Her White Lie Page 3

  ‘Yeah, she said she should make it.’

  ‘And are we still going ahead with Brogan’s first before Coppers?’

  ‘That’s the plan.’

  Amy turns off the busy quays and out towards Glasnevin where the wedding shop is. It’s the same shop where my mother bought her dress all those years ago. Her dress was a lot different than mine. It had a big hoop under the skirt and cut off shoulders. Mam looked beautiful in the photos. Her hair was curled and lifted at the sides, showing off the real pearl earrings that her mother had given her and that I’m going to wear to my wedding. Something old. They’re not borrowed, though. I got all Mam’s jewellery when she passed away except for one piece, a beautiful silver ring with a green stone that a friend of hers had given her. She wanted her friend to have it back.

  ‘Almost here,’ Amy says, taking the roundabout like she’s the only car on the road. Someone beeps. Amy presents them with the finger she keeps for these occasions. We both laugh as we eventually arrive and pull into one of the few parking spaces close to the shop. I feel happy again, excited. This is it. The last fitting. I’ll be taking the dress away with me tonight and leaving it at my dad’s house. I don’t want Lucas to see it before the big day. That could bring bad luck and there’s enough of that floating around at the moment.

  ‘I see your cousin Emily is already here,’ Amy says, noticing her car parked outside.

  ‘Great,’ I say.

  ‘I hope you’re still saying great when you see who’s with her.’

  ‘What do you mean? Who is with her?’ I stretch to try and see what Amy saw but all I can see is Emily. She’s talking to someone who has already gone through the door of the shop. But who could be with her? A dreadful possibility suddenly enters my head…

  ‘No!’

  ‘I’m afraid yes.’ Amy laughs, pushing open the door for me to enter first. I can’t believe Emily brought Aunt Rose along.

  ‘Well I guess I had to meet her sometime,’ I say, but I’m not at all happy about it. Rose is bound to say something to upset me, something about my dress or the colour of the bridesmaids’ dresses. She never could keep her opinion to herself.

  When we get inside, Emily rushes over to us. Rose is sitting on a chair by the dressing rooms. She nods sheepishly at me. At least she doesn’t expect me to be all over her. I nod back while removing my jacket. The lady who owns the shop, Mrs Beth, is all buzzing and excited for me. She’s blabbing on about how beautiful I’m going to look as she brings my dress from the dressing room into the middle of the shop floor. My heart sticks in my throat. I’m going to cry, it’s so beautiful.

  ‘You’re up first,’ she says to me, bringing me into the big dressing room on the right. I look back at Emily and Amy who look as excited as I am. ‘Here goes.’

  The dress is just what I wanted. I’m standing still, my eyes devouring the picture in the mirror in front of me when I feel a hand landing on my shoulder.

  ‘It’s beautiful, Tara. Your mam would have loved it.’ With tears in my eyes I think of Mam. She’s not here. She should be here. My head blurs with emotion when I try to picture her by my side. Mam would not like me to be harbouring any ill feelings towards Rose. Especially now. If she was here she would tell me to forgive her and move on. So I take my hand and put it on top of the hand resting on my shoulder. ‘Thank you, Rose.’

  * * *

  When the fittings are complete and Mrs Beth has all the dresses packed for transportation, we leave the shop and try to put the three of them in the boot of Amy’s little Mini. Unfortunately, there’s no chance they are all going to fit so Emily agrees to drive behind with the bridesmaids’ dresses to my father’s house which is only about a mile away. Rose is silent when the arrangement is made. She hasn’t been at Dad’s house since Mam died but I haven’t the time or the energy to worry about that sort of thing. There’ll be plenty of uncomfortable situations before this wedding is over. I may as well get used to ignoring them.

  ‘Are we ready?’ I say, jumping into the car beside Amy. Emily is ahead of us with Rose in the passenger seat.

  ‘Well, that wasn’t too bad,’ Amy says. ‘She was actually quite nice.’

  I nod, letting her believe what she wants. But I say nothing. I know Rose. Rose is not nice, shouting at me like she did when Mam was so sick and close to the end. Blaming me for the mess Emily had gotten herself into. Saying it never would have happened if it wasn’t for Huntley Lodge.

