The Girl Who Lied: The bestselling psychological drama

I ask Roisin how she found out.

‘You didn’t come to the youth club again last night, so I went round to your house to see why.’

I gulp. ‘Did you speak to my mum? What did you say?’

‘Yes, I did, as a matter of fact. She said she thought you were at the youth club. That’s where you told her you were going.’ Roisin’s eyes narrow. ‘Your dad called out, wanting to know what you were up to.’

This time I can’t gulp. There’s a golf-ball-sized lump in my throat. I don’t want my dad to know I’ve been lying about what I’ve been doing. Roisin continues, a small look of amusement on her face. She knows what my dad is like.

‘Don’t worry, I didn’t give you away. I just said I remembered I was supposed to be meeting you there.’

‘Thank you.’ I look up over my book as I sense Miss Martin’s eyes trained upon us. We wait a few minutes before we start up again, making sure Miss Martin is preoccupied with trying to get the new interactive whiteboard working for her next class.

‘When I was walking back to the youth club, I saw Shane. He stopped to give me a lift. He said he’d seen you with Niall.’

‘Ah, Shane,’ I say. He would have just said it in conversation, I know. He’s not like his brother, Jody. I like Shane.

‘I had to act like I knew, of course,’ says Roisin.

‘I’m sorry. Like I said, I was going to tell you.’

The bell goes for first period and as I pack my book away in my bag, I feel a nudge on the shoulder. I turn round and Jody Wright is grinning, from his seat in the row behind.

‘Hey, Roisin,’ he says. ‘I saw your brother in the shop this morning.’ Roisin and Joe exchange a smirk. ‘He was buying carrots.’

I groan inwardly. I know what this is all about. Hastily I zip my bag shut and stand up, my chair bashes into the table behind me. It doesn’t distract Jody.

‘Carrots?’ questions Roisin.

‘Yeah, a whole load of them. He said they were for his bunny.’ He nudges me in the back again as I try to squeeze between Roisin and the tables. ‘You like carrots, don’t you, Bunny?’

‘Get lost,’ I say as I manage to execute my escape. I hear them laughing as I leave.

Niall tells me to take no notice of them. He’s had a word with Roisin and Shane. He’s sure the message will get through. He says he doesn’t care what they say anyway, that Jody’s a prick. I agree on that point. I say I agree on the not-caring point too, but really I do care. I wish Jody would let up. I don’t know why he and his cronies find me so bloody amusing.

We drive out to The Spit that night. It’s dark and cold. Niall has brought a blanket with him. We climb into the back seat and huddle together under the cover. We kiss each other. Up until now we haven’t actually had sex. We haven’t done anything yet. In fact, I haven’t done anything with anyone. However, all that changes in the next hour. It’s a bit of a fumble, not least because there’s no room and we can’t really see what we’re doing. Had I known, I might have worn my skirt.

Niall told me he loved me tonight. I’m not stupid enough to fall for that: only having sex with him because he loves me, although that did help. No, I wanted to do it with him. I love him and he loves me, it seems right – the next stage of our relationship. Afterwards, he holds me and tells me he loves me. I know he means it. So do I.

I feel different when I go into school the next day. Grown up. I see Niall at school and when we pass each other in the corridor he pulls me out of the line. I see the other girls look, with a sense of envy. They wish Niall Marshall had eyes for them. He asks me if I’m okay after last night. Of course I’m okay. I’m in love. He kisses me and tells me he loves me before running down the corridor to catch up with his class. I float in the other direction. I feel grown up. I feel loved.

Chapter 5

I take the plate away from Mum, the pork chop barely touched and the vegetables only picked at.

‘Would you prefer a light sandwich?’ I ask.

Mum shakes her head. ‘Maybe later. A cup of tea would be nice, though. I’ll put the kettle on.’

‘No, you sit there, I’ll do it,’ I say as I flip the lid to the bin and tilt the plate to let the food slide off. Mum hates wasting food and takes it personally if anyone leaves so much as a morsel on the plate, so for her to leave pretty much all her dinner isn’t a good sign.

‘Erin, did you remember to get the café keys?’ says Mum.

‘Yeah, they’re in my bag.’ I try to suppress a frown as I recall my encounter with Messrs Wright.

‘I was so glad Kerry was there the other night,’ says Mum. For a moment she looks lost in her thoughts, then giving herself a little shake, she’s back with us. ‘Nice lad, he is.’

