Lies Love Tells (Eastcove Lies Book 1)

by Gina Dickerson

  I ignored him.

  Kelly’s husband, Mr Nice, opened the door. ‘Saze?’ he asked in bewilderment, after all it was extremely late or extremely early depending on which way you looked at it. ‘Are you okay?’ His grey eyes peered out seriously from behind his glasses.

  ‘Is Kelly in?’

  Mr Nice yawned loudly. ‘She’s just returned from hospital. She forgot her keys, as usual.’

  I laughed, so that was the excuse Kelly used! Blaming the time she spent away from her family on her unsuspecting, sick, Gran. ‘Can you ask her to come here for a minute?’

  ‘Do you want to come in?’ Mr Nice eyed Mr Him up, looking from me to Mr Him and back again. ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘Please, ask her to come here,’ I said as calmly as I could muster.

  Mr Nice withdrew and returned a few moments later with Kelly. ‘What’s up?’ She smiled pleasantly.

  ‘Is my daughter okay?’ My eyes couldn’t return her smile.

  ‘She’s fine. We had a fab time. We painted each other’s nails.’ Kelly held her hands up for my inspection.

  I wondered what she’d do if I pulled her talons off one by one.

  Mr Nice frowned. ‘You painted yours yesterday.’

  ‘No.’ Kelly’s smile froze, her hands ran nervously over her fitted dress. I noted her bare legs and feet.

  ‘You did,’ replied Mr Nice. ‘You spilt some on the table and it stained. I’ll need to re-varnish it.’ He rolled his eyes indulgently.

  ‘Why don’t you go and check on the girls?’ Kelly nodded at her husband, her head bobbing up and down oddly.

  ‘I think he should stay,’ I snapped.

  ‘Come on inside, Saze. I’ll make you a drink and give you a nice foot-rub. You like a foot-rub, don’t you?’ cajoled Mr Him.

  I spun around to face him. ‘You can shut up. You’ve no right to speak.’

  ‘You have no right to do this!’ roared Mr Him.

  Mr Nice’s head snapped up in surprise. ‘Do what? What’s going on?’

  My palm stung as I slapped it across Kelly’s cheek. Her head swivelled sharply back, her mouth twisted and my own cheek burst into flames with her retaliation.

  ‘Bitch!’ Her pointed features screwed up.

  ‘Slut!’ I screeched back.

  ‘You slapped me!’ she screamed. ‘You’re fucking crazy!’

  ‘And I’ll do it again!’ I countered. ‘Over and over until you admit it!’

  Talons scratched at my face. I reached out maniacally, grabbing, pulling, and laughing. Suddenly Mr Him grasped me from behind and there was the sound of material tearing before he twisted my arms behind my back. Kelly seized the opportunity to deliver another slap to my face before Mr Nice stepped in front of her.

  ‘Enough!’ bellowed Mr Him.

  ‘Blimey,’ Mr Nice said, understatedly.

  ‘Get off!’ I twisted in Mr Him’s hold.

  ‘Don’t let go.’ Tears streaked Kelly’s blusher-coated cheeks. Talon tipped fingers clutched the two sides of her torn dress together. ‘I thought she was going to kill me!’

  I managed to free a hand from Mr Him’s capture and pointed a finger in Kelly’s face. ‘You’ve been screwing my fiancé so stop acting like a victim!’

  Kelly shook her head. ‘I’m happily married.’

  Mr Him’s hands dropped from me. I wiped at my cheek. It was damp with blood. ‘You gouged me,’ I accused.

  ‘You ripped my new dress!’ Kelly’s doe eyes filled with wobbling tears.

  ‘Will someone tell me what’s going on?’ Mr Nice spoke calmly, the light in his grey eyes, even.

  ‘You’re paying for this.’ Kelly picked at her torn dress. ‘It cost fifty pounds.’

  I snorted and peered closer. ‘Are you wearing my bra?’

  All eyes swivelled to Kelly’s cleavage. ‘Don’t be stupid.’ She folded her arms across her chest.

  ‘I’d be very surprised if you bought it.’

  ‘Well I did.’ She pouted.

  ‘With that sequin tassel edging and satin rose-buds?’ I asked.

  Kelly nodded enthusiastically.

  ‘Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?’ Mr Nice interrupted in exasperation.

