Liar

by K. L. Slater

  ‘She’s not a girl. She’s a thirty-year-old woman who knows exactly what she’s doing to this family.’

  I turn and walk towards the stairs.

  ‘She knows, you know,’ Henry bellows. ‘I bumped into her just by chance in town the other morning and she got quite upset, asked me why you don’t like her. On Sunday, after you shunned her offer of cookery advice, didn’t you see her face? She was hurt. Mortified, even, as was Ben tonight. There’s only one person who’s harming this family. Think about that.’

  I take the steps one at a time, the heat rising in my body. I look at the photos of David as I climb.

  ‘You’re losing your mind.’ Henry’s voice floats up behind me through the open door. ‘Even Ben’s worried about you.’

  Even Ben. When has he spoken to his father about me? What have they discussed?

  I’m a little anxious, and I get rather hot sometimes. My body is changing, yes, but it’s completely normal. There’s nothing wrong with me, it’s the bloody menopause. The elephant in the room that nobody wants to talk about. Why should I put up with Henry’s snide remarks?

  I wonder what did Henry and Amber talked about when they met by chance in town. I’ve noticed an awful lot of things keep happening by chance since Amber has been on the scene.

  At some point, while my back was turned, a glass wall has sprung up between me and my family. And Amber has somehow managed to install herself on the other side of it, together with my husband, son and grandchildren.

  I pad softly along the landing until I reach David’s bedroom. Once the door is closed, I let the tears fall freely. I see Amber’s face floating in front of me, her smug smile, the way she smiles so coquettishly at both Ben and Henry. I hear again the harsh tone of her voice as she reprimanded the boys.

  She wants to break this family apart and she thinks nobody can stop her.

  But she is wrong. They’re all wrong.

  Far from losing my mind, today I feel like I’ve actually found it again.

  A quote springs to mind and it plays on a loop, echoing in my head.

  Beware the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  Beware the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  I lie down on David’s bed and close my eyes.

  30

  Amber

  Amber hadn’t expected that her chance to move out of the flat would come so quickly, but she felt very grateful that it had.

  Although she hadn’t told Ben, she’d started packing a couple of weeks ago so that she’d be prepared at short notice. Just the stuff she didn’t use much: books she’d read but wanted to keep, and the box full of her sister’s things that she’d taken everywhere with her since the family house had been sold, including Kathryn’s precious diary. She had found it when her mother moved to the care home, buried in a storage crate.

  For the past few weeks, Amber had hardly spent a single night at the flat. She felt as if she virtually lived with Ben already; it was just that all her stuff was still here and, of course, she was still paying rent on a crappy space she barely inhabited any more.

  But now the packing was finished. She and Ben had taken several car loads over to his in the last couple of days, and there were just two or three boxes remaining before she read the meters and locked up for the last time.

  There were no feelings of regret or sadness that she was leaving. The music upstairs was as loud and intrusive as ever. Right now, the thudding, tuneless track seemed to be repeating endlessly on a loop, bouncing at full volume through the thin cracked ceiling. The shade on the single light bulb situated above her head bobbed around in perfect time to the monotonous beat.

  But just as Amber taped the final box closed, the noise upstairs abruptly cut off and several pairs of feet thundered down the stairs. Jeering, laughing blokes spilled out into the street, and she looked down from the window, watching as five men staggered off down the road towards the pub on the corner.

  A rare peace descended on the building.

  A worm of an idea began to burrow its way into her head, and instead of pushing it away and just leaving, finally, for Ben’s house, Amber smiled to herself.

  It involved a simple and very appropriate deed that could set right all the sleepless hours she and other tenants had suffered at the hands of the complete twats who lived upstairs.

  It would be such a waste to pass up this chance.

  31

  Judi

  Maura calls me late on Monday evening to say she’s got a very bad cold and won’t be in work for the next couple of days.

  ‘It might even be flu; it’s hit me like a freight train,’ she croaks. ‘If it is flu, I might need the week off.’

