Page 60 of You Lied First
‘Are you free to meet this evening? For a chat?’ she says after the preliminary pleasantries. ‘It’ll be good to see you.’
‘Sure.’ My stomach clenches with nerves. Has something happened? The phone? ‘What sort of time are you thinking?’
‘About seven? I’ll come to yours if that’s okay? I’ll bring nibbles.’ I notice the ‘I’ rather than ‘we’. If I was less anxious, I’d smile at the nibbles.
‘Okay. Seven. Sure,’ I say. ‘See you then.’
‘Looking forward to it.’
As seven o’clock approaches, I rattle around the house trying to see my humble home through Margot’s discerning eyes. I clear all of the dishes from the rack and hide the washing-up liquid under the sink along with the dishcloth – as if the Forrestsdon’t use such things. Then I pre-boil the kettle in case she wants tea with whatever ‘nibbles’ she’s bringing, though I’m rather hoping it’s wine o’clock not tea time. The fact that she wants to see me alone makes me nervous – we’re all in this together, so why is she coming without Guy? Does she have something to tell me about him?
She’s prompt. When I open the door and see Margot standing in the rain, her jacket hood pulled over her hair, the first thing I notice is that she’s lost even more weight off her face, and that does little to put me at ease.
‘Hey,’ she says, with an uncharacteristically nervous smile as she proffers a Waitrose insulated bag. ‘Forgive the wrapping, but I bring sustenance.’
She’s brought a chilled bottle of Sancerre, a tub of olives, a tub of tiny red peppers stuffed with soft cheese and a box of biscuits actually called Cheese Nibbles.
‘Well, I did promise nibbles!’ she says, and we laugh fragile laughs. I arrange everything on a platter, get out my best wine glasses and clumsily open the wine, then we move into the living room.
‘Lovely home,’ she says, and I shrivel inside myself. You could fit my entire house in the entertaining space of theirs.
‘Thanks. It’s enough for me. Anyway – listen – how’s Flynn? Mocks going well?’
‘Yeah. He’s okay,’ she says. ‘Obviously shocked about Celine, but he hasn’t questioned the timeline of when she actually went missing.’
‘Same with Liv.’
‘Good. It’s good we didn’t tell them.’
‘I agree. That was a good call of Guy’s. One thing we did do right in this whole sorry mess.’
I perch on the edge of the sofa with my wine glass and wish she would come out with whatever it is she’s come to tell me. But she doesn’t reply. She picks up her phone and switches it off, rather theatrically. Then she points to mine and mouths, ‘Sorry.’ I widen my eyes and cock my head at her – what on earth does she have to tell me? But I do as I’m told, and only then do her shoulders relax.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘Guy’s drilled it into me not to talk about anything with the phones on. I suppose we can’t be too careful. I was going to suggest we meet outdoors but …’ she nods to the rain sliding down the windowpanes.
‘Mmm,’ I agree. ‘Bit wet. Not to mention dark.’
‘The day ran away with me. As Guy takes great joy in reminding me, I’m on a tight deadline at work.’ She lets out a sigh. ‘So, look, I just wanted to come and see how you really are. Sometimes it’s hard for us to talk in front of Guy.’
I know what she means. When it comes to what happened, he’s all business, all action. Everything is done to his agenda; no time for the emotion of the situation.
‘I’m okay, thanks,’ I say. ‘I can’t believe Celine’s phone hasn’t turned up yet. I’m so sorry about that, Margot. I just … I don’t know what happened.’
She waves a hand. ‘Nothing we can do about it now.’
‘I’m on tenterhooks every day, though. Did you tell Guy?’
She snorts a laugh. ‘No. I’m not a masochist. But I agree – someone’s going to find it at some point. The question is, what’s on it? I never messaged her – did you?’
‘Nope. I had a quick look on her Instagram and she didn’t post anything that showed us, so there’s that at least.’
‘Well, let’s hope she wasn’t messaging my husband,’ Margot says, her lips pursed.
She catches my eye and I look away. ‘So, uh, how are you, otherwise?’
She takes a huge slug of her wine. ‘I’m surviving. It’s not easy, though, is it? I have moments when it hits me and I actually can’t believe what we did.’
‘I know! Same! I feel so bad for her, and for her family. They think she’s alive. They’re still hoping. That’s the worst bit.’
