Beautiful Liar (24 page)

“What party?” Jas asked.

Hugh frowned. “The one at Alex's, of course. I thought that's why you suggested giving Nina a lift . . .” Hugh trailed off as he glanced round at me.

Jas's eyes shifted from one to the other of us. She could clearly sense something was up too, even though she had no idea what it was.

“Well, let's get going, shall we? The sooner we get there the better.”

Jas chattered on during the journey, filling what would otherwise have been a tense and awkward silence. When Hugh parked the car, she suggested they come up with me, and I didn't object. I had a feeling I was going to need all the support I could get.

The moment the lift doors opened I heard the sounds of a party. Music was booming so loud that the walls and floors were shaking, and above the beats I could hear shouts of laughter. The cold feeling I'd had in the pit of my stomach all day—the feeling of foreboding—began to spread, but I forced it back down. Whatever was going on, I needed to face it.

I walked into the living area to find Alex and a dozen of his friends. He was sprawled across the couch, a half-finished bottle of Taittinger in one hand. It looked like it wasn't the first he'd drunk that night.

“Are you all right, babes?” I turned to see Jas looking at me with undisguised concern. Although I hadn't told her
about last night, it must have been clear to her that I was more affected by the scene before us than I should have been.

Hugh was standing by her side, frowning, clearly not happy about what we'd walked in on.

“I'm fine,” I said, my voice sounding distant and detached even to me. “Just—would you mind waiting here for a moment?”

Jas nodded vigorously. “Of course.”

I left Jas and Hugh huddled together in the doorway, and walked over to where Alex was sitting. I did my best to ignore the scantily clad blonde sitting beside him.

“Alex?” He looked up at me with glazed eyes. “Can I have a word?”

“You can have anything you want, sweetheart.” Alarm bells were already going off. There was something too mocking in the way he said the words for them to be flirtatious.

I looked pointedly at his friends. “Can we talk outside?”

“Why would we do that?” He made no attempt to move. Instead, he stretched his arms across the back of the couch, settling further into the cushions. He gave a deliberate glance over the group. “You can say whatever you want in front of my friends.”

He took a swig from the champagne bottle, and handed it to the blonde next to him. Seeing that, part of me was
tempted to walk away. It was obvious he didn't want to know me. But the other part of me wanted to know what had changed. I remembered how sweet he'd been at first in the morning, and how I'd genuinely thought we'd connected. Had all that been in my imagination?

“So?” he yawned. “What is it you wanted?”

“I just—” I had a feeling I was about to make a fool of myself, but I had to know. “I just want to understand why you're being like this.”

“Like what?” He looked at me with such a blank expression that I almost began to doubt myself. “We slept together. That's all. Why're you turning it into a big deal?” He turned to the others, rolling his eyes at them. “Remind me never to deflower a virgin again. It's more trouble than it's worth.”

I drew in a sharp breath. From behind me, Jas cried, “Oh no!” Then as I heard the chorus of titters from around the room, I could feel my cheeks reddening, and I hated myself for showing a reaction.

“You bastard,” I hissed.

“Sticks and stones . . .” He was unperturbed by my name-calling.

I shook my head in disgust, and turned away.

“Funny . . .” His voice stopped me in my tracks. The sheer incongruousness of the word made me turn back to see what he had to say next. He was looking at me with cold eyes, and that faintly mocking smile, which made me want
to punch him. “I thought it would make you happy.”

“Why would it?” I spoke through gritted teeth.

“Because you can congratulate yourself on being right about me all along.”

I stared at him for a long moment. It was hard to believe that this was the same person who'd brushed the hair from my eyes the other night, who'd seemed to care so much. It was like a bad TV show, where he'd been body-snatched and replaced by an alien. Was he really that good an actor? And was I really so stupid that I'd fallen for his performance? I'd thought I was better than that.

I turned away then. If there was one thing I wouldn't do, it was let him see me cry.

“How're you getting on, babes?”

I looked up to see Jas staring at me sympathetically. It was the same look she'd been giving me since she'd brought me home with her nearly two weeks earlier.

She'd been surprisingly discreet and hadn't pressed me for details about what exactly had gone on between Alex and me, which I was grateful for. Too much of my private life was already public. There'd been enough other witnesses to my final scene with Alex, and word had clearly got around the club—from customers to staff. Conversations now stopped as I walked into the staff changing room, and I could see people looking at me like I was that girl—the one stupid enough to sleep with a louse like Alex Noble.

“Honestly? Not that great,” I said, as Jas slid into the seat opposite me. “It's tough out there.”

It was Monday morning, and I was sitting at her kitchen
table, with my ancient laptop in front of me—looking for another job and a place to live. My mum would be out of rehab in a couple of weeks, and then we'd have a month to get ourselves together before Social Services assessed whether we were fit to care for April. Our social worker's recommendation to the court would determine everything—which meant I needed to find a way to make sure we looked like we could provide a safe, stable home for my sister.

But it was easier said than done. I was desperate to leave Destination—and not just because of Alex. I could handle people staring and whispering about me—I'd had enough of that in the past—but I needed a job with more sociable hours. I'd had an interview the previous week—nothing fancy, just to be a receptionist at a gym in the City.

On paper, the job had been ideal. The pay was all right, and the hours were good—as it was near Liverpool Street Station, in the centre of the banking district, there would be no weekends, and the latest I'd ever be working until was ten at night. But my interview hadn't gone well. The female manager had seemed unimpressed with my reliability, and I winced still at the memory of her questioning.

So why did you only work for three months at the petrol station?

And you've been working at Destination for how long now?

If you don't mind me saying, you haven't stayed in any one job
for very long. Is there a reason for that?

And do you have any references?

