Liar

by K. L. Slater

  Henry … wild! I have to smile at that. Those were the days, when my waist was slim, my stomach firm. Somehow, looking at this stuff makes me ache for what I was back then, and even more, for what we had in our marriage. Where did the sense of excitement go? The longing for each other’s touch, the wanting?

  Over time, our marriage has faded, like a vibrant painting left in strong sunlight for too many years. Time has slipped through our fingers like melting snow. We thought we had so much of it, but suddenly it’s just cold water, trickling away fast.

  We’re middle-aged but not over the hill yet. There are potentially many years to come when life could be better – improved. A sense of opportunity floods briefly through me, then just as quickly it is gone.

  I’ve never tried to talk to Henry about how we used to be and how we are together now. He’s not the sort of man to want to get entangled with old memories. In fact, we talk about very little together any more.

  I shake my head to disperse the gloomy thoughts and close the drawer promptly, feeling a little sick now.

  Straightening up, I turn to look at the two bedside tables. Ben has always slept on the left of the bed, and I spot his exercise wristband next to the lamp and his small, square alarm clock.

  I move to the right-hand side. There is nothing on this bedside table apart from the new tasselled light.

  Swallowing down a gristly lump that seems to have lodged itself in the back of my throat, I slide open the bedside drawer. My hand flies to my mouth and I step quickly back. I can feel my cheeks burning. I’m half ashamed of myself, half outraged by the contents.

  I close the drawer quickly and leave the room, dizzy with the sense that my trusting son is in jeopardy and there’s nothing I can do about it.

  23

  Judi

  I head straight back downstairs, dashing into the kitchen to pick up my ornaments, then back to the hallway, where I hastily grab my handbag, leaving the cleaning products where I dropped them. I can’t wait to get away from this house; it’s a place I no longer recognise.

  It’s not until I’m halfway home in the car that my throat starts to burn as badly as if I’ve swallowed acid.

  The house – Ben and the boys’ home – feels like it belongs to someone else. What on earth was he thinking, allowing someone he’s only just met to put her stamp on everything so quickly, stripping its familiarity away?

  How dare she take over this space and make decisions that Ben would never dream of making on his own?

  My hand moves to my throat, trying to massage away the burning sensation. I open the car window slightly to clear the fuzz in my head, and very quickly, the obvious answer to all my questions emerges.

  Thanks to my spot of snooping around, I’ve discovered some of the methods Amber is employing to ingratiate herself with Ben. It’s not something I feel I could ever raise with him, and I feel a heat in my cheeks again just thinking about it.

  I like to think I’m far from being a prude, despite the fact that sex between me and Henry has always been what some people would describe as vanilla and hasn’t happened between us for the best part of a year, but … I admit I’m shocked.

  The lingerie, well that’s a bit of fun, I suppose, and some of it was quite pretty. But those things in the drawer? Hardcore sex toys, the uses for which I don’t want to even hazard a guess. Several items looked like torture implements to my rather innocent eye. Give me unadventurous and conventional any day.

  I shudder, and shake my head to get rid of the unpleasant images.

  I’ve never had my son down as being so weak, so gullible. Where is the man who puts his sons first in everything … where has his conviction gone? Has it really come down to a bit of lace and a sex toy flaunted in his face and he starts acting as if he’s been lobotomised?

  Even worse, what if Noah or Josh venture into his room looking for something and inadvertently open that drawer? Those sorts of items should be locked away, somewhere inaccessible to children.

  I feel sick just thinking about it but I’m unable to share my fears with Ben without admitting I’ve been up there, nosing about.

  I have no choice but to put it all out of my head.

  For now, at least.

  Later, Ben calls to pick up Noah and Josh and asks if it’s OK if they all come round for lunch on Sunday.

  ‘It’ll be the three of us and Amber too, if that’s OK,’ he says, calling to the boys. ‘I can’t stop today because Amber’s on her way; she’s bringing us a Chinese takeaway.’

