A Few Little Lies

by Sue Welfare

  Dora glared at her. ‘For God’s sake, be serious. Your precious Tom Fielding hired someone to break in here, to mug me and terrify Lillian – Jesus.’ She ran her fingers through her hair. ‘He’s so plausible, no wonder he’s in politics.’

  Josephine shuffled the pictures back into a pile. ‘So, what are you going to do now?’

  Dora sighed. ‘God alone knows. I really ought to ring Jon and let him know.’ She paused and strung a series of thoughts together. ‘What if I rang Tom Fielding?’

  ‘Are you mad?’ hissed Josephine

  Dora plucked the photos out of Josephine’s hands and then looked in the envelope. The negatives all lay in a neat bundle alongside the prints.

  ‘No, listen to this. What if I rang up and offered to give him the pictures and the negatives back?’

  ‘Seriously?’

  Dora nodded. ‘Why not? It would solve everything. He gets what he wants. He calls off his trained monkeys and then we all get on with our lives. Simple.’

  Josephine blew her lips out thoughtfully. ‘This is going to make one helluva story.’

  Dora glared at her and tightened her grip on the envelope. ‘No! I don’t care what you do after you leave here, but you’re not having these. Is that perfectly clear? These photos are the ticket that will buy me my life back.’

  Dora headed for the office, every step dogged by Josephine. She hunted through the directory and then tapped in Tom Fielding’s office number. Someone answered after the second ring.

  ‘Good afternoon. Fielding Agricultural, Mr Fielding’s office. Can I help you?’

  Dora coughed.

  ‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘I wonder whether I could have a word with Mr Tom Fielding, please.’

  The woman started to make negative noises but Dora pressed on. ‘Would you please tell him I have something that might be of interest from …’ She paused, struggling to keep the name in her head. ‘Frierman, Ben Frierman’s Christmas party.’

  The line went dead and then, seconds later, Tom Fielding asked coolly, ‘Who is this speaking, please?’

  Dora took another breath. ‘I’ve got the photos you want. You can call your heavies off now. I really don’t want these pictures. Perhaps we can come to some arrangement.’ The words came out in a tumbling jumbled rush.

  ‘Sorry?’ said Tom Fielding. ‘Look, if this is an attempt at blackmail you’ve picked the wrong man. When you put the phone down my next call will be to the police.’

  Dora swallowed hard. This wasn’t how she had imagined it going at all.

  ‘Blackmail? I’m not trying to blackmail you, I just want to give you these photos back so that you can stop harassing me. The burglaries? The mugging?’

  To her complete astonishment Tom Fielding started to laugh.

  ‘What burglaries?’ he said incredulously. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who is this?’

  The strange thing was that Dora believed him. ‘But I’ve been broken into, Lillian’s been broken into, my agent –’ She stopped. ‘Are you saying you haven’t been looking for these photos using a couple of strong-arm men?’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Tom Fielding. ‘Are you telling me you’re not a blackmailer?’

  ‘Most certainly not. I found some photos of you and Lillian Bliss together at Ben Frierman’s party. I just want to give them back with the least amount of fuss.’

  Tom made a thoughtful sound. ‘Look, I can’t talk now. I’ve got to leave for London in about half an hour. I won’t be back in Fairbeach until tomorrow night for the Spring Ball. Could I meet you after that?’

  Dora stared at the phone in astonishment. ‘What am I supposed to do with these photographs until then?’

  ‘I suggest you put them back wherever you found them, obviously they were safe there. Look, I’ve really got to go. Can we meet up tomorrow after the ball?’

  ‘I’m going as well,’ Dora blurted out, without thinking.

  Tom laughed. ‘Well, in that case, bring them with you. What do you say we meet up under the clock tower afterwards. It’s pretty out of the way there. Do you know where I mean?’ He paused for a few seconds. ‘I met you the other night, didn’t I? Let me think, Dora Hall, that’s it, isn’t it?’

  Dora groaned. ‘Oh God, I’m afraid so,’ she said, glancing over her shoulder. Josephine Hammond was so close to the receiver that they were sharing the same air. ‘One thing. I ought to warn you, the press already know about the pictures.’

  ‘Don’t tell me, Josephine Hammond.’ This time Tom’s voice sounded despondent.

