Page 92 of You Lied First
‘We could send it anonymously …’ Margot says. She’s obviously thought a lot about it.
‘To the parents? Or the police?’
‘To the parents.’ She bites her lip. ‘That might be better, actually.’
I roll the idea through the mental processing unit. An anonymous memory card lands on the parents’ doormat. They pop it into the computer, watch it, realise that they can see someone arguing with their daughter then shoving her into a tent in the middle of the night, in the desert where her body was found. They take it to the police.
‘It’s got the date on it, hasn’t it?’
Margot nods.
‘And you can see Guy’s face clearly enough?’
‘We could send his name along with the memory card, just in case.’ Margot pulls a face then laughs. ‘It really sounds like I want to shop him in, doesn’t it?’
‘No,’ I say, because I don’t want to look too keen, but she’s right: it really does.
‘I keep reminding myself that he did this! Not only did he do it, but he dragged us all into it. Which is downright selfish and cowardly.’ Ouch. ‘And, if I don’t shop him in, we’re all going to be pulled into it, which is wrong and unfair. He did it! He was sleeping with that … that woman and then he killed her!’ Margot sits back, shaking her head, her voice having reached a crescendo of outrage.
‘So, you send the card in anonymously, the police will come to talk to Guy, and we’ll deny any knowledge. We wereall together at the villa that night, but Guy went out to meet an old friend or an ex-colleague. That’s all we know. We haven’t told the police because we never saw Celine. We’re just like every other person who was in Muscat at that time who didn’t see Celine. After that, just block, block, block.’ I speak slowly as the thoughts come to me. ‘I suppose it’s easy to find out that Guy was planning to go camping – those friends he borrowed the gear from will confirm that. Tom and Di? But … he was alone when he asked them for the gear, so they don’t know for sure who he was going with. And we didn’t know at that point that he’d borrowed any equipment. Are you with me?’
‘Yes. And the video only shows Celine’s tent,’ Margot adds. ‘No one knew Celine was with us. Not a soul.’
I replay the tape in my head. She’s right. With the positioning of the camera, you can only see Celine’s tent and the one four-wheel drive that Guy had rented himself.
‘He rented two cars, though? Wasn’t one in your name?’
‘It was. I can say I used it to get around Muscat? Gave you guys a little tour? I mean … why not? I’m not confident enough to drive in the desert …’
I nod slowly as I start to see how the pieces could potentially fall into place.
‘Okay,’ I say slowly, as my mind works furiously overtime. It seems to make sense, but is the plan fool proof? I rub my chin.
‘It’ll be our word against his, and all we say to the police is that we stayed in that compound where Celine lived, but that we didn’t see her,’ Margot says. ‘I mean, the fact that he booked the compound where she lives really makes him lookguilty. And then, on the night Celine dies, he said he had to meet someone and went off on his own.’
‘With borrowed camping gear from Tom and Diane.’
‘Which we didn’t know about.’
‘They might contradict that. I bet he told them we were going together.’
Margot speaks firmly like a schoolteacher. ‘He may well have done. But Sara, he’s an adulterous murderer. It’ll be obvious to the police that he was lying to cover his tracks.’
I nod as I bite my lip. It really isn’t looking good for Guy.
76
SARA
Margot and I leave it that we’ll each try to work out any potential pitfalls in our story and, as she drives me home through the lunchtime traffic, we exchange the odd silent sideways look. Collaborative. Disbelieving. Thelma and Louise. The decision appears to be made. It’s just a matter of firming up the details. My belly flutters with nervous energy that isn’t necessarily the good kind. Have I really got a chance to end this us without me going to jail?
As I slide the key into the front door and step into the home that, just a few hours earlier, I believed I was vacating forever, I feel like I’m trespassing. The house looks like it does when I get back from a holiday – all neat and ordered – the only difference being that the smell of my morning coffee still lingers in the air. I pad upstairs and change into the soft loungewear I thought I’d never wear again, then I put the ‘house’ folder I made for Liv away with my other files. That done, I sit down to think, and I realise that there’s something troubling me.
Margot seems hellbent on handing Guy in to the police – and there’s nothing I want more than to be able to put this behind me and get on with my life – but Guy’s innocent. I’m the only person who knows that – the only person at thispoint who could truly advocate for him. And, apart from that one time he lost his temper with me, he’s always been lovely to Liv and me. He may not be the perfect husband, and I’m in no doubt that Margot has her reasons for wanting to get away from him, but can I live with knowing that I’ve sent an innocent man to jail? I’ve done some appalling things in my life, but do I have it in me to let this happen to Guy?
I bite my lip as I mull it over. Me or him. Him or me.
But then I realise it’s actually about me and Liv.
