Here We Lie

  ‘What is KCN?’ I ask, though I have already guessed.

  ‘Potassium cyanide.’

  I stare at the entry. My mouth feels dry though the rest of me is damp from the rain and clammy with sweat from my run.

  ‘I think it’s for a couple of photography students. I checked the initials against the student year book for Lish’s year and I’m guessing JL and LN are probably photography students James Leonard and Laurie Nolan.’

  ‘Why does that fit?’

  ‘Apparently you can use potassium cyanide as . . . a sort of toner, to give a particular finish. It’s a bit of a fad at the moment. And the cyanide isn’t technically a banned drug though you’re supposed to have a licence or something to buy it legally.’

  The rain grows heavier, pounding on Dan’s car roof. My hair is plastered to my face; I am soaked yet I barely feel it.

  ‘Right,’ I say. ‘So Lish did mean to hurt me. But . . . but . . .’

  ‘But then why only one murder attempt?’ Dan asks. ‘Why not try and poison you again, later?’

  I nod.

  ‘I don’t know, I’m guessing that when Dee Dee died by mistake Lish must have felt terrible. He obviously got rid of his drugs before the police searched your villa so after that he would have needed to use something else, a different method, and perhaps he baulked at that. Or perhaps he just felt he needed to let things settle down a bit before he tried again and he’s building up to another attempt now. Or perhaps he changed his mind when he saw how devastated his father was over losing Dee Dee and he’s let go of the whole thing and . . . and you’re safe.’

  I stare at him. He’s in the navy suit he wore when I first saw him a few weeks ago. The shoulders are dark from the rain. His forehead is creased with concern, those fine lines around his eyes more obvious than on our previous meeting. I know before he opens his mouth that there is something weighing heavily on his mind, that he wants to confess it.

  ‘There’s something else.’ Dan hesitates. ‘I wasn’t completely honest with you when I first met you again . . . at the beginning of the month.’

  I hold my breath. Is it what Rose thought? That he wants me back?

  ‘I said . . . I . . . told you that I’d seen the story in the paper about Jed’s daughter dying and I found out about his son’s drug dealing and that I’d put it all together and was worried you might be in danger.’

  The rain drives down. I am soaked through and shivering. All I can see are Dan’s eyes, the colour of storms.

  ‘The truth is that I didn’t really think you were in danger at all. I thought what everyone else thinks, that Dee Dee died in a random accident and it didn’t have anything to do with you. All I wanted was the story on Jed’s son being a drug dealer. Jed Kennedy is a big-name lawyer who helped get a cabinet minister acquitted a few months ago. I thought you might get me to that story.’

  For a second I am blank. Numb. Lost.

  Dan doesn’t want me. He wants a scoop on Jed’s son, to discredit Jed.

  ‘You used me?’ As I speak, a riot of emotions tear through me: shame, humiliation, misery, anger.

  Mostly anger.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Em, I thought it would quickly be obvious that the idea Lish might want to hurt you was crazy. But I thought you’d tell Jed and he’d confess that Lish is drug dealing and then you’d tell me. It was only once I saw the state you were in after you went to Lish’s flat which . . . which was not my idea, you’ll remember . . . it was only then that I started to feel bad about what I’d done, determined to get the truth to show you you weren’t really in danger. But . . . but then I met Lish and got the drugs and this notebook and . . .’

  ‘You used me to get a story.’ I wipe the rain off my face and take a step away from him.

  Dan closes the gap. He touches my arm. It’s like an electric current shooting through me. I shake his hand away. ‘Get off me.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Em. I don’t know what to say other than that I never meant to upset you and that I promise I’m not going to do a story now. I’ve destroyed all my notes, all the recordings, so there’s nothing I can write.’

  ‘Kind of you. Thanks.’ The words spit from my mouth.

  ‘But I think you should tell Jed everything. And I think you should take the drugs and the notebook to the police.’ Dan turns back to his car and picks up the paper bag from the driver’s seat. He holds it out to me. ‘This is everything Lish sold me. I haven’t kept anything back. And I’ll support whatever you decide. There’s just one thing.’ He moves closer so we’re only centimetres away from each other. Rain streams onto us, around us. ‘I didn’t realize how I was going to feel when I saw you again, how much you still matter to me.’ He gazes down at me. We’re too close to each other. I can see the longing in his eyes. For a split second I think he’s going to close the tiny gap between us and kiss me. I break away, yanking the paper bag out of his hand.

