Here We Lie (8 page)

‘She was a sweet girl,’ Rose says softly.

I look up. All three of them are gazing at me. Martin crosses the room and puts his arm around my shoulders. ‘She was lovely, Emily, there was such an innocence about her. I’ll never
forget her eyes like saucers when we gave her that bracelet.’

I nod, remembering the engagement party back in July. ‘She’d been picked on by some girls at school,’ I say. ‘She told me about it that night, said how her friends had
rallied round.’

‘She reminded me a bit of you as a young child, actually,’ Rose says. ‘Always surrounded by friends, loved by everyone.’

I shake my head.
Rose by name, rose-tinted by nature,
as our brother once said; my sister’s version of my childhood before our parents’ death has always been a little
idealized. Still, she’s right about Dee Dee. ‘She did have good friends.’ My throat tightens. ‘She was so lovely to me, no resentment over Jed at all.’

‘Unlike that bitch of an ex-wife of his,’ Rose says.

I stare at her. It’s unlike Rose to sound so venomous.

‘It’s marriage as ownership,’ Laura says. ‘Zoe thinks she has some sort of permanent claim over Jed, just because they signed a bit of paper saying they would stay
together.’

‘And because they had two children,’ I suggest gently.

‘Emily’s right.’ Martin frowns. ‘The poor woman’s just lost her daughter. I think we should cut her some slack.’

Laura shrugs. ‘I just mean that Zoe’s feelings towards Emily are all about territory. I feel as sorry for her as you do.’

‘I feel sorry for her too.’ Rose sighs. ‘I just can’t stand how she’s blaming Emily over Dee Dee. It’s not fair.’

‘Blames you over Dee Dee?’ Laura turns to me. ‘Jed’s ex
blames
you? For what?’

I gulp. There’s a hollow feeling in my chest: Dee Dee is gone and Jed is far away with Zoe and Zoe hates me. Talking about it is the last thing I want to do, but Laura is sitting forward,
her hair hooked behind her ears, peering intently at me.

‘She says Dee Dee died because we were in Corsica, and we were in Corsica because of me, because Jed wanted me to have a flashy holiday which I promise you I absolutely didn’t. I
just wanted us all to be together: Jed and me and . . . and his kids.’ My voice echoes in my ears: flat and sad.

‘God, poor Jed,’ Rose says.

‘Poor Emily.’ Laura reaches for my hand.

‘How’s Jed doing?’ Martin asks.

‘He’s angry that they still don’t have the results of the post mortem. I think knowing why she died would help maybe . . . I don’t know . . .’ Misery rises inside
me. ‘I don’t know how he’s doing really, he’s so far away and having to deal with everything with Zoe and worrying about Lish, but he hasn’t talked about his feelings
so . . .’ I stop, the hitch in my voice threatening to turn to tears.

‘Oh, sweetie.’ Rose scuttles over and sits on my other side. Now she is holding one hand and Laura the other. ‘Jed must be struggling, but you mean everything to him, I’m
sure he’ll open up more when he gets back.’

‘She’s right,’ Laura adds. ‘I mean I’ve only seen you guys together a couple of times but it’s obvious he
adores
you.’

I nod, still trying not to cry. They’ve misunderstood me. I am not upset because Jed is withdrawn at the moment. What I can’t bear is the knowledge that losing his daughter, just
like losing Mum and Dad all those years ago, will never leave him, that the pain of it will shape his future forever. And that is a terrible burden for anyone to carry.

‘It’s tragic,’ Martin says, leaning forward in his chair. I meet his eyes and I know that he understands. ‘But Jed will survive it, he’s strong.’

‘Yes, and steady,’ Rose adds.

‘Yeah, the steadiest person you’ve ever been with,’ Laura says, patting my hand. ‘God and there were a few flakes back in the day.’

I smile at her.

‘All charm and no substance,’ Rose agrees. ‘Like Dan Thackeray. D’you remember him, Mart?’

My brother nods. I look down at the carpet.

‘Gosh, I haven’t thought about Dan Thackeray in years,’ Laura says. ‘He was
gorgeous.
I’d have totally done him if you hadn’t got there first,
sweetie.’

I roll my eyes.

‘Mmm.’ Rose purses her lips. ‘Gorgeous but unreliable. God, d’you remember how upset you were when he dumped you, Emily? Cried for nearly a week without stopping.’
She tuts. ‘I’ve never seen anyone so devastated.’

