Deceive Me

by Karen Cole

  ‘Looking for a job mainly. Also, just driving around. Sometimes I go swimming in the sea.’

  ‘Why didn’t you just tell me?’ Okay, I might have been angry at first, I think. But I would’ve understood. I thought we were a team, me and Chris – that we worked through our problems together.

  ‘I didn’t want you to worry. I thought I’d find more work really quickly and you’d never have to know.’

  Under normal circumstances I would be angry that he’d lied to me but right now is not a normal circumstance. I’ve been feeling so much fear, anger and suspicion for so long I really don’t have the energy to feel anything.

  ‘Where did you go on Monday morning?’ I ask wearily.

  Chris sighs. ‘Not you too, Jo! Dino’s got into your head, hasn’t he?’

  ‘No, of course not. I just want to know where you were, that’s all. It’s to our advantage. If you can prove where you were all morning, then the police will have to stop hassling you and can concentrate on finding Grace.’

  Chris frowns and drums his fingers on the dashboard. ‘That’s the problem. I can’t prove where I was. I drove to Kiti and went swimming by the lighthouse. There were a few tourists around, but I doubt they would remember me even if they were still in the country.’

  ‘The police said that someone saw your van outside the school,’ I say carefully, watching him to see his reaction. He flinches slightly but his answer comes smoothly enough.

  ‘Yes, I did park there for a while. I went to get a sandwich at the Tuck Inn to take with me to the beach.’

  ‘What time was that?’

  ‘About nine thirty.’

  ‘You didn’t see Grace outside the school?’

  ‘Don’t you think I would have said something if I had?’

  It’s difficult to know what to believe . . . The Chris I know would never hurt Grace – not in a million years. But then again, the Chris I know wouldn’t have lied to me about losing his job and I know all too well that it’s possible to keep secrets from your spouse.

  There’s the sound of the school bell and children begin surging out of the gates.

  I ignore the tight knot in my gut and focus on the here and now – on what needs to be done. It’s the only way I can handle this situation. If I start suspecting Chris, I think I’ll go mad.

  ‘I said I’d meet Maria at two thirty’, I find myself saying. ‘Can you take Jack home?’

  ‘Okay’, Chris says, starting to get out of the car. But at that moment we see Olga crossing the road, breezing past, blonde hair bouncing like she’s in a shampoo advert.

  ‘Oh God,’ he groans, climbing back in the car and ducking. ‘She was there this morning. I’m sorry, Jo, but I can’t face her or any of them. They all saw me leaving with the police. They all think I’m guilty.’

  ‘Okay, don’t worry,’ I say. ‘You go get your van and drive up to the pick-up point. I’ll get Jack and bring him to you.’

  If I go into school alone, it’ll cause less of a stir than if Chris comes with me, I think. But it turns out I’m wrong about that, because the moment I get to the playground I’m surrounded by a group of mums who don’t usually give me the time of day, all wearing the kind of expressions I imagine they usually reserve for cancer patients or newly bereaved widows.

  ‘Jo, how are you? I’ve been meaning to call.’ Sad face.

  ‘We’re all so worried about you.’ Concerned face.

  ‘It must be awful for you.’ Pouty face, unable to express emotion because of too much botox.

  ‘The police were here this morning,’ Olga says, placing a hand on my arm. ‘Is there any news?’

  ‘Not yet but they’re hopeful. They have some leads.’

  They all look at me, willing me to say more. They’ve definitely heard about Chris, I realise. Not surprising given the way gossip spreads amongst the expat community in this place.

  I’m relieved when Stella arrives. At least I feel she’s genuinely on my side. ‘Oh, Jo,’ she says, folding me in her arms and promptly bursting into tears.

  ‘Thank you for taking Jack the other day,’ I say, pushing her away gently. If she cries any more, it’ll make me cry and I don’t want to break down here, not in front of all these vultures.

  ‘It was absolutely no problem. Are you okay? Do you want me to take him again?’

  ‘No, it’s okay, thank you.’

