The Lies You Told

by Harriet Tyce

  “Julia,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “We’ve got off to an appalling start,” she says. “I think we should try and start again.”

  I have no idea how to reply.

  “Jessica told me all about last week, your name on the board. School captains together!”

  I blink. “Oh, come on. That makes no difference, surely.”

  “It makes all the difference. You deserve the place—or rather, Robin does. It all makes sense now. But honestly, you should have told us all right from the start. It would have saved so much trouble.”

  “So much trouble?” I say. I nearly squeak, I’m so taken aback.

  “If I’d known, you see, I would have realized you weren’t some interloper. Of course Robin should be here. Even if she didn’t start at the school earlier. You’re part of the school family,” she says, gesturing around her in an expansive way.

  I’m still at a loss for words, but Nicole then approaches and joins in.

  “I told you Julia was lovely, didn’t I?” she says. “It’s going to be all right, now. You’ll see.”

  “Honestly, yes,” Julia says. “I do hope you’ll accept my apology. I can be rather territorial at times. And of course, we are under so much pressure with the exam. It’s such an important term. But of course, you know all about that, don’t you? You’ve been through it all yourself.”

  Can this actually be happening, all the weeks of hostility smoothed in one simple apology? Surely no one can switch as quickly as this—it must be some kind of trap. But before I can say anything, Robin comes through the gates. She doesn’t see me at first, and she’s clearly unhappy, her shoulders drooping and her mouth downturned. She stands looking around for a moment, and when she sees me, her face lights up a little—but only a little.

  She trudges over to me. I give her a quick hug, and we start to move away. Julia stops us.

  “Wait, wait a minute,” she says. “I think we should all go for tea. A little welcome party. Make sure we’ve moved on from any misunderstandings.”

  “What’s going on, Mom?” Robin says, growing rigid in my grasp.

  “Julia thinks we should all be friends.”

  Before Robin can reply, Julia breaks in. “I think you and Daisy are going to get on really well. It’ll be good for her to be friends with someone who’s as clever as she is. She needs the competition.”

  I catch Nicole’s eye over Robin’s head. She raises an eyebrow. “I know you don’t think Pippa is much of a match for Daisy,” she says, her voice dry.

  “That’s not what I meant,” Julia said.

  Nicole laughs. “It’s fine, Julia. I know what you meant.”

  At this point, Daisy and Pippa turn up. They look surprised to see Robin and me with their mums, but Julia doesn’t waste any time on background explanation.

  “We’re all going to go out for tea,” she announces.

  “What about homework?” Daisy says.

  “Let’s not bother with that tonight,” Julia says. “You do lots of homework. Tea will be much more fun.”

  Robin and I are being pulled along by an unstoppable force. I look at her, wondering if we should make a break for it, but she’s talking to Daisy and Pippa. A little hesitant, perhaps fearing ridicule, but as I watch, the other girls both laugh at something that she’s said, not unkindly, but properly, and as Robin realizes that they’re not teasing her, joy starts to emerge on her face, the tentative beginnings of a smile.

  “Are you coming?” Julia says, and I look once more at Robin. I’m desperate to get her home and find out how the weekend has been. I’m also desperate not to hear anything about it, to pretend that it hasn’t happened in the first place. Robin looks at me pleadingly.

  “Can we go, Mom? Pippa says it’s the best hot chocolate in the world.”

  I should refuse, but I don’t have the heart to say no. I haven’t seen Robin look so happy in weeks. I swallow down my reservations. It’s only a cup of tea. What harm can it do?

  “Yes. Let’s go,” I say. “It’ll be fun.”

  27

  The rest of the afternoon passes in a whirl. Julia’s a force of nature, whisking us down the road and taking over the back of a nearby coffee shop and ordering cakes and tea and hot chocolate all round before I can blink.

  “Now, you girls sit and chat nicely,” she says, when all the plates and cups have been laid out in front of them. “I’m going to have a lovely chat with your mum, Robin. Get to know her properly.”

