On her third lap of the town’s main car park, Susanne steams into a newly vacated space with a sigh of relief.
‘Phew. For a minute there, I thought we’d have to turn around and go home,’ she says as they unwind themselves from the SUV.
As they shuffle through the hordes of visitors, Evie stops to survey the tableau before her, a beatific smile on her face. ‘Oh, this is heavenly,’ she breathes. ‘It looks just like you see in the movies.’
‘Pretty, eh?’ Dale says, adding, ‘Okay, where are we going for lunch?’
Susanne giggles. ‘All right, hollow legs – we’ve only just had breakfast. Can’t we just wander for a bit and enjoy the atmosphere?’
‘Ooh, yes please – this is so exciting,’ Evie says, her face pink with pleasure as she takes in the sounds, sights and smells of market day.
Weaving through steep cobbled lanes, they soon arrive at Piazza della Cisterna, its ancient well, cafés and gelateria draped with tourists, like washing hung out to dry.
‘Photo call!’ Dale says, herding Susanne and Evie to the well, where they smile and pose happily.
‘Your turn, Dale. Here, let me,’ Evie says, attempting to take Dale’s phone from her.
‘Please. Permettimi,’ a punctilious-looking Italian in his forties bows slightly and motions for Evie to join Susanne and Dale for a group shot.
Evie claps her hands in delight. ‘Grazie mille,’ she says, surprising herself.
‘Prego, bella signorina’ the man says, aiming Dale’s phone in their direction.
‘Thank you, that’s so kind,’ Susanne says, ‘good to have one of all of us.’
But the man is gazing at Evie and murmuring endearments in Italian.
‘Dale, what’s he saying – you did Latin at school,’ Susanne says, a look of amusement on her face.
‘Yeah, not that kind!’ Dale sniggers. ‘Suffice to say, Evie – you’ve pulled!’
17
Dale
The day had got off to an unpromising start. Everyone seemed fractious, especially Evie. Dale had heard how women’s menstrual cycles could fall in sync after a spell of living together. Maybe it had happened to the three of them – or had they simply tired of each other’s company and conversation?
But then the morning had taken a happier turn with an unplanned trip into town that had lifted all their spirits. Especially Evie’s. Her expression when the Italian guy had taken their photograph and then proceeded to flirt with her had been priceless. Well, at least it had made her smile – a relief after her watery outburst at breakfast.
Then to cap it off, Evie had bought a drop-dead gorgeous handbag; oxblood in colour, butter soft and with a ladylike clasp that looked like a polished pebble; the effect was elegant and sophisticated. The salesman had pretended to give her a discount, but Dale suspected it had already been in the sale. Nevertheless, Evie had been delighted with her bargain, so overall, a great day for Team Evie.
But then something odd had happened.
They’d gone in search of Harry’s hidden restaurant – not because the food was exceptional; the standard was consistently fab wherever they ate – but because everywhere they walked the cafés and bars were crammed with tourists and they’d remembered it as a hidden gem. Somehow, Susanne had led them straight to it.
‘Dale, I think it’s round here… look, I recognise the chocolate shop,’ Susanne says, her pace quickening as the faded, hand-painted sign for Bar Montebello comes into view.
‘Oh, well done, Susie. I wonder if the owner will remember us,’ Dale says, as she stoops beneath the arch and scouts for a table.
‘So, this is where the locals eat,’ Evie says, nodding her approval, enjoying herself immensely.
Dale’s mouth waters. ‘I’m going to have spaghetti al pomodoro; Susanne’s looked so good last time. Everything tastes so different to what we have at home, don’t you think?’
Evie nods. ‘Yes, keener and fresher somehow. Think I’ll opt for pizza today.’
Moments later, after a cursory glance at the salad menu, Susanne caves into temptation and joins Dale in ordering spaghetti al pomodoro again.
Chilled and happy, the women reflect on a successful morning’s shopping, while devouring every scrap of food on the table.
Dale dabs her lips with a napkin. ‘I’m absolutely stuffed,’ she says, stifling a hiccup.
Susanne pats her midriff. ‘Me too.’
