The Perfect Lie

by Karen Osman

‘I’ll think about it. Okay?’

  ‘Promise?’ wheedled Julia.

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘Amazing!’ Everything was amazing with Julia.

  ‘So,’ Julia said, pulling some leaflets out of her bag. ‘What do you think of this office space?’

  ‘Office space! Julia! I said I would think about it and you’ve already been looking for offices?’

  ‘I know, I know, but Claire, look!’

  Claire caught sight of an image – a New York-style loft – huge windows with views looking over Manchester. Pulling it towards her, she peered over her sunglasses at Julia reproachfully before glancing at the leaflet. She couldn’t help but be curious. ‘I’m just looking, Julia – it doesn’t mean I’ve agreed to this, okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ replied Julia, nonchalantly, hiding her smile behind her wine glass. But they both knew Julia had won. Together they would go into business and set up their own law firm, Stephens & Carmichael.

  3

  ‘This lamb is just perfect, Claire,’ announced her mother and Claire looked up in surprise. It was unlike her mother to be so complimentary. She waited a moment before responding. There was usually something to follow. And sure enough.

  ‘Did you cook it or did Lucy do it?’

  Claire deliberately took her time to finish her mouthful of food.

  ‘I cooked it,’ she lied, looking her mum directly in the eye.

  ‘Well, it tastes delicious,’ said her father, clearly trying to make up for his wife’s insinuation.

  Claire took a gulp of wine and wished she hadn’t invited them. She tried not to think how she could be curled up with Chris on the sofa reading or watching TV. She and Chris didn’t get too many evenings together and she knew they’d get even less when she went back to work full-time.

  ‘So, when do you go back?’ her mum asked.

  Honestly, it was like her mother could read her mind.

  ‘Next week. I’ll settle Jamie into school on Monday and then start properly on Tuesday.’

  ‘Well, I suppose that’s how it is today, isn’t it? Working mums. Brings more problems than it solves in my opinion, but I’m sure you know what you’re doing.’

  Chris and Claire exchanged glances, both quietly hoping that Joshua would start a new topic of conversation. He could usually be relied on to charm his grandparents. But then Claire caught the faint glow of backlight from his mobile phone and knew he was secretly messaging under the table. Little bugger. Joshua knew how much she hated that.

  ‘So, Joshua, are you ready to go back to sixth-form college?’ Claire asked pointedly. ‘Why don’t you tell your grandparents about your new maths teacher?’

  As Joshua began talking, in between shovelling huge forkfuls of food into his mouth, Claire and Chris both relaxed back in their chairs. Crisis averted. Once Patricia Sharpe – Claire’s mum – got going on a subject there was no stopping her – not even her long-suffering husband who had given up even trying, years ago. As long as Claire’s dad got his weekly football in, he’d learnt to be content. The time for change had long gone and they were both too old now.

  The family were sat around Claire’s dining table: her parents, Chris, herself, and Joshua. Jamie had already gone to bed. It was a monthly ritual that had started soon after Claire and Chris had got married. They had used to alternate – one month at Claire’s, the next month at her parents’, but when the kids came along, it had been easier for her parents to come to their daughter and son-in-law’s home. But although the boys were older now, they’d never gone back to their previous arrangement, so each month Claire found herself cooking a three-course meal. She’d become proficient at it over the years although she didn’t enjoy cooking. To her, it was just another task to be ticked off the never-ending domestic to-do list.

  ‘Speaking of Lucy,’ said her mother, interrupting her thoughts.

  We weren’t, thought Claire, but go on, I know you won’t be happy until you’ve said your piece.

  ‘Did you do reference checks on her?’

  ‘Of course!’ replied Claire. ‘I was very thorough.’ Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Joshua start with his phone again and she tried to find his leg under the table to nudge him.

  ‘Well, that’s good. We don’t want our precious grandson left with just anyone now, do we, James?’

  Claire’s father avoided answering by pretending to be engrossed in his peas.