  I bat away more questions and expressions of concern until at last Jack appears trailing down the stairs, his shoelaces undone as usual, dragging his jacket on the floor.

  ‘Where’s Dad?’ he asks anxiously as I whisk him out of the playground. ‘The police were here this morning . . .’

  Oh God. What does he know? What has he heard?

  ‘Your dad’s fine, don’t worry,’ I say with false cheeriness. ‘He’s waiting for you in the van. You can see for yourself. He’s going to drive you home. I have someone I need to see.’

  Jack hangs back. ‘Can’t I come with you? I don’t want to go with Dad.’

  ‘Why not?’ I stop abruptly, staring at him.

  He looks at the ground. ‘I don’t know. Kids in my class . . . they’ve been saying things.’

  I give a deep, shuddering sigh and rest my arm around his shoulder. ‘We have to stick together, Jack. Now more than ever. We can’t let a few malicious people get to us.’

  Jack nods and wipes his nose. ‘What does malicious mean?’

  ‘Never mind. Just go and get in the van. I’ll see you at home, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ I watch him as he crosses at the zebra crossing. I watch him shuffling along, his head bent as if he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I feel a sudden wave of anger at whoever’s done this to him, whoever’s done this to our family.

  Chapter 26

  Maria’s house is near to the highway – a huge flashy mansion, gleaming white, with Greek statues lining the stairs up to the front door. I’ve been here many times to drop off or pick up Grace, but I’ve never been inside, and I’m awestruck by the grandeur of the place as a Filipino maid answers the door and shows me through to the back garden. Maria is sitting on the swing seat, her legs folded under her with a sleek black cat curled up in her lap.

  ‘Beautiful cat,’ I say, stroking it. The cat stares back at me with suspicious yellow eyes and leaps off, stalking away, its tail twitching.

  ‘He’s a naughty boy. Got a mind of his own.’ Maria rubs her fingers together, trying to call him back, but the cat curls up a short distance away and stares at us balefully. ‘You know it was Grace who gave him to me,’ she says. ‘She found him when he was just a little kitten.’

  I’m not surprised. ‘That sounds like Grace,’ I say.

  It must have been one of the kittens she brought home last November. She found them abandoned by the roadside. There were five of them in a cardboard box, mewing incessantly and clambering all over each other.

  ‘We’re not keeping them,’ Chris said as soon as he came home from work. ‘What about Lola? She’ll eat them alive.’

  ‘But look at them, Daddy.’ Grace only uses the word ‘Daddy’ when she’s after something. She was giving him the full works, pouting and even putting on a baby voice. ‘They’re so cute. Please . . . Please let’s keep them.’

  Usually Grace can wrap Chris around her little finger but on this occasion, he was adamant. ‘They can’t stay,’ he said. ‘No way.’

  ‘Well, what am I supposed to do with them?’ Grace’s eyes filled with angry tears. ‘I can’t just leave them. They’ll die. The cats’ homes are all full. I rang them. There’s no space anywhere and if you give them to the authorities, they just kill them.’ She sighed dramatically. ‘I suppose I could drown them. Is that what you want?’

  Chris shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘Maybe it’s for the best. There are too many stray cats on the
island anyway.’

  ‘How can you be so heartless? Mum, tell him . . .’

  ‘Why don’t you just put them back where you found them?’ I suggested weakly. ‘Maybe the mother will come back. Maybe she’s looking for them right now.’

  ‘There’s no point,’ Chris said. ‘The mother will reject them now they have your smell on them. You do more harm than good picking up these strays.’

  ‘You’re evil and I hate you,’ Grace shouted, storming up the stairs.

  I was just glad that for once it was Chris who was at the receiving end of her wrath instead of me.

  ‘Grace is always picking up strays,’ I say to Maria, watching the cat delicately licking its paws.

  ‘Yes,’ Maria agrees. ‘She’s so kind-hearted – such a beautiful soul. I love her so much.’ Tears spill out of her eyes. I look away, across at the empty plot of land, the dry grass, the pale blue swimming pool wobbling like jelly in a tiny breeze.