  ‘That’s fine, don’t worry,’ I tell her.

  ‘Judi, are you OK? You sound kind of … I don’t know, funny.’

  I’m not OK, not really. I feel hollow after the argument with Ben. I keep pushing his hurt expression away, but I don’t feel strong enough to revisit all the spiked words that flew back and forth between us.

  ‘I’m fine. Keep yourself dosed up and wrapped up,’ I tell her. ‘And for goodness’ sake, don’t worry about work. I’ll ring Esther.’

  When the occasion calls for it, rather than getting an inexperienced and expensive temp in from an agency, we call on Esther Cairns. If one of us falls ill or we need an extra pair of hands during busy times, Esther can usually be relied upon to help out at a moment’s notice. She used to work at the surgery – for over thirty years, in fact – and she was the person responsible for taking Maura on many moons ago.

  So although she has been retired for five years and has just celebrated her seventieth birthday, there really isn’t anything that Esther hasn’t seen or can’t handle.

  ‘Of course, dear, that’s no problem,’ she says brightly, as soon as I explain that Maura is ill. ‘I’ll see you in the morning, eight o’clock prompt.’

  I smile as I put down the phone. Esther is a stickler for timekeeping, and she’ll no doubt let me know in no uncertain terms if she thinks our admin processes have slipped since her last visit. Those infamous killer observations of hers always start, ‘It’s up to you, dear, but …’ or, ‘Far be it from me to interfere, however …’

  Still, listening to Esther’s never-ending suggestions beats opening up the office on my own and running myself ragged placating difficult patients all morning.

  When Henry has finished packing up a few bits of warm clothing for his overnight fishing trip, I take myself off to bed. I know he’ll be long gone by the time I wake up tomorrow. I haven’t a clue where he’s going if I need to contact him in an emergency, but then I never do know any details, and if I’m honest, I don’t particularly care.

  We’re not speaking since our heated exchange over Amber, and it feels better that way. Easier, anyhow.

  Despite making a conscious effort not to, I keep thinking about Ben and the boys, and about the frustration that I sense is simmering just beneath Amber’s surface. It showed itself when I dared to challenge her views on diet. And I’m irritated by the way Ben looks at her, as if he’s almost in awe. Like she’s some perfect angel that’s appeared in his life and he just can’t believe his luck.

  I’ve always thought of my son as logical, sensible; as Henry is fond of saying, Ben has his head firmly screwed on.

  I only hope these qualities will prevail when it comes to dealing with Amber. Especially now she’s moving in. Now they are to become a family.

  The following morning, it’s a relief to get up and be alone in the house.

  I heard Henry shuffling around in the bedroom next door at about five a.m., and then he crept into our bedroom, most likely to get something he’d forgotten. I pretended to be fast asleep, so there was no requirement to speak to him.

  I take the car instead of walking and I get to the office a little earlier than usual, in the interest of looking super-efficient. Only to find Esther has already beaten me to it and is waiting outside at the back of the building.

&n
bsp; ‘When I was in charge, I always liked to get here no later than seven thirty,’ she says pleasantly as I fumble in my cavernous handbag for the outer office door keys. ‘Personally, I think eight o‘clock is cutting it a little fine, but far be it from me to interfere, dear. I’m sure you girls have everything running like clockwork here.’

  I smile to myself, making a mental note to tell Maura that Esther started early, before we even got into the building. We always enjoy a giggle – in a kindly way – when Esther has been in, gently reprimanding us.

  Once inside, I begin the daily routine of turning on the lights, the heaters, opening the blinds and booting up the computer. All the time, Esther follows me round, chattering on in the background.

  I nod and smile in what seem to be the right places, trying to keep my mind on making sure everything is ready for surgery hours. I confess I’m not really paying attention to Esther’s current rant about how the vet recently ripped her off when her Yorkie, Toto, stood on some glass whilst they were out walking.