I look up to find everyone watching me.

‘Yeah, Dan,’ I say. ‘That takes me back.’

It certainly does. Dan was the love of my life – at least he was before I fell in love with Jed. We met ten years ago at a party I hadn’t really even wanted to go to. I was wearing a
dress with thin straps and high, uncomfortable heels. I remember taking my shoes off to dance, feeling content and happy. I was delighted to be on my PGCE course, living away from home at last and
enjoying being out with my friends. Love was the last thing on my mind. And then Dan walked over and without warning, my heart was racing and I was caught up in the spell of his sparkling eyes. Dan
was twenty-three, like I was, and a journalist. He worked for a regional paper but was hungry for a job on one of the nationals ‘before they go completely digital’. He spoke fast and
intently and looked at me like I was the only person in the room. When he asked for my phone number, I punched it into his mobile with trembling fingers and when he called me the next day I, quite
literally, jumped up and down for joy.

I meet Rose’s eyes. She, more than anyone, bore the brunt of my misery when the relationship ended. Because Dan turned out to be a commitment-phobe who strung me along for nearly two
years, then left me without a backward glance for a job in the States soon after we started living together.

I remember the agony that followed all too well, and how my ever-caring sister did her best to help, bringing me food for which I had no appetite and advice about pebbles and beaches from which
I took no solace.

I loved Dan harder, but it’s a better love with Jed: honest and solid and true. My phone rings into the silence. It’s Jed himself. I take the call halfway up the stairs, a place I
used to sit often when I was very little, watching and envying my older brother and sister allowed to stay up long after my own bedtime.

‘The post mortem’s in,’ Jed says, his voice thick with tension. ‘Dee Dee died from potassium cyanide poisoning.’

‘What?’ I’m jolted out of my nostalgic reverie. ‘How on earth—?’

‘It was in the ExAche powders you gave her,’ Jed says flatly.

‘Oh, God.’ Guilt grips me like a fist. ‘There was
poison
in the ExAche?’

‘Potassium cyanide, yes. It’s used in various plating industries and photographic processing. They found microscopic bits of it in the dregs of the powder left in the
sachet.’

‘But . . . but . . .’ My mind whirls as I try to get my head around this news.

‘If you’re thinking the cyanide must have tasted horrible, you’re right,’ Jed goes on. ‘But then according to your statement you’d already warned Dee Dee that
the powders were bitter and told her to drink the whole glass.’

‘Oh, God, Jed, I’m so sorry, I—’

‘I don’t mean it like that, baby.’ Jed sucks in his breath. ‘The police have gone back to the pharmacy where Lish bought the powders: they’re testing all the
stocks. The ones Martin brought back, too.’

‘But how did . . . how do they think the potassium cyanide got into the ExAche?’

‘Either deliberately by an angry worker on the production line, which the manufacturers should have protected against, or because the manufacturers were careless, cutting corners on health
and safety. Either way they’re going to pay.’

‘Pay?’ I echo his words. He sounds furious and yet focused. Better than he has done all week.

‘They’ll have to close down the plant where they make the powders, get all stocks withdrawn. Then the French government will prosecute them for criminal negligence. At least I hope
they will. Benecke Tricorp – that’s the manufacturers – they’re huge. Powerful. But . . .’ He hesitates.

‘But what?’

‘If we can’t get a criminal case going then Zoe and I will take legal action ourselves, a civil case. Whatever it takes.’

‘Jed, I feel awful about the powders. I mean I
gave
them to her.’

‘Listen to me, baby, it’s not your fault. It’s the manufacturer. And I know this is going to mean a court case and me and Zoe spending time on it together, but I need you more
than ever. I can’t get through this without you.’ He lowers his voice. ‘You are with me, baby? Aren’t you? Whatever it takes? With this court case or whatever?’

‘Of course I’m with you,’ I say. ‘I’m right here. Whatever happens. Always.’

We ring off and I stumble back downstairs and into the living room.

‘What is it?’ Rose is on her feet immediately, hurrying over. ‘Jesus, you’re white as a sheet, Emily.’

She sits me down in the armchair and perches beside me. I stare at the blank, dark TV screen opposite, unseeing. Dee Dee was poisoned from the powders I gave her, because I told her to drink
them.

