The Perfect Lie

by Karen Osman

  Rose looked up expectantly when she heard Claire enter the room.

  ‘Rose, hello, nice to see you again,’ said Claire politely holding out her hand.

  ‘Finally,’ replied Rose, her large blue eyes never leaving Claire’s face.

  ‘I understand you talked to Julia again to request my representation despite advice at our initial meeting,’ replied Claire. May as well get to the bottom of this.

  Rose paused before answering. ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘May I ask why?’ asked Claire, although she knew the answer, but there was always hope.

  ‘As I said, you came recommended,’ replied Rose mysteriously, not giving anything away.

  ‘By whom?’ replied Claire.

  ‘A friend. They said they thought you might be able to understand more.’

  ‘Shall we sit down?’ replied Claire, indicating towards the table and chairs. Without waiting for a response, Claire sat and busied herself with the file. ‘Greg and Chloe won’t be a moment.’

  Wherever she went, this nightmare would follow her. It was hardly a secret though – Charlotte had made sure of that when she told the rest of the girls and then the whole school knew. And then everyone’s parents knew along with most of Castlefield.

  Breathe.

  After a few moments, Claire felt calmer and she looked up at Rose who was now sat opposite her.

  ‘Well, as it’s already been mentioned several times, I don’t usually handle such cases but here’s what we’re going to do: Greg and Chloe will represent you, but I will be here to help with your testimony.’

  ‘Will you be in court with me?’ asked Rose.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Will you be in the meetings here with me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay,’ replied Rose, seeming satisfied. She smiled then and Claire saw something in the young girl’s eyes. Bravery? Yes, but there was something else.

  Just at that moment, Greg and Chloe came in, Chloe in front, all warm and friendly. Her primary job was to focus on Rose, make sure she was prepped and ready for what would be, Claire knew, a horrendous ordeal ahead of her. It was one of the reasons so many victims didn’t want to go to trial. Having to relive the experience, come face to face with their attacker, and often all for nothing – less than a third of young men prosecuted for rape were convicted.

  ‘Right, Rose, nice to see you again. We’ve already done a lot of good work but there’s still more to do. Are you ready to begin?’ asked Chloe, after all the greetings were made and she had settled herself next to Rose. Greg had taken a seat opposite.

  ‘So, in today’s session,’ continued Chloe, ‘we’ll continue with all the work we have done so far. You’re doing great, Rose, but it is going to get harder. Both Greg and I have tried similar cases before so I need you to keep that in mind as we move through this. I know at times, it’s going to be very difficult and there might be days where you wonder how you will keep going. But any time you feel like that Rose, let us know and we’ll do everything we can to help, okay?’

  Rose glanced at Claire before nodding again, and Claire wondered if the young girl sat before her really knew what lay ahead of her. Perhaps she thought that after her ordeal the worst was over? But as Claire listened to the proceedings, it was hard to stop her own memories and as the case unfolded, Claire was reminded of her own past.

  September 1989

  12

  Her mum had left it on her bed, the large GO SPORT carrier bag concealing its contents. Claire had pounced on it, desperate to see what was hidden beneath the layers of tissue and plastic and as she caught a glimpse of grey and mint green, she couldn’t help but let out a shriek of delight.

  ‘I thought you might like it,’ said her mum, coming into the bedroom.

  Claire ran towards her, her arms outstretched for a hug in a rare display of affection.

  ‘How did you find it?’ she asked in disbelief. ‘Not even Charlotte has this bag and she has everything!’

  ‘I have my ways.’ Her mum smiled and at that moment, Claire thought she had the best mum in the world.

  ‘I have to pack it!’ she cried excitedly, her hands pulling the bag out. She looked at it for a few moments, admiring the gold zips in the shape of the HEAD logo. With its detachable side pocket and lock and key, it was the only thing she’d wanted for her final year at school. The girls would be so jealous!

