The Perfect Lie

by Karen Osman

  It was the irritating ping of Chris’s mobile that had made her curious. Usually, he had it on silent and he always had it on him but that evening he’d left it on the kitchen counter. Months later, she would wonder if he’d wanted to be found out. She’d been making a cup of tea and his phone lit up and she saw the first line of the message. Seeing the words I miss you pierced a part of Claire’s being she didn’t even know existed. It could be from his mum, she thought, trying to open the message while dipping the tea bag again to make it stronger. But the number she typed in to unlock Chris’s phone didn’t work and then she started to laugh, a wild hysterical laugh that reminded her of a homeless woman she’d once seen in Manchester.

  What was she doing? She didn’t need to open the message to know it wasn’t from his mum. And then she was crying and as Chris came rushing into the kitchen looking for his phone, Claire knew her marriage was over.

  *

  Claire wasn’t sure how much more she could take. It was three in the morning and the house was empty. Both Jamie and Joshua were with their grandparents and Claire had arranged to pick up Joshua at eight a.m. the next day to take him to court. Chris had left; she’d no idea where he’d gone. Most probably to this other woman. He refused to tell Claire her name or how he had met her. He said he’d been seeing her for a few months, but Claire guessed it must have been for at least a year if not longer.

  On a conscious level, she knew she would have to deal with her marriage at some point but for now it was impossible. Every fibre of her being was focused on her son. As she sat on the bathroom floor unable to get up, the cup of tea gone cold in her hands, she remembered the words of a friend from years ago. You think you love your husband but wait until you have a child – it’s love on a whole different level, a love you’re willing to die for. And as Claire sat there, completely alone, she realised it was true.

  *

  Claire woke up cold and wet, still on the floor of the bathroom. At first, she’d thought she’d wet herself and then she realised that the remnants of the tea had spilt over her as she’d fallen asleep. Stripping herself off, she grabbed a towel and wiped herself down before picking up the mug and going into the bedroom to check the time: 5:36 a.m. She wondered if Joshua was sleeping. She imagined him in the spare bedroom of her mother’s house, tucked into a bunk bed, his younger brother beneath him. She then wondered if Chris was sleeping.

  Was he having sex?

  And it was then that she flung the mug she was holding as hard as she could at the wall, the pieces shattering in a single satisfying smash.

  *

  Somehow Claire had managed to get into bed. She was naked and cold when her alarm woke her at seven. She felt ill with tiredness but as she rose from the mattress, the other side of the bed still made up, she felt a tinge of relief that the day of Joshua’s appearance in court had finally arrived. She would get through this and then her marriage could be dealt with.

  Pulling on her dressing gown, she padded downstairs to the kitchen and made a strong coffee. She had half an hour to get ready before she left the house to go to her parents’ house to pick up Joshua. Livingstone and herself had prepared him thoroughly – now it was just a case of letting Joshua do the rest and waiting for the verdict.

  *

  Claire and Joshua drove home in silence. He’d done well; he’d dressed exactly how she’d told him to and he’d responded to the questions exactly as they’d practised. Livingstone had been pleased too. Afterwards, Claire and Joshua had left quickly not wanting to be in court any longer than they needed to be. She was relieved not to have seen Rose in court.

  Lying bitch.

  Occasionally Claire thought about Julia and the firm. She thought about her job and her career and her time spent in court working on cases but it all seemed like a lifetime away, as remote as another planet in the solar system. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been in the office. She wondered if she ever would be again now that Julia had emailed her the offer to buy Claire out.

  Now, driving home, Joshua in the front seat beside her, she watched him as he leant his head back and closed his eyes. Despite his youth, he looked tired.

  ‘Has Dad gone back to work?’ asked Joshua suddenly and although she was staring straight ahead manoeuvring through traffic, she could feel her son’s eyes on her.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Claire. No point lying about it. Claire and Chris had been in court together, but she could sense Chris couldn’t wait to get back to the office afterwards. ‘Why? Did you need something?’

