The Truth About You

by Susan Lewis

  Tierney stared at her. She was going out with Marco again.

  ‘OK?’ Lainey asked teasingly.

  Tierney shrugged. ‘If that’s what you want.’

  Blowing her a playful kiss, Lainey continued on to the boys’ room to sort out their washing, leaving Tierney to turn back to the mirror and carry on brushing out her hair. ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said to Skye, whose silence was so charged she might just as well have been shouting.

  ‘I’m thinking the same as you,’ Skye responded, scrolling through her phone. ‘This’ll make two days in a row that she’s been out with Marco.’

  Tierney put down her brush and rummaged for a scrunchie to tie up her hair.

  ‘Jesus, you can be such hard work at times,’ Skye told her. ‘You really need to lighten up, do you know that?’

  Feeling a stupid rush of tears stinging her eyes, Tierney kept her head down as she tied up her hair.

  ‘Have you heard from him today?’ Skye asked, still playing with her phone.

  Tierney’s heart contracted. ‘What do you think?’ she snapped. ‘He’s texting all the time.’

  ‘So what did he say?’

  ‘The same as always, that he really wants to see me when I get back.’

  ‘Well, all this is telling me,’ Skye declared, springing up from the bed, ‘that you must have been pretty amazing, the way he’s going on.’

  As she disappeared off to the bathroom, Tierney shuddered with misery, more shame creeping over her. It wasn’t always obvious it was her in the photos he kept sending, but in some it was and she wasn’t sure whether it was seeing her own face that made her feel so sick, and scared, or the fact that he seemed to be using them as some sort of threat.

  Don’t tell anyone what happened, or I’ll send these to your parents.

  Of course, he never actually said that, it was the way she was reading it, but what if she was right?

  She had to find a way of making him stop, but she just couldn’t think of one.

  ‘So, we hear from Zav that his dad is the famous Tom Hollingsworth,’ Marco was saying as he spread a rug on the grass ready to lay out the picnic he and Lainey had brought with them.

  Given how relaxed – and impressed – he sounded, Lainey felt certain that was all Zav had told him. She wished Marco hadn’t mentioned Tom though, because now he had it was almost as if Tom was there, trying to spoil this time for her with a reminder of how much she missed him.

  ‘I have probably read all his books,’ Marco continued as he went to fetch the hamper from the car. ‘In Italian, mostly, but a few I have read in English.’

  Realising he must be wondering why Tom wasn’t here with his family, Lainey tried to think what to tell him. Not the truth, obviously, she didn’t know him well enough for that, and anyway it would embarrass him horribly if she suddenly started offloading how her husband had been deceiving her for years, and she, fool that she was, had only just found out. ‘Do you have a favourite?’ she asked, falling back on her usual response for these occasions.

  He frowned as he thought. ‘I suppose I was most drawn to the one set in Hungary,’ he said. ‘He must know Budapest very well, the way he writes about it. Did you go there with him?’

  Having to shake her head, while wondering if Kirsten had, perhaps Julia too, Lainey said, ‘No, he usually likes to do his research trips alone.’ She almost added, It’s where he is now, researching for a new book.

  If only it were true.

  Seeming to sense that she didn’t want to discuss her husband any further, Marco set about uncorking a bottle of chilled white wine, which he’d produced from a small fridge in the boot of his car. The homemade antipasti she was unpacking looked scrumptious – she just hoped she could summon an appetite to eat it.

  They were in the shade of a leafy maple, high on a Tuscan hillside to the west of Montepulciano, where the views, stretching for seemingly endless miles, were of valleys crowded with vines that climbed and sprawled over the banks of the opposite hillside as though trying to reach the golden town at the top. It was a remote and tranquil spot, its beauty almost timeless.

  ‘Why do I get the feeling you’ve done this before?’ she teased, as he poured the wine into two small stemmed glasses he’d taken from a cool bag. Their frosted coating was melting fast in the heat, causing translucent droplets to drip over his fingers and on to the rug.

  He had beautiful hands, she noticed, very masculine, yet elegant.

  His smile was gently amused as he passed her a glass. ‘This is a very fine Pecorino,’ he told her, passing the question by. ‘Have you had this wine before?’

