Here We Lie

by Sophie McKenzie

  I am already dressed in jeans and a jumper. I consider changing tops, but I don’t want Dan to think I’m dressing up for him, so I just tug on a jacket and some boots. I could wait for Jed to come home to explain what I’m doing, but Zoe will undoubtedly keep him talking when he drops Lish and, anyway, I don’t want to mention I’m seeing Dan. Unlike other men I’ve known, Jed refuses to express any curiosity about my past: ‘I’d rather imagine you were a virgin when I met you,’ he always says, and I’ve seen the flashes of jealousy on the few occasions when I’ve referred to my heartbreak over Dan. So I simply leave a note saying I’ve popped out to attempt some Christmas shopping. It’s not much of a lie. Christmas Day is less than two weeks away and I have over half my presents still to buy.

  I am wearing my engagement ring as I always do and I twist it around my finger as I hurry to the nearest underground. Dan could be married with a family now. Our last meeting was so short, so intense, there was no time for those kind of questions. It is freezing as I leave Caledonian Road tube station and scurry towards the pub where I’m meeting Dan. I can see him through the window as I approach, bent over his phone at a table in the corner. I take advantage of the fact that he hasn’t noticed me yet to have a long look at him. The stubble on his chin is still there, but he is wearing more casual clothes than before: jeans and a cream and black-flecked woollen jumper. He looks perfectly relaxed.

  I, on the other hand, am now feeling anxious. As I hesitate Dan looks up. He sees me and his face breaks into a huge smile. It lights up his entire face and leaves me with no choice but to go inside the pub.

  ‘Hi.’ Dan stands as I reach him. I sense he wants to kiss me on the cheek. He doesn’t, however, simply asking: ‘What can I get you?’

  I hesitate again. Somehow asking for a drink would make this feel like an illicit date.

  ‘Nothing.’ I sit down opposite him, still wearing my jacket. Dan frowns, but sits down too.

  The pub is half-empty; most of the customers are gathered around a TV at the far end watching a football match. Ten years ago, Dan’s eyes would have wandered everywhere, checking out all the punters, the football score, the passersby outside. But right now he keeps his stone-grey eyes fixed on me.

  ‘You look cold,’ he says. ‘Are you sure you don’t want a drink?’ He indicates the pint glass on the table in front of him. ‘I’m on beer, but they do good coffee here if you’re not ready for alcohol.’

  I look around. The pub is barely recognizable from when we used to come here all those years ago; it’s been redecorated with leather couches and rickety-looking reclaimed wood tables.

  ‘D’you remember coming here?’ Dan asks.

  I nod. Dan is still watching me intently. His cool, appraising gaze unsettles me, as it always did. I look away. This is ridiculous. I shouldn’t be here. I want to leave but I don’t know how to tell Dan it has been a mistake. And then he reaches across the table and touches my shoulder.

  ‘Relax,’ he says. ‘Breathe.’

  I let out a sigh, releasing my tense shoulders. The radiator beside the table is blasting out heat. Maybe I should take my jacket off and just get on with this.

  Dan sits back as I slide the jacket off and the barmaid slouches over. She’s very young and rather pretty, with slanting eyes and a beauty spot on her cheek. She fixes her eyes on Dan and smiles.

  ‘Hiya.’

  Dan flashes a smile back and I swear the girl blushes. ‘What can I get your, er, friend?’ She’s asking about me though so far she hasn’t taken her eyes off Dan.

  Dan looks across at me and raises his eyebrows.

  ‘Coffee, please.’ I glance at the board on the wall behind her. ‘Flat white.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Dan grins at the girl again and she sashays off.

  ‘Waitress service in a pub?’ I comment, letting an acerbic note creep into my voice. ‘Aren’t you the valued customer?’

  Dan shrugs. ‘They’re just not very busy. I’ve only been in here a couple of times since I got back from the States.’

