She’s seen, too, the way Harry’s beauty can be reduced in an instant by a sneer or a mean comment; by a petulance that instantly dilutes his attractiveness, as if suddenly a mask has slipped.
Not that Susanne seems to notice. It’s nauseating how smitten she is. How can she lose her head and – oh god – her heart, to a mere boy? A youth. What can they possibly have in common? It’s so clearly a mutual shag fest and nothing more. And yet…
Somewhere in the far reaches of Dale’s mind, alarm bells are ringing: a sixth sense that makes her flesh crawl to see them together as they act out indifference – a studied nonchalance – while to even the most casual observer, electricity crackles around them like the inside of a novelty plasma ball.
To make things worse, Dale had acted like the jealous bestie, which had embarrassed them both and had put Susanne on the defensive, making her furtive and distant. It wasn’t her finest hour. Harry, of course, had lapped up the conflict, smirking and following Susanne with his eyes whenever she passed by, then looking at Dale for her reaction.
Some holiday this was turning out to be. All of them treading on eggshells and trying not to get in each other’s way.
As if he can read her thoughts, Harry sits up and turns to her with a knowing smile.
‘Fancy a dip, Dale?’ he asks, his tone light.
Dale’s expression is serene and her excuse spontaneous. ‘No, thanks. I’ve just topped up my sun cream.’
‘What time will Susanne and Evie be back, do you think?’ Harry asks, shielding his eyes against the midday sun as he moves towards the pool. Once there, he sits on the edge and slides in, reminding Dale of a reptile.
‘They shouldn’t be long, they’ve only gone to the village shop,’ Dale says, stretching her legs then rearranging them for maximum sun exposure.
‘Great, I’m starving.’ Harry vanishes below the surface and swims one silent length.
‘So feed yourself, you lazy twat,’ Dale mutters under her breath, irritation rising. Honestly, such a sense of entitlement! If that’s what a private education does for a young man, he can keep it!
And then it comes to her. She is going about this all wrong. The way to scope out Harry is to make friends with him. Spend some time together, exchanging stories and trading secrets. That way, there’s a distinct possibility he’ll open up (or let something slip!) and betray how he really feels about Susanne. Because right now, it simply doesn’t ring true, for as lovely as Susanne is, surely Harry has other fish to fry? Like his so-called friends in San Gimignano, perhaps; why all the mystery? And why has he never invited his mates out to the house? After all, most young guns of his age would be crowing from the rooftops about having a luxurious villa in the family.
Dale watches Harry surface, lever himself from the pool and stride towards her. With rivulets running from his muscular torso, hair in dripping tendrils and thick eyelashes clumped together, he is the epitome of a TV aftershave commercial. No wonder Susanne can’t resist him. What straight woman could? The thought of Harry setting her best friend up for hurt and humiliation when he’s bored of fucking her curdles Dale’s stomach.
With as much warmth as she can muster, she smiles. ‘Looking good, Harry. Hard to believe you’re single.’
His stare is hard, unflinching.
Shit! Too far, Dale… too bloody far. She lets out a girlish giggle. ‘I meant it as a compliment, Harry – take it! I don’t give out many, I can assure you.’
Jesus, this isn’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped.
A whoosh of gravel signals the arrival of the SUV. ‘Great – they’re back,’ Dale says, tying a sarong around her bikini and heading to the kitchen.
Burdened by groceries, Susanne and Evie call out.
‘Hello, lovelies,’ Dale says, taking a carrier bag from Susanne. ‘Harry and I are starving. What did you get? Here, let me,’ she says, starting to load the fridge and exclaiming over their supermarket finds.
Susanne smiles, murmurs something to Evie that Dale cannot hear; Evie’s eyes widen.
Dale looks from Susanne to Evie. ‘What? What have I missed?’
‘Nothing!’ Susanne says, turning her back and busying herself with slicing huge beef tomatoes. ‘Where’s Harry?’
‘Sunbathing, we both were – it’s glorious today, less sticky. Shall I lay the table outside?’
The three women glide around each other, plating up bread, olives, pecorino and prosciutto, and gathering up crockery.