With an effusive smile, Enzo hovers beside them. ‘Ladies, did you enjoy?’ he asks, as he signals to a young waitress who begins to clear the table around them.
‘Yes, thank you. Delicious. But you’re making us fat,’ Susanne says.
‘No, siete tutte perfette.’ A cheeky smile plays on Enzo’s lips.
Dale stops short of rolling her eyes and changes the subject. ‘Evie, this is Enzo – his family own the place.’
‘Ah! You eat here before?’ Enzo says, his eyebrows jumping towards his receding hairline.
‘Yes, don’t you remember? We came with Harry a couple of weeks ago.’
Enzo purses his lips and considers the possibility before Dale presses on. ‘Harry? You know, tall, good-looking… English guy.’
Enzo’s expression is mournful. ‘I know nobody called Harry. I’m sorry, bella, my memory… so many people in my restaurant, you understand?’ His smile is apologetic as he returns to the kitchen.
Susanne frowns. ‘Why would he say that? They seemed really friendly when we were here before.’
‘Perhaps Harry was showing off,’ Evie says, ‘and he just pretended to know the owner; you know what young lads are like.’
Dale shrugs. ‘Yeah, maybe, but I saw them shake hands like old friends. Weird. Anyway, three coffees before we hit the road?’
Feeling grubby after their trip into town, Dale puts on a bikini, grabs a beach towel and goes out to the terrace. It’s almost five o’clock but the pool remains bathed in sunshine.
‘Fancy a dip? Come in with me,’ Dale says, absently stroking Susanne’s forearm.
‘All right, I will. Give me five minutes to change. Where’s Evie?’
‘Taking a nap, I think. Harry’s car’s not here either, so it’s just us. Hurry up!’ Dale makes a beeline for the pool and jumps in with a shriek. She begins to swim, revelling in the coolness of the water against her skin.
It isn’t long before Susanne returns, looking fresh in a daffodil yellow swimsuit; she lowers herself into the pool and glides into breaststroke.
Enjoying the tautness and power in her limbs, Dale falls in sync with Susanne before the two of them speed up, propelling themselves through the water with long, lean strokes.
‘I make that twenty lengths,’ Susanne gasps, her eyes pink from chlorine.
Dale’s breath is ragged. ‘Yeah, me too.’
Side by side, with the low sun on their faces, they tread water for a while, basking in the peace.
‘You like him, don’t you?’ Dale asks.
‘Who?’
Dale groans. ‘Susanne, credit me some intelligence. Are you fucking him?’
Susanne hesitates. ‘What? Who are you talking about?’
‘Hon, it’s me, remember – and anyway, your poker face is shit. I know something’s happened between you and Harry. I heard you, so don’t bother to deny it.’
Susanne bites her lip and looks away as colour creeps into her cheeks. When she speaks her voice is a whisper. ‘It just happened. I don’t know what came over me… I didn’t intend to—’
‘No shit!’ Dale cuts in, her tone harsh, ‘Oh my god. Well, that’s just brilliant, isn’t it? He’s, like, a child, Susanne.’
‘Hey! That’s not fair. Harry’s not a kid… he’s twenty-four years old – think back to when we were that age.’
‘Yeah, you were married to Col by then and I was pretending to be straight! So we really made good choices.’ Sarcasm drips from Dale’s words.
Susanne puffs out her cheeks. ‘Do you think Evie knows? I’d rather she didn�
��t.’
Dale shrugs and wades to the side of the pool. ‘I’ve no idea but considering the racket you two made the other night, plus Evie’s room is next door to yours… sooo, you know…’ Dale gets out of the water and grabs her towel.
Susanne follows her out and they dry off in awkward silence. Collapsing onto a sun lounger, Susanne finally murmurs, ‘I don’t know why you’re so upset.’
‘Well, for one thing, we don’t know anything about him – oh, apart from the fact that he’s eighteen years younger than you!’
‘That’s not strictly true, is it? He’s my neighbour’s godson, for goodness’ sake. He’s been privately educated; he’s got a business degree and he’s having a last fling in Europe before he starts work in the city in September.’
