The Perfect Liar: A completely gripping thriller with a breathtaking twist

by Beverley Harvey

  Susanne rolls her eyes. ‘You always say that. You’re a teacher, for god’s sake – I see right through you, Dale Morgan.’

  Dale ignores her. ‘Oh, please, Susie,’ she whines, ‘we need a holiday. Tell you what, let’s put it to the vote – give Evie a call.’

  ‘I’m not sure Evie’s a real contender, is she? I think last night the prosecco was to blame.’

  Dale’s eyebrows shoot up into her floppy fringe. ‘Oh really? I think she was pretty keen. Anyway, Evie’s a sweetheart… I like her. She should come with us.’

  Susanne nods. ‘I’m glad. She’s been through a lot. Nursing her mum at the end and everything; anyone would need a break after that.’

  After she’s waved Dale off, and as the evening yawns ahead of her, Susanne telephones Colin. ‘Hello, it’s me. How’s my boy?’

  ‘Cody’s fine. He’s been firing arrows this afternoon,’ Colin says, mischief in his tone.

  Susanne is horrified. ‘He’s been doing what?’

  ‘He had a go at archery. All properly supervised. He loved it, the boy’s a crack shot.’

  ‘Oh my god! Col, are you insane? I don’t want him doing danger sports while I’m not there!’

  Colin is laughing now. ‘Hardly a danger sport. There were children there as young as nine. Susie, cut him some slack. Melissa and I are taking good care of him.’

  Ouch. It’s a slap across the line. ‘I wondered when you’d admit she was on the scene,’ Susanne says, her tone as light as she can manage.

  ‘Admit? Susanne, it’s not a secret. You’d like her. Cody does, although I think her dog, Banjo, is the main attraction to be honest. Don’t be surprised if he wants a mutt when he gets home.’

  Susanne grimaces. ‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’ Satisfied that her son is safe and happy, she moots the Tuscan trip.

  ‘Go for it. That’s a brilliant idea – you always have fun with Dale, and it’ll stop you getting depressed while I’ve got Cody. You haven’t mentioned Evie before though. Is she a new friend?’

  ‘We met at the gym. She’s had a tough year… she lost her mum recently,’ Susanne says simply, wondering what the hell business it is of her ex-husband’s.

  ‘Okay, well, sounds like just what the doctor ordered. Book it up – and the sooner the better, most flights are full at this time of year.’

  Susanne hangs up and steps out into the street where the late sun sits low in the sky like a big red penny. Then, heels clacking on the still-warm pavement, she trots next door but one and rings the doorbell.

  ‘Veronica, thank you for your extremely kind offer,’ she says, flashing her neighbour a winning smile, ‘we’d love to stay at your beautiful house this summer – if you’ll have us?’

  6

  Dale

  ‘Three G and Ts, please. Oh, and make them all doubles,’ Dale says in a clear voice, flashing white, even teeth at the air stewardess.

  Susanne and Evie exchange worried looks.

  ‘What?’ Dale says, her blue eyes wide. ‘My holiday started when school broke up. Let’s start as we mean to go on, shall we?’

  Evie shakes her head and appeals directly to the flight attendant. ‘I’d like a diet Coke, please,’ she whispers.

  ‘Me too,’ Susanne mouths, adding, ‘So, this is going well – we can’t even agree about in-flight drinks.’

  The women sit three abreast: Evie strapped into the aisle seat, rigid with anxiety, Susanne in the middle, wrapped in fine cashmere layers, ready to savour the latest issues of Vogue and Red magazine, and Dale, long legs folded into the window seat, a brand-new thriller on her lap, the spine as yet unbroken.

  Her thoughts turn to Helena. Only that morning, another text had arrived, imploring Dale to meet for coffee to sort things out. Dale had thumbed a reply: Nothing to sort. She had been about to press send when Susanne’s words came back to her, so instead she’d deleted the text and blocked Helena’s number. Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner?

  This trip was exactly what she needed, and the timing perfect. A clean break; from school, from London, and from hysterical, crazy would-be lovers. Their Tuscan adventure couldn’t start soon enough.

  Dale steals a glance at Susanne, who smiles and returns to her magazine. She drains the last of her gin and longs for another but is reluctant to drink alone and anyway, there’s no point in peaking too soon, she muses, as she looks out of the window and tries to penetrate the clouds to the view below. Soon she falls into a light doze, waking only when the captain announces their imminent descent and the fasten seatbelt sign comes on.

