Here We Lie (7 page)

I wake early, as the sun outside our window is just rising. The first thing I notice is that Jed is not in bed beside me. Then I remember Dee Dee. The pain of it is like a
punch to the guts. It hurts so hard I gasp, then lie back, reeling. Grief is like this, I remember from the shock of losing Mum and Dad . . . those moments on waking before you remember, then the
body blow of reality.

I must find Jed. I have no idea what I can do to make the pain he is feeling any less bearable, but I should be with him, letting him know he isn’t alone. I pull on a cardigan and head
downstairs. Whispers drift out from Dee Dee’s room on the first floor. I pad across the landing. Jed and Zoe are sitting on either side of Dee Dee’s bed. Zoe is holding Jed’s
hand. Is she
praying
? Is
he
? I’ve never seen him do so or refer to doing so before. I can’t help but feel another hot flash of jealousy, and I am, again, immediately
ashamed. I hover in the doorway, waiting for her to finish. I can’t hear a word, just the low rustle of her voice.

At last she sits up and releases his hand. I step forward, offering an apologetic cough for my presence. Jed and Zoe turn towards me. I’m struck by how good they look together. Jed might
be fifty but could pass for a decade younger, while the few lines around his eyes and his greying temples confer a sense of authority rather than age. Zoe’s skin looks fresher than it did
last night and her blonde highlights – so messy before – now form a neat frame around her angular face. Close to, I’m fairly certain she’s had some work done: botox and lip
filler at least. I shake myself. What does any of that matter at a time like this? I remember how totally out of it Zoe was when she arrived, so I step forward and hold out my hand.

‘Oh, Zoe,’ I say, in an echo of last night. ‘I loved Dee Dee very much. I’m so sorry for your loss.’

Zoe’s dark blue eyes narrow as she takes me in. Her gaze runs over my entire body. I lower my arm and wait, drymouthed and self-conscious, wishing I had thought to put on more than a
cardigan over my silk nightgown.

And then Zoe draws herself up. ‘Get this fucking whore out of my sight,’ she says.

I gasp. Jed is on his feet in an instant, ushering me away. My first instinct is to protest, to insist he tells her to take back what she just said, then I remind myself why she is here and I
press my lips together.

I must let this go.

‘Sorry, baby, sorry, sorry.’ Jed leads me downstairs and into the kitchen. ‘Sorry, sorry.’ He paces across the room.

There’s no sign that anyone else is up. Flustered, I fetch a pack of coffee from the fridge and set it down on the counter.

‘Sorry,’ Jed says again.

‘It’s fine,’ I say, though it isn’t at all.

But what else can I do? Under these circumstances the last thing Jed needs is for me to make a huge fuss. And what did I expect Zoe would say to me?
Hey,
much-younger-woman-who-stole-my-husband-but-never-mind-that-now, thanks for offering your condolences.

Jed rubs his hand over his forehead. He looks exhausted.

‘Did you sleep at all?’ I ask.

‘Some, not much,’ he says. ‘The police were asking about Dee Dee’s phone again. Did you tell them she lost it on the way back to the villa?’

I nod.

‘They’re testing those bloody powders today . . . there’s just no reason why it happened, I don’t . . . I can’t . . .’ Jed sinks into a chair next to where
I’m standing. ‘I can’t think straight, baby. But there are things we have to do, registering things . . . telling people . . . finding out how . . .
when
we can take her,
you know, home . . .’ His voice cracks.

I draw him towards me and press his face against my stomach. He clings tightly to me for a moment, then pulls away. I can feel the damp of his tears through the silk of my nightgown.

‘Gary and I can help with all the . . . the arrangements,’ I say.

‘Yes.’ Jed nods, not looking at me, still completely distracted. ‘Look, I need to go back to Zo and I have to deal with Lish too. He was asleep when I went in last night. How
was he before we got back? Zo was asking.’

‘He stayed in his room almost the entire time,’ I explain. ‘Look, I’ll make us all some coffee, then Gary and I can start sorting out what needs to be done.’

‘Okay, good,’ Jed says, nodding again. He goes back upstairs. Gary appears as I make the coffee. We sit together and make a list of all the practical stuff that has to happen now.
Iveta and I are dispatched for food which we dutifully buy and, later, cook and which no one really eats. Zoe remains in Dee Dee’s bedroom the entire day, so – apart from a quick trip
to fetch a sundress and sandals from our bedroom – I stay downstairs. I want to offer Zoe my sympathy again, but it’s obvious she doesn’t want to speak to me, that I’m the
last person who can offer her any comfort. I feel stupid for caring, but her words last night still ring in my ears, as does the way Jed referred to her as ‘Zo’ earlier.

