve encountered since our divorce, and I know Libby must feel it to. But being the good sport she is, Libby covers my grandmother’s hand with her own and nods, silent tears trickling down her cheeks.

  The moment is short-lived however, when my grandmother’s eyes start to close, and her hand falls against the covers of the bed.

  “She is losing consciousness quicker than earlier. She can barely keep her eyes open now.” My mother’s voice turns frantic, her eyes widening with horror. “She’s dying, Alex!”

  Before I can get out of my seat, Libby has her arms wrapped around my mother’s shoulder while she sobs. “Do you want to get some fresh air?” she suggests.

  “Please,” I say when she tries to refuse. “It’s not good for you to be in here. You will feel better if you go and take a breather. Alice can come and sit with me.”

  I nod gratefully at Libby when she takes my mum out of the room and sends my sister in. Alice drags the chair from the opposite side of the bed and pulls it beside me. She sniffles the entire time and I can’t help but put my arm around her.