‘Yeah, that’s his CV, Susanne. But what’s he like? Has he got a girlfriend pining for him somewhere? Who is he, really?’ Dale warms to her theme, ‘I mean, where does he go? We’re here in the middle of bloody nowhere but most days he disappears to see his “mates”? Well, who are they?’
Susanne sighs. ‘Does it matter? It was a one-off, and even if I wanted to… keep it going… it’s just a holiday romance, isn’t it?’
Dale frowns. ‘I don’t know, is it? Just be careful. There’s something about him. He’s furtive.’
Susanne stands up, her body language defensive. ‘Dale, I appreciate your concern, but I’m not sure you should be lecturing me after you needed rescuing the other night.’
Dale is stung. ‘Ouch. Well, cheers for that. Let’s drop the whole thing, shall we? Before one of us says something we’ll regret.’
‘Fine by me.’ Susanne’s tone is icy as she turns her back on Dale and marches towards the house.
Shit! She’s let her big mouth run away with her again. Dale tries to analyse her feelings. Susanne has made a fair point; why exactly is she so upset? Unwilling to dwell on emotions she cannot control, she hurries after her friend.
‘I’m sorry. It’s none of my beeswax. I just worry about you, that’s all,’ Dale opens her arms. Susanne hesitates, then steps into her embrace.
‘Okay, let’s not argue,’ she says, hugging Dale back.
18
Susanne
Susanne pushes her food around her plate; the chicken salad Dale has made as a peace offering turns to cotton wool in her mouth, her appetite stolen by guilt and humiliation.
It’s not just the food that is spoiled: the evening seems thick with effort, as Dale’s slouchy, sweary familiarity is replaced by a forced heartiness that doesn’t suit her. Mindful of the strained atmosphere, Evie creeps around saucer-eyed, clueless to its cause.
Harry had arrived home just as Dale was serving up. He’d joined the women for a glass of Chianti, then had gone to his room, saying he’d already eaten and that he wanted to ‘study’, whatever that meant, and it reminded Susanne of Cody stomping off to his bedroom when something had embarrassed or irritated him.
But even while he’d stuck around, Harry had barely looked at her, directing his scant conversation towards Dale and Evie, leaving Susanne hurt and confused.
Now, catching Dale scrutinising her expression for at least the third time during dinner, desperate to make eye contact, Susanne makes an excuse.
‘I need to speak to Cody,’ she says, managing to smile. ‘He’s got a fishing trip with his dad tomorrow, so he’ll be out of range for a bit. Thanks for a lovely dinner, Dale – sorry I only picked at it; I’m just not hungry. Good night, lovelies, sweet dreams.’ She pecks Dale on the cheek and blows Evie a kiss before going to her room. She’s almost there when she hears the soft slap of Dale’s bare feet on the tiles behind her.
‘Susanne, wait,’ Dale calls.
Sighing inwardly Susanne turns to face her.
‘Are we okay?’ Dale asks, her expression soft.
‘Of course. I just need to speak to Cody… I miss him, you know?’
‘And I’m sure he misses you, too – he’s still only a kid, really. Look, I’m sorry I got all judgey at the pool today. You were spot on when you said I was the last person who should be lecturing you on your love life.’
‘Dale, honestly, I’m fine. See you in the morning. Goodnight.’
Cody is brimming with excitement, stumbling over his words in his haste to describe all that he’s done in the last forty-eight hours with a degree of enthusiasm only seen in the young. Susanne feels her chest tighten whenever he mentions Melissa – or Mel as he calls her – making it clear that he has already formed an attachment.
In the background, she can hear the buzz of conversation, laughter, and a dog barking. And suddenly it is obvious to her that Colin, Melissa and Banjo are in the room with him, doing relaxed, normal family stuff. Wondering if Melissa has yet been taken for Cody’s mother gives her a pain that is almost palpable. Feeling her throat constrict, she wraps up the conversation.
‘Darling, you take care. Enjoy your fishing trip, won’t you? Catch a big one and send me a photo, hey? I love you, Cody. Night night.’
It’s past midnight. The room is airless and cloaked in shadows. Sleepless, curled up on her side, Susanne remembers the last time she’d lain this way, with Harry spooned behind her, inside her, his hardness making her gasp and cry out.