‘I remember him from when we were teenagers,’ I say. ‘He used to come down in the summer holidays.’

‘He’s been living here for quite a few years now. He works there with Max’s son, Joe,’ Mum explains, albeit needlessly, since I’ve established this myself.

‘Didn’t Max take him in because he was in some sort of trouble?’ asks Fiona, as she takes on tea-making duty. ‘I can’t remember the details, but wasn’t Kerry kicked out by his mum?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’ Mum looks thoughtful again. ‘Apparently, when Max’s brother died, that was Kerry’s father, the lad went off the rails a bit. Got into trouble with the Guards, I believe. The final straw was when his mum got a new husband. A clash of personalities, you could say. Lots of arguments. That type of thing. Anyway, Max felt he owed it to his brother to look after Kerry.’

We sit in silence for a few moments and I mull over the conversation. Kerry comes across as laid-back and I have a vague idea of him being pretty chilled out when we were teenagers. From what I saw today, I’d say he’s not changed much. It sounds like he had a troubled home life. I can relate to that.

‘So…,’ begins Fiona bringing over a cup of tea for each of us. ‘What’s happening tomorrow with the café?’

‘I’ve been thinking about that. I need to open up,’ says Mum. ‘It was closed all day yesterday and today; we can’t afford to lose another day’s takings or have our regulars find somewhere else. Your father won’t be happy if we stay closed.’

‘You should try and rest,’ says Fiona. ‘Anyway, aren’t you going to be at the hospital tomorrow?’

‘Of course I am, but I thought I’d go in the afternoon so I can open up the café first thing.’

‘No you won’t,’ I say. ‘I will.’

‘You will?’ The surprise in Fiona’s voice is evident.

I take a sip of my tea to stall for time. I haven’t actually thought it through properly, but I know Mum needs a break. She looks tired and drawn and I’m not entirely convinced that is just from the shock of Dad’s accident. It looks a deep-rooted tiredness, one that has been weighing her down for a long time. I can feel Fiona’s eyes on me, waiting for a response.

‘I can open up and do the breakfast rush – I assume the menu is the same: bacon, sausages, eggs, beans, that type of thing. I’m quite capable of cooking that and when you’ve dropped the children to nursery and school you can come and help me get ready for the lunchtime rush.’ I smile at Fiona, pleased with myself for making it sound so easy.

‘Ah sure, there’s no need for that,’ says Mum, looking at us both. ‘I can manage, honestly.’

‘No,’ I say firmly. ‘There’s every need. Now, please don’t argue. We want to help. Don’t we, Fiona?’

‘Yes, of course we do.’ Fiona squeezes Mum’s hand.

After we’ve finished our tea, Mum goes upstairs to the bathroom and I make a start on rinsing the plates and loading the dishwasher.

‘That’s good of you to offer to open up the café,’ says Fiona. ‘I seem to remember you saying something along the lines of never wanting to step foot in that greasy spoon again.’ There is no malice in Fiona’s words and we exchange a wry smile.

‘I’m only doing it for Mum. One less thing for her to worry about.’ I scrub at the saucepan to remove some of the mashed potato that has already hardened around the edges

‘When do you have to go back to London?’ asks Fiona.

‘I’m not sure. Ed has shuffled the staff rota around, but I don’t know how long he can do that for. I don’t want to stay here longer than necessary.’

‘It’s not that bad here,’ says Fiona, cleaning the work surfaces with anti-bacterial wipes. ‘I came back and, if I’m totally honest, I’m glad I did.’

I pause from rinsing the saucepan. ‘It was different for you, though,’ I say eventually. ‘You liked it here. You had lots of friends. You had Sean and Sophie. And since then, Molly. I have nothing and no one to come back for. You came back to happiness, I’ll come back to misery.’

‘That’s not strictly true,’ says Fiona. ‘You have your family to come back to.’

‘It’s not that easy.’

‘Things do change. People change.’ Fiona drops the used wipe into the bin. She comes and stands beside me and brushes a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. ‘We miss you.’

‘I know. I miss you and the kids too. And Mum.’ I study the bottom of the pan as I tamp down the unchecked emotion churning in my stomach. Confident I have it under control, I look up at Fiona. ‘Just meeting Jody Wright again and the mention of the Marshalls is bad enough. And then I bumped straight into them.’

‘Oh no, did you?’ Fiona’s face creases into a wince. ‘Did you speak to them?’