  It’s early evening by the time they land, but despite the hour, the horizon shimmers mirage-like before them.

  Susanne beams. ‘Don’t you just love that woooph of heat as you step down from the plane? And there’s that smell, too. Unmistakeable… sort of lemons mixed with jet fuel,’ she says, as they file across the tarmac at Pisa International Airport and straggle into lines at passport control.

  ‘Makes me feel a bit sick to be honest, the smell I mean. I’ll be glad when we get to the villa,’ Evie says, a greenish tinge to her skin.

  In the car rental bay, Dale’s eyes roam the sleek lines of the scarlet SUV with its luxe leather interior and unmistakeable new-car smell. ‘Bloody hell, Susanne! Can we afford this?’

  Susanne smiles. ‘Fab, isn’t it? It’s my treat, and to be honest I got a very good deal online.’

  The women start to protest but Susanne waves their objections away. ‘Anyway, I thought that three ladies away for more than a month would need a big boot,’ she says as they begin to pile in suitcases and holdalls.

  Evie hesitates. ‘You don’t mind, do you? About me not driving? It’s just, I’m a bit nervous about being on the wrong side of the road in a strange car.’

  ‘No, of course not. We’ve got this, haven’t we, Susie?’ Dale swaggers, itching to get behind the wheel.

  Susanne nods. ‘It’s fine, Evie, love. I’ll drive this time. Dale, you’ll need to navigate, but we’ve got a built-in satnav so we should be fine.’

  With the city of Pisa behind them, the women travel south-east, climbing high into the Tuscan hills as the light begins to fade and the sky becomes a violet canvas, streaked with fuchsia and apricot.

  Dale feels a rush of excitement as they pull into a lay-by to take in the view.

  ‘So beautiful,’ Evie breathes as she surveys the undulating landscape. ‘What are those tall, skinny trees called? They’re exactly as I’d imagined.’

  ‘Cypress trees,’ Dale says, ‘they’re everywhere in Tuscany.’

  Susanne sighs with pleasure. ‘Yes, and according to Veronica, there are olive trees in our garden – and a fig tree, too.’

  ‘Don’t think I’ve ever eaten a fig,’ Evie says.

  ‘Stick with me, kid; you might be doing a lot of things on this holiday that you’ve never done before,’ Dale says, a huge grin lighting her eyes.

  It’s dark by the time the women arrive at Villa Giardino – a dense, rural blackness pierced only by a smattering of stars and a sliver of opal moon. No lights are visible inside and it takes the women several attempts to find the entrance as they stumble around in the shadows.

  ‘Note to self; buy a torch,’ Susanne says when they finally locate an imposing front door using mobile phones to light their way. Bunch of keys in hand, Susanne tries each one before a resounding clunk allows them entry.

  ‘Hello-oo?’ Dale calls out, groping for the light switch and casting the stone-floored hallway in a pale golden light.

  ‘Wow, it’s quite grand,’ Susanne says, ‘look at all the paintings – these landscapes are beautiful.’

  Bags left by the entrance, the women bypass a narrow passage that spurs off to the left and move through the main hallway towards the rear of the villa, putting on lights as they go. They peer into a comfortable-looking sitting room, its tan leather sofas clustered around a low glass table. Against one wall, a TV screen sits atop a heavy antique sidebo
ard while bookshelves groaning with paperbacks, old copies of Italian Vogue and a generous supply of DVDs occupy the wall opposite.

  Dale nods her approval. ‘Wow, Ronnie doesn’t do things by halves, does she? This place feels more like a proper home than a holiday house.’

  They pass through a narrow arch and into a spacious modern kitchen, noticing at once the elegant French windows that open onto the garden.

  Susanne beams. ‘This all looks practically new,’ she says, surveying the cream marble topped island and the traditional oak cabinets painted in an elegant shade of ivory.

  ‘I wonder where the bedrooms are?’ Evie says, stifling a yawn and adding ‘Ooh, sorry. The journey has made me sleepy.’

  Dale grins. ‘Better find you a comfy bed then, hon,’ she says, retreating along the hallway and into the separate passage with Susanne and Evie at her heels.

