Little White Lies

by Lesley Lokko

  He found Tash Bryce-Brudenell’s home easily enough. All the while he was driving along Interstate 95, he thought about the madness of it all. What would he say if Julian saw him? He was deluding himself if he thought Julian wouldn’t recognise him. And then there was Rebecca to think about. What would she do? What would she say? What could she say? He shook his head as he drove, unable to find an answer that would satisfy anyone, least of all him. All he knew was the burning desperation to see this daughter of his once – just once. That was all.

  He was parked halfway across the road, his car partially hidden by the man-made grassy knolls that stood in place of fences in this most upmarket of residential neighbourhoods. He saw the taxi bearing the two young girls pull out of the driveway, and the tall woman with the short blonde hair, whom he recognised as Tash Bryce-Brudenell, standing in the doorway, waving them off. His heart was hammering in his chest as he got out of the car and made his way down the lane that separated the two properties, hidden from each by the tall line of trees that were almost in full bloom. He could see the pool, its blue-green skin shimmering in the afternoon sun. He slipped behind the little white cabaña. It seemed a logical place to wait whilst he figured out what to do next.

  And then events seemed to overtake him. He saw Tash come out to the pool with the children. Rebecca’s twins first. He recognised them straight away. They took after the father. Then a small, dark child, trailing possessively behind Tash, who was carrying a baby. He felt a tightness in his chest as he watched her put the baby down, tucking her carefully into the seat, making sure the sun was out of her face. Maryam’s face. He was too far away to see her clearly and it took almost all the self-control left to him not to simply walk out from around the small pool house, calmly introduce himself as the father of the child and walk off with her. He had no idea who else was in the house. One glimpse, that’s all, he kept telling himself. He just wanted to be sure. He saw Tash come out with a drink in her hand and then heard the twins ask her when Mummy and Daddy would be back. ‘On Monday, darling. Only another day to go.’ So Rebecca and Julian weren’t around? ‘Your mummy and daddy, too, Didi. They’re having a nice time together, just like we are, aren’t we?’ He saw the children shrug, completely unself-consciously, in the way only children can be. His heart lifted. Tash was clearly the only adult left in the house. He debated with himself for a moment whether to just go up and talk to her, but something held him back. He wanted to see Maryam first. Properly.

  And then Tash fell asleep. She’d barely taken three or four sips of her drink before he saw the glass tilt dangerously towards the grass. She let go of it and it fell to the ground silently, spilling its contents immediately. He saw the boys look over at her uncertainly, then at Maryam, who seemed to be sleeping in her chair. They drew together for a few minutes; one, the slightly taller of the two, was clearly planning something. Exaggeratedly silent, they tiptoed away from the pool, heading for the house next door, leaving the sleeping adult and the sleeping child. He waited for a while – ten minutes, fifteen? He couldn’t tell. And then it all happened so fast. Tash suddenly woke up, whether jolted out of sleep by a noise or the absence of it, he couldn’t tell. She looked around her, focusing on the fact that the children were gone. She jumped up, grabbed her sarong and ran into the kitchen. A few seconds later, he saw her running wildly towards the beach. He didn’t stop to think. He moved forward out of the bushes and walked up to her. When he saw her, and she opened her eyes to focus on his, all rational thought deserted him.

  And now here he was, sitting in a Denny’s somewhere in the middle of Edgartown with a baby, looking for all the world as if they belonged there, father and daughter, like all the others. Except they weren’t. The child was of his begetting, but she wasn’t his child.

  It was time to take her back.

  120

  TASH/ANNICK/REBECCA

  The door closed behind the detective sergeant and, for the first time since they’d arrived back at the house, Rebecca and Julian were alone. Rebecca was standing by the window watching the police fan out in a team, with their dogs straining at the lead. Their dark blue-and-white jackets with the letters MSP blazoned across the back could be seen all the way to the trees at the edge of the property. She couldn’t think straight. Her teeth were chattering. Rage was building up inside her, more powerful and insistent than any emotion she’d ever felt. Julian must have sensed it; he came to stand beside her but said nothing. All the way from New York he’d held some part of her – a hand, a wrist, her arm – as if to keep her from falling but now nothing could hold her up. Why had she agreed to it? Why? Tash wasn’t capable of looking after anyone, let alone four children. She was mad to have agreed to it! Everyone pretended they didn’t know about the drinking and the lapses of control but they all knew! Everyone knew. So why hadn’t anyone said anything? Was it the money? The fact that Tash had paid for everything, been so generous, wanting so badly to please? She’d practically shoved them out the door. ‘Go, go . . . I promise you, nothing’ll happen.’

  Julian cleared his throat. He seemed about to say something when there was a tap at the door. They both spun round. Rebecca’s heart leapt into her chest. ‘Wh-who is it? Yes?’