  Chapter Eight

  Dad wasn’t there when we called so we dropped the dresses into the bedroom at the front of the house which my father has decorated especially for the day of my wedding. It’s perfect. Soft white carpet, pale blue walls and three standing mirrors. I don’t know how he got it so right; he must have asked somebody. Maybe a new friend. It’s probably selfish of me but I wish he was dating someone. It would take the pressure off me when I get to Australia to know he’s not on his own. I’m pretty sure Mam would want it too. She’d want him to be happy and to move on with his life. He was always so good to her. So good to me.

  I have to admit, I’m very lucky. I’ve got the nicest dad and the most wonderful fiancé. Meeting Lucas was the best thing that ever happened to me and the timing was perfect. I was still trying to get used to my life without Faye. Learning to make decisions on my own. I missed her backing me up, telling me what to do and pumping up my confidence. It took a while for me to trust my own opinion because I had always run everything by her first, especially when it came to boyfriends. I wonder what she’d say about Lucas. Would she give him the thumbs up?

  Amy drops me off right outside my apartment block. She’s not supposed to because it’s a one-way system but she said certain rules don’t apply when you’re getting married. Certain rules don’t apply to Amy full stop when it comes to driving. We say our goodbyes. We won’t see each other again until the hen party on Saturday night. Walking away from the car, I try to ignore the fear inside me. I can’t let it ruin my hen party so I force myself to think about the weekend ahead. The laughter. The drinks. The fun. The dancing. I allow myself to picture what I’m going to wear. The new dress that I bought last month in anticipation of a wonderful crazy night with the girls. I see us all downing shots on the count of three and a wave of excitement surges through me. This is my hen party and it’s going to be some craic.

  Lucas is standing in the kitchen when I walk into the apartment.

  ‘How did it go?’ he says, wiping his hands on a tea towel.

  ‘Great, I love the dress but you won’t believe who was there.’ I hang my coat on the hooks at the back of the door and kick off my shoes.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Rose.’

  ‘Rose, the famous auntie that you hate?’

  ‘Don’t say hate,’ I say; Mam didn’t like me using that word.

  ‘Well, dislike a hell of a lot, then,’ he says.

  I laugh, sitting on the sofa. ‘Well, at least it’s done with now, I don’t have to worry about seeing her for the first time in three years on my wedding day.’

  ‘I tried to call you but there was no answer, I didn’t know if you wanted me to keep you some dinner. I did anyway, it’s in the microwave.’

  ‘Oh, thanks Lucas. You are so kind to me. Remind me to marry you,’ I say, taking my phone from my bag to check the missed calls. ‘Sorry, it’s on silent.’ I always keep my phone on silent when I’m at work and I must have forgotten to switch it back on. There are four missed calls. Three from Lucas and one from a number that I don’t recognise.

  ‘Shit,’ I say. ‘I’ve missed a call. I hope there is nothing wrong with the wedding.’ I start to spiral – maybe it’s the band cancelling? Or the hotel is double-booked? Or the flowers aren’t available?

  ‘I just need to call back and find out.’

  ‘You have to eat something,’ Lucas says taking the phone from my hand. ‘You can make your call when you’ve finished eating.’

  ‘But what if there’s a problem?’
/>   ‘Don’t worry, Tara, the problem will still be there after you’ve eaten.’ Lucas knows that if there is something wrong I’ll go into a tizzy and won’t be able to calm down for hours, never mind eat. I’m lucky to have a man who knows how to calm me down, with reassuring phrases like, don’t fret about it, no one will remember tomorrow, or, in the grand scheme of things, I doubt it really matters, or, don’t worry about it, no one died. I don’t actually like when he uses that last one. Because someone did die. And I do worry about it.

  ‘Well, just a little bit. I’m not hungry.’ I’m more interested in finding out who that missed call is from.

  ‘You do know you’re going to have to relax when we get to Australia,’ he says, handing me a fork.