  I don’t mention the ragu sauce I made for him earlier – one of his favourites – or the fact that Ben has always disliked takeaway food, particularly Chinese dishes, because – to quote his own words – ‘They’re full of awful additives such as monosodium glutamate.’

  But I can’t deny it: I’m very pleased and relieved they’re coming on Sunday. Even if I have to put up with Amber too. It’s always been a given that Ben and the boys will be here, but I wasn’t sure what to expect now, and whether Sunday lunch arrangements might change.

  ‘Of course.’ I paste a smile on my face. ‘It’ll be lovely to have you all here.’

  Ben hasn’t been home yet, so I know I’ll have to tell him I went over earlier.

  ‘I took some cleaning stuff to the house this afternoon.’

  ‘Oh!’ A look of panic flits across his face.

  ‘I’ve always done my main clean on a Friday, if you remember, Ben.’

  ‘Yes, but … didn’t you get my text?’

  My phone. I completely forgot to turn it back on.

  He frowns. ‘I sent you a text this morning saying not to bother with the clean today.’

  ‘I didn’t see it, I’m sorry,’ I say, feeling slightly ashamed that I turned it off on purpose. ‘I remembered that Amber is going to sort the ironing out now and I wasn’t sure about the cleaning, so I just left the stuff in the hallway. I didn’t stop.’

  ‘Oh, that’s fine.’ He seems to relax, perhaps thinking I haven’t seen the transformation of the house. A sharp intake of breath and the words tumble out in one go. ‘In fact Amber and I have discussed it and we’re going to sort out all the cleaning and the washing from now on.’

  ‘OK, if that’s what you’ve decided. That’s fine,’ I say, swallowing. ‘Perfectly fine.’

  He peers at me, his brow furrowing. ‘You’re not upset, are you, Mum?’

  ‘Course not.’ I manage a smile, but I can feel an unwelcome flush of heat rising from my lower abdomen.

  ‘It’s Amber’s idea,’ he says brightly. ‘She’s worried we’re taking advantage of you. She’s really good like that, she’s always thinking of others.’

  ‘Right,’ I say, as the boys tumble noisily into the hall from the garden. ‘Well, we’ll see you on Sunday, then.’ I fan uselessly at my face with my hand.

  ‘We’re all looking forward to it.’ Ben hovers uncertainly and then plants a big kiss on the top of my head. ‘Sure you’re OK with the cleaning thing, Mum? Only you look a bit stressed out.’

  ‘I’m just hot,’ I say, jutting out my bottom lip and blowing air on my face. ‘You know me. I’m always rushing around, doing too much.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Ben’s face lights up again. ‘That’s precisely what Amber said last night. She reckons you should be slowing down at your age, not running around after us.’

  At your age. I’m in my mid-fifties, not bloody eighty. Nobody ever questions Henry’s ability to do things, and he’s sixty-three.

  I smile but don’t reply. I kiss them all goodbye and wave from the door as they drive away.

  So, the lovely Amber reckons I should be slowing down, does she? Enabling her to fully take over the reins in the house, no doubt. Neatly cutting me out of my son and grandsons’ lives in the process.

  Amber and I don’t know each other very well at all, but one thing I’m absolutely certain of is this: if she thinks she can manipulate me as easily as she seems to have bewitched my son and my husband, she is sadly mi
staken.

  It would be a mistake for her to underestimate me.

  24

  Amber

  If there was one single thing that had surprised Amber, it was the affable character of Ben Jukes.

  She knew some people might say he was a bit of a wuss, a mummy’s boy, and if she was honest, that was probably a fair estimation. But despite it grating on her to admit, there was something quite endearing about him too.

  She wasn’t developing feelings for him, of course not … how could she? Yet in spite of that, she’d found him surprisingly easy to be with and almost grateful, after being on his own with two small boys, to have someone who was happy to take over and make some decisions.

  One of those key decisions had been to give the house a bit of an overhaul. It had been part of her plan from the beginning, not least when she realised it had the potential to seriously irk Judi. And to her surprise, Ben had been all for it.

