Truth and Lies

by Marguerite Valentine

  He leant across to pull her safety belt tight, and headed for the A12. Parts of the road were long and straight, perfect for speeding, as long as no police mobile speed vans were parked on the slipways. He couldn’t see any. He accelerated up to ninety. Imogen was silent. He glanced at her. She was tense, holding fast onto the seatbelt. He noticed how small her hands were and felt a wave of protectiveness for her.

  ‘You’re frightened. I’m going too fast.’

  ‘No. I like it.’

  You don’t. You’re scared.’ He slowed right down and keeping within the speed limits, drove aimlessly around before returning to Aldeburgh. She’d become quiet. He wondered what was going on in her head. Eventually she spoke, giving him instructions on how to get to her favourite fish-and-chip shop in Aldeburgh. He stopped outside, and turned towards her.

  ‘Okay, what do you want?’

  ‘Cod with chips, with vinegar and lots of red sauce on them, please.’

  He hauled himself out of the car, keenly aware he wanted to get away from her, not because he disliked her, but because the situation was bizarre. He walked into the shop and looked around. There was a small framed notice on the counter, stating they had top marks for hygiene and on the wall a large blackboard with a list of the fish supplied.

  ‘Cod with chips, please.’

  ‘Small or large?’

  ‘Small will be fine.’

  He caught sight of the man closely scrutinising him. ‘Is that Imogen sitting in your car?’

  ‘Yeah, why?’

  The man avoided his eyes, ‘Just wondered.’

  ‘She’s hungry.’

  He didn’t reply, but silently fried the fish, then placed it with a portion of chips in a large, flat box and handed them over. ‘She usually has large.’

  He shrugged. ‘How was I to know?’

  ‘Knowing Imogen, she’s not backward in coming forward.’

  ‘Thanks, I’ll bear that in mind.’

  Back in the car, he handed over the fish and chips and watched as she shovelled the food into her mouth.

  ‘You seem hungry.’

  ‘I said I was. That’s why I usually have large.’

  ‘You should have said… It looks a soggy mess with all that sauce. Is it good?’

  She glanced up. ‘Yes, it’s delicious. Want some?’ She speared a chip onto the plastic fork and pushed it towards his mouth.

  ‘No thanks. I’m not hungry. I’ve had breakfast.’

  ‘I’ve had no breakfast. That’s why I’m hungry.’

  In between mouthfuls, she chatted. About anything and everything that came to her mind: school, Ruth, her best friend with a bad limp and who couldn’t run. Born with some problem with her hips, Imogen didn’t know what it was, but she helped her with her homework. She could do her own home work easily, and said with some pride, she never had to ask for help. Her favourite lessons were painting and drawing. Seb listened; but made no comment, thinking she was too friendly, too trusting, too unworldly and too open. He felt he should say something to her about that, but he had no idea how to go about it. She was in full flow when he realised it was almost lunchtime.

  ‘Imogen, I have to go now. I have to get back.’

  She stared. She looked shocked, as if she was about to cry. She tried to clamber out of the car. He took hold of her arm. He couldn’t just let her go. Suddenly he knew why she’d attached herself to him. She was a neglected and lonely child and she had no sense of what was appropriate and what wasn’t. When she’d said she was like thistledown, that had been and maybe still was her experience of life. She was blown about by circumstance over which she had no control. She’d been about to walk on the beach, had seen him arrive in his car and watched him, as he, like her, walked on his own. She was as curious about him, as he was about her. She’d made those comments about people changing. The shell was always there, she’d said. Maybe there was nobody who cared about her. Nobody who realised she was alone on the beach and had had no breakfast.

  He had to say something. That she shouldn’t be so trusting, that she should be more suspicious, that she should learn how to protect herself, because no one else had.

  ‘Imogen, I’ve been thinking. I need to tell you something.’ A couple walked past. They looked curious. The whole scene, a man sitting with a prepubescent girl in an expensive car, must have looked suspicious. He waited until they’d walked on to the end of the road and had turned the corner. ‘Listen to me.’

