43
Brandon
Tuscany, September 2019
There’s a jangling in his gut and a mild headache over one eye. He can hear Susanne brushing her teeth; even when she spits, it’s ladylike. Jesus, what was he thinking? As if he can get a woman like her to fall for him so hard that she’ll go along with almost anything. And time is running out: only two more sleeps, as Star would say, before Susanne, Dale and Evie fly back to England.
And then what? He’ll be banished to the farthest, darkest corners of her mind within weeks. Just a lovely, misty memory. A holiday romance with a boy seventeen years her junior; or so she thinks. Brandon longs to tell her that he’s older, twenty-eight in November, which would surely help his cause, wouldn’t it? Ah, but then again, the unravelling of the lies would begin.
Which is why he has to act now. Because once Susanne boards that plane, all his hopes of a better life for himself and Star will fly away with her. Thanks to bloody Veronica. Why did Harry’s godmother have to be Susanne’s neighbour? Why couldn’t she have booked a holiday villa on the internet, all in good faith and totally anonymously, like everyone else?
Susanne returns from the bathroom, her skin clean and glowing.
‘You okay, hon?’ she says, sliding back into bed beside him, scrutinising his face, like a mother to a sick child.
‘Actually, I do feel a bit rough.’ Brandon sits up, pushes his hair back and rubs sleep from his eyes.
Susanne puts a hand to his forehead. ‘Oh no. I hope you’re not going down with something. You do feel hot.’
‘Good to know,’ Brandon says, with a suggestive smirk. ‘Babe, I’m fine. The only thing wrong with me is knowing that you’re leaving me soon. Susanne, I can’t bear it, seriously.’
Their eyes lock, and it isn’t a lie. Brandon pictures himself, waking up with Susanne every morning in a vast light-filled bedroom, her hair spilling across pillows dressed in the finest linen, before stepping into a double rainforest style shower together, where they’d fool around for a while before each dressing in elegant designer clothes. Then, they’d eat breakfast in a sleek modern kitchen that overlooks an exquisite, well-stocked, walled garden. Lunch would be consumed in one of Tunbridge Wells’ smart brasseries and…
His reverie is interrupted by Susanne’s phone, burbling from the nightstand.
A frown creases her brow. ‘It’s Colin. Wonder why he’s calling so early. Harry, do you mind? I need to take this.’
‘Sure,’ Brandon murmurs, pulling on last night’s discarded jeans and heading for the bathroom.
Covering his need to pee by turning the shower on, he considers Cody’s father: rich, successful, well-educated, savvy. Even setting aside the Ronnie factor, no doubt Colin Campbell would have plenty to say about his ex-wife and the mother of his only son hooking up with a pretty-boy chancer with an uncertain past.
He considers all the wealthy older women he’s serviced in the last couple of years. Simple transactions without preamble or promises – just sex in exchange for cash, with women who were often selfish, rude and bitter and, more often than not, lonely.
Susanne is none of those things. She is beautiful, kind, cultured and courteous – and from the moment he’d set eyes on her, he had bigger plans; an understanding that he’d be playing the long game.
Brandon steps under the shower head and turns his face towards the warm torrent, willing his head to clear so he can plot his next move.
He leaves Susanne sunbathing flanked by Dale and Evie, after vague mumblings about needing to visit one of San Gimignano’s travel shops to plot the next leg of his journey. Without explanation, he takes Star with him; the original cover story of her being Sander’s girlfriend no longer seems to matter. Soon Susanne would know everything – or at least an edited and fictionalised version of events – and it would all seem irrelevant.
Rumbling along in the jeep, Star is tight-lipped, her eyes fixed on the horizon.
‘You all right, love?’ Brandon asks.
Star nods. ‘Yeah. I got my period this morning and my tummy hurts. Slow down, will you? It’s worse when we go over bumps.’
Brandon sighs. ‘You only had to ask. Are you sure that’s all it is?’
‘Isn’t that enough? Like you’d know how it feels!’