  ‘No, I was just wondering.’ Joshua fell silent before adding, ‘When can I go back to school?’ he asked, changing the subject.

  ‘In September when everyone else,’ replied Claire. ‘Do you want to go back?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to miss any more than I already have.’

  Claire smiled in spite of the grim proceedings they found themselves in. This was the Joshua she knew.

  ‘Okay, well let’s have a chat with the head and see what she says. The trial will be over in a couple of weeks.’

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Joshua nod. He seemed like he was about to say something else but then he leant his head back again and closed his eyes for the rest of the journey home.

  48

  Claire had been watching the trial in court most days. Each time she was there, she could almost believe that it was just another day on the job. She only saw Rose once, her long dark hair tied back primly, her posture ramrod straight. As soon as Claire left court, she would call Chris with an update, their conversations terse and brief. They had decided to keep the state of their marriage to themselves until the trial was over. She wondered whether Joshua had noticed that his father had been sleeping in the guest room. She knew her son was struggling to hold it together.

  In just a few weeks, he had lost a lot of weight. Most of the time he was in his room. She had tried to talk to him, to support him, but he was closed off, his only escape the hours of video games. Chris had had a little more success and for that she was truly grateful. They’d both reassured him that the trial would come to nothing. Joshua himself had continually denied that he’d ever do anything like that to a woman.

  And the witness?

  Claire pushed the thought from her mind as she drove home that afternoon. It was almost five o’clock. Lucy had been a complete lifesaver especially as it was now the school holidays. Both Chris and Claire’s parents had rallied and babysat in the mornings until Lucy arrived in the afternoons. Jamie, unaware, had adored seeing so much of his grandparents.

  Claire parked the car in the driveway and turned the engine off and Joshua had already headed inside. But instead of grabbing her things and following him, she sat in the driver’s seat, reluctant to leave the brief refuge of the car. She opened the window a few centimetres and breathed in the fresh air. She noticed now that it had been a beautiful summer’s day. Above she could see an endless basin of cloudless sky and she imagined some ethereal higher power watching over her.

  Suddenly, she realised that she didn’t want to go into the house, not just yet. She needed just a few more moments of escapism where she didn’t have to answer any questions or find the energy to deal with an exuberant Jamie. Stepping out of the car, she walked down her driveway, messaging Lucy from her phone as she went, telling her she’d be back in an hour. Claire didn’t know where she was going; all she knew was that she would walk until she felt ready to go home.

  *

  Claire had ended up in one of the little coffee shops in Castlefield. It was almost closing time and fairly quiet. She had ordered a pot of tea and sat at a small table at the back of the coffee shop. There was only one other table occupied, a twenty-something girl wearing headphones and trying to look at her phone and computer screen simultaneously.

  Claire was staring into her cup when she heard the little bell at the door go but didn’t bother to look up. It was only when she heard a voice ordering four scones
to take away that she realised it was Linda. Claire kept her head down hoping Linda wouldn’t notice her but then she heard her call out her name.

  ‘Claire, hi!’ greeted Linda walking over to the table. ‘How are you?’

  Claire dutifully stood up and the two women embraced.

  ‘I’m fine – you?’ said Claire hoping to deflect attention on to Linda.

  ‘Good thanks! I just stopped off to get some scones for after our meal tonight. Ian came back last night for a week.’

  ‘That’s great – you must be happy to have him back.’

  ‘Yes, very much,’ replied Linda. ‘Listen…’

  Claire waited and hoped that whatever would come next would just be something simple like a playdate request. Whenever someone started a conversation with Listen, it was never good.

  ‘I wanted to say sorry for getting confused about seeing Chris when we last met. Thinking about it after, I realised it wasn’t him at all. Sometimes, I just get so busy that my mind isn’t thinking straight.’

