The Running Lie

by Jennifer Young

  ‘Two. Burial one seems to be a child’s body. The left shoulder was lower than the right, but it looks like food—or something that decayed—was placed under it.’ She pushed her hair back. ‘How did you get into archaeology? You’re a professional, aren’t you?’

  Max shrugged. ‘I have a degree, but I don’t have a job. I’m not sure what that makes me. But my dad likes archaeology, so I went to see digs as a kid.’

  ‘Are you doing anything this summer?’

  ‘I was volunteering at St Bride’s in London for a while.’ Even if she didn’t last long, it gave her something else to relate besides the various disasters on Mull.

  ‘I read about that in the papers.’

  ‘Are you from Norfolk?’

  ‘Lincolnshire. I got a job here from teacher’s college. Geography and maths.’

  ‘Whose motorbike is that?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘Mine. I got it the first term I was teaching.’ She motioned them towards the trench. ‘Want to have a look?’

  ‘So, Charlie, do you want to go into archaeology?’ Max asked. They walked through the centre of Thetford, looking for somewhere for lunch.

  ‘It was interesting,’ Charlie said. He flushed.

  ‘The second one in particular?’ Max smiled. Maybe she shouldn’t tease…

  A body slammed into Charlie, and his walking stick clattered to the ground. Max steadied Charlie. The man kept going. From the back, he looked as tall as John. A hat covered his hair.

  ‘What the hell is wrong with people? Why pick on people with limps?’ Charlie pushed away Max’s grip.

  John handed Charlie his walking stick. ‘Are you okay?’

  Charlie rubbed his shoulder. ‘I’m fine, Max, let go.’

  The man stopped next to a car. A cream A90 Atlantic. The man climbed in and closed the door. He didn’t act hurried. The tail lights illuminated, but it didn’t move. Before she could even ask, John brushed her arm.

  ‘I’ll be right back. Order me anything.’ He moved quickly towards the car and melted into the crowd of people. How could a man over six feet tall disappear within a second? Max stared at the car. Could it be the same one?

  ‘Where’s he going?’ Charlie asked.

  Max took a deep breath. ‘More cigarettes, I assume.’

  ‘Come on, I’m hungry.’ Charlie limped a little more as they walked towards a café.

  They waited a few minutes for a table and then studied the menu. John should be back by now. He wore a pale blue shirt today with no jacket—he certainly didn’t have a gun. And whoever was in that car…

  ‘What are you going to order for Mr Knox?’

  ‘I haven’t a clue.’ John could take care of himself. Max forced herself to read the menu, trying to remember what she’d seen John eat. They ordered, and Max drummed her fingers on the table.

  ‘What kind of cigarettes does Mr Knox smoke?’

  Max shrugged. He kept them in a case. ‘Why?’

  ‘He’s been gone a long time.’

  Max pushed her chair back. ‘Are you okay here? I’ll go see—maybe he can’t find the café.’ Before Charlie could nod, she was outside. The bright sunlight dazzled her, but then the market square came into focus. No John. Where would she even start to look? A phone box door opened, and John stepped out. Max ran across to him.

  ‘Was it…’ She stopped.

  ‘He drove away before I got there. Definitely the same car.’ He nodded at the phone box. ‘It’s being checked.’

  ‘They hadn’t done it yet?’ She found a smile, even if it wobbled. ‘But I suppose a car following us to Norfolk is pretty low on an international priority scale.’

  John smiled. ‘Was. Is. But my line of work likes patterns.’ He lit a cigarette. ‘I’m sure this is coincidence.’ They turned towards the café, and Max slipped her hand in John’s.

  ‘Is Charlie okay?’ he asked. ‘And are you?’

  Max nodded. John ground out his cigarette before they walked into the café.

  ‘Food’s here,’ Charlie said. ‘How far did you have to go for cigarettes?’

  ‘Three shops,’ John said smoothly. ‘Which is mine?’

  ‘Gammon for both of us,’ Max said. They sat.

  Charlie speared a piece of sausage from his plate and waved it. Mother would die if she saw him. ‘Max didn’t know if you’d like British sausages.’

