One good lie, p.2
One Good Lie, page 2
A wolf whistle sounded, shrill and loud. Out of the corner of her eye, Ruby spotted a group of lads, four or five of them, on the other side of the square, cans of beer in hand. She was tempted to shout over a witty quip, berate them for their ridiculous behaviour, but decided against it. She didn’t have the energy for an argument tonight.
Inside the store, a bored assistant behind the counter flicked through a magazine while twirling her hair between her thumb and forefinger. A burly man with silver hair was kneeling at the end of an aisle, filling shelves.
When Ruby left the shop, bottle of water in hand, the lads had crossed the square and gathered outside. She cracked open the bottle, took a sip of water and made to pass by.
‘Well, look what we have here.’ A gangly youth in a Manchester United shirt and jeans that hung loose around his backside stood in front of her, hands in his pockets. A silver ring glistened in his brow. He was only about eighteen. His mate, all crew cut, and acne-scarred cheeks, moved in beside him.
Ruby rolled her eyes and sidestepped. This was all she needed.
Baggy Jeans moved with her, blocking her path.
She lowered the bottle, screwed on the lid and met his eyeline defiantly.
‘What? Don’t you want to play?’
Crew Cut chuckled. ‘Why don’t you give me some of that water?’ he said.
She glanced back at the shop, considered shouting for help. But the alcohol was dulling her instincts, bolstering her. Perhaps she should plant a fist in his gut instead.
The rest of the group circled her, filling the pavement. She slipped her hand in her jacket pocket, curled her fingers around her phone. Contemplated pushing through, though she didn’t fancy her chances if they made chase. Not in these heels.
‘Get out of my way,’ she said, loud enough for anyone with half an ear nearby to hear.
‘Or what?’ Crew Cut replied.
Where was a pedestrian, a motorist, when you wanted one?
Ruby pulled out her phone and stepped closer to Crew Cut. ‘I said, out of my way.’ As she did so, her heel caught the edge of a paving slab. She wobbled.
A snicker travelled around the group.
She could taste their breath now; the combination of lager and nicotine made her heave. She fisted her free hand, about to lash out when…
‘I think the lady wants to pass through.’
Ruby hadn’t heard the assistant who’d been stacking shelves approach the door. He looked broader standing upright, arms folded across his chest, and must have been well over six foot.
‘We’re not stopping her.’ Crew Cut shrugged and slid aside. Nudging his mates. They sniggered and moved off up the street.
‘Catch you later!’ Baggy Jeans called back.
The shop assistant watched them until they were smudges of colour disappearing into the night, and turned to Ruby. ‘You okay, miss?’
Ruby nodded gratefully, thanked him and took off in the opposite direction to the lads. She was feeling nauseous now. The sooner she was out of town, the better.
A car cruised by. She risked a glimpse behind. Exhaled when she found the pavement empty and took another swig of water. She crossed the road beside the old grammar school and slipped down by the church. It was darker there, few of the streetlights illuminated.
Ruby glanced back again. The exchange outside the supermarket had rattled her. She should have taken Lewis up on his offer of a lift.
She was turning into Clarence Street, wondering whether to call Lewis and see if he was still up, when she heard footsteps. Someone running. Another check behind. Empty. Nothing ahead either. She sped up. Surely those lads hadn’t decided to double back and follow her, after all. The steps grew louder, gaining ground. She grabbed her phone, swung around.
‘Ewan!’ Ruby gasped at the sight of her sister’s boyfriend. He was dressed in dark jogging trousers, a fitted polo shirt. ‘What are you doing? You scared the hell out of me.’
‘Sorry. I saw you turn into Clarence Street, thought I’d catch you up.’ He surveyed her a second. ‘You okay, you seem a bit jumpy?’
She gulped. ‘So would you be if someone crept up behind you in the dark.’
‘I said I’m sorry.’
‘What are you doing out here anyway?’
‘I often come out in the evenings and jog or walk to clear my head.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘Sophie’s out for the count,’ he added, guessing her thoughts.
‘And the kids?’
‘Same. It’s been a rough day for everyone.’