  ‘Don’t call me.’ Without looking at him I run across the road and into the house. I rush upstairs and peel off my wet clothes. I’m too angry to cry, too humiliated. I wrap a towel around me then peek out of the front window to make sure Dan has gone. He has. I shower myself warm and change into jeans and a sweater, Dan’s words echoing around my head. He lied to me. He used me. He wants me. My mind jumps around, unable to process what has just happened. I’m only sure of one thing: that I was a fool to think that our past wouldn’t cast a long shadow over anything we did in the present. And my past feelings for Dan were passionate in a way that my feelings for Jed have never been. But Jed is the better man. The stronger, steadier, man. I should never have listened to Dan.

  Rose was right about him. She didn’t guess the whole story, but she was fundamentally right: Dan Thackeray is not to be trusted.

  I examine the contents of the paper bag. Two packs each containing three blister strips of little blue Valium pills. I don’t know how Dan knows they are fakes; the only suspicious thing I can see is the slightly smudged print on the packets, though I’ve never seen Valium close to before so I have no idea what the genuine pills should look like. I breathe slowly out, trying to still my racing thoughts. Dan has gone. He has promised there will be no story. Which means there is no real harm done to Jed in terms of his job or his reputation. I think it through. I will show Jed the pills as soon as he’s home, tell him everything that Dan and I have found out. It will be up to Jed what he does with the information, but I can’t believe he won’t act, that he won’t want to protect me.

  The rain continues to fall. I’m upstairs when Jed gets in from work, much earlier than usual. He calls up to say he’s home. I should hear the heaviness in his voice, realize something’s wrong, but I’m so intent on the conversation we’re about to have that I just head downstairs, wondering how to begin. The bag Dan gave me is in my hand as I trudge into the living room. Jed is still in his jacket, sitting on the sofa to the right of the TV, staring out of the window. This is unusual in itself. Normally the first thing Jed does when he gets in is shrug off his jacket and pour himself a drink.

  I sit down opposite him, the paper bag in my lap. Jed turns and looks at me. He doesn’t smile.

  ‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ I say.

  Jed nods his head. It’s only now that I see how strained and miserable his expression is.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I ask.

  ‘I don’t know if you’ll understand,’ he says uncertainly. He looks away again.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I frown, trying to work out what on earth he can be referring to.

  Jed sighs. ‘I just realized that I didn’t think about Dee Dee once, not the whole time I was at work all day. Not that there’s any fucking point to thinking about her, but I feel so guilty that I actually didn’t. It’s the first day since . . .’ His voice cracks and he puts his head in his hands.

  I’m already across the room, my arms around him.

  ‘Sorry,’ he says.

  ‘Don’t apologize.’ I lean closer. ‘T
here’s nothing to apologize for. I’m just so sorry too.’

  Jed sits upright, shifting slightly away from me. I take the hint and remove my arms. I am getting used to this: when Jed feels unhappy, he often half opens up, then pulls away.

  ‘So what did you want to tell me?’ Jed asks.

  I hesitate. I had been set to tell him about Dan’s discoveries. The bag of drugs Lish sold him still lies in my lap. But it feels wrong to do so right now. How can I disillusion Jed about one child when he is in so much pain over the loss of the other? Except . . . there’s always going to be some reason not to tell him something so difficult: last night he was too tired, earlier today he was too busy . . .

  ‘What is it, Emily?’ Jed points to the paper bag. ‘Is it something to do with that?’

  I take a deep breath and hand him the bag. ‘This is fake Valium. At least I think it’s fake.’

  Jed takes the bag. Bemused, he peers inside. ‘Where did you get these?’

  God, this is so hard. ‘Er, d’you remember me telling you about my . . . my ex, Dan, the journalist who went to the States, from years back?’

  ‘Dan the reporter?’ Jed looks up, a wary expression on his face. ‘Yes. Why?’

