The Lies She Told: A wickedly twisted psychological thriller that you cannot put down!

by Paula Johnston

  Instead I distanced myself from her and watched from afar. I know she thinks I abandoned her but I didn't, I just couldn't trust myself to keep my mouth shut. And anyway, she really blossomed during that week. I mean, really fucking blossomed. She played the game expertly and I admired her determination. I do think she should have done things a little differently though. She should have confronted her before that holiday came to an end, but she didn’t and that was her biggest mistake. That's why when we returned home, I felt that I had no choice but to help Lauren out. I had to expose Karly – we both did.

  Of course, I ended things with Jacob. I am not the type of woman to be messed around and then beg for more. I couldn't believe he could be so fucking stupid; to betray me like that after all we were sacrificing to be together. I mean, I was really willing to burn bridges with my best friend for him. That bastard.

  He didn’t take my rejection well and actually it was quite pathetic the way he grovelled. There was absolutely no chance that I would ever take him back and yet he begged and begged me to give him another chance, told me he would finally leave Lauren and also cut Karly from his life for good, but I didn’t believe him.

  I wasn't going to tell Lauren about our affair. I didn't see the point. She had solid evidence in Karly that Jacob was a liar and a cheat and so exposing myself didn't make any sense - but I had no choice in the end. There was no possible way that I could hide what was about to come. He had well and truly left me in the shit and I was not about to lose everything without taking him down with me.

  I don’t know what happened in that Kitchen, but whatever did, it happened before I got there. I’m guilty of many things that I'm not particularly proud of, but I’m not guilty of murder.

  Of course, the Police found a record of my phone call to Lauren that day, I've never denied phoning her. I needed to see her as soon as I found out, I couldn't carry on with the lie any longer. I know she had all the crazy shit with Karly going on but this was far more important.

  Earlier that morning, the Midwife had confirmed that I was indeed pregnant – sixteen weeks to be exact. I had a sneaking suspicion that something was a bit off after I had returned from Tenerife; I had felt like shit the whole time I was there, but had chalked it up to sun stroke and yet the nausea continued when we landed back in England.

  The pregnancy changed everything. I knew immediately that I wasn’t going to bring this baby into this world under a blanket of lies. I had to tell Lauren everything, and that’s why I called her that day, and that's why I went round that evening when she didn't have time for me on the phone. No other reason.

  I did not kill anybody – but nobody believes me.

  For some reason, I am still being questioned aggressively, in spite of the fact that they have already made up their minds about me. I've been brought to this room time and time again and sat down in front of the same two Police Officers.

  Sometimes my lawyer is here, sometimes he isn't. I don't say anything when my lawyer isn't here because I know that they don't have a right to question me without appropriate representation present. It's a snaky move, an underhanded attempt to intimidate me into admitting guilt.

  My lawyer is here today, but the tape hasn't been started yet. There seems to be something going on behind the scenes that I don't know about or they don't want me to know about. I can't put my finger on what it is but there's just been a lot of coming and going, whispers in ears and anxious glances between themselves.

  The Officers don't have the same fierceness about them today. They almost look doubtful, like they might be afraid of something ruining their case.

  The door to the dark room with no windows is gently prised open and a young man with sandy blonde hair sticks his head inside.

  ‘Excuse me, Sir, we have something you might want to have a look at.’

  The eldest officer, who is actually the nicer out of the two evils announces that they will be back with me shortly and then they both promptly push back their chairs and exit the room.

  ‘What is it? What did you find?’

  ‘They’ve found something else on Mrs Cruthers’ phone, Sir. It looks like she had some sort of spyware installed.’

  'Spyware? What do you mean fucking spyware? Well spit it out, what did it show then?’

  ‘It looks like there was a hidden camera in the kitchen, sir. The recording backs up Miss Pearson’s story entirely. Another woman is seen entering the property before Georgia Pearson arrived. She was captured taking fire at both Jacob Cruthers and Karly Winters.'

  'Oh shit! OK, so she might not have shot the two of them, but she did attack Lauren Cruthers, didn't she? We have Miss Winters' testimony.’

  'That's just it, sir. It wasn't Georgia Pearson who attacked Lauren Cruthers either.’

  Epilogue

  She wasn’t supposed to survive. But as per usual, Karly Winters always comes up trumps and somehow manages to get her own way. I've always hated that about her; the way she manages to land on her feet regardless of the situation. She never understands how the underdog feels, what it's like to always live in someone else's shadow.