‘Didn’t have much choice. They were parked right next to me. I just explained about Dad.’

‘Are you okay?’ There’s real concern in Fiona’s voice.

‘I’ll be fine,’ I say, as much to convince myself as my sister.

‘There’s something you’re not telling me,’ says Fiona.

I should have known it wouldn’t be easy to hide anything from her. She has always had this uncanny knack of being able to read my moods, my body language, or whatever it was.

‘Erin! Erin, your phone’s ringing!’ Mum’s voice comes from the hallway.

‘It’s okay,’ I call back, about to add that I’ll leave it to go to voicemail, when Mum appears in the kitchen carrying my handbag. I dry my hands and take the bag, but by the time I’ve fished around for the phone, it has stopped ringing. I check the screen. ‘It was only Ed. I’ll phone him later.’

‘Are you ready, Fiona?’ asks Mum. ‘I want to get back up to the hospital before it gets too late.’

‘Sure,’ says Fiona. ‘Have you got your coat?’ She turns to me. ‘We’ll chat tomorrow. It will be okay, whatever it is. Trust me, I’m your big sister.’ She gives me a brief hug before ushering Mum out to the hall to find their coats.

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t hesitate to believe her. She’s never let me down in the past, but this…this thing with Roisin, well, it’s bigger than anything either of us have had to face before. Certainly since I left Rossway as a teenager. For the first time in my life, I have doubts about Fiona’s ability to make things right.

Chapter 6

Normally at six in the morning, I would be going for my morning run or sweating it out in the gym. Today, however, I’m standing inside the doorway of Seahorse Café wondering if I’ve stepped back in time. Nothing has changed since I walked away as a sixteen-year-old.

The easy-wipe Formica tables with their padded bench seats are lined up and down the café in three uniform rows of four. Each table is set the same as it has always been. I remember cleaning the tables every night and arranging the red and brown sauce bottles to stand behind the salt and pepper with the plastic menu slotted between to keep it upright.

The counter at the rear of the café looks the same too. A cold cabinet for cakes to one side and the cutlery and napkins to the other, next to a small selection of crisps and biscuits. Behind the counter is the tea and coffee making machine, together with a fridge for the milk and cold drinks. Through the serving hatch where the orders are pushed, I can see the stainless-steel kitchen equipment, all exactly as I remember.

Before I can do anything, I need to move the four silver bistro tables and their chairs from inside the café, where they have been stacked overnight, and take them outside. They aren’t so much heavy as awkward and once accomplished I can tick that task off the list Mum gave to me last night.

Consulting the list, I continue to prepare the café for opening.

In the kitchen, I am just tying my apron when I hear the little bell above the door jangle to announce the arrival of the first customer.

‘Right, here we go,’ I say, as I tuck the order pad and pen into the front pocket of the apron. However, my breezy morning smile slips as I see who my first two customers are.

Kerry and Joe Wright.

‘Morning, Bunny,’ calls Joe as I make my way round the counter and walk down towards them. He grins broadly at me.

‘Morning. How’s your dad?’ says Kerry. They sit down at a table.

‘About the same,’ I reply. I take the order pad and pen from my pocket, not wanting to get into small talk. Not with Joe, anyway. Kerry’s okay. ‘What can I get you?’

‘Two house breakfasts, one tea and one coffee, please,’ replies Kerry.

I head straight back to the kitchen and I’m just putting the bacon on to cook when I hear the bell jangle above the door. Peeking through the serving hatch, I see two more customers arrive. Painters, judging by their overalls, followed by another chap, who is probably some sort of tradesman too if his work clothes are anything to go by.

Three more breakfast orders later, I’m back in the kitchen hurriedly putting more sausages and bacon in the frying pan, whilst stirring the beans in one pot and cracking eggs in a pan for the first order.

Taking out the two breakfasts for Kerry and Joe, I’m greeted by yet another customer. I didn’t realise the café was so busy this time in the morning.

I spend the next twenty minutes rushing round like a whirling dervish but, despite my best efforts, I manage to burn one of the orders. The scrambled eggs have stuck to the bottom of the pan.

‘Sod it,’ I say out loud as black bits begin churning up into the yellow egg. I try to pick out some of the bits and wonder whether I can get away with serving it. In all honesty, not: it looks like the scrambled eggs have freckles. Dumping the pan down into the sink, the clatter resonates around the kitchen. I grab some more eggs and break them into a clean pan. Glancing through the hatch again, I sigh inwardly as I see Joe standing there.