Outside on the terrace, Harry remains supine. Nobody mentions him giving them a hand; somehow, they have all tacitly assumed the role of mother – or wife, Dale thinks bitterly. She swallows her annoyance. ‘Harry, are you eating with us, love?’
She watches him sit up, put on a thin shirt and swagger to the table, making only the briefest eye contact with Susanne, an amused smile playing on his lips.
‘Thanks for this, Susanne, Evie. It looks great,’ he says, loading his plate.
A silence falls, punctuated only by birdsong and the sound of cutlery scraping.
Dale wants to scream. This is ridiculous! How long can they all suffer the elephant in the room?
She looks at Evie, cutting her food into small neat pieces and chewing carefully, eyes downcast. And then it occurs to her: Evie knows. Susanne has used their brief trip to the village to spill the beans.
Ha! She’d like to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation. Evie’s so prim and proper, she thinks she’s being radical if she changes the parting of her hair.
‘We’re all very quiet and serious today,’ Dale remarks, as they near the end of their meal. ‘Anyone got any news?’
‘I got a text from Cody this morning,’ Susanne says, her face softening at the thought of her son. ‘He loved his fishing trip with Col; seems he caught a couple of whoppers. Look, he sent me these photos.’ She leans across and flashes her phone around the table. ‘It’s weird, I never had my ex-husband down as the outdoorsy type. When we were married, just going for a walk on the common seemed like a big deal.’
Harry swipes a hand through his hair, scrapes back his chair and gets up. ‘Thanks for lunch, ladies. Sorry to eat and run but I’m going out for a couple of hours.’
‘Anywhere interesting?’ Susanne asks, her voice even.
‘Not really. I’m meeting friends in San Gimi.’
Seeing an opportunity, Dale grasps it with both hands. ‘Oh, really? Can you give me a lift, please, Harry? I need a few bits and it’s not worth taking two cars.’
A furrow appears in Susanne’s brow. ‘What do you need?’
‘Well, for one thing, I’m nearly out of shampoo,’ Dale answers, thinking on her feet, ‘and I want to buy a couple of books. They’ve got a decent supply of English paperbacks in the shop next door to the pharmacy.’
Susanne narrows her eyes, opens her mouth to speak, then changes her mind and begins clearing the table.
Harry shrugs, his face a picture of indifference. ‘Sure, I’ll see you by the car in fifteen minutes.’
‘Great, thanks!’ Dale claps her hands and hurries off to change, already planning her line of questioning. An hour’s round trip trapped in a car together is surely the ideal opportunity to dig for information. Starting with who Harry sees on his secretive little jaunts into town.
20
Evie
Evie’s hand flies to her mouth. She’d had her suspicions but now here Susanne is, admitting it, bold as brass.
‘So are you saying that you actually slept with Harry?’ she says, her eyes wide.
Susanne grimaces. ‘Evie, please don’t say it like that. Look, I can tell you disapprove; I can’t say I’m proud of myself and it certainly wasn’t planned.’
They are still in the supermarket car park; the SUV’s windows are down, the boot is full of groceries and Villa Giardino is less than ten minutes away. Other shoppers wheel trollies and chatter in the sunshine. Susanne makes no attempt to start the engine.
‘Anyway,’ she says
, keeping her eyes ahead, ‘I wanted to tell you myself because Dale guessed – and believe me, she’s not impressed either. But, well, that’s what happened, and I wanted to be honest with you.’
‘Ah. Okay, well I appreciate you telling me, Susie. As far as I’m concerned, we all make mistakes, but it’s over now and there’s no real harm done,’ Evie folds her arms, ‘as long as Harry understands that.’
Susanne hesitates and nibbles her thumbnail. ‘That’s the problem, Evie, we like each other. I told Dale it was a one-off, that it would never happen again – but it has, and I’ve realised that I really like Harry and I don’t want it to stop. Well, not yet, anyway.’
‘Oh!’ Evie wrings her hands. ‘But Harry’s so—’
‘Young? Yes, I know, but age is just a number and we’ve got… a connection.’
‘Look, it’s none of my business, but how do you know that? You don’t know anything about him.’
Susanne sighs and looks away. ‘That’s exactly what Dale said. The thing is, it’s the same at the start of any relationship. No one ever knows, do they?’