  Dora nodded. ‘Got it in one, she was here when I found them.’

  Tom coughed. ‘All right, leave it with me. I’ll set things straight. And tell Josephine, if she’s there, that I’ll do the decent thing.’

  Dora felt a little flutter of panic.

  ‘Suicide?’ she said in a low voice. ‘I don’t think –’

  Tom laughed. ‘No, not suicide. Until tomorrow then, Dora. Shall we say twelve by the clock tower. I would say come alone, but it sounds a bit melodramatic, just be careful who you bring.’

  Dora dropped the phone back into its cradle and looked at Josephine. ‘He said he was going to do the decent thing.’

  Josephine nodded. ‘I heard. I think you ought to repack all these things and put them back in the boot of your car.’

  Dora stared at her. ‘Are you serious?’

  Josephine nodded. ‘Absolutely. Then we have a nice cup of tea, and then we get off to Abbotsbridge, in your car, to get you a ball gown. Like Tom Fielding said, they’ve been safe enough until now. What’s changed?’

  Dora felt her stomach tighten. The envelope looked deceptively innocent; little dark thoughts began to surface like marsh gas. She bit her lip.

  ‘Everything. If Tom Fielding isn’t after these photos, who the hell is it? And how far are they prepared to go to get them? What if they come back here before tomorrow night?’ Ice-cold eddies and ripples of fear made her voice sound uneven. ‘This is crazy. I don’t want to keep the pictures here. What if someone steals the car? Or –’

  ‘Look, calm down,’ said Josephine. ‘No-one in their right mind is going to steal that rusty heap of yours. It’ll be all right. No-one’s found them so far, why should they find them now? Tomorrow night they’ll be gone.’

  Dora sighed. ‘I wish I felt as confident. You know what these are, don’t you? A noose around Tom Fielding’s throat – he’s ruined if they ever get out and maybe if they don’t. Whoever’s got these has got Tom Fielding by the balls.’ She slumped back into her chair. ‘It was a hell of a lot simpler when I didn’t know what they were or where they were.’ Another chill trickled down her spine.

  Josephine stared longingly at the envelope. ‘If you’re really that worried I could always take them home with me.’

  In spite of the tension, Dora found it impossible not to laugh. ‘No thanks, Josephine, don’t be offended but I just don’t trust you to keep them to yourself.’

  Josephine dropped a friendly hand on her shoulder. ‘That’s what I like about you, Dora, you’re a great judge of character. Come on, let’s go over to Abbotsbridge.’

  18

  Dora found it very hard to concentrate on choosing dresses. She had parked her Fiat so close to the window of the house at Abbotsbridge that Josephine Hammond had had to climb out over a flower bed to get to the path.

  The dress woman showed them into her spare room where clothes hung neatly on rails around the walls.

  ‘What size are you?’ she said, looking Dora up and down.

  Dora didn’t know.

  ‘I’ll get a tape measure. I would have said ten, maybe twelve. You’re lucky, we’ve got lots of things in that size. Finding you something really special shouldn’t be a problem.’

  Dora stood with her arms out like a child while the woman discovered her best kept secrets. When she’d done, she turned round and pulled a cream floor-length sheath dress out of the rack. ‘This is very nice.’

 
; Dora stared at it. ‘Too low, I want something to cover up my scrawny arms, my skinny non-existent bust and my naturally ungainly stance.’

  The woman nodded, working a professional finger along the rails. ‘I’m fresh out of bin liners and brown paper bags. What about this instead?’ She pulled out a long peacock-blue dress. It had a square neck, was cut on the bias so the skirt flowed out in a swirling arc, and it had a matching lined lace jacket.

  ‘The jacket is lovely, hangs down to mid-thigh, perfect for hiding a multitude of sins.’

  Josephine nodded her approval. ‘It’s nice.’

  Dora had to agree.

  The woman smiled. ‘Why don’t you try it on. Oh, one thing. watch the lining in the jacket – it’s split under the arm.’

  In the changing room, Dora took a glance at the tag on the hanger. Even the beautifully handwritten italics didn’t quite take the sting out of the price. There was obviously a lot of money to be made in secondhand schmutter. She slipped the dress over her head, zipped it up, and then turned to look in the mirror.