  ‘Lucy’s great, Mum,’ replied Claire firmly. ‘And she’s still in the trial phase. She’s only been with us a week but so far she’s shown herself to be really good with Jamie.’

  Claire wondered why she was even bothering to defend her decision.

  ‘Well of course, I’m sure she’s lovely. Where did you say she’s from again, love?’

  I didn’t, but you’ve somehow found out and now you’re going to make it an issue.

  ‘She’s local, Mum; Irene recommended her, remember?’ But she knew it wasn’t enough.

  ‘Yes, but where exactly?’ persisted her mum.

  ‘Cressfield Lane.’

  Damn it. Even Chris looked up at that one.

  Her mum’s face was aghast.

  Oh, stop being so dramatic!

  ‘Really, Claire? Do you think that’s a good idea? You know what that area is like… drugs and all sorts. What if she brought them to the house?’

  ‘Mum, she isn’t a—’

  ‘Chris, love, what do you think? Are you happy with this arrangement?’

  Oh no you don’t, Mother!

  ‘Chris and I made this decision together, Mum,’ stated Claire firmly before Chris had a chance to respond. ‘He’s on board with it.’

  Claire and her mother both turned to Chris, his wife silently daring him to contradict her, his mother-in-law waiting for confirmation.

  ‘It’s all right, Patricia,’ said Chris, his face breaking into the well-used smile he saved for his best clients. ‘We checked her out thoroughly so no need to worry.’ Claire watched her husband resume eating, hoping it was enough to close the matter.

  ‘I have absolutely no doubt, Chris,’ started her mother, refusing to be derailed.

  Oh, for goodness’ sake!

  ‘But why take the chance?’ she continued, speaking to Chris. ‘I’d be more than happy to watch Jamie for you in the afternoons.’

  Claire, now excluded from the conversation, seethed inside, but she knew if she wanted the best outcome, she would have to leave it to Chris to handle her.

  ‘We know, Patricia, and it’s lovely of you, but it’s such a lot to ask. We couldn’t possibly…’ he protested, although not strongly enough for Claire’s liking. Claire could practically see the numbers going through his head trying to weigh up how much money they’d save versus the potential pain of having his mother-in-law in the house when he got home. She could see the numbers were winning and Claire knew she had to do something quickly.

  ‘What about your W.I., Mum? That’s every Tuesday afternoon, and don’t forget your weekly shop and afternoon tea with Moira on Fridays. Like Chris said, we couldn’t possibly impose such a responsibility on you,’ said Claire firmly.

  Not to mention Lucy will do all the cleaning and cooking as well.

  ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right,’ conceded Patricia. ‘I am very busy these days. I honestly don’t know what would happen to the W.I. if they didn’t have me sorting everything out.’

  Finally.

  ‘But if you so much as get an inkling that Lucy is doing drugs, promise me, you’ll call me.’

  ‘We will, Mum,’ replied Claire, relieved. Another battle fought and won.

  *

  ‘Oh my God,’ complained Claire, removing her earrings as she sat at her dressing table. ‘She never gives up, does she?’

  Chris didn’t need to ask who she was talking about it. He removed his shirt and tie, dumping them in the laundry basket. ‘It was nice of your mum to offer to babysit though, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Honestly, Chris, you�
��d go nuts coming home to her here every day. And besides, who will do all the washing, cleaning, and cooking?’

  ‘Is Lucy going to be doing all that as well?’

  ‘Yep,’ said Claire triumphantly. ‘She’s a great cook, isn’t she?’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t know,’ said Chris coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her. ‘Unless that lamb wasn’t produced by my wife’s own sweet fair hands?’ he joked, nuzzling into her neck.

  Claire smiled. ‘I guess you’ll never know, will you?’

  *

  Claire pulled up the covers around her, luxuriating in the warmth. Turning on her left side, she slipped an arm around her sleeping husband’s waist. She was tired, the evening having taken its toll, but despite the comforting presence of Chris, she couldn’t sleep. Her mother had always been difficult, but she seemed to be getting worse. And when had her father become so passive?