  Then, in the middle of it all, something she says snaps me to attention and I stiffen slightly, my fingertips hovering above the keyboard.

  I turn round to face her. ‘Sorry, Esther, I didn’t quite catch what you said there.’

  ‘I said, Ben’s new girlfriend has certainly got her feet firmly under the table.’

  I push away the keyboard and straighten the already neat pile of prescriptions that Dr Fielder signed yesterday.

  ‘Would you mind telling me from the start again, about Amber and the boys, I mean?’

  ‘I’m afraid this is how the job gets you, dear,’ Esther says. ‘Never a minute to yourself. That’s why I recommend getting to the office a little earlier in the morning, so that—’

  ‘Yes, I understand that. But you were saying, about Amber … Ben’s girlfriend?’ I say, trying to keep my voice level. ‘Something about her and the boys?’

  But my efforts to appear unruffled fail miserably: Esther’s eagle eye notices my fingers tapping nervously on the top of the stack of prescription slips. ‘Oh, it was nothing to worry about, dear. I was just a little surprised, that’s all.’ Her voice softens. ‘I saw Ben and the boys at the park as Toto and I walked by. I think it was Sunday, but there again, it might well have been Monday evening, although I can’t be sure because my—’

  ‘And Amber was there too, at the park?’ I cut across the senseless drivel again.

  ‘That’s right, yes, she was. And I remember thinking, how nice that Judi’s lovely son has got himself such an attractive young lady, because you see, Maura had already mentioned he’d met someone, when I popped by the surgery one afternoon.’ Esther pauses, laying her hand over her heart and assuming a pained expression. ‘It was such a terrible thing to happen. Louise passing, I mean. Poor Ben … and your grandsons, poor mites. So young to lose their dear mother.’

  ‘Yes, they were,’ I say quietly. ‘But we’re a strong bunch, you know; we’ve pulled together and got through it.’

  ‘Of course you have, and I could see that they’re close. All of them, there at the park together like a proper little family. So much so that the young lady in question has quite got into her stride managing the boys. Your elder grandson, what’s his name again now?’

  ‘Noah,’ I reply, my mouth dry.

  ‘That’s the one, Noah. Well, from what I could see, he was being a bit of a monkey, in that way that young boys can be.’ She chuckles. ‘Sitting at the top of the slide, he was, and wouldn’t let his little brother anywhere near to have his go.’

  I glance at the clock. Eight twenty. I’ll have to open the doors for the patients just before half past. If only she’d get on with it. But I don’t interrupt her. Instead I bite down on my irritation and wait.

  ‘When I say being a bit of a monkey, it was just mischievousness, dear. That’s all it was. He wasn’t being naughty as such.’ She stares across the room to the big window that overlooks a small concrete courtyard, seemingly in her own world for a moment or two.

  ‘So what happened, Esther, at the park?’

  ‘Well, Ben called Noah down from the slide, but of course he did a splendid job of ignoring his daddy. So the girlfriend – Amber – off she trots, marching across the play area. “Noah,” she calls to him. “Get down here this minute.” And Noah, well, he must be quite a tough little cookie, because he starts singing at the top of his voice and looking the other way, the young rascal.’

  As she describes it, I run through the scene in my head. I can visualise it exactly and I manage to stop myself smiling. Noah is an astute child and he takes no prisoners. If Amber thinks she can make him her little puppet, the way she seems to be doing with his father, she’s going to get rather a big shock.

  The boys are very different. This is partly due to the three-year age gap, of course, but essentially they are totally different personalities. Noah has a defiant streak in him that reminds me of his daddy. When Ben was a boy, he had a stubborn streak that would show itself if anyone tried to railroad him into doing something he didn’t want to do. Ben, in turn, got it from Henry.

  My David was always the more laid-back, affable personality. He’d always try to do the right thing and sometimes got taken for granted by his brother or friends.