  The transformation was quite remarkable. The dress fitted her perfectly, clinging comfortably over the bodice before dropping elegantly into a full skirt. Dora posed for the mirror. It did look good.

  Carefully, mindful of the split lining, she pulled on the jacket and grinned at her reflection. The jacket was superb, the final touch, its slightly padded shoulders enhancing her slim silhouette. The heavy lace had been dyed to match the jacket exactly. The dress moved like liquid around her. The whole outfit whispered style. Dora stood up on tiptoe to see how it would look with heels and then backed confidently out from behind the curtains of the dressing room.

  ‘Well, what do you think?’ she said, with a self-satisfied grin.

  The woman smiled at Dora and then at Josephine. ‘I’d say we’d got it with the first shot.’

  Dora nodded. ‘Me too, I’ll take it. Do you do shoes and those fiddly little bags?’.

  The woman laughed. ‘Funnily enough we do. Let me show you what we’ve got.’

  Dora arrived home feeling quite triumphant. It was only after Josephine had left and she drove down towards the lock-up garages that she started to feel uneasy. The cardboard box in the boot glowed in her consciousness like a fiery beacon.

  What if … she stamped the thought out before it got a chance to form itself into something dark and nasty. The worst thing that could happen was that whoever it was found the photos before the ball, and used them for whatever it was they wanted them for. Either way, the pictures would be gone. Either way she would get her life back.

  She sighed and flipped the slippery dress bag out from the back seat. She was pleased with the outfit – more than pleased – delighted.

  The woman had offered to get the jacket repaired, but Dora, keen to have the dress home, had gone for a discount instead – not that it was much of a discount. It would take her ten minutes to catch the lining back together – if she could just lay her hands on a needle and thread.

  Dora slung the dress, on its hanger, over her shoulder, pulled out the shoe box and little carrier with her new evening bag inside and headed home.

  Oscar eyed the great sheath of white polythene with barely concealed avarice. Dora sighed. ‘No shredding, no ripping, this is going straight in the wardrobe.’

  The light was flashing on the answer machine. She pressed the play button and headed off to the bedroom to put the dress away.

  Jon’s message was first. He sounded apologetic.

  ‘Dora, look, I’m really sorry but I don’t think I’ll be able to get round tonight. I’m on lates anyway, but we’ve just had a job come in out at Middlereach.’ She heard the grin in his voice as he continued. ‘If I can get round I will, but don’t count on it, I’m totally bushed. See you tomorrow at the ball if I don’t see you before. By the way, I’ve just dropped my dinner jacket off at the cleaners.’

  Dora experienced an odd sense of relief. At least she wouldn’t have to explain to Jon about the photos, or about her liaison with Tom Fielding. Relief was followed by a tiny flutter of unease. Wasn’t she supposed to want to tell Jon? She had hardly got to know him, had barely begun something that could be called a relationship, and already she was relieved not to have to tell him the truth. How long did the truth between couples last?

  The train of thought was broken by a whirr and a beep and the sound of Kate’s voice on the machine.

  ‘Mum, hello. I just thought I’d ring to see how you are. I wondered why we hadn’t heard anything from you. I tried ringing Sheila but she seems a bit upset. Have you two had a row?’

  The tone changed slightly, from confident to something younger and more vulnerable. ‘Can you ring me? I’m at home all day today. Have you heard any more about the breakin? Are you okay? I’m worried about you.’

  Dora walked back into the office. She realised she hadn’t rung Kate in a week. She paused and stared down at the phone.

  All the lies she had so carefully woven had given her nothing but trouble. Tucked away quietly in her flat they had grown horns and teeth, and then Lillian Bliss had brought them all out to haunt her. And not just Dora’s lies. Other people’s lies had homed in on her like a beacon.

  She flicked the tape back and listened to Kate again. She had lied to Kate all her adult life, lied to Sheila, now she was thinking about beginning all over again and lying to Jon.

  She picked up the phone. The only way to take the power away from the lies was to drag them, kicking and screaming, out into the daylight. She tapped in Kate’s number and settled herself down in the armchair.

  ‘Hello, is that Kate? It’s Mum here.’ It sounded very strange calling herself ‘Mum’. Dora cradled the phone in her shoulder, wishing she had a cigarette.

  Kate’s voice was tight and guarded. ‘Hello, how are you?’