‘Sorry, you just seem—’
‘Pissed off? Brandon, I’m scared. Those women are going home soon and then what? Why won’t you tell me anything? You keep talking about this big plan you’ve got up your sleeve. Well, for Christ’s sake, can you share it with me, please? Because as far as I can see, once they leave, we’ll have to as well – and then what? Moving from place to place and staying in shitty two-star hostels again?’
Brandon changes down a gear and looks across at his sister; tears shine in her eyes and something else. Fear.
Star wrings her hands; her voice is almost a whisper. ‘What happened… it’ll all come out… I know it will… and then that’s it. Game over.’
Brandon shakes his head. ‘Stop it, Star. We agreed never to speak about it. Look, trust me. If Susanne—’
Star balls up her fists in frustration. ‘If Susanne what, Brandon? If fleecing Susanne is your big career move to get us out of shit street, you’re cutting it pretty bloody fine.’
Oh god, he can see the hysteria rising, the panic. Seeing a passing point up ahead, he slows down and manoeuvres into it.
‘Okay, Star. Listen… listen to me! I know this has been really hard, on both of us – and after Mum and everything – but we have got to keep it together. We’re nearly there. Because the thing is, I’m not going to rob Susanne. I’m going to marry her.’
In the jewellery store just off Piazza Della Cisterna, Star has cheered up immensely, eyes quick and darting like a magpie, mesmerised by all that glitters under the lights.
The salesman tenderly strokes the tips of his moustache. ‘Please, take your time. Affairs of the heart cannot be rushed,’ he says in his honeyed Italian accent.
Brandon gazes at tray after tray of cheap costume rings, feeling despondent and clueless.
‘Star, please – help me with this. It doesn’t need to be expensive – that’s the whole point. It’ll be a romantic gesture, to show her I’m serious, but with the promise of the real thing once we get home.’
‘Only if I can have one as well,’ Star pouts, trying on three rings in quick succession, watched by the salesman.
‘God, you really are a little pain. Yes, all right. You can have a small one, only don’t show the others, will you? It’ll detract from the romance of it all.’
Ten minutes later, Brandon emerges onto the cobbled street clutching a smart carrier bag, its silky gold bow belying the modest price tag of the ring inside.
Star had insisted on wearing hers at once. With an indulgent smile, the salesman had cleaned it for her there and then.
‘Oh, thank you! Have I ever told you what a generous big brother you are, Brandon?’ Star says, laying her gratitude on with a trowel.
Brandon sighs. ‘Small things… but I’m glad you like it.’
Star extends her hand and admires the bubble-gum stone in its silver setting. ‘Do you think it’s a real pink topaz?’ she says, her eyes wide.
‘Not at that price. But it was worth the thirty euros to see you smiling again, and I must admit it looks very pretty.’
‘Yeah, well, I hope Susanne likes hers and she says yes. If she doesn’t, I’ll have her ring as well.’
‘Oh, she’ll say yes. I know she will,’ Brandon says with more conviction than he feels.
44
Susanne
Susanne had expected to hear from Colin. After all, an Edinburgh to Gatwick airport handover stood between them and there were timings to sort. What had floored her was Colin’s assertion that he’d be driving down from Edinburgh to Tunbridge Wells instead; a dual-purpose trip that combined the safe door-to-door delivery of their son and the opportunity for Susanne to meet Melissa. Which could only mea
n one thing.
Heart racing and palms clammy, Susanne had nevertheless managed to keep her tone breezy.
‘Oh, okay. Well, I’m sure Cody will enjoy the drive. Has Melissa got family here, or are you two doing anything special while you’re down south?’ The pulsing in her ears had almost drowned out Colin’s answer.
‘No, nothing like that. We’re specifically coming to see you, Susanne. It’s important that you meet Mel. We’ve been together ages and I’m sure you’re curious about the woman Cody has spent all summer with,’ Colin had reasoned.
‘Of course. I agree, makes total sense. Actually, Col, I have to go; the girls and I are heading out for the day and they’re waiting for me,’ she’d lied, fearing her emotions would get the better of her.
They’d skipped to the arrangements then. The day after Susanne landed, Colin would rock up at her home with Cody and Melissa in tow, then they’d all have dinner together in one of the brasseries in town before the visiting couple would check into the spa hotel on the common overnight.