  She stared at him. She looked frightened. ‘I probably won’t see you again, but I’ve been thinking and I want you to promise me something. Never, ever go with anyone you don’t know for a walk or a ride. Some people are bad. They might harm you when you’re on your own with them, but you won’t know they’re like that until it’s too late. You know, just because they look nice and are kind to you, doesn’t mean they are.’

  She took a quick look at him, her eyes full of tears, but said nothing,

  ‘Will you remember? I want you to look after yourself. Do you promise me?’

  She bit her lower lip, looked down at her hands in her lap and spoke without looking at him. ‘That’s not right. You haven’t been bad and I didn’t know you. You’re saying that to get away from me.’

  He sighed. ‘No, I’m not. That’s not true. But that’s my point. You didn’t know me. You took a risk… I have to go now, but I want you to look after yourself. Do you understand me?’

  She nodded, stared straight ahead. She said, ‘Are you going home?’

  ‘Yes, I have to. I’ve liked being with you, but I have to go, and so must you. Go home, see your mum. She’ll be worried about you.’

  She looked away. ‘I haven’t got a mum. Not anymore. I don’t know where she is.’

  He did a double take, remembering how she’d referred to her mum but then had stopped herself.

  ‘So who looks after you?’

  ‘My dad and his girlfriend. They fight, that’s when I go out.’

  He paused. He felt bad. ‘I’m sorry, Imogen, but I still have to go.’

  ‘Will you come and see the shell with me again?’

  ‘Maybe, and if I do, I’ll look out for you. That’s a promise.’

  ‘Are we friends?’

  ‘Yes. We’re friends.’

  She climbed out of the car and stood looking at him. Her face was expressionless, as she waited for him to drive away. He put the car into gear, drove to the end of the road, decided to do a ‘u’ turn. Sweeping past, he slowed right down, honked his horn and flashed his lights. She waved, a small child alone by the side of the road and missing her mum. He drove in silence back towards Lavenham.

  — 3 —

  His parents were eating lunch by the time he arrived; his father hiding behind the Financial Times, his mother reading a fashion magazine, but there was no sign of the presents he’d left out for them.

  ‘Hi,’ he said and, pulling out a chair, sat down.

  His mother gave a thin smile. ‘Would you like some soup, Sebastian? It’s carrot and coriander.’

  ‘Please.’ She disappeared into the kitchen.

  Seb picked up the neatly ironed napkin, shook it out, placed it on his lap and, glancing at his father, said in a conversational tone, ‘Much mess to clear up from last night?’

  His father, sitting opposite him, put down the newspaper he was reading and looked at him. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘The return of the prodigal son.’ He picked up the paper again, sighed loudly, noisily straightened it out, and placed it directly in front of him. It was so effective; he couldn’t see or be seen.

  Seb began humming, ‘When the saints come marching in’ accompanying himself by drumming his fingers lightly on the table. His father ignored him and continued to read.

  Five minutes later, his mother returned with a bowl of soup which she placed in front of Seb.
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br />   ‘Thanks,’ he said and began eating, then looking directly at his mother, he said, ‘Has father lost his voice?’ The sarcasm in the question was obvious. His mother smiled nervously, but said nothing. Seb continued, ‘I was asking, whether there was much mess left last night? Could anybody answer? One or other of you. I don’t mind who, it’s a simple question, after all. ’

  His father spoke from behind the paper. ‘No, not much, only what you’d expect.’

  ‘Sorry I didn’t make it. Exhaustion. Hard day and all that, fell asleep and didn’t wake up till this morning.’

  His father put the paper down, eyeballed him, and said, ‘Why don’t you tell the truth? Just this once.’

  Seb glanced at him and returning his hard stare, said, with a slight smile, ‘The truth? Since you know what that is, and apparently I don’t, perhaps you could tell me?’

  ‘You had a woman in your room.’

  ‘Ah, a spy is in our midst. A spy and a grand inquisitor.’