‘You can say that again. Anyway, I need to get back.’ She flicked her hair over her shoulder, made to move off. She didn’t want to analyse the inner workings of the day. She wanted to put it behind her.
‘I’ll walk with you,’ he said.
‘There’s no need.’
‘Might as well, since I’m here.’
Ruby didn’t argue when he fell into step beside her. She was still uneasy from the experience outside the supermarket, her nerves frayed. She turned to ask about Sophie, and twisted on her heel.
‘Hey, steady!’ he said, grabbing her elbow, saving her fall. The drone of an engine filled the air as a car passed. ‘Good job I’m here.’
Ruby pulled her elbow back, straightened and finished the rest of the water, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and dropping the bottle into a nearby bin.
‘Are you sure Sophie’s okay?’ she asked. With the trial over, the reality of continuing the routine of life without their mother was kicking in now and, out of the two of them, Sophie had leaned more heavily on their mother, relying on her for childcare. Ruby had lost count of the times she’d popped by to see her mum at the shop, only to find a notice on the door saying, ‘Back in thirty minutes’ because she’d nipped out to do the school run. Or to find Alfie and Daisy, Sophie’s children, sitting behind the counter, drawing pictures.
‘She’ll be fine,’ Ewan said. ‘She’s stronger than you think. And she’s got me.’
They turned the next corner and the road opened up. The sky was dotted with stars, a million tiny torchlights beaming down. It really was a beautiful evening.
‘It was a nice service,’ Ewan said.
‘I suppose.’
‘Until the vicar sang out of tune.’
Ruby remembered the startled faces and nudges that rippled around the church like a Mexican wave when they opened with the first hymn, and laughed.
‘I mean what vicar is tone-deaf?’ he continued. ‘Surely they take singing lessons as part of their theology degree. All those services. All those hymns.’
‘Mum’s friends made up for it anyway.’
‘Yeah, I thought they were never going to go this evening.’
‘Same!’
He dug his elbow into her ribs. ‘I bet they look forward to funerals. All those wakes. I can see them now, checking the obituaries online to see when the next service is. Desperately trying to find some connection to the deceased.’
Ruby chuckled again. The way his Glaswegian accent crisply enunciated the words made them sound more amusing. She felt the tension trickle out of her shoulders. They’d rarely spoken alone in the time they’d known each other, and it struck her how much quieter he was in Sophie’s company. Maybe he was pumped full of wine tonight too. Either way, it made the journey more pleasant.
They crossed the road. She was only five minutes from home now. Ewan was talking about a vicar with a lisp at a friend’s wedding who showered the bride and groom with spittle during their vows.
Ruby snorted with laughter.
She didn’t see the cat on the wall. Didn’t notice until it jumped onto the pavement in front, startling her. She staggered back, stumbled again. Her phone slipped out of her hand and crashed onto the paving.
When she knelt to retrieve it, the screen was shattered.
‘Is it still working?’ Ewan asked.
‘I don’t know.’ She groaned, hauled herself up and the ground shifted. She’d drunk more of that wine than she’d intended.
‘Let me take a look.’ They were nearing the backs of the houses that marked Ruby’s neighbouring street. Two rows of garages facing each other across a narrow channel. He moved into the gap to avoid a car parked across the pavement at the end, stepping over tufts of grass pushing through the cracks in the concrete, and switched on the phone. The splintered screen illuminated into a kaleidoscope of colour. ‘I think it’s just surface damage.’
‘Thanks.’ Ruby took the phone back and cursed the wine again. Clumsy fingers fumbling across the broken glass, checking her apps. Suddenly she became aware of how close they were standing. She could feel the heat of his body. Smell the mint on his breath. Another dizzy spell. She blew a shot of cool air up her face. Placed out a hand to steady herself and grabbed his arm. He slid his free hand around her waist. It was warm, inviting. He hooked her gaze.