  Her mind raced backwards through her life – school, university, her first job, marrying Chris, the births of Joshua and Jamie – but nothing stuck out. Perhaps it was she who had changed? It was during such times that she wished she had a brother or sister to share her thoughts with. It was one of the reasons she’d been so adamant that she and Chris keep trying for a second baby – she didn’t want Joshua to be an only child like she had been.

  There had been some benefits though. You were at the centre of your parents’ world. Which was fine when you were a child, but not so much when you were an adult. And over the years, it seemed like the focus had become more and more intense, like being under a microscope and the dial just kept turning and turning. And what about her Dad? They had been so close – allies against the world. Now, the only thing that seemed to make him happy was his football.

  Happiness. She’d never thought about it in relation to her parents before. Were they happy? She didn’t know. She’d never asked them. She wondered what they would say, if she did. She knew she made them happy. Her dad always used to tell her that the day she was born was the best day of his life. Her dad had chosen the name Claire, although her mother had insisted on registering it with an I so it was spelt the French way.

  What made people happy at that age, anyway? They were sixty-seven, not exactly ancient but not young any more either. They’d been married since they were twenty-two, having met at school. Her father had worked in retail. They’d lived in the same house, her father had worked for the same firm, and they’d been attending the same social club for as long as Claire could remember. But growing up, that was normal – what all her friends had as well. A mum, a dad, maybe a sibling or two; if you were lucky, a guinea pig, and if you were very lucky, a puppy. You went to school, Mum picked you up, Dad usually came home from work at five-thirty, bath at seven o’clock and into bed. Everyone did the same.

  But she’d always had a feeling that there was something slightly different about her parents. Like the time they’d slept in separate beds for a few years. Mum said it was because of Dad’s snoring. Dad said it was because of his snoring. At the time, she’d accepted that. But now she wondered if it was just another example of a broken marriage. There was certainly no physical affection between them; they didn’t hold hands or even peck each other on the cheek. They didn’t sit close – Dad had his chair and Mum had hers on different sides of the room, albeit both facing the television. But isn’t that what all couples did? Over the years, she’d begun to wonder.

  4

  The crowd was three-deep, lining Castle Street for at least half a mile. They cheered loudly as Claire ran past them, flags waving, hands clapping, propelling her to the finish line. She could see it just ahead, the blue ribbon pulled taut, the digital clock luminous and truthful against the grey sky. With a last surge of adrenalin, Claire pumped her arms and legs as fast as she could, her desire to beat the clock propelling her forward. As her taut stomach touched the imaginary ribbon, she opened her arms, the relief instantaneous.

  Breathing heavily, she ripped out her earphones, the fast beats of Calvin Harris’s ‘Summer’ having done their job. Hands resting on her back, she walked in circles hoping it was still too early for anyone to have noticed her. As she took in the empty street, she brought herself back to her own reality – a bored housewife going out for a run.

  Not for much longer.

  Checking her fitness watch, she was amazed at the power of her imagination and the impact on her speed – she’d improved by three point five seconds. She’d always listened to music during her runs, but it was the first time she’d used visualisation. She’d come across the idea on a Ted Talk the night before. Chris thought she was addicted to Ted Talks – she consumed them eagerly, her brain soaking up the information. It didn’t matter what the topic – her dedication to self-improvement bordered on the obsessive.

  Sharing her new time on Facebook, Claire started the short walk back home. It was just after six in the morning and the last Friday of the summer holidays before school started the following Monday.

  *

  ‘Good run?’ asked Chris, as he came into the kitchen and gave her cheek a kiss.

  ‘Yep! I got a new personal best this morning. Twenty point four minutes.’

  ‘Brilliant!’

  She watched him buzz around the kitchen, grabbing a piece of toast and putting it between his teeth while helping himself to coffee and reading emails on his phone. She marvelled at his ability to be so alert within seconds of waking up. It had taken Claire almost thirty minutes just to get out of bed and put on her running gear.