  I've considered waiting until it was late and quiet. When all the nurses have either clocked off or are in the middle of a shift change, too preoccupied to worry about someone visiting outside designated hours. I imagine it would be quite easy to slip the pillow from underneath her head whilst she sleeps and push down hard on her face, smothering her to death. I chose not to though, because with her pinning everything on poor Georgia Pearson it means that I don't need to worry about a thing. She already has her mind made up with this one, and who am I to argue with her? She's more helpful to me alive right now.

  Besides, Georgia is hardly innocent in all of this either, is she? A baby for god sake. A fucking baby – his baby. The thought makes my skin crawl. Just the idea of a mini Jacob roaming around, creating chaos, following in his father's footsteps. I don't know if it is a boy, I'm just assuming that the little bastard will be a chip of the old block – just like his dear old dad.

  The thing about Jacob, well he wasn't even my type. That's what makes this whole sorry mess so bloody laughable. I only wanted him because Karly obsessed over him. She let that man consume her, overwhelm her, rule every decision she ever made. It was pathetic. And not just that, she thought that she was special. I mean, can you believe that, special? The man couldn't bother his backside to meet up with her properly in almost ten years – how bloody special could she really be?

  It started out just a little bit of fun, just something for me to hold close to my chest as ammunition, a little secret trophy of my own to hold over her if necessary. My first messages to Jacob were very strategic. I pretended to be the concerned friend, someone worried for her welfare, a guardian angel who wanted to make sure that this big bad man wouldn't break her poor little heart.

  He was nice as pie to begin with, but as I suspected, it didn't take long for Jacob to initiate a little bit of flirting. That's the thing about Jacob Cruthers you see, he always had a way of charming the ladies and in the end, I was no exception – but I was different. You see, women fawned over him, bowed down to him, let him walk all over their weak spines, but not me. I was always in control. He was under my spell completely, wrapped tightly around my little finger and unlike with Karly, he was always begging me to come and see him. God, I loved having that over her – almost as much as I loved saying no to him. It only made him want me more.

  I did plan to eventually meet him though, more than that actually. He was the one who told me he would leave Lauren, but he had to make sure that we had somewhere to live, somewhere far from the house he currently shared with his wife, somewhere that we could start fresh with no drama. We were literally in the middle of sorting things out when Karly threw a big old spanner in the works and decided that she was going to gate-crash Laurens girls’ holiday.

  I can't even explain how furious I was when she told me. She was about to ruin everything. She couldn't tell Lauren th
at Jacob was playing away or whatever it was they were doing together because that would give her grounds for divorce, which would then mean Jacob would have to splash out on a hefty divorce settlement. We needed that money for our own life together and Karly was about to bulldoze my dream like the wrecking ball that she is.

  So of course, I followed her. She always thinks I’m the stupid one but really, I'm far more intelligent than she cares to give me credit for. I booked a separate flight, a separate hotel and even made some friends of my own during my little trip. There was a reason why Karly's path never crossed with Lauren's friends – I made sure we were always in a different bar or a different club. I told you, I'm smart.

  There was one that one night though where I just couldn't resist. I had to meet her. I know it was dangerous but I was standing outside having a quick fag when I spotted the two of you heading into a cocktail bar right above my head. I knew you hadn't told her yet because the two of you looked so bloody chummy. The girls were having too much fun back inside the bar to notice my absence and so I stubbed the cigarette out quickly under the ball of my foot and quickly made my way up the stairs. I made sure to avoid your eye line as I headed up to the back of the bar and stood outside the toilet. It was only a couple of minutes but it felt like forever until she finally emerged from the cubicle. I have to say, I understood right away why you didn't feel like you could come clean to someone like her – she was a total bitch. You actually do have quite a lot in common that way.

  Anyway, I didn't really have anything to worry about with you because you were too much of a coward to say anything about who you really were. By that point though, everything had changed and you were no longer my main concern. I still remember the sound of such fondness and adoration that Georgia had whilst on the phone to Jacob that night. A side of her that she very rarely let anyone see.

  I had been keeping an eye on her though, there was something off about her, I just knew it. She wasn't participating in the groups fun the way she should have been; avoiding the sickly-sweet shots that we necked every night and purposely ordering her own drinks from the bar instead of drinking out the fish bowls that everyone had a straw in.

  When she nipped outside to make a call, I decided to pay a visit to the little girl’s room that was beside the door. I didn't need to go, I just wanted to hear who she was talking to. The door to the loo wasn't even a door, more like a wooden gate without a top and bottom and so I could hear everything. Just think, if I hadn't heard that bloody phone call, none of this might have happened.

  The shock of the intimate phone call was a bitter enough pill to swallow, but it was what I saw as I followed her back to the table that really turned my stomach. Some spotty teenager who had clearly seen too much sun and too much vodka barged into her on the way to the bar, and the way her hand instinctively clutched at her stomach in the way cautious first time mothers do before there's even a hint of a bump to protect is what really put the nail in your coffin.