‘Just want to pay,’ he calls through to me. ‘Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run…’

‘You should do them in the microwave. A lot quicker and less chance of burning.’ A voice behind me makes me jump and I swing round. I watch, lost for words, as Kerry casually strolls over to the hob, turns the heat off completely then washes his hands in the small sink next to the fridge.

‘Don’t worry, all nice and clean,’ he says as he dries them on a paper towel. ‘I’ll send Joe on his way. I’ll settle up the bill.’

‘Right, thanks.’ I watch as he motions to Joe through the hatch then begins to rummage around in the cupboard. Surely he doesn’t think he is going to help out in the kitchen. He takes out a plastic bowl and puts it on the counter.

‘Yep, this will do,’ he says. ‘Pass the eggs and milk.’

‘I’m not sure my dad would approve,’ I say, as I open a fresh box of eggs.

‘We won’t tell him, then,’ whispers Kerry conspiratorially in my ear. ‘It will be our secret. Why don’t you get on with the drinks? I’ll keep an eye on this lot here.’ He picks up the order slips, arranging them on the work surface and then, turning to me, the amused look still on his face, he waves the whisk in the direction of the doorway. ‘Go on.’ He has an air of authority yet calmness about him and I find myself obediently following his instructions.

Within ten minutes, all the customers are tucking into their food without complaint and Kerry is having a much-deserved cup of tea.

‘Thanks for that,’ I say gratefully. ‘I’m a bit out of practice.’

‘I gathered.’ Kerry grins over the rim of his mug. Then, more seriously. ‘Look, about Joe.’ Immediately I feel myself tense. I don’t say anything as I wait for him to continue. ‘Don’t take any notice of his teasing. He doesn’t mean anything by it.’

‘Oh, I’m not bothered about Jody, I mean, Joe,’ I lie, forcing a laugh. ‘Although it is a bit boring after all these years. You kind of think when you’re in your mid-twenties you’ve grown out of all that stupid nickname business. Obviously, Joe has still got a bit of growing up to do.’ I can hear the tone in my voice changing involuntarily as I speak, not quite able to suppress the irritation I feel. I turn my attention to rinsing out my cup.

‘So, how come you and Joe have never crossed paths in all this time? You must have been back to visit your family and I certainly don’t remember seeing you either,’ Kerry asks.

I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other as I concentrate on cleaning an imaginary mark from my cup. ‘I usually pop over for a brief visit. It’s very busy at work. I’m a beautician at a health-and-fitness spa so I don’t always work regular hours. It’s not easy.’

‘Don’t you keep in touch with any of your old school friends?’

‘No, not really.’ Christ, wasn’t it time he went to work rather than ask all these awkward questions?

‘What was the appeal of London?’

‘You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?’ I’m not making a very good job of keeping my tone light-hearted. I put the cup on the draining board. ‘Why have you ended up here in Rossway?’

Kerry shrugs. ‘Needed a change, I suppose.’

I look at him, holding his gaze for a moment before speaking. ‘So did I.’ There, hopefully that would be the end of that conversation. I’m not the only one who has a past that needs to stay in the past.

Kerry doesn’t blink as he looks back at me, the silvery flecks in his eyes for a moment don’t seem so glittery. He nods his head slightly as if understanding something.

‘Right, I suppose I’d better get over to the workshop and get on with my real job,’ he says, breaking the mini deadlock.

‘You won’t get into trouble, will you? Being here when you’re supposed to be working,’ I say, trying to regain some equanimity.

‘I can make the time up later – work through my break. It’s no big deal.’ Kerry puts his cup in the sink and heads for the door. ‘Are you on your own for the rest of the day?’

‘No, my sister’s coming in later for a while to help with the lunchtime rush. I’ll just have to close up on my own.’

‘Okay, I’ll see you later.’

I call after him through the serving hatch. ‘If you’re in for breakfast in the morning, it’s on the house, by way of a thank you.’

Kerry turns and, with what I can only describe as a cheeky grin, followed by an even cheekier wink, calls back to me, ‘I’m sure we can come to some arrangement!’

*

Kerry wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his overalls. It was a hot day for May and working inside the poorly insulated workshop wasn’t pleasant. The air was still and the humidity high.

‘Wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a storm coming,’ said Kerry.

‘You want a cuppa?’ asked Joe, putting down the spanner he had been using.