  Opening the main compartment, she carefully placed her new pencil case and gym kit inside. Holding the strap, she slipped it over her shoulder and admired herself in the mirror. If this didn’t seal the deal to get into the Queen Bees, the exclusive secret club run by popular Charlotte Jarvis, she didn’t know what would. Well, she would find out soon enough. Tomorrow was the first day of school after the summer holidays and she couldn’t wait to show off her new bag.

  *

  Claire applied her Body Shop lip balm in the girls’ bathroom. Kiwi-fruit-flavoured. Gross. She hated it but all the girls had it, so she did too. She had about five minutes before the bell went and she smiled to herself with satisfaction. What a great first day back it had been so far. She’d been right about her new school bag – the girls had crowded around her admiring it and demanding to know where she had bought it. She’d been as mysterious as her mother the day before and it had worked like a charm.

  ‘You’re an absolute shoo-in now,’ whispered Anne, her best friend. Anne Nicholl had been inducted into the Queen Bees last term just before school had broken up for the summer and while she’d been pleased for her friend, she’d had to work hard to supress the jealousy that it hadn’t been her.

  But today was her day. Claire was sure of it. Just one more class to go and then she would be inducted. That morning, as the girls had marvelled over her new purchase, Charlotte had entered the cloak room followed by what Claire silently nicknamed her faithful three – Tiffany, Louise, and Vivian. The group surrounding Claire had parted to let Charlotte through. The two girls had eyed each other before Charlotte spoke.

  ‘Hey, Claire… how was your summer? Been shopping I see?’ Charlotte eyed the bag appreciatively before turning slightly and Claire saw Charlotte carrying a lilac and white version of the sports bag. But then with glee Claire had noticed it didn’t have the detachable section like hers did.

  ‘It was good thanks, how about you?’ Claire answered hoping her own larger version wouldn’t work against her before adding, ‘Loving the colour of your bag.’

  ‘We’re like twin sisters,’ replied Charlotte, acknowledging the compliment with a smile and Claire had felt relief at the approval.

  ‘Let’s meet in the drama room after school,’ Charlotte had said before turning to the rest of the group. ‘I think we’re ready for a new member!’

  Claire’s heart had soared – she was in!

  And now as she combed her long blonde hair and adjusted her navy-blue skirt, so it was just the right length, she knew she was going to be the best Queen Bee member Charlotte had ever seen.

  *

  ‘Open your books to page fifteen and we’ll start from there. Right, who would like to read the part of Helena?’ asked Mrs Matthews, her long beads jostling around her neck as she walked around the classroom. Normally, Claire would jump at the chance. Not only did she look the part of the main character, Helena, from A Midsummer’s Night Dream with her tall figure and long blonde hair, but she was a good reader too – clear and confident. English was one of her favourite subjects, but today the lesson dragged, and Claire found herself daydreaming, her mind too preoccupied with her Queen Bee induction after school.

  Charlotte had been the one to set up the Queen Bees the year before in their fourth year of senior school and at the time Claire hadn’t thought much of it. It had started with a few whisperings between Charlotte and her Faithful Three and then they’d invited Emma and Janet and then Rachel and Nicola and before she knew it, the group of fifteen girls, who had all grown up together in Castlefield and had promised to never let anything c
ome between them, was divided in two. And the Queen Bees were clearly having more fun.

  They had gate-crashed the sixth-form social and had spent the evening drinking and dancing. It was even rumoured that Charlotte had snogged Stuart Cooper. Another time, the Queen Bees had gone on a shopping trip to Manchester and then watched The Stone Roses in concert. There were private gatherings at Charlotte’s house and secret letters passed in class. They even all had the same charm bracelets – flashes of secret silver that were hidden under the sleeves of their school jumpers.

  As the club grew by invitation only, every girl wanted to join and not just from their class either. The stories about the Queen Bees had spread to the rest of their year group and there was even a rumour that Charlotte had a waiting list. And then Anne had been invited to join and Claire, who had been happy enough with her best friend and studies, knew that she would do anything to be a part of the Queen Bees.