  Outside, the first few flakes of snow are floating through the air. A child in a passing pushchair is pointing into the sky. Dan sits, waiting. His stillness is somehow both calming and unnerving. I look down at the table. It’s rough to the touch, with a panel in the middle painted a greeny-blue. The colour reminds me of our old kitchen table. Some of my earliest and happiest memories took place kneeling on a chair at that table: just my mother and I, baking cakes for Martin and Rose when they came home from school. I look up, into Dan’s eyes. I see intelligence and compassion. And curiosity.

  ‘I don’t think Lish likes me as much as he pretends to.’

  Dan nods. I’m dreading him asking me what makes me think this; I really don’t want to have to tell him about the Facebook entry or the IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU text or the look Lish gave me earlier. Much to my relief Dan doesn’t ask for explanations.

  ‘What about drugs? Have you seen anything that makes you think he’s using? Or selling?’

  ‘No, well, no actual drugs, but I did see a roll of banknotes in his bag. Jed gives him plenty of money, but that was definitely more than you’d expect for a student.’

  ‘Right.’ Dan looks thoughtful. ‘So it’s worth investigating, d’you agree?’

  I waver for a moment, then nod. ‘I suppose, but I still think it’s far-fetched that he could be involved in any major dealing, let alone have anything remotely to do with potassium cyanide.’

  ‘Okay.’

  There’s a long pause, but not an uncomfortable one. The silence between us is not awkward at all, I realize, it’s just the pace at which we’re talking, the pace at which I’m adapting to the fact that we’re talking. It’s a pace which I’m setting and Dan is following.

  He still hasn’t taken his eyes off me. As I look up at him he smiles.

  ‘You used to talk more,’ I say.

  ‘You used to be fairly chatty yourself.’ He grins. ‘The night I met you I couldn’t shut you up. Now we’ve had two coffees together and you’ve got nothing to say. I must be losing my touch.’

  I smile back and glance at the barmaid who is heading towards us, my coffee in her hand.

  ‘I don’t think so.’ I watch the girl as she places the cup on the rough wood of the table, slopping it slightly in the process. She glances coyly at Dan as he pays, then says thank you and wiggles off again without looking once in my direction.

  Dan keeps his eyes fixed on me. ‘I’m a reporter, Em,’ he says. ‘Mostly it works to let the other person talk. In your case, I’m not quite sure what I should do.’

  ‘You’re doing fine.’ As soon as I’ve spoken, I can feel my cheeks flush. I didn’t mean to sound so encouraging. I hurry on. ‘So what do you think we should do now?’

  Dan lowers his voice. ‘I’m going to go back to Lish’s university campus. I already know he’s dealing. Maybe now I can arrange a meeting, actually talk to him, find out exactly what he supplies.’

  I stare at him, aghast. ‘You’re going to pretend you want to buy drugs from him?’

  Dan shrugs. ‘It’s like an undercover investigation, a sting. No biggie.’

  ‘Jesus.’ I let out a sigh. ‘Oh, but Lish isn’t actually at uni this weekend. Jed’s just dropping him at his mum’s now in fact. He said his plan was to go back to college on Monday evening.’

  Dan nods. He’s silent for a moment, then he looks up at me. ‘Em, I’ve got an idea,’ he says, still keeping his voice low. ‘You’ll probably think it’s mad, but have you ever been to Lish’s college? Do any of his friends there know you?’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, right now you only have my word that Lish is involved with any kind of illegal activity, so why don’t you come to his uni with me on Monday morning before Lish goes back? That way you’ll be able to see for yourself what he’s up to.’

  ‘What? I’ve got work, there’s Jed. I can’t.’

  ‘Of course you can. Southampton is only a coupl
e of hours away. We can be there and back before Jed’s home from work. You can call in sick at school. Once we’re there I can take you to the pub where he’s known as a dealer. If you think there’s enough to go on, I’ll put you on a train home and I’ll stay on into the evening and try to meet him direct on Monday night when he’s back. What do you think?’

  My heart races. ‘Why are you doing this? Why do you want to help me?’

  There’s a long pause. When Dan finally speaks he picks his way carefully across the words. ‘Because I’m worried that the son of the man you are going to marry has tried to kill you and may try again. Because I might have walked out of your life eight years ago, but I still care about you. And because I can help you so I should.’