Evie’s heart sinks. A relationship? Susanne is over-egging the pudding now! Evie has never taken her friend for a fool, but this can only be about sex, surely?
‘But what do you have in common? Don’t you think it’s just… a physical thing?’ Pink spots appear on Evie’s cheeks. ‘Harry’s very beautiful, like a film star or a model – even I can see that… And Susie, you are too, but—’
‘Evie,’ Susanne’s tone is sharp, ‘we’re both single adults, so quite honestly, it’s up to us, isn’t it? We’re not hurting anyone and for what it’s worth, he’s different when it’s just the two of us, more mature and sincere. Oh, I don’t know…’ She starts the engine, revs harder than necessary and they drive home in silence.
‘Susanne,’ Evie says as they pull up outside Villa Giardino, ‘you’ve been so good to me and your friendship means the world. I’m sorry if you think I’m judging you – I don’t mean to, I’m just concerned, that’s all.’
Susanne sighs. ‘I know, love – I’m sorry. You’re a good friend to me, too. But please, don’t worry… it’s just a bit of fun, that’s all.’
Once inside, the women are caught up with unloading the shopping and preparing lunch. Tension vibrates in the air as Dale, her smile too wide, seems overeager to help. Harry is nowhere to be seen.
Not for the first time, Evie is wistful for home. For the peace of her mother’s house, with its dowdy walls and naff carpets; with its comfortable, shabby furniture that seems to wrap around her like her mum’s arms – a place where she doesn’t have to try so hard; where she can wear tracksuit bottoms and watch her soaps on television and eat half a packet of custard creams without anyone judging her for it.
Evie watches Susanne and Dale as they move around the luxurious kitchen, lit by sun streaming through the French windows. The speed of change often catches her unawares. One day she has a mum, the next she does not. One minute she is a legal secretary – the next a full-time carer. She’d rented a home for years, now she owns a property in need of renovation. Sometimes it makes her head spin.
And yet, through all the change and uncertainty of the last eighteen months, Susanne’s friendship has been constant; a comforting influence in her shifting world. Kind, positive and hopeful – not to mention glamourous and aspirational – Susanne has been someone to look up to.
It’s odd to think back to the night when the three of them had sat plotting in The Gallery in Tunbridge Wells, loaded with laughter and prosecco. She’d seen Susanne as someone entirely savvy – a woman who had it all worked out. Now, thanks to Harry’s attentions, it’s clear to Evie that Susanne is as capable of making reckless decisions as the next woman, and if anything, she could do with some sensible advice. Evie sighs, knowing she’s the last person to be capable of giving it. In her limited experience, other people’s opinions rarely go down well, and she’s loath to intervene and risk alienating her best friend and ally – especially in a foreign country only halfway through their trip!
In the garden, lunch is a colourful and tasty spread, but nobody says very much until Susanne mentions Cody’s fishing trip. Suddenly, as she is halfway through a story, poking gentle fun at Colin’s lack of outdoor prowess, Harry gets up abruptly, his face set and sulky, and announces he’s going into San Gimignano. Then, to Evie’s surprise, Dale scuttles after him, leaving Susanne disgruntled.
Susanne purses her lips. ‘So, just you and me sorting the lunch pots as usual then. It’s time Dale pulled her weight a bit more. How come you and I are always left to organise meals and clear up around here, Evie? It’s not on – it’s our holiday, too.’
‘Well, maybe you can suggest it – after all, you’ve known Dale most of your life so I’m sure she won’t take offence.’
Susanne scoffs. ‘You don’t know Dale.’ She frowns and massages her temples. ‘After we’ve cleared away, do you mind if I lie down for a while? I’m developing a headache. Sorry to leave you by yourself, Evie.’
Evie smiles. ‘Bless you. I’ll sort these – you put your feet up,’ she suggests, relieved at the prospect of some time alone.
Somewhere, a phone is ringing. Not the rhythmic beep of a mobile, but the old-fashioned jangle of a landline and it takes Evie a moment to realise what it is. After a minute of continuous ringing, she puts down her book, goes inside and wanders through the house where she follows the sound to a small room off the grand hallway. Evie has never been in this room before; none of them have, to her knowledge. Feeling like an intruder, she looks around at racing green walls and neat bookshelves, then leans across a leather-bound desk and lifts the handset.