  No-one answered him, eyes flitted from Kelly’s chest to my face. ‘I took the tassel edging from a vintage sample I bought at the market last week. I sewed it onto a brand new bra and knicker set. I have the rest of the sample if you’d care to see?’

  ‘What are you implying?’ Kelly asked in a stroppy tone.

  ‘That’s my underwear.’

  Kelly blushed. ‘Of course it’s not.’

  ‘How else can you explain having a set with the exact vintage material I bought?’

  Kelly clamped her hands on her hips and glared at Mr Him. ‘You bought this for me, didn’t you? It was brand new.’

  I gasped.

  Mr Nice stared agog. ‘Why would he be buying you underwear? You said you bought it.’

  Kelly and Mr Him turned a matching shade of puce.

  ‘I bet the knickers have rose-buds sewn on the back in the shape of a heart,’ I crowed.

  Mr Nice’s face contorted. ‘How would Saze know what your knickers are like?’

  Kelly shrugged silently.

  ‘Because they’ve been having an affair!’ The words flooded out before I could stop them.

  Mr Nice grasped his wife’s arms. ‘Is this true?’ His eyes searched her face.

  Kelly shook her head ferociously; denial flowed from her deceitful mouth. Mr Nice wrestled with her words and mine as I told him about Mr Him’s evenings out this week which coincided with Kelly’s “hospital” visits.

  ‘Sorry,’ Mr Nice apologised to me. He drew back his left arm and punched Mr Him straight on the nose. Mr Him stumbled backwards and crashed into the wall. I watched in approval as Mr Nice turned into his flat and shut the door on Kelly without a further word.

  ‘Tosser!’ Mr Him spluttered, smearing blood over his face. ‘Get back out here and fight me properly. I’ll have you, you fucking wimpy bastard!’

  Tears streamed down Kelly’s cheeks. ‘It’s over.’ Her thin hands reached for Mr Him. ‘No more pretending. We can be together just like we wanted!’

  Mr Him stepped back, his eyes wide. ‘Errmmm…’

  ‘I can’t stay in this dress!’ wailed Kelly, her fingers clawing at Mr Him’s arm. ‘I’m a right state.’ Her angular shoulders wracked with sobs.

  ‘Saze will find you something to wear.’ Mr Him wrapped an arm around Kelly.

  ‘It won’t fit!’ wailed Kelly. ‘She’s bigger than me!’

  Mr Him looked stricken. ‘It’ll be better than nothing.’

  ‘My underwear fit you,’ I pointed out smugly. ‘Can’t be much fatter than you, can I?’

  Mr Him threw a pointed look. ‘Stop being such a bitch for one minute and think of someone other than yourself.’

  ‘You two are unbelievable!’ I erupted into laughter. ‘You’re not coming in my flat and there’s no way that bitch is wearing anything else of mine.’

  ‘It’s my flat.’ Mr Him glowered. ‘I can have people in if I want.’

  ‘You can’t have your mistress in there,’ I said slowly. ‘I am not giving her anything to wear, for all I care she can find a charity donation bag and wrap it around herself.’

  Kelly’s lips trembled. ‘I’m not wearing any shoes,’ she sobbed. ‘I’m going to freeze!’

  ‘She can’t chuck us out of my own place,’ Mr Him soothed. ‘You can have a pair of Saze’s shoes.’

  ‘What?’ I bellowed. ‘Piss off! And you.’ I pointed at Mr Him. ‘Lost all rights to the flat since you decided to re-home yourself in that.’ I pointed at the trembling relationship thief. ‘I’ll be instructing a solicitor tomorrow.’

  ‘Don’t be so bloody spoilt. We have a kid together. You can’t just chuck me out of my own pissing home. You’re a bitch. You were dying for something like this to happen so you had an excuse to—’ />
  ‘Don’t try to turn this onto me.’ I cut him short, turned away and left them together in the hall, double locking the flat door behind me. The façade I’d been living had well and truly crumbled. Relief was overwhelming. Now I had to pick up those fallen pieces and build something better and more beautiful for myself and Daughter.

  But first I cried. A lot. The kind of sobbing that left my eyes feeling as if they bulged out of their sockets.

  Posted: 04:00 4 Sazements

  SxyGrrl: I would’ve loved to have seen Kelly’s face when you slapped her! Go Saze, Go Saze! *cheering*

  GeoffBD: You should’ve smacked that cheating tosser in the face too. You’ve done the right thing by kicking him out. No-one should treat you like that. You deserve a nice man who will look after you, take you out, buy you things. Hi “SxyGrrl”, are you still on for next weekend? Message me!