  ‘Right.’ Hearing Dan spell out everything like that makes me feel lost. Everything I had thought was certain has been stood on its head. I suddenly wish Rose was here. She has such a strong sense of what’s right and wrong, a morality she got from our parents which she has always tried to instil into me.

  ‘Just think about coming with me to Southampton.’ Dan glugs down the rest of his beer then replaces the glass on the table. ‘Would you like another drink?’

  I shake my head. Dan stands up. ‘I’m going for a pee then if you like I can drop you at home – or nearby, if you don’t want to be seen getting out of my car,’ he says. ‘I’ve only had the one drink, by the way, just in case you were wondering.’

  ‘Okay, er, thanks.’ I put my jacket on and wait outside, shivering in the few flakes of snow that whirl through the air. It’s the soft, wet kind, turning to slush as it hits the pavement. Dan’s suggestion to go to Southampton on Monday is crazy. But I can’t stop thinking about how Lish looked earlier, or the money I found or the things he wrote:

  bimbo cunt bitch

  IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU

  I shudder as Dan emerges from the pub. We walk around the corner to the side road where he is parked. I can feel Dan’s gaze lingering on my face, but I resist the temptation to meet his eye. The streetlights cast a soft glow around us, the pavements glisten. We reach Dan’s car, a silver BMW. When I knew him eight years ago, he could barely afford a second-hand Ford Focus in dire need of a paint job. The car reminds me that I still know nothing about his personal life.

  ‘Do you have a house that goes with this vehicle?’ I ask lightly.

  Dan clicks open the central lock, then raises an eyebrow. ‘Why? Because you never imagined I’d be able to afford either?’

  I blush, unable to deny it. Dan rounds his eyes with exaggerated shock. ‘Are you possibly suggesting that the only way I could make money would be to marry it, Ms Campbell?’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘Um . . . are you married?’

  Dan chuckles. ‘No, never been there. And I live alone before you ask. I’m renting a two-bed apartment in what is laughingly known as Hoxton borders.’

  ‘What about, you know, er, dating?’ I ask, hoping my question sounds light and casual. I don’t want Dan to think I’m that interested in his answer.

  ‘Whenever I can fit it in around my work.’ Dan opens the passenger door for me and stands back to let me into the car. ‘You know me.’

  So he hasn’t changed. Not really. I feel both a sense of relief and of disappointment as I get inside the car. Which is when I decide. I will go with Dan to Southampton. Because he’s right: I need to know the truth about Lish for myself.

  Of course, when Monday morning arrives I am wracked with guilt as I call in sick at school. I spent the whole of yesterday catching up with every single piece of outstanding marking and making detailed plans for the rest of the week. I will have to add an extra rehearsal for the school production at the end of the week but, other than that, I am well ahead of myself. The school secretary utters a weary sigh when I mutter I’m feeling flu-ey and think I should stay at home.

  ‘You’re the third sick call I’ve had in the past twenty minutes,’ she says with a groan. ‘Feel better by tomorrow. Please.’

  Guilt twists in my guts. I apologize and ring off. Jed has already left for work, of course. He has no idea about any of this. No one does. I considered confiding in Laura, but the thought of her sceptical reaction to my suspicions about Lish, sorry but that sounds really far-fetched, holds me back. I will have to tell her and Jed in the end. I will have to tell Jed everything.

  Just not yet.

  Dan arrives, as arranged, at ten o’clock. It’s a crisp, clear day and our journey to Southampton speeds by. After our long silences in the pub, we are chatting and laughing with surprising ease within minutes of setting off. Dan asks about Martin and Rose and a few old, mutual friends he has lost touch with. I, in turn, enquire about his work. It seems he’s doing really well, a regular contributor to several nationals and blogs.

  ‘And what about the rest of your life? You said you weren’t married, but what about significant relationships?’ I ask as casually as I can.

  ‘No girlfriends as such.’ Dan gives a shrug and it’s there in the slight incline of his head: he’s keeping something from me.

  ‘You mean no one at the moment?’ I press.