  ‘There’ll be nothing to worry about then,’ I say. ‘The wedding will be over.’ I smile at him, lifting the fork to my mouth, hoping the body at Huntley Lodge doesn’t spoil everything. I can’t let Lucas see my worry. I have to act like everything is okay. ‘It will be all sun, sea and sex from then on,’ I say.

  Lucas laughs, leaning over the counter to kiss my forehead. ‘Well, if you insist.’

  * * *

  I’m sitting on the sofa sipping a glass of wine, my feet tucked between Lucas’s legs when I suddenly realise I never called that number back. I glance over at the clock on the cooker. 9.45 p.m. It’s probably too late now, I think, deciding to ring first thing in the morning.

  There was nothing new on tonight’s news bulletin about the body found at Huntley Lodge. It wasn’t even mentioned and the social media networks have nothing new either. Just lots of condolences under the comments and one or two people asking if it could be the woman who went missing a few years back. Each time I read such a comment my blood pressure shoots through the roof. I have to stop looking.

  I look at the clock again. I’m not sure I’ll sleep properly if I don’t ring now because if someone is cancelling their service I don’t have much time to find a replacement. Taking my phone from the coffee table I slip my feet out from under Lucas and go to the bedroom. I flick through to find the number of the missed call. I’m stressing out again, hoping it’s nothing to do with the wedding. When I hit the redial button I list every possible thing I think it could be while waiting for an answer. After a few rings the phone goes to message.

  Dr Faye Connolly is not available at the moment. Please leave a message and your call will be returned as soon as possible.

  My heart stops. That was not on my list. Why is Faye Connolly making contact now after all this time? My hand starts to shake as I lift the phone to my mouth because I know the answer.

  ‘Faye… it’s Tara. Sorry I missed your call. Please ring back.’ I end the message, gripping the phone tightly in my hand. Faye Connolly is ringing about the body found at Huntley Lodge. She’s worried too that the cops will dredge up the past and I don’t blame her. If our alibi doesn’t hold strong, Faye has a lot to lose.

  Chapter Nine

  Then

  ‘Smile.’

  Faye is holding her phone up to take a selfie of us both standing beside the main stage. I pull my hands out from the pockets of the jeans which are tucked into my pink wellies and force a smile. The light rain jacket that I’m wearing over my checked shirt and a white T-shirt is probably not necessary because the sun is shining in the clear blue sky above my head. But I barely notice because my heart is breaking. I’m giving all that I can to perform in this charade but behind my fake smile my thoughts are crushing me.

  I’m also wearing a fake tattoo. A flower on the right hand side of my face, stretching above my eyes. Faye has one of a blackbird with a yellow beak. Faye insisted we stick the tattoos on saying, ‘We have to make it look like we’re enjoying ourselves.’

  I know she’s right. Faye is always right.

  The stage, a massive steel structure, looks like a giant spider in the middle of the field. Technicians are working, laying wires and connecting supersized amps. Soon it will be bouncing with musicians and singers, setting the night on fire with light and sound and energy. But I won’t be here.

  Forcing myself to look happy, I form a peace sign with my two fingers and Faye sticks her tongue out.

  ‘A couple more and we should have enough,’ she says taking my phone.

  Faye captures another few photographs of us at the festival and then we hand the phones to Andriu who is standing beside us with a baseball cap on his head. His eyes are glued to the guys preparing the stage like he’s never seen manual work before.

  ‘You know what to do, don’t you?’ Faye says, nudging him.

  ‘Yes, yes, all under control.’ Andriu lifts his hand to salute Faye, his dark eyes gleaming above his smile like it’s all some sort of a joke. It isn’t a joke. But Faye couldn’t tell him the truth about why she needs an alibi. We couldn’t risk anyone else knowing. So she said she was faking being here for work. That she could only get off duty to go to her cousin’s hen party by telling her boss that she had already bought her ticket to the festival. The photos are in case someone asks.

  Andriu fell for it. He believes everything Faye tells him, just like me.

  Faye and I have been to every other Electric Picnic festival. Our mothers gift us the tickets for Christmas every year. It’s part of a pact we agreed with them when we turned sixteen. If we did well in our exams, we could go to the festival. From that day on, we did well in our exams. So it’s the perfect alibi.