  The door opened slowly. It was Tash. For a long, dreadful moment they stared at each other. Tash’s face was completely ashen; she’d never seen her so pale. Her hair was sticking up and there were dark circles underneath her eyes. She’d been crying, of course. ‘Rebecca?’ she said haltingly, taking a step forward. Someone was standing behind her. It took Rebecca a second to work out that it was Annick. For reasons she didn’t care to examine, the sight of the two of them – one with her child safe, the other the cause of her terror – forced the rage right out of her stomach, pushing it upwards through her chest and neck until it exploded, flooding her mouth like saliva, blinding her with its ferocious intensity.

  ‘You . . . you fucking bitch!’ The words were torn from her throat, winding her. She felt Julian’s arm on hers, pulling her back but he could no more have stopped her than he could have stopped a storm. She saw Tash flinch, as though she’d been slapped. ‘How could you? I left my child with you, you . . . you fucking drunk! My child! All you had to do was keep her safe! You’ve got a fucking army of servants here who’ll do everything else . . . feed them, bathe them, all the things you can’t be bothered to do. Just keep her safe, that’s all!’ She felt the world slipping away from her. Julian was trying to grab hold of her flailing arms but she shook him off with a strength that surprised him. She lifted her arm and with all the force she could muster, she slapped Tash, once, twice, and the scream that came from her throat was unlike any sound she’d ever heard. Everyone jumped. She heard footsteps coming up the stairs, the deep baritone of the police officer who’d been on hand to meet them; Adam and Annick were in the doorway, Annick’s panicked face swinging wildly from her to Tash and back again. Yves and Adam both pushed past her, trying to reach Tash in the tangle of arms and palms. Tash was holding onto the doorjamb; her chest was rising and falling and there were two ugly red welts across her face. As hard as it was to believe, the sight only made Rebecca crazier with rage. She lifted her hand again but Adam caught it. At that moment, she was beyond herself. Blind fury had taken hold of her, shaking her in its fist like a leaf. ‘You’re just jealous, that’s what it is,’ she screamed.

  ‘Rebecca!’

  ‘Somebody get her out of here!’

  ‘Take that woman downstairs!’

  ‘Will someone . . . ?’

  ‘You can’t have children of your own so you’ve taken mine!’ It was the beginning of a sentence that, once embarked on, would have no end. She knew that much. She saw Tash wince and the wide-eyed, faraway look in her eye was something Rebecca recognised; it was the look she’d always had, the look of an outsider, gazing in on something she longed to take part in, but couldn’t. Another cry broke forth from her throat but Julian was holding her arms, pressing her to him. Adam had his arm rou
nd Tash and, together with the policewoman, they prised her fingers from the doorjamb and led her away.

  In the confusion, no one heard the doorbell until Betty Lowenstein suddenly began to scream.

  Epilogue

  ANNICK

  Martha’s Vineyard, Cape Cod, USA

  It was almost midnight. The house was finally quiet, struck by a silence that, after the emotions unleashed by the day, seemed almost eerie. Tash and Rebecca were upstairs, both utterly wrung out by events. Adam had gone with the police and Tariq Malouf, the man who’d simply walked up to the front door, a gurgling Maryam in his arms, and handed her over. To everyone’s surprise, Adam had offered to go. ‘He looks as though he could use some support,’ he said in an aside to Annick and Yves. ‘No one’s going to press charges but . . . shit, I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes. What a mess. What a fucking mess.’ Annick watched him go, a new respect for Adam slowly surfacing in her. He’d phoned an hour or so ago to let them know that Tariq would be released without charge within the hour. Under the circumstances, the police thought, it would be better for Mr Malouf to spend the night somewhere in town and then drive back to his home in Connecticut the following morning.

  Now the three of them, she, Yves and Julian were still sitting downstairs in the living room, not speaking, yet not disconnected either, reluctant to get up and put an end to the day that had been more dreadful than each could possibly have imagined.

  ‘D’you want something?’ she asked them both, finally getting to her feet. She pushed both hands into her hair, pulling it back from her face before letting it spring free again.

  ‘Something?’ Julian looked up. His eyes were bloodshot and his expression weary.

  ‘A drink, maybe?’ she offered. Despite everything, it seemed the only appropriate thing.

  He glanced quickly, almost shyly, at Yves. ‘A drink. Yeah, why not?’

  ‘I’ll get them. You stay.’ Annick quickly left the room.

  She came back a few minutes later with a tray, balancing the three large brandies carefully as she set it down. ‘Rémy Martin. Good,’ she said, half-apologetically. ‘Trust Tash.’

  Julian nodded slowly. ‘Yeah,’ he sighed. ‘Trust Tash.’

