Sometimes I Lie(57)

‘Good. I wish her a very unhappy retirement.’

I’ve always known where I stood with Claire, she doesn’t pretend to be someone she’s not with me. She knows what I know and it never seems to bother her. Katie starts crying in her high chair. Claire doesn’t even glance in her direction.

‘How did she look?’

‘What?’

‘When you told her?’

Katie is crying louder now. I can see people throwing irritated glances in our direction, but Claire just stares at me, her face so familiar and yet impossible to read.

‘I don’t really want to talk about it.’

‘I do.’

‘I did it my way. All that matters is it’s done.’

Both children are screaming now, but it’s as though we can’t hear them.

‘Thank you,’ she says. The conversation feels like a forgery.

‘I didn’t exactly have a choice. Now that I’ve done what you asked, leave Paul alone.’ She gives me a look when I say this, a warning look. A glass smashes on the stone floor a few tables away and it feels like something between us has also broken. I know I shouldn’t say any more, but a drawer has opened in my mind and the words that were neatly folded away for so long, tumble out.

‘I mean it, Claire. Leave Paul alone or I’ll disappear, you’ll never see me again.’

‘Has something happened?’ she asks, sitting up a little straighter in her chair.

‘No.’

‘I don’t believe you. You’re not yourself. You’re not . . . balanced. Has he hurt you?’

‘No!’ She studies my face and I look away. Too late. She’s seen something.

‘Has someone else hurt you?’

‘No,’ I reply again. Not fast enough. For a moment I want to tell her everything. I want to tell her that she’s right, she’s always right. Someone has hurt me but I still can’t remember how I ended up in Edward’s bed. When I recall my naked body on the navy sheets I worry that it was all my fault.

‘It’s OK. You’ll tell me when you’re ready. You always do. Paul is no good for you though, not any more. He’s lost his way in life and you can do better. Mum and Dad knew it too.’

‘Leave him alone.’

‘Don’t be silly.’

‘If anything ever happens to him, I’ll kill myself.’

The corners of her mouth turn upwards. ‘No you won’t,’ she says, through her smile.

Run rabbit, run rabbit. Run! Run! Run!

The twins are screaming and I’m crying now too. Claire is the only one left on our table who isn’t.

‘We had an agreement,’ I say. ‘If people knew what you . . .’

Claire reaches across the table and takes my hand. Her grip is so tight that it hurts.

‘Just be careful, Amber.’





Before

Saturday, 19th December 1992


Dear Diary,

I haven’t been talking to Mum or Dad since I found out we are moving again, but I’m not sure they’ve noticed. I told Dad this morning that I wanted to go to the park and he said that I could. Then, when him and Mum were arguing upstairs, I called Taylor. Her mum made her come to the phone, she didn’t say much, but I told her to meet me there if she could. The park is exactly halfway between our houses. I left at 12.47 because I know it takes thirteen minutes to get there and I told Taylor to meet me at one o’clock. I don’t have a watch, but I must have walked very quickly because I was waiting on the swings for a long time.

Just when I was about to give up, I saw the Volvo on the street outside. Taylor’s mum waved and smiled. I waved back at her but I didn’t smile because I wanted her to know how sad I was. I thought it was strange that Taylor hadn’t walked there by herself, it isn’t far. She took ages to get out of the car and, when she finally did, she didn’t look like herself. She’s had her hair cut into a bob, so now we don’t look the same any more.

The playground is for little kids really, so there are bars all the way round the outside to keep them in, to keep them safe. Taylor came and stood on the other side of the bars, so it looked a bit like she was visiting me in jail. It felt strange at first, not easy and comfortable like before. I told Taylor I was moving and she said that she knew that and did a funny shrug of her shoulders. Then she said that she had heard her parents say that Dad had been fired for stealing. I told her that wasn’t true and explained that Dad left his job to look after Mum; I’m not sure she believed me. I said maybe we could talk on the swings instead of through the bars and she came round.

I asked her about school and she said I hadn’t missed much before the end of term. It seemed really difficult to talk to her and I felt like she didn’t understand how terrible it was that I had to move house, so I cried a little bit on purpose. She was much nicer after that, like the old Taylor even though she looked different. I asked her if she’d been OK at school without me and she shook her head. She took off her coat and rolled up the sleeve of her jumper. There were two round red scars on her arm. I asked who did it to her but she wouldn’t tell me. I asked if I could touch it and she nodded. I was very careful, feeling the smooth skin on her arm and then circling the inflamed red craters in a figure of eight. I told her I was sorry I wasn’t there to stop it from happening. When I took my finger away, she pulled her sleeve back down and put her coat back on. I knew that was her way of saying she didn’t want to talk about it any more.