Little Liar

by Lisa Ballantyne

  After a few seconds, he texted back.

  Love u more. Knock em dead. :)

  She knew from the gentle eagerness of his tone that he had heard her irritation and was trying to make it up to her. She felt a brief twinge of guilt.

  The train was crowded and she stood for most of the hour wondering how single parents managed. Her life had become so much harder because of Nick’s bail conditions. Her bag was heavy and pulling on her shoulder and she shifted her weight in the cramped carriage.

  As she was leaving the train at Waterloo, a man’s umbrella tip caught her leg. On the platform, Marina discovered that she now had a ladder in her tights and no spare pair with her. There was no time to think about it. She walked as fast as she could to the Underground and caught the Circle line just before the doors closed. It was only a five-minute journey but she found herself jammed underneath a suited armpit. She had a flicker of panic and crouched down to check her briefcase again for the flash drive with her presentation on it.

  The original file had been on her laptop that the police had taken away and so she had had to rewrite some of it at Betty and Tom’s after lunch on Sunday. She didn’t normally feel nervous before presentations – even one as important as this – but not having her own computer and one hour less sleep meant she had a ripple of anxiety in her stomach. She consoled herself that they would meet the lawyer at two. Her presentation would be done by then, and perhaps he would tell them that the police were calling off the whole investigation.

  At work, she found a spare pair of tights in her desk drawer and asked Connie, her assistant, to load her presentation onto a laptop while she went to change. Coming out of the ladies’ room, Marina noticed that Theresa was in the office. She was on the phone, pacing back and forth in the meeting room, looking out of the window onto Trafalgar Square. Theresa motioned at her through the glass and so Marina entered and waited, checking her watch. It would take her fifteen minutes to get to Whitehall, where she was to present.

  Marina sat on the edge of the meeting table as her boss finished the call. ‘Fine. Fine. Great. I’ve got to go, but I agree that we put it before the board.’ Theresa hung up and turned, smiling. She had an off-putting wince of a smile. ‘You all set for today?’

  ‘Yes, I just …’

  ‘Good luck.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’m meeting with Bertha Spalding at two.’ Theresa gave a dramatic facial expression – eyebrows high over wide eyes. ‘You must join us.’ Bertha was the newly appointed Secretary of State for Education.

  ‘I can’t. I’ve got that family thing. I emailed you about it last week, remember?’

  Theresa’s smile wavered. ‘Right, I thought it was just one of Nick’s plays or something? There’s no way you can duck out of it? It’s pretty essential that you’re here, I think.’

  Marina took a deep breath. ‘Theresa, can I speak frankly and in confidence with you?’

  ‘Of course.’ Theresa faltered for a moment and then indicated a chair.

  Marina sat and pushed back her shoulders. ‘I need to be with Nick this afternoon. It’s a legal thing.’

  ‘A legal thing?’ Theresa’s head fell to one side in a gesture that Marina found confusing – empathy or scrutiny – she wasn’t sure. ‘He’s an absolute darling; please tell me you’re not divorcing him?’

  Theresa was bright and dynamic, and as the head of the Board of Trustees, she was the kingpin at Child International, but Marina was never sure how to read her. She had been a top CEO in Human Resources before she took on this voluntary role, and now, it seemed, she was unable to take a step back. At times her boss was parental, almost motherly, and then at other times controlling and micromanaging.

  Marina shook her head and swallowed. ‘I meant to speak to you about it before now, but I think I hoped it would just disappear. I know we are obliged to declare any potential conflicts of interest …’

  Theresa’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘The police are investigating Nick for an … offence … and it’s a mistake – I don’t mean he has made a mistake, they have … they have the wrong person – but he’s been put on police bail and he can’t look after the children until that time is up.’ Marina looked up at the ceiling, at the strip lighting filtering through metallic grills. Her heart was fluttering in her chest. ‘It’s why I’ve been working from home so much. But I’m hopeful that we’ll hear some good news today and this will all just go away … So I really want to be there, meet the lawyer with him, if that’s okay?’