Harry had considerately given her some space but is now mysteriously absent, after mumbling about going to the travel agent in San Gimignano. At this precise moment, his vagueness – and the fact that Star has gone along for the ride – couldn’t matter less; Susanne is relieved that she can fall apart in relative privacy and pick over Colin’s news with her friends.
As they lie draped on sunbeds, basking in the scorching sun in a last-ditch effort to top up their tans, Susanne fills them in.
Dale looks put-out. ‘Bloody hell, Susanne, that’s shitty. I’m really sorry.’ She reaches for the sun cream and begins liberally applying it to her chest and shoulders. ‘Thing is, I guess it was always going to happen. Are you okay with it?’
Actually, I’m not okay with any of it, Susanne wants to scream. I’m not okay with meeting my ex-husband’s new partner – especially when he’s likely to announce that they’re getting engaged, married or starting a family of their own. I’m not okay with the fact that I’ve been sleeping with my neighbour’s godson, who is almost young enough to be my son, and most of all, I’m not okay with my oldest, closest friend stuffing my personal possessions under her mattress and lying to my face. So, no, Dale, I am not okay.
Instead, Susanne swallows hard. ‘I have a feeling they’re getting married. And I’m fine – I just need to get used to the idea, that’s all. Cody has already accepted Melissa, so now it’s my turn to suck it up.’
‘Easier said than done though,’ Evie says, sitting up. ‘It’s like the final chapter to the fairy tale.’
Susanne scoffs. ‘Think that came with the divorce, Evie, love. I’ll be fine, really.’
Dale stretches like a cat and grins. ‘I feel a bit sorry for Melissa, though. Just imagine, you’re meeting your bloke’s ex-wife for the first time… and then she looks like you, Susie,’ she chuckles.
Harry’s assessment of Dale echoes in Susanne’s ears: the woman’s obsessed with you.
‘Well, clearly Colin prefers her,’ Susanne snaps, her tone sharper than intended.
When Harry returns, he seems nervous and edgy, the tension visible in his face. He barely acknowledges Dale and Evie, moving past them and sweeping Susanne into his arms.
‘Have you had a relaxing morning, Susie? Was everything okay with your ex when he rang?’ His gaze is searching. Without waiting for an answer, he looks to the others. ‘Girls, will you forgive me if I take Susanne out to dinner tonight?’ He turns back to Susanne. ‘I thought we could drive into Siena – get dressed up and go somewhere special, on me, of course. It’s the end of the holiday, after all.’
Touched by Harry’s urgency and extravagant display of affection, Susanne agrees.
Dale and Evie exchange looks. What the hell? It’s only one evening; for once she can’t be bothered to factor in Dale’s approval.
‘Harry, I’d love to – if you’re sure,’ Susanne says, suddenly shy and realising how much she longs to be alone with him so that he can take away the hurt caused by Colin.
‘Oh, I’ve never been more sure of anything,’ is Harry’s earnest reply.
Star joins them, swigging cola from a can, her expression quizzical. ‘Hiya, what have I missed?’
Harry beams at her. ‘I’ve just asked Susanne out to dinner – just the two of us – and she said yes.’
Star’s smile is radiant. She does a funny little skip, sending an arc of cola flying.
It’s almost seven thirty by the time they arrive in Siena. The light is beginning to fade but the city’s ancient stone retains its heat. Susanne glances down at her feet, grateful for her jewelled flats; between the winding cobbled streets and the temperature, her wedges would have slowed her down.
Strolling around Piazza del Campo, Susanne regards Harry’s profile. With his mouth curved in a gentle smile and his eyes lively, he wears the expression of someone desperate to share a secret. Their conversation in the car had been disjointed and offered no clues as to why he had brought her here, to this romantic city.
Looking around her, Susanne is aware that Harry is several inches taller than most Italian men and easily as handsome. A sudden flashback to the night before, Harry’s face contorted in ecstasy then soft as a child’s as he’d fallen asleep beside her, adds a delicate flush to her cheeks.
‘Hey,’ Harry points ahead, ‘I think I can see it. Yes, that’s the one. Bar Il Palio. I read online that it’s the place to be at aperitivo time. Come on, let’s see if we can squeeze in somewhere.’