  The layout is simple: three similar-sized rooms, each with en suite facilities and a window overlooking the hillside, line up in a row. But the final room they come to has a dual aspect with French windows overlooking the garden.

  ‘This room has got your name on it, Susie,’ Dale says, pulling back the curtain and trying to penetrate the darkness beyond. ‘Ronnie’s your neighbour, so it’s only fair.’

  Susanne starts to protest but Evie jumps in and echoes Dale. ‘Yes, you should, Susanne,’ she agrees, adding, ‘I’ll take the room next door – the wardrobe’s a bit smaller, which is fine for me.’

  ‘Cheers, Evie – we’re all sorted then,’ Dale says, adding, ‘I wonder where Harry sleeps. There are a couple of rooms at the front we haven’t looked in yet.’

  Evie lowers her voice. ‘He might be in bed already.’

  Dale snorts, ‘If he is, he’s a lightweight – it’s only ten thirty. He’s probably gone out.’ They head back towards the kitchen, Dale pausing to listen outside two closed doors. Satisfied that the rooms are unoccupied, she peeps in and finds an unmade bed in one and a desk, chair and shelving in what appears to be a small study.

  Having explored the villa’s entire layout, Dale’s thoughts return to her stomach. ‘I’m starving,’ she says, ‘wonder if there’s any grub in this joint. I think we can assume the shops are shut.’

  Susanne nods and paces to the outsized fridge, emitting a little cry of delight. Inside there’s a block of pecorino, two types of salami, some cooked chicken and a tub of olives. Two bottles of pinot grigio and several litres of water wink at them from the fridge door. On the island a hand-written note nestles beside two boxes of crackers, a paper bag bursting with ripe, scented tomatoes and a large ciabatta.

  Welcome, ladies – Have gone into town for the evening. Please help yourselves to the food. See you all tomorrow. H x.

  Evie eyes the fridge contents and claps her hands. ‘Oh, how thoughtful. Bless Harry – that’s so nice of him,’ she says.

  ‘Yes, isn’t it?’ Susanne agrees, finding a stash of glasses and wasting no time in opening the wine. ‘At least we know he’s got nice manners. Cheers. To Harry.’

  Dale raises her glass. ‘To Harry – and to adventure! I can’t wait to explore tomorrow when it’s light.’

  7

  Susanne

  Tuscany, July 2019

  Susanne wakes with a start, her heart racing, her hairline damp with sweat. There are sounds in the house – footsteps, a clatter of crockery and glass. Disorientated in the blackness, she gropes the nightstand for her mobile phone and swipes the screen: two fifteen.

  As her breath begins to steady, the events of the last twenty-four hours judder into place. She’s in Tuscany, at Veronica’s villa with Dale and Evie. And Harry. Harry must have returned. Where has he been until this hour?

  Parched from the wine, Susanne swigs water from the plastic bottle beside her. She lays still and listens for a while, but soon the house is silent again and she falls into a dreamless sleep.

  ‘Good morning, Susie. How did you sleep?’ Evie looks soft and pale in a pink sundress and flip-flops, her fine brown hair twisted into a clip at the nape of her neck.

  Susanne beams. ‘Great, thank you. Well, mostly. I woke up at around two, but I soon went back to sleep. Is that coffee you’re drinking?’ She heaps the strong aromatic blend into the still-warm stovetop pot before going to the open French windows and gazing out at the rustic garden beyond. ‘Isn’t it a glorious day?’ she says, stepping barefoot out onto the warm ivory stone with Evie at her heels.

  It’s barely nine o’clock but already the sun burns high in a cobalt sky.

  The women look at each other, joy shining in their eyes.

  Susanne sighs. ‘Can you believe we’ve got this place for the next five weeks? It’s so beautiful.’ She leans on a stone balustrade and gazes at the tiered garden below, her eyes roaming the scarlet geraniums clustered in terracotta pots, the vibrant pink pom-poms of the bougainvillea trees and hydrangea bushes. In the borders, a sweep of quivering lavender vies with blue-flowered rosemary and dusty sage, while tiny white jasmine stars cling to a wall below. Inhaling their delicate scent, Susanne takes the half dozen steps down to the tiled terrace where the pool glitters hypnotically.

  Evie follows. ‘Do you think it’s deep? I can’t swim properly,’ she says, pausing at the pool’s edge.