  ‘I do, but I like ham too. I’ll eat pretty much anything. And have.’

  ‘Okay, what’s the weirdest thing you’ve eaten?’ Charlie asked.

  Max sipped her water and watched them laughing together. People on holiday went to towns like Thetford. They had. But why would the person in the car knock into Charlie too?

  The sands of Sheringham beach stretched between the rocks, as beautifully as she remembered. A few families had set up camps across the expanse, but not as many as Max had imagined. Charlie headed down the sloping boardwalk to the sand. She and John followed more slowly.

  ‘It’s pretty,’ John said. ‘Narrow.’

  ‘Compared to the east coast in the States.’ She stepped out of her sandals and dropped the bag with towels by a large flat-faced rock. Her cardigan she draped on the rock.

  Charlie looked at the sea. ‘It’s going to be bloody freezing, you know.’ He ripped off his shirt and jeans.

  ‘Changing your mind?’ Max asked. She unbuttoned her dress, but her hands hesitated on the waist tie.

  ‘Of course not.’ Charlie cocked his head to the side. ‘Funny. I figured you’d already seen each other naked. What’s the big deal?’ He paced quickly down to the sea. A few months ago, he would have run.

  ‘Charlie!’ she called, but he dropped his walking stick on the beach and flung himself into the water. His yelp resonated around the beach.

  Max spread her fingers, remembering the pour of water from Victor’s mouth across them. She shivered. Splashing in the shallows here would be nothing like Mull. She untied the belt.

  John’s touch on her arm startled her. He’d already undressed to his trunks. ‘First time since Scotland?’

  ‘Yes.’ She pulled the dress over her head and flung it towards John’s face. ‘Race you,’ she said and laughed as she pelted across the sand. John’s feet pounded behind her, and then he grabbed her around the waist. She shrieked as he carried her out to sea and they fell together in the water. The heat of John’s chest against her back only magnified the shock of the cold. She surfaced to Charlie’s laughter.

  They splashed and swam for a while, till Charlie complained that the cold made his leg ache. As he limped up the beach, John’s arms folded around her.

  His lips brushed her ear.

  Max inhaled shakily. She turned and stroked his chest. ‘I’d half convinced myself you weren’t as beautiful as I remembered.’

  ‘It was only two weeks.’

  ‘A long two weeks.’ She kissed him fiercely.

  The embrace was interrupted by a wolf whistle from the beach.

  ‘I’ll race you to the rocks,’ she said, breaking into a steady crawl.

  John followed, but she reached the craggy outbreak first. The sun disappeared behind clouds, and the temperature dropped.

  ‘You aren’t letting me win, are you?’ Max asked.

  ‘Only if I get another kiss.’

  ‘Not with our chaperone.’ John’s hand traced down her spine. ‘You need to stop,’ Max said, her breath coming too fast.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘I’m not.’ Max kissed his cheek. ‘I am freezing though.’ They walked towards the shore, holding hands without discussion.

  Charlie trailed down the beach towards them, already dressed. ‘You have any money, Max? I’m hungry.’

  Max sighed. ‘My car keys are in my cardigan’s pocket. My handbag is in the boot.’

  ‘Thank God.’

  ‘Hang on. My wallet’s just there in my trousers. What are you going to get?’

  ‘Fish and chips, if I can find a shop.’

  ‘You cou
ld have brought us towels.’ Max hurried up the beach, sun-warmed sand clinging to her feet. She threw a towel to John and squeezed water from her hair.

  ‘You didn’t have to stay in the water canoodling either.’

  ‘Get some for us too,’ John said, handing a note to Charlie.

  ‘Thanks.’ He paced off. How long would it be before Charlie could run properly again?

  John dropped his wallet on top of the pile of clothes and dried his face.

  Max wrapped her towel around her body and wiggled her swimsuit down under its cover.

  ‘I wondered how you were going to change.’ John passed her her dress, and she pulled it over the towel. She buttoned it quickly, her fingers fumbling as he watched her. She eased the towel out and tied the belt.

  ‘Disappointingly smooth,’ he said. ‘I was hoping to get flashed at least once.’