It’s unbearable.

‘What’s happened?’ Martin crouches at my feet, trying to catch my eye.

I take his hand, then turn to my sister and take hers. Thank goodness I have them.

The others are as shocked as I am, though they refuse to accept that I’m guilty in any way. Rationally I know they are right, but I still feel terrible. I take myself off to the bathroom
and weep. It’s like the ten days or so since Dee Dee’s death have been swallowed up. Her loss feels as raw right now as when it first happened.

I’m just blowing my nose and splashing some water on my face when my phone beeps. I glance down at the screen.

This is your fault. IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU, WHORE.

I stare at the shouty capitals, fear tightening my throat.

Zoe. It
has
to be.

IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU, WHORE.

Part of me wants to call Jed straightaway, but what good would that do? Zoe must have just received the post mortem news too and be beside herself with fury. I open the bathroom door, intending
to show my brother and sister. But as I cross the landing I realize that all that will achieve is to upset them – in Rose’s case, probably make her worry that Zoe is planning another
rant at me, an escalation of her car park performance from last month.

I look at the message again. It’s the angry hurt of a devastated mother. I delete it and head downstairs, hoping that will be an end to it.

Little do I know, this moment is just the beginning.

Rose felt like she had been thrown out of a plane with no parachute. The world seemed to be reeling around her. A car crash, the doctors were saying. Your father killed
outright . . . your mother unconscious at the scene, passing away in the ambulance on the way to the hospital . . . we did everything we could . . . truly sorry for your loss . . . A nurse was
still sitting beside her, her hand resting on Rose’s arm. She had asked Rose who they needed to call. Rose gave her the number of Mum’s friend Sally, then explained which school Martin
and Emily went to.

They were all on their way here now. Sally would have warned them that there had been an accident but Rose had insisted she be the one to tell her brother and sister their parents were gone.

How on earth was she going to do that?

The minutes ticked away. The nurse was talking again, asking if she could fetch Rose anything. Rose shook her head. Panic filled her. She couldn’t bear this. She couldn’t face them:
Martin, so private, so tightly wound into his own life, yet so close to Mum, and Emily, still such a child, all smiles and sunshine. How could Rose obliterate their world?

‘Would you like to see them later?’ the nurse asked.

Rose stared at her blankly. Surely the nurse hadn’t forgotten her siblings were already on their way here?

‘Your parents,’ the nurse explained.

‘Oh,’ Rose said. ‘I don’t know. No.’

She didn’t know anything. Nothing made sense any more. She looked up. Martin and Emily were hurrying towards her through the long corridor, Sally just behind them. Martin was holding
Emily’s hand, almost pulling her along he was walking so fast. As they drew closer her eyes met his and Rose could see the shock of realization fill him. He stopped walking. Emily tugged at
his hand.

‘Come on.’

Her face was still so open, so light. She had no idea, Rose realized. For Emily it was simply inconceivable that the world could keep spinning without Mum flicking through a magazine or stroking
Emily’s hair to help her sleep or Dad grunting over his coffee and telling them to be quiet while he watched TV.

Martin began to cry, his arm over his face. Emily looked up at him, all concern. Rose hurried over. She was vaguely aware of the nurse beside her and of Sally hovering anxiously in the
background. But she kept her gaze fixed on her brother and sister. She had to look after them. Yes. The thought fell like a drop of rain: single and clear. That was what she had to do: take care of
Martin and Emily. Rose let the truth of it fill her, give her strength.

This truth would see her through.

Of course it wasn’t that simple. Plenty of people told Rose that she was too young to take on a moody teen boy and a girl on the brink of adolescence. But Rose never
wavered. It was what Emily and Martin wanted too. Martin – after that first cry – did not show his emotions again and only briefly, and very gruffly, said he didn’t need looking
after by anyone, that he and Rose would be fine taking care of Emily on their own. Emily was, in contrast, highly emotional, telling anyone who would listen that she wanted to stay in her home with
her brother and sister and that she refused to consider moving to anyone else’s house. She said so repeatedly and vociferously through floods of tears. She had turned to Rose immediately in a
way that broke Rose’s heart, yet helped mend it at the same time, asking her older sister to carry out all the little things Mum had used to do for her: from baking biscuits to reading to her
at night, a habit that neither Emily nor their mother had wanted to give up.