Behind the Lie: A nail-biting psychological suspense for 2018

‘No, he’s bought himself out of the army. He said it was the worst mistake of his life; just did it to prove himself to his dad and wished to God that he could turn back time.’

I can feel Demi’s eyes on me, so I send my gaze to the thin navy line that divides sea from sky. A flurry of unbidden thoughts are coming from different directions, smashing into each other, past and present, a tumult of emotions mirroring the pattern of waves bashing against the rocks in front of me. Eventually I say, ‘Well, don’t we all wish we could go back sometimes? Do things a different way? A better way?’

Demi nods. ‘He said that he misses you every day and wishes you were still together. Said he was a fucking idiot to leave you.’

I look at her to see if she is messing about but she’s deadly serious. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah. He knew you’d moved away, of course. Your mum told his mum that you were married. He didn’t know about the babies though – I told him. He said that I should tell you he’s glad for you and wishes you all the happiness in the world.’

The breeze picks up and I look into it and away from Demi to let the moisture dry my eyes. The trouble is, more tears are waiting. I don’t need this. Not now. I can’t think about Jowan. My heart can’t take it.

‘Holly? Are you crying?’

‘No, of course not,’ I say briskly and begin to gather the picnic things. ‘The wind is making my eyes water. Let’s go back to the house now. I’m getting chilly.’

‘Hot chocolate is just the thing for shock,’ Demi says and places a steaming mug in front of me on the balcony table. The clouds have rolled themselves across every inch of blue sky and we are wrapped in blankets, eating biscuits and watching the brave souls still on the beach.

‘I think you’ll find that’s hot, sweet tea. And I’m not in shock.’

Demi looks into her mug. Hot, sweet tea? No, it’s definitely hot chocolate.’

‘I meant that…’ The mischief in her eyes stop my words. It’s usually me that does the winding up.

She points a digestive at me and then dunks it into the mug. ‘Got you there. Makes a change.’

‘Yep. So how’s the jewellery business going? You haven’t said much about it.’

‘Really unsubtle way of changing the subject, Hols.’

I sigh. Demi is really beginning to get on my nerves now. ‘Unsubtle or not, I’d really rather talk about your life for a bit. You said the other day that your new guy might be moving here. Any more developments?’ I take a drink of the hot chocolate and push another image of Jowan’s face from my mind.

Demi brightens and a huge smile tells me that this new guy might be ‘the guy’. ‘Well, funny you should mention that, but yes, Alex texted me last night to say he’s coming down in a few weeks to have another look round. Then he’ll make his decision. It’s a big jump to make from Edinburgh, after all.’

‘Oh, that’s great! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?’

The smile falters and she shrugs. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I didn’t want to jinx it. It was all lovely when we were working in Greece together, but I do worry it won’t last now we’re back here. I don’t have a great track record at keeping men, do I?’

‘But you never really wanted a serious relationship before, did you? You were always content doing your own thing.’

Demi twists her mouth to the side and nods. ‘Yeah, I guess so. It’s just that I don’t want to get hurt. I saw what happened to you and…’

‘Really unsubtle way of bringing the subject back to me, Dem.’ My voice is flat, weary.

She has the grace to look sheepish. ‘Righty-ho, you win. Let’s talk about me. The jewellery-making business isn’t half bad. I think tourists like the fact that I sell out of my van – they buy into the surfer-girl image and I lay it on thick too.’ Demi grins at me and I send one back.

‘Good. And Alex will be good for you; I can feel it in my water.’

Demi gestures at my bump. ‘I hope they don’t break while I’m here!’

‘Me either. You’d probably make me a mug of hot, sweet tea and run around here like a scalded cat.’ We laugh. ‘I haven’t quite decided but I think I might opt for a C-section. Simon’s colleague would do it, of course.’

‘Why not Simon?’

‘Well, it’s frowned upon really. It’s not illegal, but the medical profession thinks operating on family members is unethical. Besides, he’d be far too nervous, him being the expectant dad and all. The plan is for him to sit and hold my hand like any other dad would and leave the hard work to the others.’

‘Good idea. Five weeks to go then?’

‘Yeah, though twins normally come earlier. When I get back I’ll have a scan at Simon’s practice, just to see that everything is okay.’

‘Handy, having a private consultant for a husband.’