  Max laughed and slid into her cardigan. ‘I’ve been coming here a long time. Lots of practice.’ She fished her knickers from her bag, pulling them up under her dress.

  ‘I like pink too,’ John said. He toed his wallet aside and shook sand from his trousers. The wallet was black. The one he’d taken a condom from in Berlin had been brown. At the time, she hadn’t remembered the one he’d had in his kitchen. This one.

  ‘Do you have two… James Carter. The other wallet.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He bent to retrieve it and passed it to her. ‘Have a look. This one’s mine. No secrets.’

  Max flipped it open. Some money, several folded papers she didn’t touch, a few receipts.

  John’s lips tightened briefly, but he relaxed when she moved to the cards. A store card, and his press pass. She lifted it out. John W. Knox. ‘W?’

  ‘William. The pass is real.’ He wrapped the towel around his waist. ‘Do you have a middle name?

  ‘Two. Elizabeth Anne.’ She didn’t say she’d read James Carter’s article about the film festival. Presumably the other wallet held a pass too. Nothing else of interest.

  John smiled. ‘Elizabeth’s my mother’s name.’

  ‘You really don’t believe in photos, do you?’ None of his family. Where was hers? Her fingers dipped into a pocket, but brushed the wrapper of another condom. She didn’t remove it. John would tease her now, or even proposition her, but he didn’t.

  ‘It’s difficult to carry them.’ He perched on the edge of the large rock. ‘Give it here.’

  She passed it back. He took out the press pass and fumbled under it to extract her photo. Then he replaced it and reached down past the papers and money. This time he held up a hairpin.

  ‘Do you pick locks with it?’

  ‘I suppose I could.’ He tucked it back in carefully. ‘That’s not why I have it. It’s yours.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘It’s yours. I found it on my kitchen floor.’ A light flush burnished his cheeks. ‘I stuck it in the other wallet before I left for Berlin. I’m not usually sentimental.’ He smiled. ‘And if you tell anybody, I’ll swear up and down you’re lying.’

  How on earth could a hairpin be romantic? And yet she’d never heard anything so wonderful in her life. She stepped close to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘I love you,’ she whispered and kissed him. Why was she being so stupid? Of course she could marry him. The wallet bumped against her as it fell, and his arms closed around her. She gripped his damp shoulders as he stroked her hips through the thin fabric of her dress.

  A laugh interrupted them. ‘Clearly you have slept together,’ Charlie said.

  Max forced herself to pry her body from John’s. ‘You shouldn’t care so much.’ She’d tell John when they got back to the house. Maybe she could whisper it to him.

  ‘Aren’t you supposed to provide some sort of moral compass for me, as my elder?’ Charlie laughed when she stuck her tongue out at him.

  ‘You shouldn’t spy on your elders then,’ John said.

  ‘You’re on a public beach! Anyway, your fish is getting cold.’

  ‘Could you go away for three minutes? Please?’ Max asked.

  ‘Maybe you haven’t noticed, but those clouds are getting sort of interesting.’ He cocked his head. ‘What are you going to do in three minutes anyway?’

  ‘Right,’ John said.

  Max turned. The cloud bank stretching across the coast grew darker and darker. ‘Eat fast. Under no circumstances will anybody take fish into my car,’ she said.

  The clouds continued to mass quickly, and Max carried their fish wrappers to a bin while John dressed.

  As they walked to the car, Max guided John’s hand to her pocket and curled his fingers around her keys.

  ‘You sure?’

  She nodded. When had she ever felt this ebullient? Her mother would be thrilled.

  ‘You’re kidding me,’ Charlie said as John opened the passenger door for Max. ‘Have you ever let anybody else drive this thing?’

  John glanced at Max. ‘I’ll be careful.’

  ‘I trust you.’ She smiled, and he looked almost startled. How quickly could they be alone again once they were at the house?

  They’d barely started moving when the rain began, thick sheets the wipers couldn’t keep up with. John slowed.

  ‘Regretting letting Mr Knox drive now?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘No.’ Max’s fingers curled into her palms. This would be nightmarish for her to drive in, and John drove well. Hell, he’d probably had extra spy driving lessons.