  Grace is many things, I think, so many contradictory things. Kind, cruel, headstrong, sometimes brave, sometimes timid. It’s impossible to sum up a person with a few adjectives when you really know them inside out like I know Grace.

  ‘She really cares about you too,’ I say out loud.

  Maria nods and sniffs. ‘Have you heard anything from her?’

  I shake my head. ‘I’m afraid not. But the police have found something important. That’s why I’m here in fact. I thought maybe you could help explain it.’

  Maria wipes her eyes and her nose and stares at me.

  I take the copy of the letter out of my handbag. ‘The police found this in Tom’s flat.’

  I watch Maria’s expression carefully as she reads it, but I register nothing but surprise and confusion. ‘I don’t understand. She split up with Tom?’ she says at last, after reading it through twice.

  ‘It looks like it, doesn’t it?’

  The sun is beating down on me, an angry, unforgiving sun, and I shift my chair a little so that I’m further in the shade. I take the letter from Maria and read aloud. ‘I’m sorry but I can’t see you anymore. Did she tell you they were having problems?’ I ask.

  She hesitates just for a second. ‘No . . . I had no idea,’ she says and then more firmly, ‘No. As far as I know, she was really in love with him. She said they were soulmates. She even talked about marrying him one day.’ She flushes. ‘I mean, I know you don’t like him . . . but she thought that you and her dad would come around eventually.’

  ‘It wasn’t a matter of disliking him,’ I say defensively. ‘He’s too old for her, that’s all.’ I fold up the letter and put it back in my handbag. ‘Were they having any arguments recently? Can you think of any reason why she might have wanted to break things off with him?’

  ‘No.’ She hesitates, then more emphatically, ‘No.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Again, I’m left with the impression that she’s holding something back.

  ‘Maria, I know there’s something you’re not telling me.’

  Her eyes widen, and she picks up a sequined cushion and hugs it to her chest.

  I make my voice as gentle and persuasive as possible. ‘You need to tell me everything you know. You won’t get into any trouble, I promise you, and it could be so important. It could help us find Grace.’

  ‘It won’t help.’

  ‘It might.’

  ‘I promised,’ she whispers, tears welling up in her eyes. ‘I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone.’

  I lean across to grip her hand tightly. I’m on to something. I can sense her wavering and I need to lay it on thick. ‘Please, Maria. If you care about Grace at all, you need to tell me, whatever it is. It could be a matter of life and death.’

  She’s crying properly now, tears running down her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry,’ she gulps, taking a tissue out of her pocket and blowing her nose. ‘It’s just that I miss her so much. Of course I care about her. I love her, but I don’t think betraying her confidence will help. I don’t think it has anything to do with her disappearance.’

  ‘But you don’t know that for sure,’ I persist. ‘Every little thing could be important. What is it, Maria? What were they arguing about?’

  ‘They weren’t arguing. I don’t think he even knew . . .’

  A chill enters my heart and I shiver despite the heat.

  ‘Knew what, Maria? What didn’t he know?’ My voice is a stone dropping into a deep, empty well because suddenly I know what’s coming. And I know in my bones that the thing I’ve always feared has happened.

  Maria’s voice is not much more than a whisper. ‘She was pregnant.’

  Maria is crying again. I stare at the swimming pool blankly, watching a beetle drowning in the water. A red dragonfly perches on the edge of the pool, its wings twitching. I thought we’d found sanctuary here, a place where we could keep Grace safe. It turns out I was wrong.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she’s saying, sniffling into a tissue. ‘I should have told you before, but she made me promise . . .’

  ‘When?’ I manage. ‘When did she tell you?’

  ‘About three weeks ago,’ she says. ‘She asked me if I knew anyone who could, you know’ – she lowers her voice – ‘get rid of it.’

  Just three weeks ago. Just three weeks but it feels like a lifetime. Were there any signs I missed? Why wasn’t I paying more attention? But I’m sure there were none of the usual clues. She didn’t throw up in the toilet or complain of feeling nauseous. She locked herself in her room a lot, but I’d put that down to normal teenaged moodiness.