  ‘Dan . . . he approached me the other day,’ I stammer. ‘He said he’d been investigating fake drugs and had heard about what happened to Dee Dee and he found out some things about Lish and . . . and . . .’ I’m condensing the truth wildly here, but I need to get the information out and Jed is already looking completely appalled.

  ‘And what?’ he demands.

  ‘Dan said that Lish . . . that . . . at uni . . . he sells pharmaceuticals, fake ones, stolen ones . . . he’s not sure.’

  Jed stares at me, the colour draining from his face. I’m suddenly, horribly, taken back to the morning we found Dee Dee, glassy-eyed and cold, and the look of horrified disbelief on Jed’s face then.

  ‘What’s his evidence for this?’ Jed asks coldly.

  ‘He says Lish sold him the fake Valium. And he . . . he took this off him too.’ I hold up the little notebook. The cover feels clammy in my palm. Jed takes the book and flicks through the pages, a bemused expression on his face. ‘It’s lists of Lish’s drug sales: what, who to, when delivered . . .’

  Jed sits in silence for a few moments, his jaw grinding as he pores over the neat entries. ‘A journalist you used to go out with tells you my son is a drug dealer? And you automatically believe him? No questions asked?’

  I stare at Jed. Oh God. ‘Dan said he thought I might be in danger.’

  ‘What? How?’

  ‘One of the entries is for KCN, which is potassium cyanide. Jed, I’m so sorry but I think it’s possible that Lish poisoned Dee Dee by mistake, meaning it to be me.’

  Jed’s mouth gapes.

  ‘You heard how hateful he sounded on Facebook and there was an anonymous text too and I’ve seen how he looks at me and now Dan says he bought drugs—’

  ‘Wait. Dan Thackeray told you this notebook and these drugs were from my son? That along with a few odd looks and comments they somehow add up to a belief that Lish wants to kill you?’ Jed’s eyes widen.

  ‘I know it sounds mad, but it makes sense if you—’

  ‘No, it doesn’t make sense. None of it.’ Jed blows out his breath, clearly trying to gather his thoughts. ‘Dammit, baby, you are so naïve. The bastard just wants to set Lish up, probably as a way of getting to me: privileged son of top London solicitor in drug scandal, great story, well done Dan fucking Thackeray.’

  I wince. ‘Dan’s admitted that he started out just wanting to find out about Lish, get a story on you having a drug-dealing son, but now he thinks maybe I really am in danger. When you link the potassium cyanide to the way Lish loathes me—’

  ‘Stop.’ Jed jumps up and paces across the room. ‘Just fucking stop right there.’

  I gulp. Jed’s fury is palpable, he’s literally shaking with it. He turns. Stops pacing. His eyes burn into me as he sits down. ‘Tell me again, exactly, what Dan Thackeray has told you and what you’ve told him. Start from the beginning.’

  Squirming under the ferocity of his glare, I explain how Dan sought me out in the car park and how I agreed to visit the student pub which Dan claimed Lish was dealing from.

  ‘You went all the way to Southampton with your fucking ex and you didn’t mention it?’ Jed’s voice rises. ‘What else did you do with him?’

  ‘Nothing.’ I can feel my cheeks reddening. No way am I admitting to my illicit ransacking of Lish’s student room, and the letter I found from Zoe. ‘This isn’t about me and Dan, it’s about Lish. And the only reason I didn’t tell you before was that I didn’t want to worry you.’

  ‘What . . . about the fact that my son was into drug dealing? Or that you were having a day out with your fucking ex-boyfriend so he could shaft me by writing a story about it?’ Jed’s voice is like ice.

  ‘That’s not fair,’ I say, stung. ‘I didn’t know Dan wanted a story at first. He only told me that today and he promised he wouldn’t write one. He’s given us the proof against Lish.’

  ‘These drugs and this notebook prove nothing, baby, except that Dan Thackeray tells lies and you are ridiculously gullible.’ Jed sighs. ‘I suppose he tried to fuck you while he was at it?’

  My cheeks burn, remembering the longing in Dan’s eyes earlier and how he said I still mattered to him. Rose’s warning echoes in my ears: Dan Thackeray wants to get back in your pants.