He’d taken her to places she hadn’t been since she and Colin were new, pre-Cody – and it had shocked her how in control of the situation Harry had been.
She’d expected a fumbling awkwardness, a clash of lips and limbs, as they felt their way to each other. Instead, Harry had been matter-of-fact about what he would do to her and had made her wet with longing well before they’d slid between the sheets.
The night of Dale’s ‘rescue,’ as Susanne thought of it now, she’d been amazed by Harry’s sudden maturity and gallantry. Something had happened that night, as they’d sped towards Siena – something unspoken but inevitable, and she’d felt all fight deserting her right there in Harry’s car.
Then later that night, convinced that Dale and Evie would be fast asleep, they’d drunk almost a bottle of Pinot Grigio in the kitchen; Susanne sitting up on the cool granite worktop, Harry before her, his lean hips within her parted thighs as they’d made out like teenagers until her resistance had trickled away with the wine and she’d ached for him to make love to her.
They’d gone to her room, where without fuss or dialogue, Harry had produced a box of condoms, and despite his lean and youthful body, once they were in bed, their age difference seemed to melt away, and Harry was no longer a boy, but the man she craved.
They’d barely spoken since.
Dale’s brutal reaction had only compounded her misery. It was a slap in the face she could do without. It horrified her – made her skin crawl – to think that Dale had overheard them having sex. She’d meant to be quiet, discreet, but emotions had overwhelmed her as Harry had made her come over and over until she became limp and ragged in his arms.
Susanne stiffens when she hears a light tap on her door. At once, she knows it is him.
‘I had to see you,’ Harry says, pushing past her.
Susanne inhales his scent; it’s clean and verdant as usual, but tonight the sweet, musty smell he often carries is stronger than usual. She steps back as he reaches for her.
‘It’s best we don’t, Harry. The others know – at least Dale does, and it won’t be long before it slips out in front of Evie.’
Harry shrugs. ‘I don’t give a flying one. I want you, not them. I bet you haven’t slept a wink, have you?’
‘Not so far… it’s been so hot today and it’s still—’
‘We’re really going to talk about the weather, are we? Susanne, thinking of you just down the hall is driving me insane. Let me take all that tension away. Here, this will help.’ He produces a slim, neatly rolled joint. ‘Let’s share it and then I’ll take you to bed and make you feel incredible again.’
Susanne is unbalanced; shock ripples through her. ‘Harry, no! I never smoke… I don’t do drugs.’
Susanne’s eyes blaze; she stands her ground. ‘Smoke it if you want, but I don’t want that rubbish, nor will I have it in my room.’
Harry’s lips curve upwards. ‘Wow. You’re even more sexy when you’re angry,’ he says, threading the joint back into a narrow pocket in his jeans. He reaches for her.
‘Hmm. Get stoned or make love to the most beautiful woman I know? It’s a no-brainer. I choose you, Susanne. Every time.’
‘Harry. Stop it. We can’t. You’re not listening to me. Dale knows and it has really upset her.’
‘Well, of course it has. It’s obvious why. God, Susanne, for an intelligent woman, you can be terribly naïve.’
Susanne’s eyes are dark – willing him not to mention their age gap as the reason for Dale’s disapproval.
Harry smirks. ‘It’s so apparent to everyone but you. Dale wants you for herself. She adores you.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Susanne snaps coldly. ‘She’s been my best friend since school – she doesn’t see me that way at all.’
Harry’s laughter is soft, mocking. ‘Oh, I think you’ll find she does,’ he cups Susanne’s face in his hands. ‘Open your beautiful amber eyes, Susanne Campbell; your so-called best friend is in love with you.’
19
Dale
Eyes hidden by sunglasses, Dale studies Harry.
Lying beside the pool in only swim-shorts and aviators, it’s unnerving just how handsome he is. His height, the proportions of his limbs, his cut-glass profile and striking colouring – not to mention the sulky look he often affects – all traits that remind Dale of the male models in GQ magazine. Not that she’s ever bought it, but she’s flipped through the pages in the hairdressers and has seen how they’re stuffed with photographs of lithe, intense, otherworldly creatures. Like Harry.
The Perfect Liar: A completely gripping thriller with a breathtaking twist Page 8