A glass of prosecco in hand, grazing on tiny delicious snacks and people watching, Susanne sighs with contentment.
‘You look happy, baby,’ Harry says, lacing his fingers into hers.
‘I am, it’s wonderful here. Good to be on our own, too. I love my friends dearly but being around them twenty-four seven has been a strain – for all of us.’
Harry’s expression clouds over. ‘I’m not surprised. Things must be very tricky between you and Dale after finding out—’
Susanne stiffens. ‘Actually, do you mind if we don’t talk about it? Sometimes the house feels like a tinder box waiting to go up. Let’s not spoil tonight.’ She finishes her wine. ‘Shall we have another drink?’
Harry shakes his head. ‘You can, but I’m driving, aren’t I? There’s a restaurant I want to take you to – trust me you’ll love it.’
A short walk away at the Villa Marcello, Susanne agrees; Harry has made an excellent choice. Everything pleases her, from the charming trompe l’oeil of an olive grove, which gives the intimate restaurant a depth it does not possess, to the soft, flickering candlelight and the crisp white table linen. Glasses sparkle, the waiters are discreet and the food is mouth-watering.
‘Oh my god, this antipasti is the best I’ve ever eaten,’ Susanne breathes as zesty artichoke hearts explode in her mouth and prosciutto melts on her tongue.
Despite the perfection of each dish, Harry eats little, his eyes darting and watchful. Instead he seems nervous, sipping fizzy water and toying with his food.
After a main course of wild boar ravioli, Susanne rubs her stomach. ‘Harry, I’m done. That was wonderful, but I couldn’t manage another mouthful. How on earth did you know about this place? It’s so… traditional… I mean for—’
‘For a young guy like me? I researched it online. I wanted to take you somewhere special. You don’t have to keep bringing everything back to age. There’s so much you don’t know about me. Age is just a number; it couldn’t matter less, and really, we’re not so different.’
Susanne’s eyes are soft in the candlelight. ‘Harry, we could scarcely be more different. Look, I know you think you have feelings for me, but you’ll forget all about me once you get home. You’ve got an incredible new job waiting, and more than that, parents who love you and who want the very best for you. I’ve loved our time together, but—’
Harry shakes his head. ‘No! Don’t say it. Nothing has to change… Well, actually, it does. But going home doesn’t m
ean the end for us.’ His eyes blaze, and after taking a sip of water, he chews his lip.
Astonished by his outburst, Susanne’s voice is gentle. ‘Harry, what on earth do you think your godmother would say if we kept seeing each other? We can’t go sneaking around once we’re home, it would be just too weird.’
‘Forget her! Ronnie doesn’t matter… or the job… or any other fucking thing that you think is so important.’
Embarrassed, Susanne looks around. Anywhere else, Harry’s raised voice might have attracted attention, but here, he cannot be heard over the boisterous hubbub of other diners. She changes the subject, asks him about the highlight of his summer.
Harry groans. ‘No, please, not small talk. Susanne, I love you, and I can’t let you fly home without making you understand that properly.’
Susanne breathes deeply; the heat has become stifling and her stomach has begun to churn. ‘I think the world of you, too. But we need to get to know each other. Holidays are such a weird, intense bubble. The practicality of life would be so different. You’re just twenty-five, and you need to do normal stuff like have lots of girlfriends, make your mark at work, then one day get married and have children.’ Susanne’s thoughts turn to Cody; the pang of missing her son is like a physical blow. She gropes for her water glass, aware of a rising nausea.
‘Yes, yes, you’re right. All those things. But with you, Susie. With you!’ Then to Susanne’s utter astonishment, Harry has slid from his seat and is on one knee before her, the other leg extended comically behind him, ready to trip up any passing waiter. In his hands: a small velvet box. He opens it up. A ring with a large, clear stone sparkles in the candlelight. His mouth is forming shapes – words that Susanne cannot hear for the pounding sea in her ears. She feels her face becoming hotter, her hands tingling… Black shapes float before her eyes before silence envelops her.
The Perfect Liar: A completely gripping thriller with a breathtaking twist Page 20