  ‘Stop talking bullshit.’

  His mother stood up. ‘I’m going if you two are going to start.’

  ‘Sit down, Annabelle. Just a game we play.’ He turned to his son. ‘Sebastian, it would have been common courtesy if you’d graced us with your presence when you first came in, even if for a few minutes, that’s all that was required. Instead of which you went up to your room, and sent Carole down to forage for drinks.’

  Seb laughed humourlessly. ‘Forage. What a stupid word.’ His father glared. ‘Well, I’m sorry. I had no idea my presence was so important, but why didn’t you come up? You could have checked out how I was?’

  ‘Hardly, and interrupt your nocturnal activities?’

  His mother stood up, folded up her napkin. ‘I’ve had enough. It might amuse you two to carry on in this way, but it certainly doesn’t me.’ She walked out, her lips pursed in disapproval.

  There was silence before his father spoke again. ‘How long do you intend to stay?’

  ‘Possibly until tomorrow. It depends.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘On how welcome I’m made to feel.’

  ‘That’s your call,’ he said, and returned to reading the paper.

  ‘I presume you got my presents?’

  ‘Yes. I did. Thank you.’ He paused, ‘How did you know the whisky I like?’

  ‘Bob told me. Then it was a question of tracking down who sold them.’

  ‘It must have set you back a bit.’

  Seb sighed. ‘Did mother like her present?’

  His mother returned and began clearing the table. ‘I heard that, Seb. Yes, I did like the perfume. It was thoughtful of you. Too expensive for every day, but thank you.’

  ‘Glad I got something right.’

  ‘I’ll put some on later, since you gave it to me.’ She smiled at him, then after rearranging the flowers in the vase on the sideboard, watched by Seb, she left the room for the kitchen, carrying the tray of dirty plates. The rest of the meal was eaten in silence.

  Seb stood up. ‘Right, I’ll be off to my room.’

  His father put his paper aside and looked across the table at him. ‘If you’re here tomorrow, we could go to church. It must be a long time since you last attended, then we could have lunch at The Swan.’

  ‘I was at The Swan last night, but as for church, thanks but no thanks. I don’t do church. I’ve told you that numerous times. I had enough of it at school.’

  ‘Well, that’s that then.’ His father hesitated. ‘You’re impossible to please.’

  ‘Just like you are. It must run in the family,’ Seb said, but observing his father’s face gradually turning puce, he added, ‘Anyway, enough of this jocularity? How are the markets?’

  ‘Flat, but that’s to be expected. Too many people expecting something for nothing. There’s no money in the system.’

  ‘You have to be joking. Lavenham’s awash with money − and you’re not exactly cutting back either.’

  His father’s voice was cold. ‘We deserve it. I earned mine and with no help, which is more than can be said about you.’

  ‘Thanks. I wondered how long before you’d bring that up. If your half brother takes a shine to me, and doles out the readies, over and above the miserly contributions you used to give why should I complain? Or you, for that matter?’ His father was silent. ‘Well, here’s some good news − as from next Monday, I start a new project and it’s got a decent salary.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Financial compliance for an organisation in the City. I’ll be trained, probably in the States so…’ He stared at his father. He’d made no response but his face had become redder. ‘What’s wrong, aren’t you pleased? Is it beyond you to offer any congratulations? … By the way, you should have your blood pressure checked. Or perhaps it’s your temper? Hard to know, but you do have a high colour.’

  ‘Cut the sarcasm, I’m sure you don’t give a jot about my health.’

  Seb sighed. ‘The implications are, because of this new post, I can pay you back for the hand outs. I never actually did need them, but there you are, we’re taught never to look a gift horse in the mouth.’ Still there was no response. ‘And secondly, I’m going to be tied up while training so it might be difficult, if not impossible, to get hold of me.’

  ‘Who are you working for?’