  Robin looks as overwhelmed as I feel. I’m not entirely clear what part I’m expected to play in this new drama, but I drink tea and eat cake, listening to the chat, watching Robin as she does the same, her face relaxing more and more as the other girls talk to her. Finally, she laughs, and with that, a knot of tension deep inside me lets go.

  “I really wish you’d said you were an old girl,” Julia says again. “It would have made all the difference.”

  “I don’t see why it should make the slightest difference,” I say. “We shouldn’t have to prove that we belong.”

  Julia’s mouth tightens. Nicole shifts on her chair, and the children stop chatting, looking over at the adults with concern on their faces. It grabs at my throat to see the worry back on Robin’s face. I want to take the words back, cancel the challenge I’ve presented to Julia. But at the same time, I refuse to leave it all unmentioned.

  “It’s been very difficult,” I continue, resolute. “It’s hard enough moving to a new place—new at least to Robin—without encountering such hostility. There’s been some really nasty stuff that’s happened.” I’m thinking of the dead robin, though I don’t spell it out.

  Julia’s lips tighten even more, her eyes staring over into the middle distance as if she’s weighing it all up. I glance over at Robin, who is staring straight at me, her eyes puppy-like—don’t spoil it, don’t argue, let this be good, please. It’s up to Julia now. The pause stretches out, each second lasting longer and longer, time looping and spiraling while we wait to hear her response.

  Finally, she focuses back on me, opens her mouth. I close my mind to Robin’s imagined whimpers, lift my chin. I’ll face this head on, whichever way it turns.

  “You’re right,” Julia says. “I was too hostile. I’m sorry. Can we start again?”

  I should mention the maggots. They’re lingering in my mind. But around the table the tension is gone. Robin’s face relaxes and she turns back to the other girls. I know that if I keep going now, refuse to accept Julia’s apology, Robin will be livid with me. I can’t face upsetting her any more.

  “Sure,” I say. “We can start again.”

  Robin laughs, and Daisy and Pippa laugh too, and some of my anger subsides. I want Robin to be accepted. Maybe I should have the moral courage to tell Julia how despicable she is. I don’t. But even if I’ve accepted her apology, it doesn’t mean I trust her. I’m going to keep a close eye on her.

  I smile. “It must be very strange to have someone new join in Year Six. Especially with these awful tests looming. I can understand it’s difficult.”

  “Thank you,” Julia says. “I really appreciate it. I mean, look how well the girls are getting on. It’s so much more pleasant when we can all be friends.” She leans back, gestures expansively to Nicole. “Don’t you agree, Nic?”

  Nicole nods, smiles, a serene expression on her face. She says to me, “I told you it was all going to be OK, didn’t I?”

  “You did.”

  “Just so funny to think that we were at school together,” Julia says. “It’s a shame we were so many years apart. I don’t suppose you remember me at all, do you?”

  “Not in the slightest, I’m afraid—nor Jessica. Four years is just that bit too much.”

  “Yes, of course,” Julia says. “We don’t remember you at all, either. I suppose the years never mixed. It’s not much different now.”

  At that moment my phone pings. I read the message from
Barbara. Early start tomorrow—judge says we can sit from 9:30. See you at 9.

  “Work?” Julia says.

  “Work. My trial. They’re sitting early tomorrow.”

  “It must be so fascinating. What are you working on at the moment? Such an interesting job, to be a criminal barrister,” Julia says. I look at her with surprise that she knows what I do. Someone must have mentioned it. Maybe Robin. “Are you working on something big at the moment?”

  I can’t resist the opportunity to show off. “Well, I guess it is quite a big trial. But I’m not playing any major part in it. I’m just the junior. And I’ve come in very late—most of the work has been done already. It’s a teacher who’s accused of having had a sexual relationship with his pupil.”

  “Did I read about that? Wasn’t there something in the Standard yesterday?” Nicole says with great enthusiasm. “There was a photo of him. It’s that girls’ school in central London, right? He’s gorgeous.”