  Surprised, she said, ‘I thought Pecorino was a cheese.’

  ‘Si, it is a very good cheese, but also it is a wine from the Pecino region of Le Marche, which is east of Umbria. You taste, but first you smell and tell me what fragrance you detect.’

  A little self-consciously, since she wasn’t practised at this, she carefully swished the wine around the glass and closed her eyes as she inhaled the shy release of a bouquet. ‘It’s a little spicy?’ she said, glancing to him for guidance.

  He nodded and gestured for her to continue.

  Taking a sip, she allowed the flavours a few moments to settle over her tongue, before saying, ‘I think liquorice, maybe . . . Is it jasmine?’

  ‘You are very good at this,’ he told her, smiling. ‘Are you picking up the apple as well?’

  She wasn’t sure about that, but nodded all the same. ‘It’s delicious,’ she declared, truthfully, and felt her heart falter as she thought of how much Tom enjoyed discovering new wines.

  She had to stop making everything about him.

  If only she knew how.

  As they ate and drank Marco talked about the region and the winemakers he was due to visit later, making her laugh with his descriptions and mimicry of their idiosyncrasies and passions. He went on to tell her, because she asked, that he spoke English so well because he’d studied it at the University of Rome, and when she led him to the subject of his musical tastes she felt pleased when he declared a preference for opera. He’d inherited it from his parents, he told her, who’d died in a car crash just over ten years ago.

  He asked about Alessandra and Peter, and seemed sad when she told him about Peter’s dementia. His other grandmother had suffered the same way, he told her, and in the end it had been a blessing when she’d finally let go.

  Feeling a lump tightening her throat at the thought of her father doing the same, Lainey swallowed more wine to try and help the moment pass. She was ringing every morning and evening to check how he was, and Aunt Daffs always put him on the phone. Sometimes he had nothing to say, didn’t even seem to understand that he was supposed to speak, but last night he’d thought she was a child again, hiding somewhere in the house waiting for him to come and find her.

  ‘Coming, ready or not,’ he’d announced.

  ‘He was the best father in the world,’ she told Marco. ‘We were very close – we still are, but obviously it’s different now.’ She held out her glass as Marco offered more wine. ‘It’s why,’ she said, after taking a sip, ‘I don’t need to have a connection with my real father. I simply wanted to see if I could find out who he was, and if I might still have family here. Now, of course, I’m beginning to understand why my mother never wanted me to know.’

  ‘We still haven’t got to the truth of everything yet,’ he reminded her. ‘I admit it was easy to let Signor Donata’s story lead us to the conclusions you are believing now, but we have yet to speak to Carlotta Calduzzi. She might have a very different story to tell.’

  Grateful for the straw to cling to, she took it and used it to push the ugliness of her suspicions to the back of her mind. Perhaps she should let them stay there; after all, what good would it do to know any more about her roots? Whoever her real father was, wherever her grandparents might be, it wasn’t going to change what was happening with Tom, and though she was trying to use this search as a way o
f not thinking about him, the truth was, nothing mattered more. In fact, she longed to cut the holiday short now and go home, but what difference would it make if she did? Kirsten was still going to be his main concern, and while a part of her understood that, another part was finding it impossible to accept.

  ‘Excuse me, I should answer this,’ Marco said, checking his mobile as it rang. ‘It is one of my afternoon appointments. Maybe he wants to change the time. Pronto,’ he said, taking the call.

  As he got up to walk back to the car, Lainey watched him go and felt an admiration for him rising above her troubles. He hadn’t mentioned his wife at all today, so she had no idea how he might be feeling inside, but she knew that if he was experiencing similar emotions to her, she’d want to help him in any way she could. However, it wasn’t in her power to cure heartbreak any more than it was in his, though spending time with him was proving a balm of sorts.

  She could only hope it was the same for him.

  Lying back on the rug, she closed her eyes against the sunlight dappling through the maple and listened to the chafing rhythm of cicadas. If she could only get Tom out of her mind she knew she’d be enjoying every moment of being here, but the instant she stopped talking about other things, or even thinking them, she could feel the ache in her heart growing heavier, stronger, deeper . . .