  ‘Can’t look after the children?’ Theresa frowned. ‘What on earth are they investigating him for, molestation?’

  Marina pressed her lips together, considering her response. ‘He’s been accused of assaulting a child at a school he was working at.’ It was a good answer, she decided. It sounded similar to what had happened to her motherin-law – still traumatic but not shameful.

  Theresa softened. Marina watched the realisation relax her face.

  ‘Very well. Thank you for telling me. You’re right, we do have to declare potential conflicts, but I don’t see this as significant – certainly not right now. He hasn’t been charged?’

  Marina swallowed and shook her head.

  ‘You work extremely hard, Marina. I’m behind you all the way, you know that. You get this sorted out. I’ll try and arrange another time for you to meet Bertha.’

  Marina wondered if she should say something more – clarify things – but Theresa had resumed her wincing smile.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Marina, standing up and smoothing her skirt, feeling genuinely grateful.

  As she returned to her office, she realised that her face was burning.

  10

  Nick

  Faldane’s office was in Farringdon and Nick took Marina’s hand as they left the Tube station and headed towards St John Street. It was bright but cold, the sky expansive and the sun a distant silver coin above London.

  Faldane always seemed to be busy, on the hop between court and home, and Nick hadn’t spoken to him in weeks. He seldom answered his mobile and when he did, he was perfunctory. Nick felt squeamish wondering what his lawyer would say. He only wanted to hear that the investigation was going to be dropped now that he was approaching his police bail date. But his stomach sensed a different outcome, the muscles in his midriff ached as if he was holding a crunch. In the lift in Faldane’s office building, Marina squeezed his hand and Nick returned it. He held his breath waiting for the lift doors to open.

  When Nick entered Faldane’s office the handshake was warm but the smile slowly faded from his lawyer’s face. ‘I thought you were coming alone?’ he said quietly to Nick before adding, ‘Marina, hi,’ and reaching to shake her hand.

  ‘Is there a problem?’ Nick raised his eyebrows.

  Faldane clapped his hands with an awkward grin on his face. ‘It’s up to you. I’ve got some good news and some bad news. I thought we could discuss it and then you could share it with the family afterwards?’

  Nick said nothing, but Marina was quick to react. ‘It’s fine, I can wait outside.’

  ‘No,’ Nick took her hand again. ‘I’m glad you’re with me. You took the afternoon off work. I need you here.’

  Faldane was serious. ‘If you’re sure.’

  Nick nodded at Marina and they sat before Faldane’s desk, which was covered in files held together with elastic bands. The screensaver on his laptop was his daughter with a beach ball. Nick could see she had Faldane’s eyes. After the outside chill, the office was too warm and Nick tweaked the neck of his shirt.

  Faldane clasped his hands and offered another unsure smile. ‘So what do you want first, the good news or the bad?’

  ‘The bad,’ said Nick, turning to Marina, who was nodding in agreement.

  Faldane sighed, ‘Okay,’ allowing his eyes to focus on the telephone. ‘Tell you what,’ his gaze returned to them, smiling, ‘I’ll just tell you the good news first. The good news is that there is still in
sufficient evidence to charge you.’

  ‘So when will this stop?’ Marina was frowning, legs crossed, straight spine.

  ‘We’ll find that out when his bail is up, but at the moment, from what I have gathered, they do not have enough evidence at present to charge you with sexual assault.’

  Nick pitched forward and breathed into pressed-together palms. For good news, it wasn’t that good. It was just what they had been hearing for weeks. Hang on. Wait and see. Bide time. Patience. It was testing his sanity. ‘All right then,’ Nick sat back in his chair, rested an ankle over his knee in mock confidence, ‘let’s hear the bad news then.’ He reached for Marina and let his hand rest on her thigh. A second later he felt her warm soft palm close over his.

  The awkwardness in Faldane, that shy distant connection – freshers’ week with his brother in Leeds – disappeared and the lawyer that he was suddenly took hold. His voice deepened and there was almost a physical change, which Nick ascribed to the lack of smile, but it was as if Faldane aged before them as his gravitas increased.

