Three Little Lies Read online

  ‘You’re all dressed up,’ he observed.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, although it hadn’t been a compliment. ‘Sasha in her room?’

  ‘Yep.’ He came behind me up the stairs, and I thought for a moment he was going to follow me into Sasha’s room, but at the last minute he swerved and went into his own room, closing the door firmly behind him.

  Sasha was lying on her bed in her dressing gown, staring blankly out of the window.

  ‘You’re not dressed,’ I said stupidly.

  ‘No shit, Sherlock.’ She swung her legs round and sat up on the edge of the bed. ‘I don’t know if I’m going.’

  ‘What? Why not?’ I’d never been out anywhere with the Monktons before, and the thought of going without Sasha made me feel panicky, with an undercurrent of something that might have been a nauseous sort of excitement.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. It’s going to be so boring, and we’ll all have to fawn over Olivia afterwards and tell her how amazing she is. I don’t know if I can be arsed.’

  ‘Oh. Right.’ I rubbed the fabric of the cuff of my dress between my finger and thumb.

  ‘Do you actually want to go?’ she said incredulously.

  ‘It’s just… I’ve never been to a classical concert before.’

  ‘So? Nor have I.’

  I shrugged, ashamed of the anticipation that had been building in the weeks since Olivia had invited me, the excitement I’d felt as I got ready earlier, the shivery feeling I got in my stomach when I imagined seeing her on stage.

  ‘Oh, all right.’ She slipped off her dressing gown and sauntered over to the wardrobe in her matching black underwear, pulling a dress seemingly at random from the overstuffed rail and slithering into it. It was black and clinging, high necked and low hemmed but simultaneously revealing. She gathered up her hair and pulled it into a messy bun, secured with a couple of hairbands.

  ‘Right, I’m ready.’ I was probably imagining it, but I thought I detected a sly note that told me she knew exactly how much I’d been looking forward to the evening. ‘Come on, then.’

  I followed her downstairs, shaky with relief. The Monktons were gathered in the kitchen, Tony looking smarter than I’d ever seen him in a dark blue suit, pale blue shirt and silk tie. Even Daniel was wearing a shirt and jacket over very dark jeans. Only Nicholas was in his everyday wear of frayed jeans and a long sleeved T-shirt. I started with a foolish stab of jealousy when I saw Leo sitting beside Nicholas, rivalling Tony in the best-dressed stakes in a grey suit. I knew he and Nicholas had become friends as I’d been seeing him more and more at the Monktons’ recently, but I hadn’t known he was coming tonight. I had thought I was the only non-family member to be invited.

  I noticed how all four pairs of eyes were drawn to Sasha as she slipped into a chair at the kitchen table, the light from the pull-down lamp pooling in front of her, spilling on to her hair. I stood awkwardly behind her in the shadows. There were a few seconds of silence, as if the four of them had been discussing something they didn’t want to talk about in front of me, or perhaps Sasha, and then Tony pushed back his chair.

  ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Shall we be off?’

  Sasha and I trailed behind the others on the way to the station. On the train, Tony and the boys sat in silence at a four-seat table, Sasha and I in a two behind them. I tried to engage Sasha in conversation but she kept shutting me down, so in the end I gave up and we stared out of the window as London flashed past in the darkness.

  Once we were on the tube, the atmosphere lightened. It was busy and I found myself squashed up against Tony, who, on discovering I’d never been to a classical concert, told me about the different pieces we were going to hear. It was ostensibly a Christmas concert, so there would be a few carols and songs I might recognise, but Olivia was also singing various arias from operas, so he explained the plots of those, and the stories of the particular songs she was doing. Daniel, squeezed in between us and the door, chipped in when he thought Tony was getting things wrong. Nicholas, Leo and Sasha were chatting on the other side of the carriage. Sasha had shaken off her earlier mood and was laughing up at Leo, occasionally touching his arm.

  As we walked into the foyer of the Barbican, a wave of noise and warmth rose up to greet us. There were twinkly lights and a Christmas tree. Small groups stood chatting, laughing, waving at acquaintances across the room. There was a feeling of comfortable anticipation in the air. These were people going to see a famous singer doing well-known songs. They knew they were going to have a nice time. Sasha, Leo and Nicholas were still laughing together in their little cluster. Daniel and Tony were looking at the programme, and didn’t notice a glamorous woman of about Tony’s age in a silk trouser suit making her way towards us, jet black hair tumbling over her shoulders.

  ‘Tony, darling!’

  He looked up in surprise. ‘Oh! Hi, Elizabeth.’ They did the two-cheek kiss thing I was finally becoming accustomed to, having never seen it first-hand before meeting the Monktons.

  ‘How are you, darling?’ the woman said, with a sympathetic head tilt.

  ‘Fine!’ said Tony, with a glance at Daniel, who had slipped off to join Nicholas and the others. He seemed to have forgotten I was there.

  ‘I heard,’ she said. ‘Such bad luck.’

  ‘Oh, it’s fine,’ he said with a forced smile. ‘Plenty of other work around for a willing bassoonist.’