  Dan concentrates on turning a corner. I’m almost certain he’s buying himself time to think. But what does he need to think about? Why is my question so difficult for him?

  ‘I broke up with someone in the States last year,’ he says. ‘Nice girl. Californian so almost as much of a foreigner in New York as I was. We worked in the same office. It was . . .’ He raises his hand from the steering wheel then carefully places it back. ‘It was okay. Nothing major. She was the last person I dated for more than a few weeks.’

  ‘I see.’ I’m still sure there’s something he’s not saying, but before I can work out a way to phrase another question, Dan is speaking again.

  ‘What about Jed and you?’ he asks with a grin. ‘I never imagined you’d end up with someone so much older.’

  ‘You make him sound geriatric – he’s only fifty,’ I protest.

  ‘Still, what are you doing with a fifty-year-old?’ Dan winces. ‘Sorry, that came out wrong. I’m just trying to understand how you two got together.’

  ‘He swept me off my feet,’ I say, trying – and failing – to resist the urge to impress Dan with Jed’s romantic entry into my life. ‘He knew what he wanted from the start.’

  ‘Mmmn.’ Dan nods, slowing to take a right turn. ‘Good for Jed. I’m pleased he makes you happy.’ He glances at my bracelet. The gold is glinting in the sunlight. ‘Did Jed give you that?’

  ‘No, that was my brother and his boyfriend, an engagement present. They gave Dee Dee one identical.’

  ‘Pretty,’ Dan says. ‘Your brother always had good taste.’

  I nod, wondering what Martin would say if he knew I was seeing Dan today. He would understand my need to find out the truth about Lish, but he would also, I am sure, warn me that Dan Thackeray messed me around once before and I should think very carefully before trusting him.

  Once in Southampton, Dan consults the GPS on his iPad then heads for what he tells me is the main student pub off campus. It’s a spit and plywood sort of place with a few tatty Christmas decorations hanging limply from the wall above the bar. I gaze at a row of plastic Santas as Dan fetches us both an orange juice then peers around the room. Considering it’s only just past midday, the pub is packed.

  ‘It’s good that the people I saw last time aren’t here,’ he says. ‘Don’t want anyone getting suspicious.’

  A thrill wriggles through me. Despite the constant ache of losing Dee Dee, my anxieties about Lish, plus today’s guilt over missing school and withholding information from Jed – I am enjoying myself here, with Dan. It feels like an adventure. It feels like fun.

  More fun than maybe it should.

  I push the thought away.

  Dan’s eyes alight on a young couple huddled in the corner. I have no idea why he thinks they might be in the know about who can supply anything illegal around here, but I let him lead me over. We
sit at the table opposite. After a while, the guy looks up and notices Dan watching him. A moment later he whispers to his girlfriend, who gets up and leaves. As she passes our table, she nods swiftly at Dan. And that’s all it takes.

  ‘Come on.’ Dan leads me over to the young guy. Close to, I can see that his fingernails are bitten and there’s a rather fusty smell emanating from his grubby T-shirt. We sit down. The young guy looks from me to Dan.

  ‘What do you need?’ he asks quietly.

  ‘Valium,’ Dan says. ‘Vicodin. Maybe other stuff too.’

  The guy purses his lips. ‘Not my scene.’

  Dan nods. ‘I heard there was a guy . . . weird name. Lesh or Losh or something?’

  The guy studies him. ‘You mean Lish?’

  I hold my breath.

  ‘That’s it,’ Dan says. ‘Lish Kennedy.’

  ‘Not around.’ The guy sits back. ‘I could probably fix you up with someone else.’

  ‘I’d like Lish,’ Dan says. ‘He comes recommended.’

  ‘I bet.’ The guy smiles, revealing a set of surprisingly small white teeth. ‘Lish can get his hands on anything chemical. Try here tomorrow night, after nine or so. He should be here then.’

  ‘Thanks.’ We pick up our orange juices and go back to our table where we finish the drinks in silence. My hand trembles on the glass. So it’s true. Lish is trading in pharmaceutical drugs, just like Dan said. I drain the juice and set it down.