  Orange Michelle: Wow, what a load I had to catch up on! Can’t believe the sneak was messing around right under your nose and as for that slut, don’t even get me started! You go girl, you don’t need a waster in your life.

  Ribtool: You sound like you attract idiots etc. BTW has anyone else heard the rumour more girls are missing? Head over to my blog “Rib Investigates” to read my suspicions.

  ***

  Hollow.

  09:30

  The knock at the door stiffened my spine. I didn’t know whether Mr Him had his keys. The way I felt, I’d gouge his eyes out with the damn things. My chest was tight and palms clammy as I flicked the catch and allowed the door to creak open.

  ‘The girls are playing in the back garden.’ Mr Nice’s eyes were dull, grey shadows hung from beneath his lower lashes, and his shirt was crumpled. ‘I didn’t sleep.’ He construed my gaze. ‘Neither did you.’

  ‘My bug-eyes gave me away.’ I gestured for him to step inside. ‘Coffee?’

  Mr Nice laughed hollowly. ‘Do you have anything stronger?’

  ‘It’s a bit early.’ I stifled a yawn as we retreated into my bright kitchen, the large windows enabling us to watch our girls play in the shared garden. I filled the kettle and plugged it in.

  Mr Nice rubbed his eyes. ‘I don’t think normal rules apply today.’ His head disappeared inside the fridge. ‘Where’s your booze?’

  I opened the cupboard door to where the spirits lived and selected a bottle of whiskey. ‘Coffee with it?’

  ‘Half and half would be great.’

  I splashed a generous measure into a mug and topped it with coffee. My nostril hairs twitched at the pungent aroma. I poured myself a mug of the same and joined Mr Nice at the kitchen table. My body ached as if it had been beaten.

  Mr Nice tasted his luke-warm drink and shuddered involuntarily, screwing his nose up. ‘Sam asked where her mother was and I lied to her. I’ve never lied to my daughter before. I hate that Kelly’s put me in this situation.’

  ‘I lied too.’ Depression hovered above me in a dark, almost tangible cloud.

  Mr Nice’s gaze flickered to the garden and back again. ‘When are you going to tell her?’

  I shrugged. ‘I don’t think I should be the one to tell her but if I don’t, I know she’ll be fed lies. Does she really need to know her father chose time with his fancy piece of fluff over her?’

  Mr Nice winced visibly at the fluff mention. ‘The girls deserve the truth. Most of it,’ he amended.

  I moved to the window to watch Daughter and Sam on the swings. Hair streamed out behind them as they whooshed through the cold morning air. Their laughter tinkled on the slight breeze, penetrated the glass and wove around my heavy head. ‘Their worlds will be shattered,’ I murmured regretfully. ‘Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut.’

  ‘What and live a lie?’ Mr Nice joined me at the window. ‘Shall we take them out tomorrow evening for dinner? We can pop up to the pub. They can play and we can eat.’

  ‘While breaking their hearts.’ I folded my arms across my chest.

  In silence we watched the girls, joined by our pain yet separated by our grief.

  Posted: 11:00 3 Sazements

  SxyGrrl: Wrenching. Outsiders of relationships don’t necessarily think of the children but this has brought your daughter to the fore. Sending lots of cyber ((((hugs))))

  JessyHope: Be strong, girl, for your baby. You CAN and will get through this depressed state. I’m new to this blog but I’ll look forward to reading it in my lunch breaks.

  DrJElvidge: Feeling depressed? Have you reached the very bottom of life? Do you feel there’s no way out? Are you afraid you’ll hurt those you love? You’re not alone. The Elvidge Wellness Centre offers a unique course of non-medical treatments to lift your life to a higher point. Contact us today to receive 15% discount when booking a twenty session course.

  ***

  Silent Evening.

  23:00

  There had been no sign of Mr Him. I’d rung his phone countless times but it went straight through to answer phone. It appeared he had forgotten Daughter. I explained his absence as an unexpected visit to his mother’s. I don’t know what I’ll say tomorrow.

  I kept reading the silly little text message from Mr Dry, can’t explain why.

