The Lies We Told(37)

Tom was waiting for them in the pub when they arrived. It was a beautiful Tudor building with low black beams and wide oak floorboards, roaring fires and battered leather sofas. ‘They’ve got quite a decent menu here if you feel like eating something,’ he said, his manner markedly more relaxed now he was away from The Willows.

Mac glanced at her. ‘I am pretty hungry actually. What do you think?’

She shrugged, suddenly realizing that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten a proper meal. ‘All right,’ she nodded and forced herself to return Tom’s smile.

For the first ten minutes or so after they’d ordered, she listened to them discuss their old school and the local people they knew. She watched as Tom slowly became more at ease and talkative, the way people generally did in Mac’s company. He had a self-deprecating humility that even the chilliest of people tended to warm to, a willingness to listen and let the other person lead. It occurred to her that she and Mac were pretty similar in that sense. Was that what had drawn Luke to them both, she wondered? And was it that same lack of ego, her readiness to take a back seat and let him shine that had allowed him to cheat on her with Sadie, to treat her with so little respect? She remembered a girl she’d once lived in halls with, who’d said with a mixture of pity and scorn, ‘You’re such a people-pleaser, aren’t you, Clara? Doesn’t it get dull?’ She felt a rush of contempt for herself now and with effort pushed the thought away, forcing herself to turn her attention back to Mac and Tom.

They were talking about the area of Norwich where Tom lived, but though he was chatting quite easily there still persisted the sense that he was keeping something of himself back, only allowing them to see a fraction of his true self; the same guardedness that had always made her feel instinctively wary of him. She remembered the scene between Rose and him earlier and shook her head in silent frustration: he was impossible to work out.

‘Cash only,’ the waitress said when their bill arrived and they’d each got their cards out. ‘Machine’s broke. There was a sign at the bar,’ she added wearily.

The three of them exchanged glances. ‘Shit, I don’t have any, do you?’

‘Nope, was going to card it.’

‘There’s a cash machine at the post office down the road,’ Tom said, getting up. ‘I’ll go; it won’t take a minute.’

But Mac stopped him. ‘No, you stay, pal, I need to return a work call anyway,’ he said, waving his mobile at him.

As she watched Mac leave, Clara glanced at Tom. ‘It was good to see your mum and dad before,’ she said coolly, adding pointedly, ‘I like them very much.’

After a pause he returned her gaze and smiled, saying with no hint of rancour, ‘Yes. Everybody does.’

At that moment a different waitress arrived and began wiping down their table and they lapsed back into silence. She noticed after a while that the girl was taking an inordinately long time at her task, and realized she was distracted by Tom, staring at him with open admiration as she wiped the same spot over and over on their table. It was true, she thought without much interest, he was very good looking, but there was something supercilious about his face that prevented him from being truly attractive. She looked at him then and froze in surprise to find his eyes fastened on hers. A little flustered, she said quickly, ‘I was trying to remember something Luke told me once, about Emily.’ Immediately she wanted to kick herself for bringing up his sister so clumsily. She saw Tom’s eyes darken and silently wished she’d found a more gentle way to broach the subject.

‘Oh yes?’ he said, once the waitress had moved away.

She fiddled with a beer mat. ‘He was telling me about a game he used to play with your sister when you were all kids, but I can’t remember what it was. Do you have any idea?’

‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m afraid not.’

‘Right,’ she said, trying to hide her disappointment.

‘Oh, except, it wasn’t a game, as such … but there was a song they used to sing before Luke went to bed – she used to like reading to him then tucking him in at night. ‘“Five Little Monkeys” it was called – you know that rhyme? “Five little monkeys jumping on the bed, one fell off and bumped his head …” Luke used to bounce around on the bed while they sang it. It was a kind of ritual between them … is that what you meant?’

She nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘yes, that was it, thank you.’ For a moment she pictured Luke as a boy, and felt a wave of sadness. When she next looked up it was to see such wretchedness on Tom’s face that she felt a stab of guilt. ‘Oh, Tom, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, I—’

He shook his head. ‘It’s not your fault. It was just, when she went, it was … a bloody awful time, you know?’

‘I can’t even begin to imagine.’

‘Listen, Clara,’ Tom said, leaning forward, the intensity of his gaze returning. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’

She looked at him in surprise. ‘What is it?’

At that moment, the door opened and Mac appeared, brandishing their cards and cash. ‘Sorry – the machine was broken,’ he said. ‘I had to go to the one at the petrol station.’ He looked from one to the other of them. ‘Everything all right, is it?’