I'd tried to explain as best I could, but even I had to admit my CV was sketchy. I'd walked out with a distinct feeling of “Don't call us, we'll call you.” I'd applied for a whole load of other jobs, but if that was anything to go by, I didn't fancy my chances.

“Anyway,” I said, shutting down my laptop. “I'm seeing that flat at noon. Fingers crossed something comes of that.”

“Yeah, and don't give up on that job just yet. I bet you didn't stuff up as much as you think you did.”

Jas gave me an encouraging smile, and I tried to return it. But I had the distinct feeling that things were just as bad as I believed.

* * *

“Now, as you can see, all three bedrooms are well proportioned.” The estate agent led the way into what I assumed was the main bedroom. Sandra Morgan—or Sandy, as she'd told me to call her—was a hard-faced middle-aged woman, sporting a pillar-box red 1980s power suit, complete with shoulder pads. She looked like she'd had her hair blow-dried out that morning. I'd been surprised that her waves could fit through the door. “The rooms can all take double beds, and they each have generous wardrobe space.”

She went on to tell me how the flat was close to all amenities—the Tube
and bus stations, and the shopping centre—but really she didn't need to sell it to me. It was absolutely perfect—exactly what I'd been looking for.

It was in Canada Water, across the river from Plaistow, where we used to live. The area had begun gentrifying over the past two decades, and boasted upmarket apartment complexes that were now home to young professionals. The building was only about five years old, which meant it had that new-build feel—magnolia walls, cream carpets and small but functional rooms. It was a little impersonal, but at least it felt clean, neat and modern. April would love it, I was sure, and more important, I could imagine our social worker, Maggie, being impressed when she came to visit.

Once we were back in the kitchen, Sandy turned to me with a wide, enthusiastic smile. “So what do you think?”

The kitchen was a good place to ask the question. Although it was small—or “compact,” as Sandy called it—it was south-facing, which meant light flooded through the huge window over the sink, hitting the table in the corner. I could imagine our family gathered round there.

“I'll take it,” I said, and I could see her eyes light up at the news.

“That's wonderful!” She riffled through her leather conference folder, and handed me some papers. “Here's the application form to fill in. All very standard. We'll just need to check references and clear the deposit, and it'll all be yours.”

I glanced at the form, and something caught my eye. “The deposit's six weeks' rent? I only thought it'd be four.”

The smile left the estate agent's face. “Well, it's six. Non-negotiable. Is that going to be a problem?”

It wouldn't have been if I'd taken that cash Alex offered me for the final game. Sometimes I wished I wasn't so principled. My life would certainly be a lot easier.

When I didn't respond immediately, Sandy sighed. “Look.” She gave a pointed glance at her watch. Her earlier friendliness had been replaced by impatience. “Sorry to do this, but I have another appointment now.”

With what must have been a practised technique honed over many years, she managed to herd me out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Before I knew it, the front door was open and I was standing outside on the
Welcome
mat.

“You'll let the owner know that I'm interested, though,” I said, aware that the flat was slipping away from me.

“I will. But don't hold your breath. This is a very popular development.”

With that, she closed the door in my face.

* * *

When I got back to Jas's flat late that afternoon, I felt very low. It seemed it wasn't going to be as easy as I'd hoped to find a job and a new place. But as I opened the front door, Jas came bounding out to greet me.

“How did things go?” she asked, dancing from one foot to the other.

I'd appreciated how much time Jas had spent with me in the last two weeks—especially as I wasn't much fun to be around. I knew she was dying to move in with Hugh, and could easily have abandoned me, but instead she'd stayed around to try to cheer me up.

“Not great.” I dumped my bag on the floor, and slipped off my trainers. While I loved Jas's spirit, I wasn't in the mood to be jollied along.

“I wouldn't be so sure about that.” She grabbed my hand. “Come and listen to your messages.”

She pulled me through to the sitting room, and stood over me as I worked the answering machine. I could tell she was struggling to contain her excitement, but even I was shocked as I listened to the first message from the manager at the gym, offering me the job as receptionist, and the second from Sandy, saying that the owner was prepared to accept just four weeks' deposit.

Jas was grinning from ear to ear as I finished listening to the messages for a second time. “See? What did I say about everything working out?”

Relief flooded through me. It seemed like my fresh start was just around the corner. At this rate, soon we'd have April back, and I'd never have to see Alex Noble again.

* * *

“So you're leaving us, then?” Giles said, leaning up against the bar.

It was two days later, and I was in the middle of my shift at Destination. I'd tried to catch up with him earlier to say that I had a new job, but he hadn't been around, so I'd ended up leaving my resignation letter on his desk.

We hadn't really talked since that time I'd rejected him, but I was glad he'd come to find me. He'd been good to me, and I didn't want to leave things on a bad note. It was good to know he felt the same.

“I hope it's not because of, er . . .”

“Alex?” I filled in.

He had the grace to look embarrassed. “Sorry. I heard a few things. I shouldn't listen to the gossip, but . . .” He shrugged. I knew what he meant, when it was so prolific, it became unavoidable.

“It's nothing like that. I needed something with more normal hours.”

“I'm sure Dad would've found something for you.”

In fact, Duncan Noble had said as much when I'd called him earlier to tell him my news. I'd felt I owed him that courtesy, since he'd helped me out of a hole a few months earlier. His offer had surprised me, given that he'd caught me with Alex at Rexley Manor, and I'd wondered if he'd
made it simply because he knew I'd been rejected by his son. That had been enough to make me turn him down. “Yeah, well, it's done now, and I'm happy.”

Giles nodded understandingly. “That's good. I'm glad things are working out for you. And if you need a reference, or anything in the future, just give me a call.”

“Thanks.” I could see he genuinely meant it. “For everything. You've been really kind to me. You know, not saying anything about the poker.”