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

by Beverley Harvey

  ‘Mum, it’s me, Dale. Can you hear me, Mum?’ She swallows hard, suddenly emotional.

  ‘Oh, hi darling. How are you? It’s rather late… it’s nearly ten o’clock. Is everything all right? Are you still in Italy?’

  ‘Yes, sorry it’s a bit late. I’m an hour ahead of you, too. Look, are you and Dad in bed? No? That’s good. Mum, I need your help with something. You know that old-fashioned address book you use? The one with kittens on the cover that I always make fun of? Well, I need you to look up Susanne’s mobile number for me, please…’

  15

  Susanne

  Susanne can still taste Harry’s kiss: his mouth pressed against hers, fresh and minty but muddled with something strange and earthy.

  Had she kissed him back? She hadn’t meant to, but Harry had caught her off guard and her body had responded without the slightest input from her brain.

  It would not happen again. It could not happen again – she’d been crystal clear about that by marching off to her room.

  Concealed by the drapes, she peers through her window to find Harry on the terrace, helping Evie to dry the table and chairs ready for lunch.

  She can hear Evie’s laughter now, a loud hooting as though Harry has said something hilarious. Are they talking about her? Evie looks towards Susanne’s window. Oh god. Surely Harry wouldn’t tell Evie about their kiss?

  Deciding there’s nothing to be done except to style it out, Susanne changes into a clean T-shirt, adds a slick of lip gloss and joins Harry and Evie in the garden.

  ‘Here she is,’ Evie says. ‘How did you get on?’

  Susanne’s mind is a blank. ‘Er… with what?’

  ‘The pool man – will he come out to us? It’s a terrible mess, although if we had a net, we could do it ourselves,’ Evie says, wiping down the last chair and wringing the cloth into one of the flower beds.

  With a knowing grin, Harry turns away and paces towards the pool.

  Susanne hesitates. ‘I… I couldn’t find the number and then I needed the loo. I’ll look again after lunch.’

  ‘That was delicious, thank you, ladies. You’ll both make wonderful wives,’ Harry says, nursing an empty Peroni bottle, a mischievous grin on his face.

  Pink spots appear on Evie’s cheeks. ‘Oh, that’s all right. All we did was open a few jars and packets, isn’t that right, Susie?’

  Susanne’s smile is glacial. ‘He knows that, Evie. He’s being facetious,’ she turns to Harry, ‘just as he knows it’s 2019 and not the sixties.’

  Harry grimaces. ‘Sorry. It was just a joke and a lame one at that.’

  Evie changes the subject. ‘Wonder what Dale’s doing right now?’ She pops a last olive into her mouth.

  ‘If I know Dale, she’ll be in some fabulous café somewhere, chatting to the locals in shouty English and made-up Italian. Either that or shopping for clothes.’ Susanne turns her gaze on Harry. ‘What are your plans for the rest of the day?’

  ‘None at all. I’m more than happy to hang here. It’ll be nice to catch a few rays after the wet weather we’ve had.’

  Evie’s expression is wistful. ‘You’re both so brown already, you’ve no need to sunbathe – you are lucky.’

  An image of Harry’s lean, bronzed body against cool white sheets crashes into Susanne’s mind; she hastily pushes it away.

  ‘Susanne and I are a similar colour,’ Harry says, brushing his arm against Susanne’s to compare. ‘See… we’re the same.’ A jolt of electricity sparks in Susanne as Harry deliberately grazes her thigh with the back of his hand.

  Harry gets up. ‘Tell you what, I’ll clear the pool… it’s only plant debris and I’m sure I can improvise.’

  Evie claps her hands. ‘Yay! It’s funny, I’ve never been into swimming – too self-conscious, I suppose – but I’ve got used to having a little dip while we’ve been here.’

  As the temperature climbs, a languid calm descends while the three of them read and doze by the pool.

  Harry’s efforts to clear the surface debris have paid off and one at a time, they each revel in the coolness of the water, swimming gentle laps.

  Susanne treads water in the deep end, her face turned to the sun. She watches as Harry saunters over and prepares to get in beside her. ‘I was just getting out,’ she says, her tone brittle.

  But Harry’s smile is bold, confident. ‘No need, there’s plenty of room for both of us,’ he lowers his voice, ‘and don’t worry about Evie, she’s snoring her head off.’