  Annick served both men, then sat down beside Yves. The day was over. She’d seen and heard more in it than she cared to think about. The hysteria that the day had unleashed would take days, weeks, months to subside.

  ‘Listen,’ Annick said suddenly. The other two looked up. ‘I want to say something.’ She held the brandy glass in both hands, warming it. The day was over, in the strict sense of time passing; it was after midnight and another was about to begin. But it wasn’t over, not by a long shot. Tomorrow would be another word and another world and she wanted to forestall that. Someone ought to say something – what had been said couldn’t be un-said – and she realised it was up to her. It didn’t matter that Rebecca and Tash weren’t there to hear her. She loved them; they loved each other, even if they’d lost sight of it. She saw Yves’ look of disquiet and she shook her head. It’s all right, she wanted to say. I know what I’m doing.

  ‘This is what I want to say. Things don’t always turn out the way you think they will. Things just . . . happen, somehow. Without you thinking about them, or planning them . . . it’s what Americans always say. Shit happens. But nothing happened today. Oh, I know, it’s easy for me to say,’ she said, glancing at Julian. He was looking at her expectantly. She felt confident now she had their attention. ‘It wasn’t my child that went missing. But I know Rebecca and I know Tash and the way it was said, the way it came out, that’s not how either of them meant it. I know that. We’ve been through so much together – too much – for this to be the end of it. They’ll find their way back, I promise you.’ She looked at Yves and Julian; their eyes were fixed intently on her.

  ‘I suppose, for me, the most shocking thing about today isn’t just what happened to Maryam or the fact that Tash drank too much and fell asleep. It could happen to anyone. No, what’s worse is how far from the truth we’ve all strayed. Everyone has secrets; that goes without saying. And yes, some of us have more secrets than others.’ She stopped for a moment, looking at each of them in turn. Then she looked at Yves. ‘You once said to me that Rebecca and Tash were all I had, that without a family, my friends were everything. It’s still true. Yes, I’ve got my own family now . . . you and Didi . . . but we’re all each other’s family. All of us. You, me, Didi, the twins, Julian. And Tash and Adam, of course. Even Tariq. We’re all bound together, whether we like it or not. And secrets and lies, even little white ones, don’t belong in families.’ She stopped and looked at her glass for a moment before bringing it to her lips. ‘That’s all,’ she said. ‘That’s all I wanted to say.’

  Neither Yves nor Julian said anything. The silence between the three of them was deep but strangely comfortable. After a moment, Annick got up and walked into the kitchen. She drained her glass, feeling the brandy burn its way down her throat, warming her belly. She walked over to the sink and turned on the tap, rinsing the glass carefully, setting it down on the drainer. Someone had left a bunch of flowers on the island counter – peonies, from the garden – in thanks, perhaps, for Maryam’s safe return? She picked them up, pulled off the few already-dead leaves and looked around for a vase. There was one on the bottom shelf of one of the cupboards and she bent down to pick it up. When she straightened up, Julian was standing in the doorway.

  She smiled at him, a little embarrassed by her long speech, and began arranging the stems. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ she asked after a moment. He said nothing but sat down patiently like a child at the kitchen table. She could hear Yves’ slow tread on the stairs. It was just the two of them, alone now. She switched on the kettle and the silence between them was filled by its throbbing. She made them both a mug and sat down opposite him, sliding it across the warm grain of the wooden surface.

  ‘What I’ve always liked about you, Annick,’ he said after taking a sip, ‘is the way you see everything. Every detail.’

  She blushed deeply. She hadn’t meant to show off. ‘No, I—’

  He shook his head, forestalling her. ‘It’s true. You see beyond the surface of things, to where things really matter. You’re right.’ He took a sip of his tea. ‘Secrets and lies. It’s time to stop. We’ve all got too many of them, myself included. Thank you,’ he said in his oddly formal way.

  They sat for a little while longer, neither speaking. The wind had picked up outside, stirring the trees. A night owl flitted past, emitting a long, soulful hoot. Something barked in response – a fox perhaps . . . the trees stirred again. Night ploughed on, and would continue ploughing until the sun came up, bringing with it all the bright, expectant promise of a brand new day.

  Also By Lesley Lokko

  Sundowners

  Saffron Skies

  Bitter Chocolate

  Rich Girl, Poor Girl

  One Secret Summer

  A Private Affair

  An Absolute Deception

  Copyright

  AN ORION EBOOK

  First published in Great Britain in 2013 by Orion Books.

  This ebook first published in 2013 by Orion Books.

  Copyright © Lesley Lokko 2013

  The right of Lesley Lokko to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the Brit
ish Library.

  ISBN: 978 1 4091 4249 2

  Orion Books

  The Orion Publishing Group Ltd

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