  ‘Oh, of course, darling. But the LSO’s the biggie, isn’t it? For someone like you? I mean —’

  ‘Actually, I’d been hoping for the chance to try something different, so it came at a good time.’

  She laid a hand on his arm and was about to say something when there was an announcement on the tannoy: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats in the auditorium. Tonight’s performance will begin in five minutes.’

  ‘Ah, better go and find our seats,’ said Tony with obvious relief. ‘Lovely to see you. Right, come on troops,’ he called to the others. ‘Where’s Ellen? Ah, there you are. Come on, let’s go in.’ He put one arm out to usher the others in the right direction and the other protectively behind me, hovering an inch or so behind my back, as the crowd surged towards the auditorium doors. As we headed up the steps to our seats, I realised I hadn’t given any thought to who I would be sitting next to and that it was too late to engineer anything. Nicholas filed in first, followed by Leo and then Sasha. Daniel was next, and Tony turned to me.

  ‘I’d prefer to sit on the aisle, if that’s OK – stretch my legs,’ he said, so I slid in next to Daniel.

  Leo was telling a story about something that had happened at a party he’d been to, but Daniel wasn’t listening, instead watching the empty stage intently, his hands twisting around and around each other.

  ‘Are you… Do you get nervous for her?’ I asked.

  He gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘It’s stupid, I know. I suppose I know what it feels like.’

  ‘Have you done a lot of concerts, then?’ I asked, realising how little I knew about his musical talent, other than hearing him playing at the Monktons’, usually at Olivia’s insistence.

  ‘Yeah, quite a few. At college, obviously, and I’ve done some others as well.’

  ‘What, for money?’ I was impressed.

  ‘Well, yeah. Not that there’s a lot of money in it. Even at her level.’ He indicated the stage.

  ‘Really? But Olivia’s famous!’

  ‘She’s classical music famous, not famous famous. You don’t see her on the TV, do you?’

  ‘No, but you’ve got that big house, and the piano, and…’

  ‘A big mortgage is what we’ve got.’ He speaks quietly, not wanting Tony to hear. ‘That and a massive credit card bill.’

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I scanned the audience, which was mostly a sea of grey hair and balding pates. Then something caught my eye about ten or fifteen rows in front of us, not far from the front row. A young woman sat alone with empty seats either side of her. Something about the wa
y the brown hair was twisted into a clip looked familiar, and as she looked over to her left, I saw I was right. It was Karina. What on earth was she doing here, and by herself? I hadn’t told her I’d been invited by the Monktons, for the very reason that I didn’t want her muscling her way in, as I was sure she would have done.

  I was about to lean across Daniel and tell Sasha, but the orchestra started tuning up, and an expectant hush settled across the audience. A moment later, a disembodied voice asked us to please welcome Olivia Monkton to the stage, and there she was, gliding across in a long, black, silk dress I’d never seen before, cut low to expose her white shoulders, her hair swept up in an elaborate up-do secured with a red rose, thunderous applause echoing around the auditorium. She smiled warmly, her eyes sweeping the audience until the clapping finally died away.

  ‘Good evening, everyone. It’s so wonderful to see you all here tonight. Christmas is one of my favourite times of year, so I couldn’t have been more delighted when I was asked to do this concert. As you will have seen from the programme, I will be singing some Christmas classics later, but I’d like to start with one of my own particular favourites: Dido’s Lament from Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas.’

  She took a slight step back from the microphone and looked down at the orchestra. After a few seconds of silence, a chord chimed from the pit, although I wasn’t sure from what instrument. I expected Olivia to have to take in a huge breath, so I wasn’t fully prepared when she casually opened her mouth, as if to ask me if I wanted a cup of tea, and this noise came out. It was simply the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. I didn’t know the story of the opera beyond what Tony had told me on the tube, but it didn’t matter; I could hear the pain and despair in every note that flowed from Olivia’s lips. I was aware that my mouth was hanging open, like a dumbfounded cartoon character. Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes and I let them fall. I wasn’t hearing it only with my ears; it swelled inside me, sending a sprinkle of tingling goosebumps that started at my neck and spread out across every inch of my skin. Something intruded into my trance and I looked in annoyance to see who could possibly think it appropriate to talk during this transcendent experience. It was Nicholas, leaning in to whisper something to Sasha, who smirked and whispered something back. An elderly lady sitting behind them shushed them sharply, and they made faux-guilty faces at each other, Sasha with her hand across her mouth as if to keep from laughing.

  I realised I was wrong to assume everyone would have the same reaction as me, and sat back in my seat, not wanting her to see my wet cheeks. It was then that I noticed Daniel, sitting statue-like beside me. He didn’t appear to have even registered Nicholas and Sasha messing about. His eyes were fixed on his mother, the suffering in her voice reflected in his face, and I realised he was as moved as I was – more so. I watched him for a moment, thinking there was no chance of him observing me doing so, but he turned and saw my tears. I smiled, ready to make a joke of it, but he shook his head and took my hand, giving it a brief squeeze before releasing it. For that one extraordinary second, I experienced something: not love, or lust, or anything like that, but it was as if I was inside his head, or he in mine, and I knew that what we were feeling was the same. I suppose it was the first time I realised what music could do, in the right hands. I didn’t think I would ever be the same again.