  Claire looked at her friend, realising what she was trying to do.

  ‘It’s okay Linda, honestly. It probably was Chris that you saw. We’ve— That is— He’s been—’ Claire struggled to finish and as she saw the look of concern on Linda’s face, tears started streaming down Claire’s face and she reached for a tissue, frantically wiping them. But they wouldn’t stop and Linda slowly guided Claire to sit back down before pulling up her own chair opposite her, the bag of scones between them. Linda was quiet, only handing tissue after tissue as Claire let the tears fall, releasing some of the stress and worry from her body.

  Claire realised she didn’t need to explain anything to Linda and Claire felt the tears lessen.

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’ asked Linda quietly, one hand on Claire’s back rubbing it gently.

  ‘No, but thank you. I’m so sorry – I don’t usually break down in the middle of coffee shops. And you were only here to get some scones!’ said Claire, trying to cover up her embarrassment with a joke.

  Linda smiled. ‘Don’t worry I’ve had my fair share of crying in public places,’ she reassured.

  ‘Really?’ replied Claire, doubtfully.

  ‘Yep! Mainly just after Luke was born. I would suddenly be out with him minding my own business and then the next thing, the waterworks!’

  Claire smiled back. ‘Yes, I remember those days too. Actually, it’s not just problems with Chris – we have some stuff going on with Joshua at the moment as well, so it’s been a bit of a stressful time.’

  Linda nodded and waited to see if Claire would continue.

  ‘Joshua has been accused of rape,’ said Claire finally. The words felt strange on her tongue and as she saw Linda’s face turn from sympathetic to confused to something else indefinable, she knew she’d made a mistake confiding in Linda.

  ‘What do you mean? By who? How?’ Linda’s questions came out quickly, panic overtaking curiosity, and Claire watched Linda work through her confusion.

  ‘But Claire, Joshua babysat my son, what are you saying? Are the police involved?’

  ‘Yes, but he didn’t do it,’ replied Claire, trying to backtrack but it was too late – the damage was done. ‘The trial will prove that.’

  ‘Trial!’ At this, Linda stood, her heels struggling against shock and the force of gravity as she inched away from the table. ‘I’m sorry, Claire, I have to go,’ said Linda. She fled leaving the café so quickly, the scones remained on the table, forgotten. It was only then that Claire realised the coffee shop was empty apart from the young barista who was discreetly scrolling on his phone but had no doubt heard everything. And just like that, Claire knew that her friend’s reaction was nothing compared to what she would have to endure from the rest of Castlefield. Years ago, she’d been the subject of speculation, but this time she would be on the wrong side.

  It was early afternoon the following day and Claire quietly slipped back into the public gallery. Court was already in session and she was late because a traffic accident had delayed her. She was anxious – this was Jacobs, the witness Livingstone was most nervous about. Silently cursing because she could only get a seat at the back, she sat down and put her bag beside her. The familiar wooden bench was uncomfortable, and she adjusted her position trying to get a better view.

  As she moved, she could feel the waistband of her trousers gape at the back, the cut of her belt into bare skin. Miller was standing, examining the witness, and it took Claire a few minutes to recognise him.

  He was talking about the night of the party, how he’d taken some photos on his phone.

  How everyone was having a good time.

  How Joshua was having a good time.

  How Joshua was drunk and high.

  How he’d seen Joshua come downstairs laughing and tucking his shirt in.

  And after he’d finished, the witness looked directly at her and Claire had locked eyes with the man she knew was going to destroy her.

  49

  They stared at each other and in that glance, a thousand memories poured over her like hot lava. Her skin burned with it. Paul Jones. But the witness on the stand was Jacobs.

  Oh God.

  She half stood, clinging on to the chair in front of her, her body poised for action. She could see the back of Livingstone, his attention placed firmly on the witness. Why was he calling himself Jacobs? She wanted to shout at Paul to stop talking but the words wouldn’t come, and she sat back down, impotent, oblivious to the irritated tutting behind her. She swivelled in her seat towards the exit, her limbs acting upon thousands of years of instinct to flee, but her mind was tethered to the court, trapped like one of the captive monkeys she’d seen on holiday.