  ‘Remember to take a few photos of the stage on both of our phones when Lana Del Ray is playing,’ Faye says, leaning in to kiss Andriu before tracing his lips with her finger. It’s a quirky thing she does that I don’t understand. ‘And I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she says, handing him something. I think it’s money. Andriu must be broke again and Faye always has money.

  ‘And don’t get carried away with the music and forget to take the photos,’ she smiles, slapping one last kiss on his lips.

  Andriu nods and puts both our phones in his pocket. I feel completely numb walking away from him; my breath is getting shallower as we move against the crowd that’s beginning to fill this big green field.

  If sometime in the future anyone asks where we were tonight our phones will corroborate our answer.

  Pushing through the happy smiles and the abundance of colour floating on all these nameless faces, I drag fresh air into my lungs and try to stop myself from falling to the ground. It’s taking all my concentration to see ahead of me, to look normal. This carnival atmosphere with everyone laughing and singing and getting drunk doesn’t help. I feel drunk, even though I haven’t had a drink. The place is spinning. Moving too quickly, or too slowly, I can’t tell. I’m moving at a different pace to everyone else. Trying to pause time.

  I need to get out of here.

  Faye takes my hand when she notices how stressed I’ve become. She puts her other hand out in front of her, pushing through the crowd like someone is chasing after us. Faye says nothing, squeezing my hand, letting me know she’s beside me.

  After what feels like a marathon in chains, we arrive outside where I stop and lean against the side of a food van at the edge of the car park. The smell of food frying adds to my distress and I can feel my stomach lurching. I close my eyes and pray for strength. When I open them again I’m looking up at the blue sky. There are no clouds blocking my view as I hopelessly search for a sign that heaven is up there somewhere. I rest for a few more minutes until Faye suggests we get a move on.

  * * *

  The traffic is heavier than we allowed for. There must be quite a few people getting dropped off at the festival instead of using the special bus service. I never thought of that. It’s going to take us longer to get to Dublin than we’d planned. But it doesn’t matter. Time no longer matters. Not for this. Not for what I’m about to do.

  Eventually we arrive outside the house and we get out of the car. My body trembles under Faye’s generous hug that cloaks me in support. She knows that what I’m about to do can never be undone.
>
  Chapter Ten

  I can’t sleep. I lie in bed, listening to the sound of the rain constantly banging against my window. I keep checking my phone in case I miss a call from Faye, which is stupid. Faye is not going to ring in the middle of the night.

  Lucas is lying asleep in the bed beside me, unaware of the drama I’m concocting in my head. Does Faye know something about the body? She must have seen Huntley Lodge on the news and I guess in her field it would be easy to find out a bit about it. Maybe she knows how long the body has been there. Or maybe she knows nothing and is ringing to see if I’ve heard anything. But what does it all mean if she was buried at Huntley Lodge when we lived there? Will the cops think one of us is involved? Will they want to talk to us?

  I feel like I’m cheating, not telling Lucas how worried I am. He’s always so open about his feelings. Sharing all his inner thoughts. If something is bothering him at work, I know about it. As soon as he knew how he felt about me he couldn’t wait to tell me.

  ‘I love you.’ He blurted it out over dinner one night in a Chinese restaurant. I was licking sauce from around my lips after finishing off a plate of sticky ribs and doubt I was at my most appealing.

  ‘What?’ I said, grabbing my glass of wine and pouring the remaining contents down my throat. I’m sorry now that I didn’t say, ‘I love you too’. But I hadn’t really thought about it and was not prepared to dive into another possible river of heartbreak. As far as I was concerned, Lucas was just another fling. He’d be going home to Australia and I wasn’t prepared to suffer the hurt of someone I loved leaving again. But, before long, it became apparent to me that there was something more to our relationship, something I couldn’t put my finger on. After a few months, I could feel Lucas slowly breaking down the barrier I had built to protect myself from getting too attached. Could it be love? Eventually, I surrendered to my feelings.