  Sure enough, Evie is lying with eyes closed and mouth open, her paperback collapsed on her chest, her left foot twitching.

  Harry glides through the water with barely a ripple, and cups Susanne’s face in his hands. ‘I’m sorry, but you’re just too fucking beautiful for words,’ he breathes, tracing her lips with his index finger.

  ‘Harry. Don’t. I—’ Susanne begins to object before allowing herself to be silenced by a long, deep kiss.

  Nerves shredded, Susanne paces the living room. For the third time, she calls Dale’s mobile. It goes straight to voicemail.

  ‘Why is her phone off? I thought she’d be back by now. “A few hours alone”, she said. That was before noon and it’s nine fifteen.’ Susanne rakes her hand through hair knotted by anxiety. She looks from Evie to Harry. ‘Where the hell is she? Anything could have happened… she could have had an accident, or she could—’

  ‘Be having the time of her life in some swanky bar, dancing the night away,’ Harry offers, placing his hands on Susanne’s forearms and forcing her to stop.

  ‘Harry’s right, Susie. She’s probably lost track of time and hasn’t noticed her phone is switched off,’ Evie says, looking worried, nevertheless.

  Susanne scowls. ‘Yeah, maybe. Just wait until I see her!’

  ‘Look, let’s open a bottle and try to calm down, shall we?’ Harry says.

  ‘No. I need to keep a clear head in case…’ Susanne stops, her words hanging in the air like smoke.

  Evie’s homemade lasagne languishes untouched in the kitchen. No one is hungry, because despite their buoyant words, Susanne suspects that Evie and Harry are as worried by Dale’s absence as she is.

  As the hours tick by, Susanne becomes more agitated. ‘If we haven’t heard from her by midnight, I’m going to the police,’ she announces.

  Evie nods, pale beneath her light tan. ‘I agree… it’s been too long.’

  At ten minutes past eleven, Susanne’s mobile lights up with ‘Unknown Caller’. She grasps the handset.

  ‘Hello? Dale! Where the hell are you? We’ve been worried sick.’

  ‘Susie. Look, I’m really, really sorry – and please don’t be cross with me – but I need you to come and get me,’ Dale says, a pleading note in her voice.

  She’d pretended to be angry, but now, strapped into the passenger seat of the jeep, with Harry at the wheel, his profile sharp against the moonlight, Susanne feels a rush unlike anything she’s felt for years.

  The swaggering man–boy has disappeared and has been replaced by someone heroic, strong, responsible; a combination that makes him achingly desirable in Susanne’s eyes. Because to Harry’s credit, without heel-dragging or judgement, he’d got straight on with ‘Operation Rescue Dale’, keying the Siena hotel’s postcode into the satnav and manoeuvring the jeep with speed and alacrity, mindful of Dale being alone with only a dead phone for company.

  ‘Thank you,’ Susanne says, touching Harry’s arm lightly. ‘You don’t need to do this; Dale’s not your responsibility and I’m really grateful.’

  Harry shrugs off her praise. ‘It’s fine. Did she say what happened? I didn’t get the whole story.’

  Susanne scoffs. ‘I doubt either of us will get that. All Dale said was that she went for a drink with a woman she met and accidentally went over the drink-drive limit. She can be so irresponsible at times.’

  ‘She has a wild streak, eh?’ Harry grins, keeping his eyes on the winding road ahead. ‘Well, we’ve all been there.’


  ‘I haven’t. I mean, if I’m driving, I’m not drinking. That’s it. But Dale’s always been reckless.’

  ‘Maybe you should try it sometime,’ Harry says, laughing out loud and groping for Susanne’s hand in the darkness. It feels smooth – like Cody’s hand. A piece of her recoils and she finds an excuse to release it, fishing through her handbag for some imagined necessary item.

  ‘Harry, can we… can you not say anything please, about us kissing today.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to. Look, I get it. I know it must be weird for you. Your friends won’t buy us at all, will they? They see me as a kid. Well, maybe I’m not as young as you think.’

  Susanne tries to read Harry’s expression, but his face is in shadow. Us? Not as young as you think?

  ‘What does that mean?’ she asks.

  ‘Nothing… I guess I’ve always been mature for my age and I prefer the company of people a little older than me.’