It’s a hot, humid evening. I sit outside, staring at the still water of the pool. I can’t believe that less than twenty-four hours ago Dee Dee was still alive. Gary and Iveta appear
briefly to say that they’re going out for a walk. Rose calls to check I’m okay. Lish, Jed and Zoe stay out of sight, upstairs. I’m torn between feeling I should leave them alone
as a family and the desire to seek them out and ask if there’s anything I can do for any of them.

Jed and Zoe appear as darkness envelops the villa and the heat fades and the lights around the pool cast long, thin shadows across the water. Zoe sits on a lounger on the other side of the pool.
She doesn’t look at me; her hands are trembling, twisting over and over in her lap. Jed takes the seat next to me.

‘Are you all right?’ he asks.

‘Fine, just worried about you.’ I hesitate. ‘About you both.’

Zoe looks up at me. Her eyes are red-rimmed, her face pale in the pool lights. ‘It’s surreal, isn’t it?’ she says.

I nod, wary but hopeful this might be some kind of olive branch. ‘I was just thinking how it’s less than a day since she was here, since we all had dinner together.’

Zoe’s eyes narrow. ‘Not
all
of us,’ she says slowly.

‘No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean . . .’ I stop talking. My cheeks burn.

‘This is your fault,’ Zoe says. She’s still looking straight at me.

‘Zo,’ Jed cautions. ‘Come on.’

‘No.’ Zoe stands up. ‘This is
your
fault, you little bitch.’

My breath catches in my throat.

‘Dee Dee was safe at home,’ Zoe hisses. ‘She should never have come away. And the only reason she came here . . . the only reason you
all
came here, where she
wasn’t
safe, was because
he
. . .’ She points at Jed. ‘Because
he
wanted to impress
you
.’

I stare at her, unsure what to say. So much for an olive branch. My heart beats fast.

‘Zoe, that’s ridiculous,’ Jed protests.

‘Don’t tell me I’m ridiculous.’ She’s shrieking now. ‘You’re the one who’s made yourself ridiculous, bigging yourself up to your
whore
.’ She spits out the last word, then bursts into tears and rushes back into the villa.

There’s an uneasy silence. A dog barks in the distance.

‘She doesn’t know what she’s saying,’ Jed mutters. ‘She’s . . .’

‘I know.’ I reach across and lay my hand on his arm. ‘It’s fine.’ I say. ‘I can’t imagine what this is like for her. I’m sure she’ll calm
down . . .’

Jed shakes his head. ‘I don’t think that’s going to happen in the next day or two. In fact . . .’ He pauses. ‘Look, baby, I hate to suggest it but maybe you should
think about going home early. Your brother and Cam have the boat nearby, your sister is already on board. You could go back with them . . . or . . .’

I swallow, hard. ‘I wanted to be here for you, to help . . . to . . .’

‘I know.’ Jed pulls me to him, hugging me tight. ‘I know, but Gary’s dealing with all the practical stuff and I can’t tell Zoe to leave, I think she might crack up
totally. I know it’s not fair and God knows it’s not what I want, but . . .’

I disentangle myself from his arms, my emotions battling in my head. I hate the idea that Jed should be forced into being without me when he wants me here. And yet my leaving will make things
easier for him – and therefore for Lish too – and he’s right that Zoe will most likely crack up if he turfs her out. I take a deep breath. Going home right now is the right thing
to do, the unselfish thing.

‘Of course I will, if you really think it’s best.’

‘Thank you.’ Jed hugs me again.

As I wrap my arms around him I look up at the villa. Up on the first floor all the lights are off except for the one in Dee Dee’s room. For a second I think I see her outline at the
window. Then I realize that it’s Zoe, looking out at us. I shiver, though it’s still warm, and bury my face in Jed’s neck.

When I look up a moment later, Zoe is gone and the lights are out.

The next morning I leave and go home with Rose and Martin. A week passes. The date when Jed and the others were due to fly home from Corsica comes and goes. Jed calls every
day. He is furious that so much time has passed and they still have no clue why Dee Dee died. From what he says, the police investigation sounds like it’s run out of steam before it has
properly begun.

‘They say they’re waiting on secondary reports but the post mortem was done days ago and we still don’t really know what it says. They keep saying: “
peu concluant
. . .
peu concluant
. . .” It’s outrageous that they’re keeping information from us.’