  I like to think that I'm a good judge of character, but sometimes people don't take me as seriously as they should. I give myself to people wholeheartedly with no inhibitions and to my own fault, I expect the same to be reciprocated.

  When I found out, I wasn't mad at you. I wasn't even sad; there were no tears shed, my eyes were bone dry. You shouldn't have treated me this way. You made a big mistake, one I privately promised you would ultimately pay for.

  As the wind blows sharply across my face today and I look down at you, I'm still not mad; I'm still not sad. I am something else, something between satisfied and amused. I know that I am a good person. This - all of this, has no reflection on me as a person because you did this, not me.

  This was all your fault.

  I pull my black cap down lower, protecting my face from the icy attack. A few strands of red escape the scarf that I ever so carefully wrapped around my neck, expertly tucking in my most distinguishing feature.

  Jacob Cruthers – Beloved Son & Brother. I bet you don't see many people smiling at a graveyard, but I can't help it. There's no holding it in after reading that gravestone. There is no mention of beloved husband – absolute zilch, and definitely nothing about a doting Daddy, and there never will be.

  He never deserved love – my love in particular. He loved himself far more than anyone else could ever love him, and I don't doubt there would have been many more that would have tried.

  I crouch down and take the framed picture of him in my hand, the same one I saw his mother place against the granite on the day off his funeral and brush off the droplets of rain that have landed on his face. Such a waste, all that beauty. He should have chosen me, not Lauren, not Karly and definitely not Georgia. We could have been happy.

  My phone vibrates in my back pocket, but I ignore it because I know it will just be Karly. It's always Karly. There once was a time when I couldn't even get a text back and now, she won't stop messaging and calling me. She's probably just checking where I am. It’s almost time for me to pick my best friend up from the hospital.

  I drop the picture carelessly to the ground and drive the heel of my boot into the glass. With my free hand I reach into my black tote bag that is draped lazily over my shoulder and pull from it one singular red rose. A red rose. Not white, not black, because after all – red always was his favourite colour.

  Acknowledgements

  Where do I even begin when it comes to saying thank you? So many people have helped and assisted me in so many wonderfully different ways.

  First of all, my thanks must go to everyone who has read this book. I thoroughly enjoyed writing this complicated tale and a part of me isn’t quite sure that I am ready to let go of it yet. Perhaps there will be more to come from Karly.

  A humongous thank you to my very best friend, Kimberly Mckenna. Without your initial enthusiasm, I probably would have tossed my plans for Karly and Jacob straight in the bin. As this was my first novel, it was very important for me to include the people I care about in the publication process. Your offer to put your journalism degree to good use and dedicate time to editing this book was beyond the realms of generous. Your sharp eye for detail has helped polish this book to what it is now and I will be eternally grateful.

  A special thanks to my beta reader extraordinaire Linda White for getting just as excited about this book as I was writing it. I can’t describe how refreshing it is for someone to share my enthusiasm.

  I also can't forget the rest of my early readers: Jenna Eastwood, Claire Docherty, Michelle Proudfoot, Kelly Hughes, Clare Dolan, Carlene Booth, Fiona Reoch and Karen O'Reilly. I thoroughly enjoyed our little makeshift book club and hope you will join me in many more.

  Thank you to Bobby Hannah for offering me invaluable insight into a male perspective. I enjoyed our regular debates over what the final title of this novel would or should be - even though I know that you still aren't convinced.

  I can't forget my mentor, and author of self-help book ‘I AM’, Stephanie Moore. Your knowledge and consistent support has been nothing short of amazing and I appreciate you letting me bombard you on a daily basis with crazy ideas.

  Finally, and above all, thank you to my wonderful family: Mum and Dad, Harry, Gran and Grumpy Grandad, Aunt Annie and of course, my ever so patient partner, Simon. You are without a shadow of a doubt, my biggest critics but also my biggest fans. Your unconditional faith in me when I had little in myself has been the catalyst in me being able to follow my dream.

  About the Author

  Paula Johnston is a writer from Scotland who put her principles above her chosen career path and opted to walk away from her course in journalism to protect them.

  Her debut novel, The Lies She Told, will hopefully be the start of something big for Paula, as she intends to write more titles and perhaps move across to self-help books for those suffering with chronic illnesses.

  Paula lives just outside Glasgow, with her partner and their cats. In her free time, she likes to read, spend quality time with friends and
family and discover interesting new places. She and her partner plan to buy a camper van soon and use it to travel all over Scotland whilst writing.

  Stay in touch

  I would love to speak to readers and of course, answer any questions you may have about The Lies She Told.

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