  *

  Claire checked her watch: 3.55 p.m. She’d been here since half past three and was starting to wonder if she was in the right classroom. Drama room three. It was more of a storeroom than anything else, tucked away at the end of the corridor. But then she heard a burst of laugher from the corridor and quickly picked up her Just Seventeen magazine and started to flick through it.

  ‘Claire, hi! You made it! You ready?’ Claire looked at Charlotte as she got down from the desk she’d been perched on. With her permed blonde hair and slightly oily skin, Charlotte wasn’t the prettiest girl in their year but there was an aura about her, a confidence that attracted boys and girls alike.

  ‘Yep! Can’t wait!’

  ‘Good – us neither!’ Charlotte smiled at the group of girls around her and suddenly Claire felt uneasy. She tried to catch Anne’s eye, but her best friend was watching Charlotte.

  ‘Tiffany, close the door, would you? We don’t want anyone to hear us,’ ordered Charlotte. ‘Helen, Emma, start putting the chairs in a semi-circle.’

  The girls moved to do their jobs and Claire envied the way Charlotte dominated the room.

  Claire felt a thrill go through her – she’d waited a long time for this and she couldn’t wait to wear her bracelet.

  As the girls began to sit down, Claire felt uncertain. What was she supposed to do? Charlotte remained standing at the open end of the semi-circle and indicated for Claire to stand opposite her. Suddenly, the hum of activity stopped, and the room went quiet.

  ‘Claire Sharpe, are you ready to become a member of the Queen Bees?’ asked Charlotte, her face solemn.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Claire.

  ‘Are you willing to follow the Queen Bee rules and obey all orders as directed by the Queen Bee guidelines?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Claire. She was tempted to ask what the rules and orders would be but thought better of it. She could always ask Anne later.

  ‘Are you ready to accept your final challenge in order to secure your place as a Queen Bee?’

  Claire paused. What challenge? Anne had never said anything about a challenge when she’d got inducted.

  Charlotte’s eyebrows went up a fraction, impatient for her answer.

  ‘Wh-what challenge?’ asked Claire.

  ‘The Queen Bees only accept yes or no answers,’ announced Charlotte.

  Of course, she knew that – Anne had told her that in advance. But why hadn’t she mentioned anything about a challenge?

  ‘Again – are you ready to accept your final challenge in order to secure your place as a Queen Bee?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Claire firmly. Surely, it couldn’t be that bad.

  ‘Very good.’ Charlotte turned to pick up a plastic bowl that Vivian held out to her, which contained several folded-up pieces of paper. ‘Anne, as Claire’s nominator, could you please pick her a challenge from the bowl?’

  The room was silent in anticipation as Anne swirled her hand in the bowl, and Claire watched as her fingers clutched a piece of paper and handed it to Charlotte’s outstretched hand. She read it, before grinning, and put it in her shirt pocket.

  ‘So,’ announced Charlotte to the group. The girls looked up at her, expectant. ‘The challenge is this: you have to ask, and go on a date with…’

  Charlotte paused dramatically, the tension in the room palpable.

  ‘…PAUL JONES!’

  There was a brief moment of silence before the room exploded into laughter. Charlotte indulged them for a minute before holding up her hand for silence.

  ‘You have a week to ask him and go out with him…’ More sniggers. ‘Annnnnddddd,’ drawled Charlotte, ‘you have to kiss!’

  The girls shrieked so loudly Claire felt herself smiling in response.

  Go out with the school swot? Well, that wasn’t too bad. She would ask Paul to go to the pictures with her, one kiss in the dark and that would be that. Sorted. She would ask him tomorrow.

  ‘And then… welcome to the Queen Bees, my friend!’ finished Charlotte. The room was in uproar as everyone cheered and clapped, the light bouncing off their silver bracelets, and Claire felt herself get pulled into the energy of their group.