  ‘It’s hard to get disclosure at this stage in the investigation. The police like to keep what they have close to their chest, so to speak, but I have learned that they should soon be returning your laptop, Marina.’

  Marina and Nick looked at each other and then back to Faldane. ‘Good …’ Marina faltered.

  ‘And what about my laptop?’ Nick said faintly, ‘And the kids’ tablet?’

  Faldane steepled his hands, pressing the fingertips together. ‘Yours is being kept in evidence, as is your phone and the tablet. They have highlighted a number of pornographic websites visited.’

  Bob paused and Nick felt the warm weight of it in the room. He became strangely conscious of his hand on Marina’s knee and her hand on his. The heat of seconds seared. Nick wasn’t sure if he was expected to respond or not. Of course he had looked at pornography, and yes it was awful that this had been discovered and that his wife was hearing about it, but he couldn’t deny it, and part of him had expected it.

  Bob rubbed a thumb over his chin, eyes to a piece of paper before him.

  ‘It’s not the existence of pornography on your devices, but the nature of the pornography that could cause us difficulty.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Nick quietly, almost holding his breath.

  ‘Well,’ Faldane half-smiled, ‘none of the sites are illegal and all are freely available, but many feature non-consensual sexual violence …’

  Nick felt the loss of Marina’s hand on top of his.

  ‘It’s arguable these things are out of your control as a website visitor.’ Faldane clasped his thick fingers and leaned forward on the desk. ‘However, the police have highlighted searches that indicate you were actively seeking out violent content directed at women. One site in particular features restraints, face covered, hand over mouth, which could be argued is similar to the assault that the victim described.’

  Nick swallowed, and took his hand from Marina’s thigh.

  Bob Faldane flicked open a file next to his computer and glanced at a note that had been handwritten on top.

  Nick hunched his shoulders, as if expecting a blow.

  ‘So, just an example of what they have … real rape – it will be argued that you were specifically searching for images of women being violated.’

  The room suddenly seemed smaller and the furniture loud and intrusive. Bob Faldane’s small grey eyes did not leak any emotion or discomfort. He might have been describing the price and quality of silver teaspoons at an antique market, instead of laying bare Nick’s furtive efforts at gratification.

  Bob Faldane said nothing further but turned the piece of typed paper towards Nick and Marina. Nick put a hand on his forehead as he glanced down the list, but Marina was rigid by his side. Nevertheless, he was sure that she too read the searches they had uncovered: red cherries, anal, real rape, brutal rape.

  Marina rose suddenly and strode out of the room.

  Nick wiped a hand across his mouth. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

  She was marching straight down St John Street, buttoning her trench coat as she walked, scarf trailing behind her. Nick jogged to catch up with her. He called on her but she didn’t stop and he had to run in front of her and take her by the shoulders.

  ‘I don’t want to talk now,’ she said, turning away from him. ‘We can discuss it when we get home.’

  Ava’s face was so similar to her mother’s. Since their daughter, Nick had begun to understand Marina on another level. He could see the deep imprint of pain he had caused her.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said instinctively. It was the first thing that came into his head but he soon realised it was the wrong thing to say.

  ‘You’re sorry? Malparido,’ she spat at him.

  She was disgusted by him, repulsed. Her shame for him chilled on his skin. She was frowning but her eyes were sad, reflective.

  ‘It doesn’t mean what you think. It doesn’t mean anything.’

  She unleashed a torrent of words at him suddenly, half English and half Spanish. ‘What does it mean then? You told me just now and then, here we find that you are what – that you are addicted? And you want to watch violence.’ Her eyes shone with tears. ‘You want to watch a woman raped? A girl raped? You are a father. You have a daughter. You are my husband. Do you want to do these things to me?’

  She stood before him, unmoving, defiant.

  ‘No. You know what it’s like – sometimes you click on things you don’t mean to …’ He was trembling from his face down to his knees.