  ‘No, he didn’t,’ I say.

  Jed snorts. I reach out my hand to him but he bats it away. I can’t work out whether he’s more angry that I’m accusing Lish of drug dealing and murder, or because I’ve inadvertently helped a journalist research (or in Jed’s view, fabricate) a story about it or because I’ve seen an ex-boyfriend behind his back.

  The last of these things is the one I latch onto, the one where I can at least offer Jed reassurance.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I saw Dan, but nothing happened between us.’ I hesitate. ‘If you think about it, I don’t necessarily know about every time you see Zoe and she’s your ex.’

  ‘Zoe and I had children together, of course we still see each other. That’s completely different. Anyway, I do tell you if I’m seeing her.’ Jed looks at me, contempt in his eyes. ‘Dammit, baby, how could you do this to me?’

  I open my mouth to tell him, for the first time ever, not to call me ‘baby’, then I think better of it. Hard though it is, I should cut Jed a bit of slack – after all, it’s only a few months since Dee Dee and he was almost in tears over her when he got in and here I am dropping a bombshell about Lish. It’s understandable that he is upset.

  It has turned dark outside while we’ve been talking. As I get up to close the curtains Jed scrunches the top of the bag over. The paper rustles in the silence.

  ‘So what do you want to do now?’ I ask.

  ‘I’ll talk to Lish,’ Jed says. ‘I don’t believe these drugs or this notebook have anything to do with him.’

  I turn around. ‘Shouldn’t we get the Valium tested at least? They have those specter-whatsits at the anti-fake and substandard drug organization where you went to that conference, don’t they?’

  ‘You mean the spectrometer at the Campaign . . . at CASP? Yes, but . . .’ Jed stands up, the bag of drugs and the notebook in his hands. ‘But finding out if this is fake Valium doesn’t prove Lish had anything to do with selling it, does it? In fact taking it to be tested would just be playing into Dan bloody Thackeray’s hands.’

  ‘But suppose Lish lies to you when you ask him about it?’ The words blurt out. ‘He sold drugs at school so—’

  ‘He never sold anything at school, he just had a little pot or whatever for his own use.’ Jed narrows his eyes. ‘Do you really think my son is capable of drug dealing, let alone wanting to murder you? It’s ridiculous.’ He sits forward. ‘I need Thackeray’s number.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I want to make it clear to him
that if he tries writing a story about my son I will sue him into next year.’

  I gulp. ‘You don’t need to worry, I told you. Dan promised me he’d drop the story, that he’d let us decide what to do with the drugs.’

  ‘Did he?’ Mistrust darkens Jed’s eyes. ‘I’m not sure that’s enough of a guarantee for me. I want to talk to him, make sure.’

  The memory of Dan’s face – and my telling him that I never want to see him again – flashes before my mind’s eye. ‘I . . . I don’t want to call him.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, I don’t want you to call him either. I’m going to do it.’ Jed storms out to the hall.

  I sit, frozen to the sofa. What a mess. I can hardly blame Jed for being angry, but how can he dismiss Dan’s claims so completely out of hand? Is he not in the slightest bit concerned that Lish has been dealing? That he might have meant . . . still mean . . . me harm? That Dee Dee ended up the unwitting victim of his desire to hurt me? A second later I hear Jed rummaging through my handbag. Then the beep of a phone.

  I jump up. ‘What are you doing?’ I run out into the hall. Jed is standing, the paper bag of drugs in one hand, my phone in the other. He is hunched over the screen, scrolling through the contact list.

  ‘Give that back!’ I demand.

  ‘Let me handle this.’ Jed doesn’t look around.

  I launch myself at him, reaching for the mobile. Jed pushes me away. I stumble backwards and Jed bends over the phone again. I watch, helplessly, as he sends Dan’s details to his own phone. I hear the trill as his mobile receives the message. Still clutching the paper bag, Jed puts down my phone, then picks up his own and heads into the kitchen.

  We spend the rest of the evening apart. Jed is clearly still furious with me and I . . . well, I am not sure how I feel any more. Jed comes to bed late. I’m still awake, thoughts tumbling over and over inside my head.