  I tapped out a message: “You were not a prat. You bought the best champagne! Maybe I can repay the favour and buy you a few drinks? Tues eve?”

  Before I could change my mind, I sent it winging its way to Mr Dry.

  What if he said no, or worse still, ignored me? Why was I bothered? I thought I hated him. I thought I loved Mr Him. It’s bizarre how things suddenly change. I hate Mr Him. I should pack his clothes up. Or throw them out of the window.

  Posted: 23:11 1 Sazement

  SxyGrrl: And there’s the first bounce…wait for it to come back…

  ***

  Monday, 25th February 2013

  Let The Battle Commence.

  I left the flat with a heavy heart. There had still been not a single sign of Mr Him. I hoped he’d fallen off a cliff but I wouldn’t be so lucky. Walked Daughter to school in my semi-zombie state (at least I had managed to dress myself and not attempted the school-run in my nightie like one parent I won’t name), it was tempting to call in work sick but everything at home reminded me of Mr Him.

  I made a list entitled “Things to be done”:

  Contact Mortgage Company re: loan to buy bastard out of flat.

  Appoint solicitor to begin transfer of flat into sole name.

  Eat something, preferably the homemade cheese and pickle sandwich not junk from vending machine.

  Throw away one from each pair of Mr Him’s socks.

  Cut his boxer shorts in half.

  Post his gold bracelet off in the money-for-old-gold envelope that appeared in the post box today.

  17:30

  Daughter was eager to be rescued from the wilds of After School Club and seemed cheerful as we began our jaunt home.

  ‘Did you have a good day?’ I held her hand while we crossed the main road.

  Daughter nodded, reflected lamppost light bouncing off her shiny, wavy, hair. Her hand slipped easily from mine once we’d reached the safety of the pavement and she swung her school bag. ‘I’ve reached the top reading level.’

  I swallowed a lump in my throat. ‘Well done, I’m proud.’

  ‘What’s for dinner?’ Daughter turned her eyes on me, eyes which shared the brown of her father’s.

  The lump in my throat bubbled to the surface. ‘Your dad and I are breaking up,’ the words tumbled from my lips before I knew it. So much for waiting.

  Daughter’s eyes narrowed. ‘What?’

  For a brief, mad, second I saw Mr Him glaring back at me. I shook my head and Daughter’s disbelieving face fell into focus. ‘I’m sorry sweetheart. It’s true.’

  ‘Don’t you love each other?’ Her mouth quivered.

  ‘We still love you.’

  Daughter flung her bag to the ground. ‘You’re lying!’

  I reached for her. ‘It doesn’t change how we feel about you.�
� I wondered why I felt I had to speak as if we were still a unit.

  Daughter kicked her bag. ‘I hate you!’

  I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about her philandering father, I fear she’s too young and I don’t wish for her to be scarred in my battle. I watched helplessly as she turned away and sped down the hill. I retrieved her bag and clutched it to my chest, the lunchbox inside jabbing me in the chest. I wasn’t looking forward to mine and Mr Nice’s child-dinner-non-date. Pain, it appeared, readily came in disguise.

  Posted: 17:55 1 Sazement

  K-ruler: Kids kill themselves over stuff like this. U cud wake up & find ur daughter hangin.

  ***

  Going Sockless.

  21:15

  Relief washed waves of guilt over me. Daughter stomped into her bedroom upon our return from child-dinner-non-date. My heart shook with the slamming of her door yet a nasty voice inside told me it was nice to be alone.

  21:35

  Why had I packed Mr Him’s clothes for him? Probably because I anticipated the joy of the extra storage space. I could buy more shoes. OMG my life was ruined and I was thinking about shoes. Was I losing my mind?

  I’d never realised how many pairs of socks Mr Him owned. For someone so meticulous over appearance he’s not averse to crusted, yellowed-once-white socks. It was a pain separating the pairs. I’d split up ten and was already pissed off. It was easier throwing the whole lot away. I off-loaded them into an unsuspecting neighbouring wheelie bin.

  23:00

  The front door creaked. I paused, in the middle of making cheese scones for Daughter’s lunch the following day. The familiar heavy tread, muffled by the hallway rug, caused my heart to involuntarily miss a beat.

  ‘I’ve come for my clothes.’ Mr Him stopped short of entering the kitchen.

  ‘Your clothes are packed.’ I rubbed some butter into the flour cheese mix without looking up.