  ‘A little?’ Susanne giggles, ‘Well, ten out of ten for diplomacy.’

  Love, annoyance, relief: Susanne floods with emotion to see Dale, dishevelled and dirty, as she droops on a stone wall outside the Grand Hotel.

  ‘I’m so sorry. Thank you – both of you.’ Pink-eyed, Dale looks from Susanne to Harry as she stifles a yawn. ‘I feel such an idiot.’

  Susanne hugs her friend. ‘It doesn’t matter. You’d do the same for me. In fact, you have done; remember when I’d just started seeing Col, and I was sick after too many margaritas at that posh restaurant he took me to?’

  Dale gives her a weak smile. ‘Yeah, you snuck out the back way and phoned me to pick you up.’

  Susanne grimaces. ‘I had to throw that dress away.’

  Harry groans. ‘Oh, please, ladies – TMI. Look, much as I’m enjoying this trip down memory lane, we need to get back, or Evie will think we’ve all gone AWOL.’

  ‘Well, who made the twenty-four-year-old the voice of reason? Now I know we’re in trouble,’ Dale says, linking arms with Susanne as they walk back to Harry’s jeep. Then following Dale’s foggy directions to the now-deserted car park, Harry waits until the women are ensconced in the SUV before taking off in the direction of home.

  ‘Sorry,’ Dale murmurs, her eyelids beginning to flicker.

  ‘Don’t say it again. I’m just glad you’re okay. You can give me all the grisly details in the morning,’ Susanne says, her eyes trained on Harry’s rear lights as they fly through the deserted Tuscan hills.

  16

  Evie

  Energised by her morning power walk and a brisk shower, Evie runs the flat of her palms over her torso and hopes to feel a difference: a narrowing of her hips, or new definition on her stomach perhaps, but the soft rolls of her belly stubbornly remain.

  It’s just not fair. She eats less than Susanne, drinks far less than Dale and lately, seems to exercise more than both. And yet, they remain resolutely thin and beautiful in their different but somehow complementary way. Which would be really bloody annoying, Evie muses, sliding a canvas skirt and cotton tee over her underwear, if she wasn’t so fond of them both. She pulls her hair back and snaps it into a claw. Not that either of them is without fault.

  Three days ago, on the evening of Dale’s jaunt, Evie had been genuinely concerned. She’d pictured her, broken and bloodied in a tangled wreckage at the foot of one of the endless steep hills they’d driven through, or slumped in an alley after being set upon by pickpockets. But then the truth had emerged, and it was just Dale being Dale: daring and reckless, drinking too much without a thought for how she was going to get home, because from what Evie had overheard her tell Susanne in hushed tones, she hadn’t planned to get home at all. Perhaps she was being old-fashioned and maybe gay people did things differently, but it was utterly unimaginable to Evie that Dale could meet a woman in a foreign city, get chatting over a couple of drinks and fancy her enough to even consider sleeping with her only hours after they’d met. And then – the irony of it – Dale deciding that she didn’t like the woman after all and expecting her best friend to drive cross-country to bail her out.

  Not that Susanne had minded. Instead she’d enjoyed the intrigue and excitement of speeding off into the night with Harry. Evie saw the way they looked at each other when they thought no one was watching, like feral teenagers at a disco. It was odd the way Harry had brought out a whole new side to Susanne, who was usually so sensible. Evie winces; well, hold that thought, because judging by the sounds coming from Susanne’s room the night she and Harry had returned from Siena, things have gone far beyond furtive looks and flirting. Evie is ninety-nine per cent sure that Susanne and Harry have crossed a line and are now having sex!

  There’d been too many tell-tale signs to ignore: the scurry of feet and muffled, low voices in the hallway. Susanne’s room was past her own and right next door, while Harry’s room spurred off another hall entirely, so there’d be no excuse for him to be anywhere near their rooms. Then she’d heard crying out – small sighs and louder, deeper groans. Unless, of course, Susanne was alone.