  ‘I go along with Mum’s choices most of the time, but it’s all looking a bit too middle-aged in here for my liking,’ he admitted as they sat talking over a glass of wine one evening.

  So she’d spruced things up, given the colour scheme a bit of a facelift. She’d chosen wallpaper for the chimney breast that she actually disliked herself, together with some mildly erotic framed prints, simply because she knew it would get to Judi.

  And of course it had been immediately evident to Amber that a sure-fire way to rub old Mrs Jukes up the wrong way was to introduce some structure to the two spoiled brats’ infinite toy box that seemed to currently include the whole damn house.

  Amber had been pleasantly surprised at how readily Ben deferred to her in matters of what was best practice for the boys. She had discovered that quoting some nonsense from an old childcare manual she had kicking around usually impressed him.

  Apparently Judi had told Ben that she hadn’t looked around the house today; she’d told him that she had just left the cleaning stuff in the hallway. But that was an outright lie. Amber was very good at setting traps: bits of cotton sandwiched in drawers and doors that got released when things were opened, for instance.

  She could see that Judi had indeed had a good scout around as expected and discovered some of the unsavoury things that Amber had purchased from town the other morning and had deliberately planted for her to see … things Ben didn’t know even existed. What fun that had been.

  She was getting very good at second-guessing the stuff that would hurt Judi the most. It reminded her of when they were kids and Kathryn would hold a magnifying glass to some hapless insect in the sunlight and they’d watch it squirm. It was no fun killing the thing right away; watching it suffer was much more entertaining.

  She couldn’t wait to see the nosy old bag’s face on Sunday.

  25

  Judi

  On Sunday, everyone arrives just before one o’clock, and this time I keep an eye on the clock and make certain I’m presentable and ready.

  The boys, boisterous as ever, fill the hallway with their laughter and strange robot contraptions.

  ‘Boys!’ Amber says sharply, taking me aback. Immediately they both fall silent and look at her with wide eyes as she presses her index finger to her lips. ‘Sssh! No need for that racket.’

  ‘Come on, let’s take our stuff in here,’ I hear Josh whisper to his brother, and they disappear into the living room.

  I’m shocked to see her so openly reprimand my grandsons, and I’m also stunned that they actually listened to her. They rarely take any notice of my attempts to get them to quieten down once they’re in this sort of excited state.

  I look at her, but she seems to be making a concerted effort to avoid my eyes.

  Henry and Ben slap each other on the back by way of saying hello and begin loudly debating last night’s televised football match, seemingly oblivious to what just happened. Gathering myself, I walk over to the porch, where Amber is now slipping off her black suede over-the-knee boots.

  ‘How nice to see you again, Amber.’ I smile. I can’t bring myself to kiss her on the cheek but I don’t want her to know how badly she’s getting to me.

  ‘Likewise,’ she replies coolly.

  She’s wearing a flirty little summery dress, and when she bends over to straighten her boots, I catch a glimpse of the backs of her smooth, toned thighs. Not a dimple in sight.

  The contents of her bedside drawer slides into my mind’s eye and I push it away.

  Amber turns, and I see that the dress is even shorter than I first thought and her lightly tanned legs are completely bare. I hear a shuffle behind me and spin round to catch Henry openly ogling her.

  He coughs and swiftly disappears into the other room. I grit my teeth, shocked and hurt. I thought my husband was … well, I suppose, past all that. He certainly never shows the slightest interest in me any more.

  ‘Will you be warm enough?’ I ask Amber when she notices me staring. ‘I’m afraid we haven’t got the heating on today and it might be a bit on the cool side for bare legs, but I have a blanket you can borrow if you’d like?’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she smirks. ‘Ben likes me in skirts, the shorter the better. If I get chilly, I’ll just have to cuddle up a bit closer to him.’

  I smile and hope she doesn’t notice my cheeks flushing. I do feel a little guilty that I saw things I shouldn’t at the house. Private things.

  ‘I’m impressed you got the boys to quieten down so readily there,’ I say, suddenly wanting to instigate friendlier conversation. ‘I often think about putting ear plugs in when they first arrive.’