  ‘Can’t say exactly. I’m employed as a kind of a financial free wheeler, bouncing around wherever I’m needed.’ There was a long silence. ‘Well, glad you’re pleased… Like I said, I’ll be off. Maybe give Ben a bell, check out if he fancies a game of squash. I’ll see you later. Tell mother I’ll be back for supper but I’ll shoot off tomorrow morning, first thing. Oh, and if you or mother see Carole and John, do you mind telling them, I’ll be in the Swan about seven. If they’re free, that is.’

  His father gave him an acid look and returned to reading his paper. Seb left the room. Invariably after talking with his father, he was left feeling depressed. He had no intention of hanging around. He walked outside to his car, wishing he could escape. His mind returned to Imogen and what she’d said about her father. It must be tough for her and he’d liked to have helped in some way, but it wasn’t possible, they lived in different worlds. He took off in his car, drove randomly for several miles, until he arrived in Sudbury and noticing an attractive-looking pub, he pulled in for a drink.

  No one knew him, so he could keep himself to himself and the weather was good enough to sit outside. He chose an empty table, and sat alone, staring into his beer, contemplating his future and what he was about to take up. It was a challenge, an unknown quantity, and once he’d started, there’d be no turning back. He’d be on his own. But, it was something his father couldn’t or never would do, and that pleased him. For once, his father couldn’t compete with him.

  He returned to his car and began the drive back. He was three miles away from the house when, on a whim, he decided to see Carol. He felt at a loose end. Maybe it was because she was part of his past, and he was about to separate from that. He turned down the side road leading towards her stables, parked his car down the narrow lane running past her house and walked the rest of the way. The kitchen door had been left open, but there was no sign of either her or her husband. Maybe they were with the horses. He wandered across the courtyard toward the stables. If she was anywhere, she’d be in one of the stalls where the horses were kept.

  She was in the end stall talking to her horse as she groomed her. He stood by the door, silently watching until she became aware of his presence. She glanced up and, showing no surprise, stopped what she was doing. Sounding slightly challenging, she said, ‘I was told you’d be at the Swan.’

  ‘I was just passing, and thought I’d drop by to see if you were still here − aren’t you going to the Swan?’

  ‘Not after last night. My liver needs a break.’ She turned her attent
ion back to her horse.

  ‘Where’s your hubby?’

  ‘In the Swan, probably waiting for you and the others.’

  ‘Well, I’ve changed my mind.’

  ‘You’re not going then?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Not sure then why you’re here. Your mum said you’d be at the Swan, but whatever.’ She looked over her shoulder at him and gave him a half smile.

  ‘You look different. Your dress, last night, I liked it. I didn’t have a chance to tell you.’ He caught hold of her and pulled her round. ‘Put the brush down. You won’t need that.’ She bent down, placed it on the floor and stood facing him as he slowly undid the buttons on her shirt and pulling it open exposed her breasts.

  He lightly ran his hands over them. ‘Why no bra?’

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t always. Maybe I had a premonition.’

  ‘Of what?

  ‘That I’d have a visitor.’ She took off her shirt, hung it on a nearby hook and, putting her hands on her hips, smiled provocatively. ‘Is there something you want?’

  ‘I gather by that question, you’re up for it?’

  ‘Do we have enough time?’

  ‘There’s enough time.’

  ‘Is that why you dropped by? For a quick fuck?’

  ‘It wasn’t, but seeing you standing like that, it is now. What about you?’

  ‘What do you think? … But not here. Not in front of Mitzy.’

  Seb laughed. ‘What difference will your horse make?’

  ‘None at all. I just prefer we’re totally alone.’ Leaving her shirt on the hook, she led him to an empty stall, and shut the door behind them. They stood in the half light. She leant back against the wall and looked questioningly at him. ‘So, why now? For two years nothing, now twice in twenty-four hours, isn’t that pushing it?’

  ‘Do you need a reason? I’m starting a new job. Besides I want a woman.’

  ‘And I’m conveniently around… Should I be flattered? No, I don’t think so. You didn’t exactly make me feel welcome last night.’