‘Maybe tomorrow,’ I suggest. ‘When do you think they’ll let you bring her home?’

‘I don’t know.’ Jed sighs. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m fine,’ I say. ‘Actually school begins on Monday. I’ve got year two this time.’

‘Christ, baby, I completely forgot. Are you sure you’re up to it? Going back to work?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ I reassure him. ‘To be honest, it’ll be good to have something to focus on.’

‘Tell me about what you’ll be doing. I could do with hearing about normal stuff.’

I chat for a while, explaining what my new role for this year as head of Key Stage One involves: mostly extra admin, as far as I can see. Jed listens but his mind isn’t really focused on
what I’m saying. It must be surreal for him to hear about medium-term topic planning and schemes of work while he’s consumed with grief and dealing with frustrating officialdom in
another country.

He murmurs something about it all sounding like hard work. I can hear plates and glasses being laid out in the background.

‘Is that Iveta?’ I ask lightly.

‘No, Zoe,’ Jed says. ‘Gary and Iveta have gone out for dinner, er, they’ve taken Lish too, felt Zoe and I might like some time alone just . . . I don’t know . . .
personally I’d rather they were here, but Zo wanted to talk to me, so . . .’

‘Right.’ Jealousy worms through me. I try to push it away. I mustn’t be unreasonable.

There’s an awkward silence, then Jed promises to call again when there is news on Dee Dee’s post mortem. I want to tell him how much I’m hurting, how I think about her all the
time, but it seems selfish to talk about my own pain when his – and Zoe’s – is so much greater so instead I just say goodbye and head over to Rose’s house.

Cameron is away on business for one of his charities and Rose has invited me and Martin over for the evening, as well as my old friend Laura from school who lives nearby. It’s always a
little strange being back on Ashley Avenue. I grew up in this house and have moved in and out of it many times since. Although technically Mum and Dad left it to all three of us, it has become
Rose’s house by default. Neither Martin nor I begrudge this. Rose deserves it. And, anyway, thanks to our partners, neither Martin nor I need the money.

Much like the entire house, this room is a slightly bizarre mix of the chrome and glass eighties furnishings from my early childhood and the pale wood and pastel colours that Rose has chosen in
more recent years. I’m last to arrive and Martin and Laura are already ensconced on the sofa so I take the armchair by the fireplace.

‘God, Emily, I can’t believe it about Dee Dee, it’s just
awful
.’ Laura widens her dark eyes as she unfurls herself from Martin’s side. My oldest friend is
possibly the most tactile person I’ve ever met. She’s not exactly beautiful – Jed described her as having a face like a pug when he met her – but there’s something
about the sensual way she behaves, particularly around men, that mostly has them falling at her feet. Gay men love her too. Martin has always found her great fun and Laura, like most of my friends,
totally adores him.

‘How are you doing, sweetie?’ she asks.

‘I’m okay,’ I say. ‘Worried about Jed.’

‘Of course,’ Rose says, bustling in with a bowl of crisps. ‘It’s the worst thing for a parent.’

We sit and talk. It’s good to be here, surrounded by everyone and everything that roots me in my past. It’s particularly nice to see Laura. Since I moved in with Jed and away from
the area we’ve hardly spent any time together. She’s full of concern for me tonight, asking about what happened to Dee Dee and how I have been coping with the shock and the loss. After
a while, however, the conversation inevitably drifts away from my experiences and onto Laura’s little girl and latest pregnancy. She’s almost two months in and full of details about
sore breasts and daylong nausea.

‘Never mind morning sickness,’ she says. ‘I can’t eat a thing until six p.m. Plus I want sex
all
the time.’

Martin laughs. Rose looks faintly appalled. I grin to myself. Laura has always been unashamed and open about her physical desires. She has a boyfriend, Jamie, whom she refuses to marry despite
him asking her every few months, on the grounds that marriage – and indeed monogamy for life – are bourgeois fictions that prevent human beings from living full and natural lives.

I sometimes wonder how much of this philosophy Laura really believes. She has certainly held very liberal views ever since our secondary school days. And yet she seems happy enough with Jamie
and has never, even in our most drunken moments together, expressed any serious desire to shag around. As she chatters on, Martin hanging on her every word, I catch sight of the photo of Jed, me,
Dee Dee and Lish that Rose has thoughtfully placed on the sideboard and the pain of losing her fills me again.