  Taking a breath, she let it out slowly and made herself focus on Marco again, and how his life was all about food, wine, people. It was embedded in the natural world and enriched by reality, while her life and Tom’s seemed more like some sort of fiction.

  Sitting up swiftly, as though to escape the thought, she poured more wine into her glass and drank it. It was warm, acidic and burned her throat, but as moments ticked by and Marco continued to talk on the phone she felt herself relaxing again. If she simply listened to him, allowed herself to enjoy the melodic sound of his words, immersed herself in the here and now, perhaps the ghosts of her past, and present, would stop finding a way in.

  She must have dozed off, because the next time she opened her eyes Marco was sitting beside her sending emails or texts on his phone. She felt embarrassed about sleeping, but didn’t alert him to the fact she was awake just yet. Instead, she lay watching him through the dark lenses of her glasses, feeling grateful to him all over again just for being there. It wasn’t until Skye’s words staged an unwelcome appearance at the front of her mind, about finding another man to make Tom jealous, that she sat up. It was true, Marco was very attractive, but no one could ever replace Tom, either in her heart or in her bed.

  ‘Max, that’s just mean,’ Tierney cried angrily. ‘You can’t do it. I won’t let you.’

  Max regarded her with some amusement. ‘And you’re going to stop me, how?’ he asked, seeming genuinely interested.

  Tierney only wished she knew. ‘I’ll think of something,’ she told him hotly.

  ‘Then you’d better make it fast, because I’m about to text Lainey to make sure it’s OK.’

  Glancing up to check that Skye wasn’t on her way back to the café yet, Tierney said, ‘Does Christie know anything about Skye?’

  Max threw out his hands. ‘What’s to know?’ he demanded, as if there really wasn’t anything.

  Tierney daggered him a look.

  ‘We have an understanding, you know that,’ he conceded. ‘Friends with benefits. No strings.’

  ‘OK, then you tell her that Christie’s coming, because I’m not doing it.’

  Sitting back to rest an arm on the chair beside him, he said, ‘I know what’s bugging you . . . OK, you’re trying to stick up for your friend, but really you’re all strung out about Dad, aren’t you?’

  Wishing it was only that, though actually it was probably the worst of it, she countered, ‘Aren’t you?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’ve been here before, remember?’

  ‘Yeah, when you were like five. It’s got to feel a bit different now.’

  ‘Maybe, maybe not, but I’m worried about you. Skye’s a good girl, in her way, but she’s the way she is because her dad left, and I don’t want you turning out the same . . .’

  ‘No way is that going to happen,’ she cried, ‘and anyway, who says Dad’s going to leave? He just has to be there while this woman’s sick . . .’

  ‘If she’s sick, and we only have his word for it.’

  ‘He wouldn’t lie about something like that.’

  ‘Wouldn’t he?’

  ‘Stop it, Max.’

  ‘I’m just saying, that’s all. I don’t want him to go either, but if it’s what he wants . . .’

  ‘It won’t be.’

  ‘OK, have it your way. I’m just trying to let you know I’m here for you.’

  Feeling herself on the brink of tears, Tierney said, ‘Have you spoken to him since we got here?’

  ‘Nope. Have you?’

  She stared down at her phone as she shook her head. ‘Zav has, and Mum.’

  ‘Lucky them.’ Though he sounded as if he didn’t care, Tierney felt sure he did.

  ‘Do you reckon we ought to ring him?’ she asked.

  ‘No way! Well, you can if you want to, but personally I’ve got nothing to say to him, so why would I?’

  Since she wasn’t sure what she’d say either, Tierney decided to return to the subject they’d started with. ‘You’ve got to realise there are going to be serious problems if Christie comes here next week. Skye’s not going to like it, and if she starts causing trouble . . . Well, I don’t know what she’ll do, but it’ll ruin everyone’s holiday, that’s for sure, including yours.’

  Whatever Max was about to say didn’t materialise, since his phone rang and by the time he’d finished the call Tierney was on the edge of panic as she stared at another text from Guy.