  ‘Maybe you can practise while we’re here. I used to do a master class at the gym – I can help you if you like?’ Susanne volunteers.

  Evie hesitates, her smile sheepish. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Hey!’ Dale waves and strides towards them looking the epitome of cool in denim shorts, a Nirvana vest and huge retro sunglasses. ‘Morning, lovelies. God, it’s like waking up in paradise after grey London.’ She inclines her head towards the pool and nudges Susanne. ‘Are we going in then?’

  Susanne shakes her head. ‘Not me, I need my breakfast first. We all do, surely? Why don’t we drive into the village and stock up? I’ll feel better when there’s more food in the house and we’ve got our bearings.’

  Dale nods. ‘Good idea. Hey, any sign of Harry yet?’

  ‘Not exactly, although I think he got home around two this morning. I heard someone moving about,’ Susanne says.

  Dale thrusts her hands into her pockets. ‘Sounds about right. We used to stay up all night at his age, eh, Susie?’

  ‘You probably still do, but I need my beauty sleep,’ Susanne says with a ruffle of her friend’s hair.

  After a trawl through a ring binder stuffed with restaurant menus, maps and leaflets for castles, museums and markets – all curated with great care by Veronica herself, and complete with handwritten post-it notes – the women set out for the nearest supermercato less than three kilometres away.

  ‘Let me drive this time, go on, Susie,’ Dale pleads, as she slides into the driver’s seat with the enthusiasm of a teenage boy getting into his first car.

  Susanne laughs. ‘I don’t know why it’s so exciting to you – driving can be such a bore.’

  Dale rolls her eyes. ‘Says the woman who drives a brand-new Range Rover. Sweetie, I haven’t got a car, have I? It’s nice for me to have a blast, especially on these roads,’ she says, putting her foot down and creating a swirl of dust as they hare off down the hillside.

  Susanne looks back at Evie strapped tight to the back seat. ‘You okay?’ she mouths, sensing her friend’s discomfort.

  Evie’s smile is brave but hesitant, the whiteness of her knuckles giving her away as she clutches the central arm rest.

  Ten minutes later, Dale swings into the shop’s small car park and lopes towards the store.

  Susanne winks at Evie. ‘How to make an entrance!’

  ‘Well, come on! I’m hungry,’ Dale says over her shoulder as Susanne and Evie step from the SUV.

  ‘What’s new?’ Susanne mutters.

  Once inside the shop, Susanne sniffs the air like a terrier, enticed by the aroma of delicious Tuscan produce. In no time, she has filled a small trolley with fruit and salad, bread, pastries, cheese and several varieties of Ital
ian sausage.

  ‘Pick whatever you want, ladies. I’ll get these,’ she says, dismissing any arguments with an impatient wave. ‘We can sort the money out later, but let me buy these bits, please?’

  Dale disappears into the wine aisle and returns with several bottles and a packet of potato crisps the size of a pillow.

  ‘Ooh, now you’re talking; we are on holiday after all,’ Susanne says, adding Dale’s stash to the trolley.

  ‘Evie? Anything you particularly want?’ Susanne asks.

  Evie shakes her head. ‘No, thanks, I’m easy. We do need to split the bill though, Susie. We all need to pay our way.’

  ‘Yeah, whatevs,’ Dale says, grabbing a Toblerone the size of her forearm and tossing it into the trolley.

  Susanne gasps and pauses mid-stride. At the edge of the pool, half leaning up on his side, a bronzed young man is reading a paperback. He sets the book down and runs a hand through the floppy fringe of closely cut espresso-coloured hair.

  Feeling voyeuristic but unwilling to break the spell, Susanne watches from the shadows.

  ‘Susie? Where shall I put the—’ Dale is beside her now. ‘Oh! Is that Harry?’ she whispers, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head.

  ‘Who else?’ Susanne mouths.

  ‘Shit the bed!’ Dale lets out a throaty laugh.

  The man–boy gets up and stretches muscled arms above toned, broad shoulders, before climbing the steps towards the house, his movements languid, fluid.

  ‘He totally did that for effect!’ Dale says out of the corner of her mouth.

  Susanne stifles a giggle. ‘Yes, he did, didn’t he?’

  He’s walking towards them now, an indolent grin on his handsome face.