  ‘No, I don’t know what it’s like. He said you searched for violence, searched for rape.’ Her cheeks were now flushed with anger. She was out of breath, her eyes shining. ‘Do you want to rape me? Is that what you fantasise about?’

  ‘Please, I love you, and you and the kids are more important than anything in the world to me and I wouldn’t ever ever hurt you. You have to know that. Please.’ He considered dropping to his knees as he had done once when they had fought before they were married, and she had threatened to leave him and return to Spain. He sensed that falling to his knees would not be enough this time.

  ‘Go! Go meet your lawyer. Deal with your business. I know now why he did not want me here. I’ll get the children from your mother’s.’

  She spun on her heels and walked away from him. Nick thought about chasing her, burying his face into her stomach, begging for forgiveness. Instead he watched her go, the assertive swing of her hips, the vigour of her strides loosening the pinning of her hair.

  Marina disappeared around the corner and he was filled with anger suddenly – at himself for being unable to stop her, frustration about the whole nightmare situation. He stood with his hands in fists at his side, feeling his stomach curdle with shame. She was right. He was a malparido. A creep. He took a long slow breath in, and then exhaled. The misty rain was turning heavy, wetting his hair and the shoulders of his shirt. Resolute, but sick to his stomach, he turned back to Faldane’s office.

  When he entered, Bob was engrossed in his computer, typing furiously with two forefingers. As Nick stood catching his breath in the doorway, the tapping of his fingers on the keys ceased.

  ‘You’re back.’

  Nick approached the seat he had been sitting in before Marina’s exit.

  ‘Listen, I’m sorry I don’t have much more time. I have to dash to court to meet a client in ten minutes.’

  ‘It’s all right.’ Nick was dazed. ‘I understand.’

  ‘You know, maybe it was better she heard it now – here,’ Bob pressed his full lips together, ‘in the long run.’

  Nick frowned, sitting down, ‘What do you mean? I thought you said they don’t have enough to charge me.’

  ‘Right now, what they have shared with me is not enough to charge you but it’s still too early to say that you won’t be charged.’

  Nick ran a hand through his hair. He was still shaking.

  ‘Listen, they hav
e to do a lot better than that if they want to press charges, but try to remember that as embarrassing as it is now, it’s all part of a bigger picture. You’ve been accused of sexual assault and that is much more serious than your internet history,’ said Faldane, zipping his briefcase and grabbing his overcoat from the hook. ‘I’m sorry, I really have to rush. I realise this was a hard meeting and I’d love to stay with you and talk about it, but I only scheduled an hour and I need to get to my next appointment. Call me whenever you like.’

  ‘I will, thank you,’ said Nick, standing up, hooking a finger in his back pocket.

  ‘I know it’s difficult, but try to stay patient, and I’ll let you know as soon as I have more.’

  Nick nodded. ‘Just tell me this. If it doesn’t go my way, what could happen to me?’

  ‘Are you asking about sentencing?’ Bob’s face was serious, jaw slack.

  ‘Yes.’ Nick swallowed.

  ‘Well, if you are indicted and found guilty of non-penetrative sexual assault of an under-thirteen, you are looking at a maximum penalty of fourteen years.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘That’s the maximum penalty, of course – in reality you could serve a lot less, but you would certainly get a custodial sentence.’

  Nick’s mouth was suddenly very dry.

  ‘But even with a lighter sentence, you would be put on the sex offenders register after release, which could last for ten years or more, and it would mean that even after serving your sentence it would be illegal for you to be alone with children, for example … even your own.’

  Nick thought he had nodded in response. His heart was suddenly pounding in his chest.

  ‘But, listen,’ Bob slapped Nick’s arm and then put on his jacket and overcoat, hanging a wine-coloured scarf around his neck, ‘that’s the absolute worst-case scenario. We’re not looking at that yet. Right now, they don’t have enough to charge you and they may never have enough to charge you.’

  Nick exhaled, put his hands in his pockets, brought his shoulders up to his ears.

  ‘You just need to focus on the here and now. Deal with what’s in front of you.’