  “Oh, I know all about this,” Julia says. “A daughter of a friend of a friend is there. The girl in question is a little bit… loose, shall we say. They say that she likes making up stories about people. The feeling is that it’s a disgrace the case has got this far. He’s the son of a judge, or something. It’s very odd.”

  I have to piece through the remarks fast to work out what I can reply to and what I can’t. I’m keen to question Julia more on her comment She likes making up stories about people, but I don’t want to draw attention to it overly, or say anything too detailed about the case.

  “Well, I’m acting on his behalf. And the senior barrister who’s representing him is very good. I’m sure she’s dug out all of this already.”

  “Is he as good-looking as the photo?” Nicole says.

  “I can’t say I’ve noticed,” I say. “He’s my client. He’s very young, too. I haven’t really been looking at him in that way. Besides, his eyes are very close together. But I suppose you could say he was good-looking.”

  Nicole laughs. “Lucky you. I thought he had such kind eyes from the photograph—they didn’t seem too close together at all. And what’s wrong with fancying a younger man? Look at the Macrons.”

  I laugh it off, but Nicole’s teasing continues, though Julia stays aloof. It’s not unkindly, gentle prods and smirks. I’m enjoying it, being in a group of women again. I’ve missed my mum friends so much since I’ve been back in London.

  Before I realize the time, it’s already half past six. The party breaks up—homework and music practice call. Robin has been enjoying herself too, and we make our way home together both in a better mood than we’ve been in for ages.

  “Did you enjoy yourself, then?” I say.

  “Yes. This afternoon was fun. I enjoyed people talking to me properly.”

  “I know exactly what you mean.”

  Robin runs off upstairs, and although I should ask about the weekend with Andrew, whether she’s had fun, I’m happy to leave the subject well alone.

  28

  Swept up in the tsunami of Julia’s social acceptance, it becomes very clear that Robin’s experience of school is going to be completely different from now on. The word has spread overnight. I wake to several messages from various mums asking if Robin would like to come to their houses for playdates. I show Robin and she rolls her eyes at the infantilizing terminology, but she’s happy at the attention, nonetheless. I’m asked to a number of drinks and coffee mornings, and in one more formal email, if I’d like to join the flower-arranging committee. I blink at that one. I’m about to put down my phone and get ready for the day ahead when another text arrives. This time it’s from Zora.

  Got some potential info on this Julia—I spoke to Sophie and she thinks she remembers more, a Julia who was bullied really badly—she was bucktoothed and she smelled a lot. Developed bad acne later on, too. Guess she’s making up for it now xxx

  For a moment the information doesn’t compute. Julia doesn’t have an air of victimhood at all. She certainly doesn’t have the empathy. But as I consider it, pieces start to fall into place. Her perfect teeth, perfect complexion, perfect everything. Her hope that I don’t remember her from school. Despite everything she’s done, I start to feel a tiny bit of sympathy for her. Maybe we’re not so different, under it all—I had a pretty miserable time too. Even though my response was to get as far away as I could from it, perhaps it’s not so strange that Julia wants to reclaim her past, reinvent it. I won’t say anything. She’s being friendly now; it’s going to help Robin’s life immensely. But I haven’t forgotten what’s happened, and I hug the knowledge to me.

  Robin is practically bouncing by the time we get to school, skipping a little higher every time we pass a girl who says hello. Now we’re on the inside, I can see quite how isolated we were. I’m met at the gates by Julia and Nicole, almost as if they’ve been waiting for me, and they draw me into warm embraces before trying to get me to join them for coffee.

  “I can’t, I’ve got to get to court,” I say. “Another time, when it’s all over.”

  “Of course, off to represent Mr. Sexy,” Julia says, winking.

  “Hardly.” I laugh.

  “What time will you finish?” Nicole asks.

  “Around four, I think.”

  “You won’t be here in time for pickup?” Nicole says.

  “No. Robin’s going to after-school club. We’ve got it all worked out.”