  She knew that women masturbated, too. She’d seen a programme about it on Channel 4 once, about a school in California where women learned how to have orgasms. She’d watched in fascination as a roomful of women of all shapes and sizes lay in a ring on the floor, their heads almost touching, their feet straight out ahead of them like the numbers on a clock. Then they’d each been given sex toys to make themselves climax and one by one, the women had writhed around, sighed and moaned as they’d orgasmed – in full view of each other. The film had shocked and excited Evie, leaving her eager to experiment. So, improvising with a roll-on deodorant bottle, she’d laid on her bed and waited to feel something, anything. But as twenty minutes had ticked by and Evie’s only sensations had been boredom and embarrassment, it was to be her first, last and only attempt at having sex on her own.

  On reflection, it seemed unlikely that Susanne would have made such a song and dance if she’d been alone that night. In Evie’s view, the more probable scenario was that Harry and Susanne had returned from their adventure in a state of arousal, then waited until they believed she and Dale were asleep before piling into Susanne’s bed.

  Well, trust some arrogant young lad to stir up a hornet’s nest and drive a wedge between them all. What had happened to the relaxing, civilised ladies’ holiday they’d planned? From where Evie stands it is taking a different turn all together.

  Evie stiffens as the sound of soft footfall twinned with low, tuneless humming passes her room, followed by a clatter of crockery from the kitchen. Somebody – probably Susanne – is up and about, starting the day.

  Pushing her concern to one side, Evie pastes on a smile and pads to the sun-filled kitchen.

  ‘Morning, Evie,’ Susanne raises her arms in a languid stretch, ‘did you sleep well, love?’

  Evie busies herself making coffee. ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘Did you manage your usual walk? You are good, Evie. You look as though you’re still losing weight. Stick with it, you’re doing great.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so – my clothes feel the same,’ Evie says primly, buttering crispbreads on a board.

  ‘Are you okay, Evie?’

  ‘I’m fine. Just wondering what to do today, that’s all,’ Evie answers, keeping her back turned.

  ‘Well, how about a trip out – to San Gimignano, or even Siena. It’s not far – I found that out the other night.’

  I bet you found out a lot of things the other night, Evie thinks pushing away the image of Susanne and Harry in bed together. ‘That sounds nice… but are you sure you wouldn’t rather go with Dale? Or Harry?’

  ‘No, of course not. Evie, are you sure you’re okay? You’re in a funny mood this morning.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Evie says, taking a steaming mug of coffee and a plate of crackers laced with butter and jam out onto the sun-dappled terrace.

  ‘Hey,’ Dale appears, damp hair twisted into a towel. ‘How’s you, Evie?’

&nbs
p; ‘I’m fine, thank you,’ Evie chews slowly, avoids Dale’s gaze.

  ‘Er… right. But not chatty, apparently,’ Dale says, going back inside. Evie can hear muttered conversation. She pictures Dale and Susanne speculating as to the cause of her sour mood and wonders whether Dale knows or cares about Susanne and Harry.

  Aware that she’s on course to make herself unpopular, Evie takes a deep breath and goes into the kitchen. Her smile is sheepish. ‘Sorry if I seem a bit off, but sometimes it hits me… about Mum, I mean.’

  At once the women move forward, arms outstretched. ‘Group hug,’ Dale says, rubbing Evie’s back.

  ‘Bless you, it’s still so new,’ Susanne says.

  ‘I know, and just when I think I’m on top of things and the pain seems bearable, some small memory comes back to haunt me.’ To Evie’s surprise, real tears have sprung into her eyes.

  ‘Right, that settles it. We deffo need a day out and a good lunch somewhere. Diets be damned,’ Dale says, a note of defiance in her voice.

  With breakfast a swift affair, within forty-five minutes, Susanne, Dale and Evie are ready to set off for San Gimignano.

  ‘My turn to go in the back,’ Dale says, much to Evie’s surprise and pleasure.

  Evie beams. ‘Great, thank you,’ she says, wondering if the girls are pointedly making more of an effort after her outburst.

  San Gimignano had been her pick. ‘I missed out last time, when I had a tummy ache – and you made it sound so beautiful. I might even treat myself to a new handbag if I see something I like,’ Evie says, warming to the idea at once.

  Susanne and Dale are agog, firing Evie with questions about the colour, brand and style of her intended purchase. Suddenly, she is elevated from being stodgy old Evie – the frumpy friend – to being one of the girls. Basking in the warmth of their attention, Evie falls into a trance-like reverie as they glide through the countryside.