Within seconds, his lips were on hers. Watery, hungry. Before she’d realised, he’d pushed her further up the cut-through. A garage door clattered as they fell into it. Fingers weaved through the back of her hair, tongue exploring her mouth. Her jacket slipped from her grasp. He tugged her hair, hard, pulling her head back. His free hand yanking up her dress. Urgent, fast movements until he found her warm flesh. His hand travelled to her thigh…
A car engine roared as it passed on the nearby road, the sound inducing a moment of clarity. What was he doing?
‘Stop!’ she yelled, pushing him away.
Ewan jerked back, releasing his grip.
He was Sophie’s boyfriend for Christ’s sake. She didn’t even fancy him. She couldn’t. Not like that.
‘Sorry.’ He stepped back further, held up his hands.
Ruby couldn’t speak, her head swirling. She made a play of brushing down her dress, desperately trying to work through the mist in her head.
‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘I don’t know what came over me. It must have been the drink.’ He tugged at his collar, twisted his head to the side.
Ruby wobbled again and pressed her hand to the door to steady herself. She could feel bile rising in her throat. Was that due to alcohol or anger? She couldn’t be sure. Either way, she should go home. Sleep it off. Everything would seem better in the morning.
‘I didn’t mean…’ His face folded, contrite. ‘Look, I’ve never done anything like this before. I’d never do anything to hurt Sophie. You must know that.’ He reached out.
She flinched, batting his arm away. Too hard. He toppled sideways, crashing against a refuse bin nearby.
‘Ruby, please.’ He put out a conciliatory hand.
‘Get. Off. Me.’ The words were shrill and louder than she’d intended.
She picked up her jacket, about to move off, when a voice called from end of the cut-through. ‘Everything all right?’
They both turned to the figure, silhouetted in the streetlights.
Ruby’s heart shrank to a tiny crisp. How long had he been there? She didn’t recognise the voice, couldn’t make out any features in the darkness, but the last thing she wanted was to be spotted in a compromising position with her sister’s boyfriend, even if it was by a complete stranger.
She balled her jacket to her chest, cast one last cursory glance at Ewan and made off.
Chapter 4
There’s something insidious about unfinished business. It crawls about beneath the skin like an army of restless ants.
I watch her hurry down Clarence Street, shoulders hunched, soft shoes gently teasing the paving. My unfinished business.
She’s wearing a denim jacket and that skirt I like, the one that swishes around her porcelain ankles. Clasps the strap of her bag tightly, flicks her gaze to the puffball dress in the bridal shop window as she passes.
I follow behind, taking care to keep to the shadows of the shopfronts splaying across the pavement. I love this town with its mix of Georgian and contemporary architecture, its leafy avenues, tree-lined streets, posh boutiques and coffee houses. The surrounding wrap of rolling Leicestershire countryside. A haven in the midst of rural England. I can see why she came back.
That was her first mistake.
A mix in design means narrow lanes, alleys and side passages. Plenty of places to shelter, plenty of nooks in which to hide.
Her second mistake was to walk through the town centre under the cover of darkness.
She reaches the turn to Simpson’s Place, turns and pauses. Dithers about entering. She knows if she continues to the top of Clarence Street, it’ll take her to High Street. It’s busier up there and well lit. Motorists crawl up and down the road. Cameras keep a watchful eye on pedestrians.
Go on…
She’s reluctant. There are no streetlights in Simpson’s Place and the cut-through, sandwiched between The Greek Deli and The Artisan Bakery, is quiet and dark tonight. She glances back up the road. Considers continuing to the next turn, another side street but better lit. Though it’ll add three minutes onto her journey. When you’re in hiding, living on the edge of life, three extra minutes outside the safety of shelter, you can ill afford.
Go on…
Her shoulders drop. Another check back. She hitches the strap of her bag further up her shoulder, turns and enters.
I run my finger along the blade in my pocket and quicken my step. Once I’ve tied up this loose end, nothing will come between us.
Chapter 5
Sophie shifted onto her side and reached across the bed, flinching at the cold sheet, the ruffle where the covers were pulled back. She opened a bleary eye, lifted her head. The digital clock on the bedside cabinet winked as it changed time: 11:41 p.m.
‘Ewan?’ Her whisper disappeared into the darkness.