  “I think we can do better than that,” Julia says. She turns to Robin. “Would you like to come home with us this afternoon? You and Daisy can do your homework together.”

  Robin nods, enthusiastic. I remonstrate—it’s too much, too soon. But Daisy starts talking immediately to Robin about what they can do when they’ve finished their homework and, again, I don’t have the heart to say no.

  “Then that’s all set,” Julia says. “She can come back to ours, and you can pick her up from there. That’ll take the pressure off a bit, until the trial is over. Nicole, don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, great idea. And she’s welcome at ours, too. I know Pippa would love it if she came over.”

  I have reservations, but Robin is so enthusiastic I shut them down. There’s no denying it’ll make life easier. After-school club only runs till half past five, and if the trial runs over at all, I’ll be late.

  “It’s really kind of you both,” I say. “It’ll make it much easier. I know I need to make better arrangements, but in the meantime…”

  I travel to court with a lighter heart. I’m still cynical about the fact that our acceptance into the fold has been based on such a superficial premise, but at this stage I’m not going to fight it. I’m just grateful that Robin has friends at last. A maggot of doubt crawls across my mind and I stamp on it. I’m keeping an eye out—they’re not turning into our new best friends. Not yet.

  I run into Jeremy at Elephant and Castle, loitering in a doorway with a hunted look on his face.

  “I saw some of them on the tube again,” he says. He doesn’t need to explain who.

  “We’ll plow through them,” I say, “and find a conference room again.”

  Sure enough, the teenagers are waiting at court, flicking their hair at me as I try to pass through them, nearly asphyxiated by the heavy stink of cheap perfume rolling off them. At least I’m prepared for the onslaught this time, keeping my chin up and fighting my way through. We find the same conference room as the day before and bar the door shut. As the tension lifts we start laughing.

  “Why on earth are they here?” I say.

  Jeremy looks solemn; the laughter shuts down immediately. “It’s an all-girls school,” he says. “They get silly around male teachers. And you know how hysteria can spread around girls. I’m just a craze to them. They don’t realize it’s my life.” The solemnity grows with each word he speaks, the air in the room becoming heavier.

  “But don’t they have lessons?”

  “You’d think,” he says. “But they’re sixth formers. They have free periods
in the morning. They’ll be gone by lunchtime, at least. And they’ll get bored soon, anyway. As soon as they realize I’m ignoring them.”

  “Good.”

  “Thanks for walking me in. I don’t think I could have done it without you.” He smiles.

  “No problem,” I say. “All part of the service.” Without putting my bag down, I go through it, looking for one of the files, but I’m being clumsy and I drop it on the floor, spilling the contents everywhere. I kneel down to pick them up and Jeremy kneels too to help me. He’s close now, very close. For a moment, I feel the warmth of him and Nicole’s jokes echo through my mind. I certainly do not fancy my client. I stand up quickly, slightly rattled. My phone pings, and I snap back into myself. It’s Barbara, five minutes away.

  “I must go and robe up,” I say, smoothing down my skirt. “Barbara will be here any minute. And we’re on at half past nine, don’t forget. It’s an early start today.”

  I open the door and walk out of the room with such speed that I catch the teenagers unawares, thumping one of them on the ankle with my wheelie bag as I go.

  “Ow,” says the girl, and I turn and mouth Sorry at her. But I don’t mean it.

  SUNDAY, 12:30 P.M.

  At long last it’s my stop. I get up and push my way through the standing passengers, head down, ignoring the concerned comments, protests, as I thrust myself at the door of the bus, first to get out. I’m running along the pavement, my feet pounding—one, two, one, two—anything to get there now, right now.

  I can’t run, though, I never run, and a sharp pain is building up in my right side, insistent. I’m trying to ignore it but I can’t. I have to stop. I lean against a garden wall, trying to get my breath back, the pain finally receding.

  My phone beeps and I look at it. After looking as if it had died, it’s come back to life, Lazarus-like. The screen is mostly obscured by the crack but I can just make out the text. Zora.