The disapproval in her voice rankles. Okay, growing up, Simon’s world and mine and Demi’s were oceans apart. But I live in his world now and he’s done everything he can to make me happy in it. I can’t see the point in picking a fight with her though, and stand to clear the plates. She stands too and puts her hands on my shoulders. I don’t like the serious look in her eye or the way she takes a deep breath as if she’s building up to something.

She lets out the breath and says, ‘You know, it isn’t too late to go back. I can see that living in London is killing you and Jowan said…’

‘For God’s sake!’ I brush off her hands. ‘There is no going back for me and Jowan. Look at me!’ I jab a finger at my belly. ‘I’m about to become a mother, I have a husband who loves me, and if you don’t stop all this nonsense, you and me are going to fall out big time.’

Demi’s face crumbles and she draws me to her. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, love. I don’t want to upset you, I just thought…’

I hold her at arm’s length. ‘Then please don’t. Too much thinking does no good. I’m going back to London tomorrow and everything will be okay, all right?’ I give her a little smile and hope she’ll stop now.

‘Of course. I’ll shut my big gob.’ Demi pretends to zip her lips and gives me another hug. ‘I’d hate to make you unhappy.’

We clear away and I follow her into the kitchen, wishing it wasn’t already too late for that.

Chapter Four (#ulink_0865676a-0fef-5996-9092-0f7efe2806a5)

This was ridiculous. He shouldn’t have to creep around in his own house; he was doing it for her in the end, wasn’t he? Simon held his breath and inched his way past the end of the bed, his eyes watching for any sign that his wife was waking. No. He needn’t have worried. Holly’s breathing was a slow and steady in-out-in-out. And with any luck he’d be out, too, in a few minutes, if only he could find his car keys.

Ten minutes later, a cold sweat beading his brow, he slipped behind the wheel of his Mercedes, a mixture of guilt and relief slipping in with him. In the ten days since his wife had been back from Cornwall, it had been difficult for him to get out of the apartment in the evenings. Holly had been clingy and anxious, asking him why he was going out, where he was going, what time he’d be home. Each time, he’d made excuses about work, or that he was out to dinner with old university friends, but the last five nights he’d just sneaked out while she was sleeping.

Simon couldn’t tell her the truth, of course. Last year, when things hadn’t been too desperate, he’d told her about his occasional casino jaunts and she’d looked at him as if he’d told her he was a child molester. Then he’d had the lecture about how the only people who really win are the casino owners and didn’t he know that it would all end in disaster. What did she know about gambling? Holly was a country girl with a very naive way of looking at the world. When he’d won big, she hadn’t turned her nose up at the extra gifts he’d showered on her though, had she? No. Particularly that beach house she adored so much. Did she think the money for that came out of thin air?

Then a little voice whispered in his ear that he was being far too hard on her. Wasn’t she just trying to look out for him? She loved him, that was obvious. In the end he was only getting angry because he knew she was right, deep down. It was a mug’s game. Nevertheless, things were about to change and everything would turn out just fine.

At a red light, Simon took a deep breath and expelled it along with any trace of guilt. Yes, he’d had a longish run of bad luck at the tables lately. The worst loss had been to that nasty little toad Giles, the night Holly had told him she was staying on in Cornwall. She’d upset him and that had clouded his judgement. Turned out Giles hadn’t been quite as drunk as he’d made out. Simon had been greedy and by God he’d paid for it. But he’d be lucky tonight; he could feel it in his gut. And it wasn’t just his gut; probability came into it too. He’d lost every night for ten nights. How long could a run of bad luck last, for goodness’ sake?

*

Everybody loves a winner, don’t they say? What a difference a few weeks made. Lauren looked at him quickly and then away as if he was something distasteful, something… Simon’s befuddled mind struggled for an adequate description… something unwholesome. Who the hell did she think she was? Jumped up little gold-digger.

‘Hey, Lauren, my glass needs a refill! What’s up, don’t you fancy me any more now Lady Luck has deserted me?’

Lauren looked at him and had the grace to blush. Then she raised a quizzical eyebrow across the room at a thick-set man in an expensive suit, one of the managers, Simon thought. He shook his head at Lauren and she shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, Mr West. Casino policy is to refuse to serve customers who might have had a little too much to drink.’

‘Eh?’ Simon leaned his elbows on the bar to steady his legs. ‘I’ve only had a couple! A double whisky in this glass now, if you please, miss.’ Simon thumped the glass down hard on the bar.

The thick-set man came over and whispered in his ear. ‘We don’t want to upset everyone, do we, Mr West? Allow me to escort you outside.’