  I think about David and the traits that made him a bit of a doormat, and it occurs to me that I have to fight against the exact same thing virtually every single day.

  I’m strong inside, though, where nobody can see. I don’t think any of them quite realise that.

  32

  Judi

  As fast as the thoughts of David come, I push them away. I’m so used to doing it now, it’s become second nature. I haven’t really had much choice: Henry has never cared for unbridled emotions at home.

  Esther, meanwhile, is carrying on with her story.

  ‘Well, while young Noah is singing and ignoring her, Amber starts to climb the steps of the slide herself.’ She laughs, a harsh, dry cackle. ‘When he sees her coming, he shoots off, straight down the slide, but quick as a flash, she’s at the end of it to catch him as he lands.’

  ‘And then what?’ The back of my neck prickles a little.

  ‘I was only passing by and the hedge got in the way, but from what I could see, she grabbed his hand and gave him a proper dressing-down.’ Esther frowns. ‘A bit harsh really. I might be speaking out of turn, dear, but she’s not their mother, is she?’

  ‘A dressing-down, you say?’ I swallow.

  Esther nods gravely. ‘Enough of a reprimand to bring young Master Noah to tears.’

  The blood blazes in my veins. I think back to Sunday and the way Amber snapped at the boys to quieten them down when they arrived. ‘And where was Ben while all this was happening?’

  ‘I think he might have taken little Josh down to the stream at the bottom end, because when I looked around to give him a wave, he was nowhere to be seen.’ Esther tips her head and studies me. ‘Oh, I can see you’re upset now, dear. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ I shake my head, blinking rapidly. ‘I’m glad you told me, Esther. It’s been quite difficult getting used to Ben having someone new around. And I worry, you know, about the boys. I need to know what’s happening.’

  ‘But of course you do, dear,’ she says kindly, laying a hand on mine.

  I’m surprised to hear myself openly admitting something so personal to Esther, who is, after all, just an acquaintance, and I quickly swallow down the unwanted emotion. Esther is a sweetheart and she means well, but she also loves to gossip with anyone in the community who’ll give her the time of day.

  By Thursday, Maura still isn’t back at work. I haven’t spoken to her, but she’s texted me from her deathbed each day, giving me all the gory, phlegmy details of her now officially diagnosed chest infection.

  I’m sitting at Maura’s desk, shuffling papers and organising the repeat prescriptions for the doctors to sign, but my heart isn’t in it. I’ve virtua
lly left Esther to her own devices, and essentially she’s running the office, though she spends too much time chatting and catching up with the patients she’s known for years.

  Although I’d usually keep taking her off the reception desk periodically, today I let her talk to her heart’s content. Nobody has complained; in fact they seem to love telling her and the rest of the waiting room about every detail of their various ailments.

  It’s the perfect solution. Esther doesn’t notice how quiet I am and I don’t have to make senseless small talk while I’m fretting about her story about Noah and Amber locking horns at the park.

  My stomach rumbles, but I can’t face food. I haven’t eaten breakfast for the last three mornings, although I’ve spent what seems like my entire life drilling the importance of the first meal of the day into both my sons and my grandsons.

  Somehow I manage to make it to the end of the morning without snapping at Esther or breaking down in tears. I gather my bag quietly, and when Carole arrives to relieve me of my duties, I leave the office, calling my goodbyes and praying nobody finds anything last-minute for me to do.

  Outside, I walk down the few steps from reception and stride quickly down the street. When I’m sure nobody can see me, I stop for a moment to gather myself. The air is cool and fresh on my face, and I feel glad that I decided to walk to work this morning.

  For a few minutes I manage to clear my mind and concentrate on my own footfall, counting my steps, breathing deeply and listening out for birdsong. It’s soothing and meditative but the effect doesn’t last long. Within a very short time my mind is whirring again and my surroundings blur as I stare at the pavement in front of me, grit slipping and scattering as my sensible flat shoes scuff over the asphalt.