  Dora wondered. The bridges between them were rusty from disuse. ‘Not so bad, and yourself?’

  ‘So-so.’ It felt like two tigresses moving slowly around each other, vying for position.

  ‘I got your phone call.’

  Kate made a little dark noise in her throat, not quite a growl, not quite a whine. Dora coughed. This was so hard that she was tempted to hang up and forget the whole idea. She heard Kate sniff, sniffing seemed to run in the family.

  ‘Are you ill?’ Kate asked.

  Dora shook her head. ‘No, love. I’m fine. Life’s just been a bit strange here recently. I’m sorry, I really should have rung you sooner.’

  ‘I rang Auntie Sheila, she said you’d got a boyfriend …’

  Dora groaned. Trust Sheila.

  ‘… And that you were very upset about something. Sheila thinks you ought to see a doctor. Are you going to tell me what this is all about? I think I ought to know.’ Kate’s voice was uneven, with a ragged emotional edge.

  Dora sighed and took a deep breath. ‘Kate,’ she said flatly, ‘you’re right, we do need to talk. The man I’m going out with is a policeman. He’s called Jon Melrose, I think you’d like him. But I’d like to explain why someone broke into my flat.’

  Kate suddenly burst into tears. Her words spilt out in hot miserable little sobs. ‘It’s something serious, isn’t it? You’re really ill and you’re not telling me because you’re afraid of hurting me again, that’s it, isn’t it? Have you rung Dad? I could ring him again if you like. I know he’d have you back. He wouldn’t want you to be on your own, not if you’re really ill.’

  Dora’s jaw dropped in complete astonishment. ‘What?’

  ‘Aunt Sheila said you’ve been acting strangely. She said you’d been really odd recently. I don’t want to hear about boyfriends. I know it’s Dad you really want, isn’t it? You ought to ring Dad and let him know what’s going on. What is the matter, how long have you got? Can’t they operate or something?’

  Dora stood up stiffly, rapidly regaining her poise. Why was it that she felt as if she was inadvertently living someone else’s life? ‘Kate,’ she said, as evenly as she coul
d. ‘Please stop this. You’re working yourself up into a state about nothing. God knows what Sheila’s been telling you, but take it from me, it’s a pack of lies. There’s nothing wrong we me. I haven’t got anything.’

  ‘Then why haven’t you rung me?’ Kate snuffled miserably.

  ‘Why don’t you sit down, Kate. There are some things I need to tell you.’

  Kate let out a dark, choking, strangled sob and Dora cursed Sheila and the gift of an overactive imagination.

  ‘Sit down, Kate,’ she purred, in a comforting tender voice, straight from the cradle side. ‘I’m trying to explain. First of all, I’m not ill, honestly.’

  Kate sounded as if she was blowing her nose. ‘You’re not ill?’ She sounded almost disappointed. Dora began to wonder if Kate was deaf as well as given to overreacting. Patiently she shook her head.

  ‘No, not ill, not ill at all.’

  ‘So what’s the matter with you then?’

  There was nothing left now but the truth. Dora suddenly felt tired. ‘Have you ever heard of a woman called Catiana Moran?’ she said slowly.

  ‘Yes, she writes porn. There’s a cut-out of her in our book shop. Sheila said you’d been to see her.’

  Dora glanced around the desk for a cigarette. There had to be one somewhere. ‘That’s right. Well, I’m really Catiana Moran. The girl is a model I hired to promote my books. Catiana Moran is my pseudonym.’

  Kate snorted. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, mo –’ she snapped, but something about Dora’s tone stopped her mid-sentence. ‘Oh, my God,’ she murmured weakly. ‘You’re telling the truth, aren’t you? My God, that is totally and utterly gross. Mother,’ she whispered. ‘How on earth could you?’

  Dora sighed. Maybe the truth wasn’t such an easy option either. She found a single crumpled cigarette in the top drawer of her desk and lit it. It tasted foul.

  When she’d finished explaining to Kate, she rang Sheila, who was very quiet.

  ‘I rang to say I’m sorry if I overreacted the other night.’ Dora held out an olive branch and waited for Sheila to take a chainsaw to it.

  Sheila sniffed a reply. ‘You should have told me about those books before,’ she said indignantly. ‘I felt such a fool.’