  ‘And did you? Did you know a doctor? Is it even legal here?’

  Maria blows her nose. ‘Officially no, not usually. But you know Cyprus. In Cyprus rules are made to be broken.’

  There’s a long silence. ‘Are you angry with me?’ she asks.

  ‘No, I’m not angry with you. It was brave of you to tell me. You did the right thing.’ I reach out and pat her hand. My own hand is shaking, I realise. I need to hold it together, but it’s difficult to do that when I feel that the whole world is shattering around me. ‘Can you give me the number of the doctor you recommended?’

  She nods and scrolls through her phone.

  ‘He’s called Doctor Stavrides,’ she says. ‘My older sister had her baby with him. He’s very good.’

  ‘Have you told anyone else?’ I ask as she shows me the number and I add it to my contacts.

  ‘No, of course not.’

  I believe her. Maria is the kind of person that exudes trustworthiness and kindness. And I’m not surprised that Grace chose to confide in her, but I am gutted that she didn’t feel she could talk to me about this momentous thing. Why didn’t she feel she could come to me?

  But of course, I know the answer to that. There’s a gulf between us that, at least in part, I’ve created. I close my eyes, trying not to think about how alone and scared she must have been feeling. It’s not too hard for me to imagine. I know that feeling all too well.

  Chapter 27

  2001

  ‘Shit!’ Hakan flings the hammer down on the ground and clutches his hand. ‘Fucking useless piece of shit,’ he exclaims. He’s been trying to nail up a ‘Customer Parking Only’ sign outside the restaurant and he’s hit himself with the hammer.

  He glares at me, sucking his finger. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘A hundred per cent. I took two tests and I’ve been to the doctor.’

  ‘Shit, shit, shit,’ he says. He pulls a tissue out of his pocket and wraps it around his finger.

  ‘I thought you’d be pleased,’ I say.

  ‘Pleased? Are you fucking crazy?’

  I’m trying not to cry. But I can feel tears pricking at the back of my eyes. I’m taken aback by his reaction. I’m not sure exactly what I expected, not unadulterated joy maybe, but ce
rtainly not this. He seems so hostile and his eyes are wild with fear and anger, like he’s a trapped animal. Like I’m the one that’s trapped him.

  ‘But you’re on the pill, right?’ he says.

  I shake my head slowly. ‘No.’

  ‘Oh my God, Jo.’ He covers his face with his hands. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’ His voice rises until he’s almost shouting.

  I look around anxiously. A family of tourists is walking up the path from the beach carrying buckets and spades. ‘Shh,’ I say. ‘Someone will hear.’

  ‘Well, why didn’t you?’ he asks more quietly.

  This is so unfair. Angry tears burn at the back of my eyes. ‘You didn’t ask.’

  He glares at me for a moment then he gives a big sigh. ‘You’re right, Jo. It’s my fault too. I’m sorry. I should have known better. I should have been more careful.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ I ask.

  I don’t want to hurt Helen, much as I dislike her. But their relationship has been on the rocks for a while now. She’s not really happy with Hakan anyway. And surely it isn’t good for Adam growing up with such a toxic relationship. In the long run it will be better for everyone if Hakan leaves her. Perhaps this will give us all the impetus we need to sort this mess out.

  Hakan paces up and down, still clutching his hand.

  ‘I know a good doctor,’ he’s saying. ‘I can take you there. I could take you there tomorrow. I’ll pay for everything, of course. You’ve no need to worry.’

  I don’t understand what he means. ‘I already had my first check-up,’ I say. ‘The doctor said everything was fine.’

  ‘For God’s sake, I don’t mean for a check-up. I mean . . . well, you must know what I mean . . .’ He stares at me, willing me to get it.

  It takes a few seconds for it to sink in and it’s like a knife twisting in my heart. ‘But I don’t want to get rid of it,’ I say. ‘I thought . . . I thought . . .’

  Hakan sits on the steps staring at the gravel. When he speaks his voice is gentle. ‘But you can’t keep it, Jojo. You must see that. How would we explain it to Helen? To Adam?’