  ‘You could call me John, you know,’ he said, not taking his eyes from the road. ‘I’m only twice your age, not three times.’

  ‘Okay. Did your family make you go to university before you joined up?’

  ‘I was already there. I finished, then joined the army.’

  ‘While I have supreme confidence in John’s driving, chitchat might be distracting,’ Max said.

  John laughed. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  They crawled home, the journey that should have only taken forty minutes stretching to nearly two hours.

  ‘Admit it, you’re glad I got food,’ Charlie said.

  ‘Okay, yes.’ If only he’d been just a few minutes later.

  Finally, they turned into the long winding drive, the rain lashing at the car. A crack sounded louder than the wind.

  The tree just by them did more than sway, it tipped. Max opened her mouth but John slammed the car into reverse before she could speak.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE TREE CRASHED to the ground in front of them. Branches tapped the front of the car, but the trunk could have—should have—gone through the body.

  ‘Fuck. How did you know to do that?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘Lucky guess,’ John said. ‘Sorry about the transmission.’

  Max laughed.

  ‘Is that hysteria?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘Do you honestly think I’m the hysterical type? I can get the transmission mended.’ She touched John’s shoulder. ‘Thank you.’

  They stared at the rain. John squeezed her hand. Trees didn’t just fall.

  ‘I’m hungry,’ Charlie said.

  ‘You’re always bloody hungry.’

  ‘Well, this isn’t going to stop. Shall we make a run for it?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘We can’t get the car up to the garage now.’ The grass would be awash, and Henry would kill her if she tore up a half mile of grass to the house.

  John turned off the car.

  Kill her. Trees lined the drive every five yards. How could this particular one fall so close to them? Would she have reversed in time if she had been driving?

  ‘Max?’ John asked.

  ‘Sure.’ They opened their doors and slammed them against the rain. Max clambered up over the tree trunk, scraping her knee on the rough bark.

  John turned towards her, hands out, but she’d already jumped down. She glanced back at her poor car.

  ‘Run,’ Charlie shouted over the rain and headed to the house, limping as he went.

  John took her hand. ‘It’ll be fine,’
he said in her ear. He turned to the base of the tree, but the rain was so thick they could scarcely see. ‘I’ll see you at the house.’ A kiss landed on her wet cheek, and he jogged towards the tree’s roots.

  Max wiped her eyes, although the rain coated her face again instantly. She followed John, a dark blurred shape ahead of her. When she reached him, he crouched by the base of the tree. She couldn’t see much, but John put her hand on the break. Her fingers found the jagged edge she expected, but before the spikes, she felt a sharp, smooth bite. An axe. More than three quarters of the way through the trunk.

  John stood and looked around. The wind blew, cascading water over them.

  ‘House?’ Max shouted.

  John nodded and they headed up the slope, heads down against the rain. John popped his hat on her head, and she laughed. It too was soaked. They trudged rather than Charlie’s limping trot. The rain cascaded down Max’s bare legs into her sandals. She shivered. An axe. What local kid would come onto the estate to vandalise it? And the tree had been solid, so no gardener would have hewn it down…

  Harris opened the door as they reached the steps, already holding towels.

  Max exchanged John’s hat for a towel. She buried her face in the cotton. ‘A bath,’ Max said. ‘And…’

  ‘Darling,’ her mother said. ‘Are you all right? What took so long?’

  ‘Running wasn’t going to make us less wet, Mother.’ Max lowered her hands. Charlie stood, still dripping, mouth agape at a dark-haired woman next to her mother. The perfect cropped hair, the svelte figure in a marigold dress. And behind her, the deep side parting in Tommy’s hair.

  ‘This is the surprise I told you about! Catherine rang me in London, and it’s been so long since I’ve seen them,’ Mother said.

  ‘Max, how lovely to see you again. I think I’ll skip the welcoming hug.’ Catherine shrugged delicately.

  ‘Catherine,’ Max said. The bubble of happiness in her chest collapsed. She held the towel in front of her, covering the clinginess of the wet dress. The cardigan might hide her lack of a brassiere, but Tommy didn’t need to see her pink underwear through the thin fabric.