She sat up and rubbed her knuckles into her eyes, listening for the sound of his footfalls on the polished floor. All was quiet.
Climbing out of bed, she wrapped a robe around her shoulders and padded across the landing, wandering into the next bedroom. Daisy was fast asleep on her back, an arm hanging out of the bed. Tendrils of messy curls covered her face. She tucked the child’s arm back in and brushed her hair away from her eyes.
In the other room, Alfie had pushed his covers off and was hunched in the middle, a tiny ball. She lifted him up the bed, covered him over and kissed his crown. He wriggled onto his side, opened his eyes to a tiny slit, looked at her a second and closed them again.
At the bottom of the stairs, a line of light shone beneath the closed kitchen door. She gave the door a nudge, expecting to see Ewan sitting at the breakfast bar. The room was empty, the soft under-cupboard lighting creating a gentle glow. Had he gone home? It seemed odd to leave the light on and disappear without leaving a note.
Sophie’s eyes rested on her phone, charging on the side. She was signing in, about to check her messages when she noticed the amber glare of a cigarette through the window.
A whoosh of cool air raced in as she opened the back door.
Ewan jumped. He’d been leaning against the back wall, staring up at the stars.
‘Thought you’d given up,’ she said, nodding toward the cigarette.
‘I have.’ He gave a half-smile.
She reached across, grabbed the cigarette and took a long drag, relishing the rush of nicotine entering her lungs.
‘Just needed a little pick-me-up.’
She ran her gaze over his jogging bottoms and shirt. ‘You going somewhere?’
‘I could hardly come out here in my pyjamas, could I?’
Sophie laughed. Ewan didn’t wear pyjamas. She imagined the old lady over the back traipsing to the bathroom for a pee in the middle of the night, looking out of the window and getting the shock of her life at the sight of a nude man in her neighbour’s garden.
She handed him the cigarette. ‘I’m going to make a hot chocolate. Do you want one?’
‘Fags and chocolate. You sure know how to spoil a guy.’
Sophie gave a wry smile, went back inside and busied herself with making the drinks. She was stirring the powder into the heated milk when he wandered back inside.
He blew into his palms, rubbed them together. ‘It’s colder than it looks out there.’
They sat in silence at the breakfast bar, hands wrapped around their mugs. ‘Can’t you sleep?’ she asked eventually.
He shook his head, took another sip. ‘We’ll have been together a year on Sunday,’ he said.
Sophie did her best to hide her surprise. She hadn’t exactly forgotten, she knew their first anniversary must be looming, but planning the memorial service had occupied practically every waking moment, these past weeks. ‘A whole year.’ She smiled sleepily.
‘We’ve not had an easy ride, have we? With everything that’s happened.’
‘I suppose not.’ She placed the mug down in front of her and stared into it, eyes half closing.
‘Can we put the investigation behind us now? Move forward? A clean slate. Just you, me and the kids.’
‘Sounds like a good plan.’ She raised her mug, clicked it against his in mock celebration. ‘I declare our new life starts tomorrow.’
Little did she know how prophetic that statement would be.
Chapter 6
The incessant rain tapped the window like a fingernail, pulling Ruby from the depths of her slumber. A clap of thunder followed. She hauled herself forward, a pain spiking her temple at the slight movement, slid out of bed and closed the window. It was 8:05 a.m. She was running late.
Another pain, stronger this time. She threw her robe around her shoulders, pressed a palm to her forehead and padded to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Fishing around for the paracetamol and swallowing two tablets down with water straight from the tap.
She held onto the edge of the sink and hung her head, waiting for the pain to ease, then dried her mouth with the back of her hand and lifted her gaze to the mirror. Yesterday’s wine had taken its toll. Eyes bloodshot, skin alabaster white, her dark hair limp and lifeless, she looked like she’d been in bed for days with the flu. She toyed with calling work, taking a sick day. Although, she’d noticed two appointments already booked into the diary for her this morning before she’d left on Monday. Two kitchen refurbishments to discuss with potential clients, while they scrutinised every pound sign on the quotation. And they were short-staffed as it was, with Kat, her colleague, sunning herself in Tenerife.