  Have to see you. Tell me where you are and we’ll find a place to meet.

  ‘What’s up?’ Max asked, noticing how pale she’d gone.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said, feeling herself starting to shake. ‘I just . . . It doesn’t matter . . .’

  ‘Oh, right. Brett’s just told you he’s heading back to England on Sunday. You got a bit sweet on him, didn’t you?’

  ‘Not really,’ she mumbled, wishing she could show Max the text and ask him what to do. Feeling suddenly nauseous at the very idea of him ever finding out what she’d done, she got up from her chair and fled to the loo.

  By the time she came back Skye was at the table, surrounded by designer bags and yakking on to Max about the great bargains she’d found at Armani. Whether he was particularly interested or not he was putting on a good show, until his mobile rang and after checking who it was he clicked on. ‘Hey Lainey. How’s things?’

  Tierney tensed. Please don’t let him say anything about Christie now with Skye right there.

  ‘Yeah? That’s cool,’ he was saying. ‘Why not? Sounds good. Yeah, they’re here, I’ll ask them. We’re being invited to Adriana’s for dinner tonight,’ he relayed. ‘Do we want to go?’

  Tierney looked at Skye.

  ‘Yeah, we’re up for it if you are,’ Skye told him.

  ‘Did you get that?’ Max asked Lainey. ‘Count us in,’ and after assuring her they’d be back at the villa within the hour, he rang off.

  ‘So, did she go out with Marco today, or down to the village?’ Skye asked as her coffee arrived.

  Apparently perplexed by the question, Max replied, ‘No idea, I didn’t ask.’

  Skye glanced at Tierney. ‘We reckon,’ she said, ‘that something could be going on between them.’

  ‘What do you mean, we?’ Tierney protested. ‘It’s you who said that, and I just wish you’d shut up about it.’

  ‘OK, OK, cool it,’ Skye responded, holding up her hands.

  Watching them closely, Max said, ‘Do you mean you think Lainey and Marco are getting it on?’ He seemed both surprised and curious.

  ‘It’s not what I think,’ Tierney assured him.

  ‘Only because you don’t want to,’ Skye informed her. ‘And I
don’t blame you, I didn’t want to think my mum was seeing someone else when my dad left us. I kept telling myself they’d get back together, but no one ever does once they’ve broken up.’

  ‘That’s such bullshit,’ Tierney said hotly.

  ‘OK, tell me someone who has.’

  Tierney took a breath, but she couldn’t think of anyone. She looked to Max for help, but remembering that their dad hadn’t gone back to his mum, she felt a sudden, ridiculous urge to cry.

  ‘Plenty of people do,’ Max said, coming to her rescue, ‘but whether it’ll happen for Lainey and Dad . . . If you ask me, she’d be better off with someone like Marco.’

  ‘How can you say that,’ Tierney almost shouted, ‘when you don’t even know him?’

  ‘Well, he seems a nice enough bloke, and we know what a bastard Dad is, so I know who I’d pick if I were Lainey.’

  ‘Well, you’re not her, and to start saying things like that about her and about Dad just goes to show how ignorant and immature you are.’

  ‘Wow!’ he laughed, backing up. ‘I’m definitely hitting some wrong notes with my little sister today. Ease up, T. None of it’s a big deal. If Lainey wants to have a little play around while she’s on holiday, you can hardly say she doesn’t deserve it, given what Dad’s been up to.’

  It was on the tip of Tierney’s tongue to tell them both to shut the fuck up about sex all the time, but afraid she’d sound like a weirdo or some stuffed-up virgin who knew nothing about anything, she decided to ignore them.

  Luckily the subject changed then, and after finishing their coffees they wandered back out to the car, where Tierney’s few purchases were already stored in the boot. Normally she’d have bought more, but she just hadn’t been in the mood today, and now this text had turned up she couldn’t imagine being in the mood for anything ever again.

  ‘What am I going to do?’ she asked Skye, when they were finally back at the villa and in the privacy of their room.

  Not appearing overly concerned, Skye said, ‘Just ignore it, same as usual.’

  ‘But if I don’t tell him where we are, he can easily find out from Nadia.’