  ‘Yes. To be honest, I think they’ve been allowed to get away with some questionable behaviour.’ A slight scowl settles over her unlined brow. ‘But hopefully it’s not too late for me to pull it back.’

  I open my mouth and close it again. How can disciplining the boys suddenly figure in her realm of concern? She’s a virtual stranger to them. Yet somehow it doesn’t seem my place to say so. Not when Ben is here to defend his sons.

  ‘Oh, by the way, I found my ornaments at the house, just so you know.’ I smile pleasantly at her. ‘Someone had shoved them in the back of a drawer. I’m hoping I might be able to repair the damage.’

  I turn away without waiting for an answer.

  I’ll need to speak to Ben about what she just said about the boys. And soon.

  After drinks, I finally manage to round everyone up and get them seated at the table.

  I was hoping Ben might come and see me in the kitchen so I could speak to him about Amber reprimanding Noah and Josh, but I decide my time will come when he calls to pick them up after school tomorrow. I fully intend to raise the subject then.

  ‘Just two slices of meat and some veg for me, thanks, Mum,’ Ben says when I pick up the dish of roast potatoes.

  I frown at him, not understanding. ‘But I roasted these in duck fat, just the way you like them.’

  Amber peers at the contents of the dish and wrinkles her nose.

  ‘That’s the problem, Mum.’ He grins and pats his stomach. ‘Amber’s put me on a diet. No more duck fat for me.’

  ‘It’s just that I’ve noticed that Ben eats far too much saturated fat, Judi,’ Amber explains in an apologetic tone whilst her eyes scan the table critically. ‘Too much of this lovely food could be very bad for his cholesterol.’

  Henry stops loading cauliflower cheese on to his plate and surveys the numerous china tureens with a perplexed expression.

  ‘But I thought you had a takeaway in the week? Nothing worse than that.’ I direct my remark to Ben, but it’s Amber who answers.

  ‘That was a one-off; we won’t be making a habit of it. If you like, I could show you some healthier cooking methods.’ She beams at Ben and then looks back at me. ‘You’d be surprised, Judi. You can make big differences just through small changes … Let me know and we can arrange a time. I really don’t mind at all.’’

  I say nothing.

  ‘It’s very kind of Amber to offer, dear,’ He
nry pipes up, and I catch the nanosecond meaningful glance between him and Ben. ‘Always useful to learn something new, I think.’

  I spoon two beautifully crisp, duck-fat-drenched roast potatoes on to my own plate and put down the tureen.

  ‘I’ve served Sunday lunch to my family now for nearly four decades,’ I say slowly, smiling in turn at each person sitting at the table. ‘And as far as I know, there have never been any complaints. Until today.’

  Amber puts down her knife and fork and leans sideways, slightly towards Ben.

  ‘Judi, I’m mortified if I’ve upset you. I didn’t mean—’

  I hold up my hand. ‘Please, don’t apologise, Amber. You’re quite entitled to your opinions and I’m always interested to hear them. I was probably the same at your age, swallowing everything the so-called health gurus tell us. Actually, it was Henry who made me see sense.’

  ‘I did?’ Henry stops chewing and stares at me, clearly astonished that I’m giving him some credit.

  Amber’s face is steadily reddening and I feel a perverse flush of pleasure.

  ‘You did, dear. You said that the best approach to have in most things is moderation. That’s the key to life, really. But there’s no shame in trying these things, Amber, if that’s what you want to do.’

  ‘True, that. Very true.’ Henry looks inordinately pleased with himself.

  Amber opens her mouth to speak, but Ben gets there first.

  ‘You know, I think Mum might be right, sweetheart. One day the so-called experts are saying all fats are bad for us, the next they’re saying that the right kind of fats are good – in moderation. We don’t know whether we’re coming or going.’

  Amber holds the back of her hand to her forehead.

  ‘You know, I’m not feeling so good,’ she says faintly, pushing away her plate.

  ‘Oh dear,’ I say softly.