  She stood up again and a strange cry emerged from her vocal cords, the sudden noise causing the people around her to stare.

  Why was he here?

  But she knew why. She’d always known, hadn’t she? That some day, it would all come back. But if she’d ever imagined that her son would be the one to…

  Claire felt the room spin.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  But it was. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  Not her son. Please God, not her son.

  Claire tried to swallow but couldn’t and instead took a step forward. She wanted to run towards Paul and smash his head against the floor. She wanted to smash it over and over again until he was nothing more than a mush of brains and blood seeping across the courtroom floor. But she was stuck, paralysed by the sight of him, and after years of supressing the worst of the memories, the last of her resistance trickled away and she surrendered to the onslaught.

  December 1989

  50

  ‘Are you sure, Claire?’ Paul asked.

  Claire nodded, wishing he would stop talking, stop checking with her. His tenderness just made her want him even more. They’d been in the library after school on a Friday. It was raining outside, a torrential downpour that threatened to flood the school field. The place had seemed deserted and even the librarian had left early.

  Claire couldn’t explain it but she knew something spectacular was going to happen that day. As soon as she’d opened her eyes that morning, she’d felt a sense of anticipation. She’d dressed carefully, taking the time to put on a little make-up. Not too much as her mother would tell her to remove it but just enough to enhance her eyes and gloss her lips. She’d moved through her morning from class to class expectant and excited.

  When her eyes met Paul’s in the corridor, they shared a private smile. Perhaps he also knew that they were about to embark on something special together. The fact that their relationship was still a secret just made it even more exciting. She knew she’d have to tell the girls at some point, but not yet. For now, it was just her and Paul wrapped in their own world of possibility and Claire didn’t want anything to tarnish it.

  So, when Paul had touched her leg under the table in the library that Friday afternoon, she’d felt utterly
in control when she took his other hand across the table. There was no one around, no one to see them. Still holding his hand, she stood up and led him to a quiet corner of the library behind some bookshelves. She kissed him, and he responded immediately, wrapping his arms around her. She leant in to him, her whole body pressed against his, and she could feel his hardness. She was excited and curious. She wanted more. She pulled away and he stared at her in confusion.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked concerned.

  She smiled at him and saw him relax. ‘Let’s go and find a place,’ she whispered. He knew exactly what she meant.

  ‘There’s nowhere private here,’ he said.

  Claire thought. ‘I know one place,’ she replied mysteriously. ‘And it’s got a lock.’

  Drama room three would be empty. There was no meeting because of the rain, which threatened to flood everywhere, and the school was pretty much deserted. Instead they were meeting on Saturday morning at Charlotte’s house.

  Claire and Paul grabbed their bags and practically ran through the empty corridors, Claire leading the way until they came to the old classroom.

  ‘Never been here before,’ commented Paul.

  ‘It’s never used,’ replied Claire not wanting to share any more details about the Queen Bees. She opened the door and led him inside.

  Paul walked in and looked around while Claire shut the door behind them. She went to lock it, but strangely the key wasn’t there. Claire wavered. It was too risky. But then she saw Paul waiting for her and she knew she didn’t want to wait. No one knew about the room anyway except for the girls and they’d all gone home. She saw Paul pick up a T-shirt and hold it up, the words Queen Bee written across the front. Shit. She went up to him and playfully snatched the T-shirt away and he pulled her towards him.

  Within seconds, they were kissing, their hands exploring each other’s bodies and Claire forgot about the unlocked door. She’d never felt anything like it before. She assumed, like her, that this would be his first time and a thrill went through her. She’d kissed other boys of course and the odd fumble but this… this was like having fireworks going off inside her.