Page 51 of You Lied First
MARGOT
Guy shows Margot the news story.
She’s working on a stately home. It’s a commission Guy pushed and pushed to win – for the kudos and potential future business more than for the money. It’s been complicated, though. Even once the contract was signed, there had been all sorts of protocols to follow before Margot was given access to the home and she’d even had to sign an NDA about everything she saw inside. But now everything’s approved and Margot is measuring out the frame. This is a part of the process that she enjoys, but it’s also a difficult part of the job. Errors at this stage are difficult to correct later, and no one wants to balls up such a big commission.
‘It’s hit the news,’ Guy says, appearing suddenly at her studio door and startling her so much her pencil slips on the wood she’s marking up.
‘What has?’ she asks. When she’s creating, Margot is genuinely lost in her work, not thinking about anything else, which is some blessed relief.
‘Turn your phone off,’ he says, and she complies like a robot, her brows furrowed in confusion. Once her screen’s dead, Guy carries on.
‘Headline today: “British national missing in Oman”. This is it, Mar. It’s starting.’
She feels the blood drain from her extremities. ‘You’re joking?’
‘Why would I be joking? She was always going to be reported as missing. It was just a matter of when.’ Guy throws himself onto the sofa Margot uses for creative breaks and lets out a huge sigh. ‘Now this shit gets real.’
‘Did they say who she was?’
‘They state her name, but nothing more. Give it another day and there’ll be pictures, trust me.’
Margot stares at her work board, the complex measurements, that make sure the house will be perfectly downscaled, fuzzing in front of her eyes. A tiny part of her hopes, in a childlike way, that the fact Celine’s missing will somehow just blow over. There might be a fuss for a while, but when nothing is found and the phone doesn’t turn up, the case will go cold. The media reports will die out – it happened a long way away and it isn’t very interesting. Something more exciting will capture the public’s imagination. And they’ll get away with it.
Guy comes over and starts to knead Margot’s shoulders, hard, in a way that hurts more than helps. She’s not even sure if he intends to soothe her or himself. She holds herself still, enduring it.
‘Things are likely to be tough for a while,’ he says. ‘We just need to hold firm on the course we set. We need to stick together.’ He lets go of her shoulders and paces the studio. Tension radiates off him, disturbing the calm, creative energy she likes to nurture. ‘Do you think we can trust Sara not to talk to anyone?’ he asks.
‘It’s a bit late to question that now.’
‘Are you blaming me for making the decision? Out there in the desert, with the kids coming back any second? Are you saying it’s my fault where we are now? Because I know what the alternative was – and it wasn’t pretty.’
‘No, I—’
‘You were on board with this, Margot. And so was she. Don’t forget that. You had your chance to speak up and you said nothing. Your hands are as dirty as mine.’
‘Guy, I—’
He shakes his head. ‘What’s done is done. It’s no good looking back. We’re going to have to check in constantly with Sara. I’ll do it. I’ll go over now and then to keep reminding her that she can’t talk to anyone except us about this. We can’t have her going rogue and shooting her mouth off.’ He sighs. ‘We chose this path, and we need to stick to it. For all our sakes.’
‘I know,’ Margot says.
She can feel him staring at the back of her head, his eyes boring into her scalp and she thinks about the tent zip she thinks she might have heard going down in the night. Slowly. Carefully. She supposes there’s a very tiny possibility it could have been Sara’s or Celine’s tent, but Margot’s hearing really isn’t sharp enough to have picked that up from across the campsite. Considering the distance alone, it must have been Guy, Flynn or Liv. And then there were the bruises on Flynn’s arm. He’d told her he didn’t like Celine. Was there more to that than he’d let on? Had he been in a tussle-gone-wrong with her? That evening in the kitchen, he’d asked why Celine was spending so much time with them. Had he realised his dadwas attracted to her? Now he’s reaching adulthood, he’s very protective of his mum. She stares at the house frame in front of her then turns slowly to face Guy. She’s got to ask, or she’ll drive herself crazy.
‘Guy, please don’t shoot me down, but you don’t think there’s any chance at all that Flynn could have done it, do you?’
‘You mean crashed the quad bike deliberately? Why would he do that?’
‘No, not that. I meant – maybe accidentally?’
Guy’s eyes flash. ‘What, killed her? Are you seriously asking me that?’
Margot’s left shoulder shrugs, just a small movement, even though she wills it not to. ‘Of course I don’t think he did it,’ she says. ‘I was just asking whatyouthink.’
There’s a moment’s silence, then Guy speaks.
‘One: he absolutely didn’t do it. And two: let’s not start pointing fingers at each other because that way madness lies. I think she died of natural causes.’ He waits for Margot to say something, but she doesn’t. He taps her shoulder. ‘Right, I’ll let you get back to work. We’re on a tight schedule. No room for errors.’
The door closes behind him and Margot’s shoulders relax back down but her focus on work is gone. She starts wondering what she’d do if she met Guy for the first time now. If she had the chance to pick her husband again, would she pick this man? She stares at the pieces of wood she’s laid out.