‘Hello?’ she says, conscious that the caller is likely to be Italian and wondering what on earth she’ll say next.
‘Who’s that?’ The voice is English, clipped, impatient.
‘It’s Evie… Evie Jones, I’m here on holiday. Can I help you?’ she says, going into secretarial mode.
‘Hi! This is Veronica – I don’t believe we’ve met. How are things? All well at the house? What’s the weather like?’
Evie tries to assimilate the questions and wonders which she should answer first, but before she can say a word, Veronica continues.
‘May I speak to Harry? Put him on, please, Evie.’
Evie speaks clearly. ‘I’m afraid Harry’s out. He’s gone to San Gimignano for the afternoon. Can I give him a message?’
‘Ha! Sounds like he’s got you running around for him – that didn’t take long!’ Veronica pauses long enough to laugh at her own witticism before adding, ‘Okay. Can you ask Harry to give his mother a ring, please? Or he can call me – I’m around this evening. But this radio silence is simply not on. Nobody has heard from him for weeks and people are getting worried. Anyway – say hi to Susanne; must go, bye-ee.’
A click on the line ends the call.
Evie replaces the handset, wondering why posh people need to be quite so abrupt.
21
Dale
Harry drives erratically, but if it’s to unnerve her, he’s on the wrong track. Susanne is always on her case to slow down but driving fast, braking hard and feeling the road rattle beneath her gives Dale a heightened sense of control.
‘So, Harry, tell me about these mysterious friends of yours. I mean, how come you even know people in Tuscany?’
‘I could say it’s none of your damn business,’ Harry sneers, ‘but that would make it sound as though I have something to hide, wouldn’t it?’
Dale lets out a throaty laugh. ‘Yeah, maybe.’
‘Well, I can assure you the truth is pretty dull. But as you’re so fascinated: they’re a couple of backpackers I met, Joe and Sander. I met them in Rome a few months ago, and then I just kept bumping into them, which was cool, so we hung out together. It’s easy to meet people when you’re travelling, at least I find that. Anyway, that’s it. That’s the story. Sorry to disappoint you, Dale.’
‘I’m not disappointed, just interested as to why the hell a hot young guy like you wants to hole up in Tuscany all summer with a bunch of old women.’
Harry smirks. ‘Not so old. Look, it’s a no-brainer; backpacking’s great, but I’d had enough of cheap hotels with itchy linen and bad plumbing, and of moving from place to place. It’s good of Veronica to let me stay here all summer, but hey, what are godparents for?’ He laughs, a wolfish leer spreading across his face. ‘As for the arrival of three beautiful women… that was just a lucky bonus.’
After parking the jeep, they walk together as far as Piazza della Cisterna – which as usual, is teeming with tourists – and arrange to meet at the spot two hours later.
As they say goodbye, a fleeting thought occurs to Dale: whether she can trust Harry to come back for her. What if he takes off with his so-called backpacking mates and leaves her there? His story made total sense; it’s only natural that he craves male company of his own age. Still, she can’t help feeling that there is something more to his San Gimignano visits.
Dale runs her fingertips over the paper bag on the table in front of her. Inside are three new paperbacks; one is a Sunday Times bestseller that she’s had her eye on for weeks, the other two attracted her attention on the strength of their covers, each sealing the deal with a compelling blurb on the back. Dale considers her love of books. There’s something so solid and reassuring about them – not to mention the unspoken promise of fascinating people and faraway lands that compels her to hungrily tear through the pages. She always has at least one book on the go. Now she has the luxury of three to choose from and is undecided which to read first.
She looks around at the cheerful, bustling café, with its blue-and-white striped umbrellas, hand painted signage and its terracotta pots bursting with scarlet geraniums. Dale swallows the last of her chilled Frascati and considers ordering another. There’s almost an hour to kill before she’s due to meet Harry back at the fountain, but tempting though it is to get mildly pissed in the afternoon sun, she is keen to explore the lanes and mingle with the other tourists.
The Perfect Liar: A completely gripping thriller with a breathtaking twist Page 9