  13

  Paul kicked the stone moodily against the wall of his house thinking about his first day back at school. It had been even worse than he’d imagined. The stench of burning polyester still hung in his nostrils and Paul felt the charred residue of shame. He’d been in chemistry class when it had happened, Mr Simmons the teacher having left the room to get some more supplies.

  Paul was just about to lift the test tube into the flame of a Bunsen burner when he saw the flash of school uniform move and grab him from behind. It was Dillon, one of Gavin’s gang, who held him by the arms while Kev had yanked Paul’s school tie and put it in the flame of the Bunsen burner, forcing Paul’s face close to the open flare. He could see the electric-blue nucleus of the fire and the heat pressed horrifyingly on his eyeballs. Just before he’d squeezed his eyes shut, he watched as the burner curled the tie, a black mark spreading across the material towards him.

  As Paul felt his skin start to singe, a sharp whistle signalling Mr Simmons’ arrival flew across the room and Kev released him quickly, boomeranging Paul upright. He saw Barry, who must have been guarding the classroom door, Kev and Dillon run back to their workbench. Mr Simmons returned to a classroom full of studious bent heads, none the wiser. Paul had sat down on his stool, shaking. What would have happened if Simmons hadn’t come back when he had? Paul felt fear crawl in his throat. None of his classmates had intervened.

  Cowards.

  Paul felt rage replace shame and he kicked the stone even harder, imagining it was Gavin’s head. He was usually safe in the classroom as Gavin and his gang normally hassled him during the breaks or after school. It hadn’t always been like this, though. There was a time when Paul had loved senior school, especially the first couple of years. But in the third year, everything changed. One minute he was everyone’s mate and the next he was an outsider. It had started when the classes had been streamed into tiers based on ability. Paul had been placed in the top tier for all subjects while his friend Gavin had been placed in the lowest tier – tier three. At first, it had just been a few jibes.

  Teacher’s pet.

  Swot.

  He’d ignored it. Everyone had to put up with a bit of teasing at school. But then it started to turn nasty as Gavin and a few of his new mates from tier three had ganged up on him, kicking his shins as they passed in the corridors or following him into the bathroom during break time and emptying his rucksack all over the floor. His tier-one classmates were just happy they weren’t targets and as they disassociated themselves from him, it wasn’t long before Paul found himself pretty much alone.

  He had one friend though: Brian Robbins who he’d met in his maths class the year before they’d been streamed into tiers. They’d been partnered together for one of the problem-solving sessions and discovered they both had a love of BMX biking. Paul had been surprised when Brian had invited him to bike with him the following
Saturday morning in the woods on the outskirts of Castlefield and since then Paul and Brian met up most Saturdays in the same spot, just the two of them.

  Paul couldn’t imagine his life without those sessions to look forward to, especially as he and Brian only had one class together. Brian had football practice most days after school and he always seemed to have a ball in his hands. It was usually a small bouncy ball or a tennis ball that he would fling from hand to hand, almost like a tic. Tempted as Paul was to join the football team, so he didn’t have to walk home alone after school, he knew he didn’t have a coordinated bone in his body and would probably just invite even more ridicule. So, most afternoons, he would run home from school to the safety of his bedroom. His mum would bring him in a hot chocolate and he would immerse himself in his homework.

  He knew he was intelligent – he’d been told often enough by his parents and teachers. Legend had it that when he was just a year old, he’d mastered his letters and numbers and from then on, his mother had told him every day he was a child prodigy. Paul had always loved books and read widely; it didn’t matter what subject – all the subjects at school came easily to him and he was one of those rare students who actually enjoyed studying. Things made sense in the textbooks – the information was either right or wrong; there was no grey area.

  But it was science that he really loved – especially biology. His dream of becoming a doctor had been resolute since he’d broken his arm last year. He’d sat in absolute agony in the hospital waiting room before being x-rayed. A nurse had taken him through to the ward and as he’d sat on the bed, his mother trying to hold his hand as if he was a three-year-old, he’d watched as the team of nurses fluttered around the ward, brisk and efficient.