‘Got anything colder?’

Joe went over to the fridge in the corner of the workshop and opened the door.

‘Beer, water or can of Coke?’

‘A Coke will do,’ said Kerry. He stepped forward and caught the can that Joe chucked his way. ‘I’m going to sit outside for five minutes. You coming?’

Joe followed him out. Kerry plonked himself down on the back seat from an old car, which had long since been separated from the vehicle and abandoned in the far corner of the yard. Joe grabbed a wooden crate to perch on. Skip, Kerry’s little terrier dog, came trotting out of the workshop and jumped up onto the seat beside his owner.

As Kerry leaned back, grateful for the shade of the workshop, he glanced over at the service road, which ran along the back of Seahorse Café. His attention was caught by the sight of the willowy figure of Erin bringing out a bag of rubbish and lifting the big industrial lid of the wheelie bin to sling in the bag. Her chestnut hair, although tied back in a ponytail, seemed to shimmer down her back in the sunlight.

‘Aha! Caught you!’ At Joe’s jibe, Kerry snapped his head back to look at his cousin. Joe nodded in the direction of the café. ‘Admiring the scenery, were you?’

‘What’s that?’ said Max, coming out of the workshop and wandering over to them.

‘Kerry here, ogling the new waitress at the café. I think he’s got the hots for her.’

Very rarely did Kerry ever feel like punching his cousin. Today, however, was one of those occasions. Annoyed that he had, indeed, been caught looking at Erin, Kerry didn’t want to let on, otherwise he’d never hear the last of it. Instead, he made a great effort to keep his voice nonchalant as he replied. ‘What? Oh, Jim Hurley’s daughter.’

Joe laughed and mimicked Kerry. ‘Oh, Jim Hurley’s daughter.’ He turned to his dad. ‘Like he doesn’t know what her name is after hanging around the café for half an hour this morning, getting all hot and steamy in the kitchen.’

Max grinned at Kerry and raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that so? You been rattling her pots and pans?’ Father and son laughed.

Standing up and squashing his cigarette under his foot, Kerry gave Joe a shove on the shoulder, sending him sprawling backwards off the upturned wooden crate. ‘That mouth of yours will get you in trouble one day.’

This seemed to fuel Joe’s laughter even more. He picked himself up and, righting his makeshift seat, settled himself back on it. ‘Touch a nerve, did I?’

Later Kerry was relieved to hear Joe down tools and announce he was finished for the day. Max had already gone and Kerry was left to lock up. He needed to get the bike he was working on ready for the customer to pick up in the morning.

Kerry wheeled the bike out into the rear yard and started the engine. Leaning over it, he revved the throttle several times, listening carefully to make sure the engine was firing properly. Then he left it to tick over for a few minutes, again listening for any stuttering in the rhythm of the rumble. At tick-over it chugged at a nice steady pace; no hesitation, no lumpiness.

After a few minutes he was satisfied everything was okay and, cutting the engine, took the bike back inside.

As he locked up the workshop doors, he glanced over to the café and suddenly fancied a coffee. Of course, he could simply go up to his flat and make a cup of instant, but that wasn’t the same as a freshly made Americano. What the heck? It was only a coffee.

Kerry gave his hands a quick look and determined them presentable enough, having managed to get most of the grease off and dirt out from under his nails.

‘Come on, Skip,’ he called to the little terrier. ‘Let’s get a coffee.’ He headed round to the front of the café. He had just taken hold of the handle when the door swung open and out bustled a very tired-looking Erin. She gave a little yelp of surprise.

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you,’ said Kerry, feeling a broad smile spread across his face. A few tendrils of hair had escaped from Erin’s ponytail and had curled slightly.

‘That’s all right,’ she replied, touching her hair, as if checking it was in place. ‘I was just about to close up. Did you want something? Please say no.’ She clasped her hands together as if in prayer.

‘In that case then, no?’ replied Kerry.

‘Is the right answer,’ Erin laughed, then added, ‘For God’s sake don’t tell my dad I’m turning away customers. He’ll have a fit.’ She moved round him and began stacking the outside seating.

‘Here, I’ll do that,’ said Kerry, taking hold of the chair Erin now had in her hands.

‘Tell you what, I’ll do the chairs and you do the tables.’ Erin gave the chair a little tug and then a much stronger one as Kerry realised he was still holding onto it. She raised her eyebrows slightly, a small smile turning the corners of her mouth upwards.