  ‘Going for a shower,’ he told her now as he headed to the bathroom to get ready.

  After taking a quick gulp of coffee, Claire started to prepare Jamie’s breakfast. She put the bowl of cereal on the table, along with his milk, and went upstairs to put her ear to his door. She presumed he was still sleeping. She would leave Jamie for another fifteen minutes, she decided, while she finished her coffee. Joshua would probably sleep until at least nine a.m., but she liked to keep Jamie on a bit of a routine during the holidays, especially with school starting in a few days. Besides, she’d promised to take Jamie to Manchester today, so he could choose his new school bag and pencil case. They were planning to make a morning of it, go for lunch and maybe to the cinema.

  She took her cup into the bedroom and stripped off her running clothes. After putting on a dressing gown, she got back into bed. She sank down into the pillows, the king-size-plus bed wrapping her in softness. No wonder it was so difficult to get up in the morning. She leant her head against the soft, velvet grey headboard, so different to the single bed she and Chris had shared in her dorm room at university. How had they even managed to sleep cramped together like that? She smiled remembering fun nights and drunken sex, the two of them wrapped in each other’s arms, warm and comfortable in each other’s company.

  Her new friends at Manchester university had been surprised to learn that she already had a boyfriend and that she and Chris had deliberately chosen to attend the same university. Didn’t she want to go out on the pull? Didn’t she want the anticipation of not knowing who she would meet? But Claire wanted the complete opposite. She loved to dance and drink but the thought of kissing a random student in a nightclub did not appeal at all. At the time, it had only been a couple of years since the incident and she just couldn’t…

  She had never told any of her new friends at university what had happened. What was the point? It was over and done with and besides… she had Chris, who made her feel safe and protected.

  And normal.

  The fact that they’d managed to get into the same university after being together in their last year of sixth form was the cherry on the cake in Claire’s opinion. And they had a plan. After graduation, she in law and Chris in business, they would get jobs and buy a house. They would get married in their mid-twenties, have baby number one at twenty-seven and number two at twenty-nine.

  She knew Chris felt the same as she did, as they talked about it frequently. She also knew that his
mates had egged him on to not settle down so early but when Chris was on his nights out, she never worried that he would succumb to the pressure. There was just one time when she went to his dorm room one morning around nine after one of his nights out and he wasn’t there. She’d left his room, wondering where he was. Later, he said he’d got up early and gone to the gym and she’d believed him. And as the hormones of freshers’ week settled down and the demands of the course kicked in, her friends started to envy the stability and consistency of her and Chris.

  She watched her friends ricochet from one-night stands to potential relationships to depressing singledom at an alarming rate, all against a backdrop of alcohol-fuelled socials and parties. Over endless rounds of late-night toast and tea, she participated in countless hours helping her new friends analyse the number of drinks consumed, the attractiveness of boys snogged, and the likelihood of going to study in the library the next day. But towards the end of the first term, when Claire discovered she’d put on a stone and received a lower than average grade on an end-of-term paper, she knew that she had to sacrifice a few nights out. Claire had serious plans for her life and they didn’t include being an overweight drinker.

  Studying law had always been her dream and if she was honest with herself it wasn’t because of any altruism on her part – it was mainly because she knew it was a high-paying career that would also allow her to use her brain. She’d seen what giving up work had done to her mother and it wasn’t something she’d aspired to. Patricia Sharpe had pushed her husband constantly to apply himself for the next promotion, the next job and while he had always done well, it had never been good enough for her mother. It didn’t help that her father was a cautious spender, even frugal. He always said it was better to keep as much as possible in savings – you just never knew what the future might bring – but it frustrated her mother who wanted everything that the neighbours had and more.

  Claire watched as her mother needled and poked her husband for more housekeeping money, a new car, holidays abroad. But the more she pushed, the more closed off her father became. Maybe because he knew it came from a place that wasn’t about enjoyment but more about competing. Either way, Claire had vowed that she would never be reliant on a man for money.