  Ellen

  September 2017

  I’m unable to resist peering at the corner house as I pass it on my way to Mum and Dad’s for dinner. Funny to think how all I ever wanted to do was spend every second I could there, day and night. At the time, I thought the way they lived was everything – so exciting, so vibrant – my own parents seeming unutterably pedestrian in comparison. I can see now, though, that nothing like what happened on New Year’s Eve 2006 could ever have happened at my parents’ house. Olivia and Tony thought they were doing the right thing, I suppose, but was it their permissiveness that allowed events to unfold as they did? Or is that unfair to them?

  I’m level with their house when Olivia comes out, a clutch of hessian shopping bags in her hand. She gets into the car and drives away. I slow, checking the clock on the dash. Mum and Dad won’t mind if I’m a bit late. I pull up and sit there until Olivia’s car has disappeared around the bend in the road. I’ll never get a better chance to speak to Tony alone.

  As I wait for him to answer the door, I wonder whether Nicholas has told his parents about our meeting. Seeing him again has left me with a faint feeling of unease, although I can’t put my finger on why. I shake my head, my brain twisted in a cobweb made of silken strands that look ethereal, harmless, but are actually weaving around and around me, so gently I can’t tell I am being tied up.

  The first thing I notice is that, like Olivia, he’s lost weight. His skin has a yellowish tinge and his cheeks are all shadows with a dusting of grey stubble. His eyes are cloudy and spidered with red, his once-raffish good looks faded into ravaged disarray. He can’t be more than sixty, but he looks much older, that summer day when Karina swooned over him a faded, distant dream. For a few seconds he looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to start selling him double-glazing or some such, but then realisation dawns.

  ‘Ellen!’ His face lights up, a glimmer of the old Tony visible: Tony the host, bottle of wine in hand. He pulls me into a hug, which takes me by surprise, my body stiff and unyielding in his embrace, my nose wrinkled at the sour, unwashed smell that emanates from him. ‘Come in, come in. Liv told me you were here the other day. I… I wasn’t feeling too well, or I would have come down.’

  So he was here that day. Was that what made Olivia so edgy? Why wouldn’t she have wanted me to see him, though?

  ‘That’s OK,’ I say, following him down the hall. ‘Is Olivia here?’

  ‘No, she’s out, but she shouldn’t be too long. Do wait, she’d love to see you.’

  I’m not so sure about that.

  ‘Drink?’ he says, heading for the fridge.

  ‘Not for me, thanks, I’m driving.’

  ‘Oh yes, of course, I meant tea or coffee,’ he says with a laugh, which fools no one, getting the milk out of the fridge door. I notice an angry, purple bruise on the back of his hand.

  ‘Tea would be great, thanks. Do you know how long she’ll be, Olivia?’

  ‘Oh, not long, not long,’ he says, filling the kettle. ‘But what about Sasha? Is she back?’

  ‘Olivia told you, then?’

  ‘Of course she told me.’ He looks at me in surprise. ‘We’ve never given up on her, Ellen. I know Sasha may have given you a different impression, but there’s not a day goes by that we don’t think of her. We couldn’t… well, we couldn’t keep trying for ever. She made it very plain she didn’t want anything to do with us. She knows where we are if she wants us. Have you heard from her?’

  ‘No.’ My voice wavers and he leans against the Aga, his face sympathetic.

  ‘When did she go missing again?’

  ‘Friday.’ Five endless days ago.

  ‘Hmmm.’ I can tell he wants to say something, something he thinks might upset me. I save him the trouble.

  ‘I know what you’re going to say. This is who she is; it’s what she does. She runs, she disappears, she doesn’t care who she hurts. But I thought that was what she did to other people. Not to me.’ I know I sound deranged, blurting these things out, but the longer she is gone, the less I care about the social niceties.

  ‘Yes, you always were very close, I know that. We were so happy when she found you. So good for her to have a friend. Especially after…’ He is clearly unsure what I am supposed to know.

  ‘It’s all right, I know about her mum. Nicholas told me.’

  ‘You’ve seen Nicky?’ The childhood nickname slips out. I’d forgotten that was what they called him. He used to hate it, said Nicky was a girl’s name.

  ‘Yes. He assumed I knew about Sasha’s mum.’

  ‘She never told you? But Liv said you’ve been sharing a flat for years.’

 
; ‘Yes, we have,’ I say shortly. I am trying to keep that particular pain at bay; the pain of what she kept from me, when I thought we told each other everything.

  He puts my tea down in front of me and I notice a slight tremor in his hand.

  ‘Tony, you don’t think Sasha’s mum could have anything to do with this, do you? Did she ever get in touch at all?’

  He sits down opposite me. ‘No.’ His face drops. ‘I could never quite forgive her for that. I know she had her problems, and maybe she could never have had Sasha to live with her again, but to drop out of her life entirely like that… Anyway, if she wanted to get back in touch with Sasha, she would have come through us, I’m sure, and we haven’t heard a word from her for over ten years.’