Just another liar, p.1
Just Another Liar, page 1
JUST ANOTHER LIAR
Mandy Byatt
Copyright
Published by AVON
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2022
Copyright © Mandy Byatt 2022
Cover design by whittakerbookdesign.com © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2022
Cover photographs © Jeffrey Hamilton/Getty Images (sink) and Shutterstock.com (all other images)
Mandy Byatt asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008459918
Ebook Edition © January 2022 ISBN: 9780008459925
Version: 2021-11-10
Dedication
For Mum, Dad and Nic – with love
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
The water is …
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Acknowledgements
About the Author
About the Publisher
The water is rushing into me, flooding my nostrils, bleeding through my eyelids, trying to prise open my lips. Plugging my ears with thunder. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on, how much longer I want to.
And then the roaring stops. I’m floating, hands releasing their grip. Silence envelops me, shields me.
Until my hair is yanked, my neck snaps back, and I’m coughing, spluttering, retching, gasping, gasping, gasping for air. You are cleansed. Saved.
I take a deep breath and then I’m tumbling, plunging down, further and further, the water suffocating me. I am reborn.
CHAPTER 1
The silver heart of the necklace was cool between Anna’s fingers. She wanted to slide it over her burning cheeks, press it to her eyelids. ‘Right. Can we have a bit of quiet, please?’
The sixth formers ignored her, their chatter, giggles, beeping mobiles, filling both the room and her head.
She took a breath. She’d volunteered to accompany them on their visit to the local university but hadn’t realised they’d be as excitable as a bunch of five-year-olds on their first visit to a zoo.
‘I said: quiet.’
A group of girls at the back of the lecture theatre looked up, the pink ‘O’s of their lips showing their surprise at her raised voice. In the eleven weeks she’d been at St Edward’s, she hadn’t had cause to shout once. The independent school in a wealthy suburb of Manchester, with its fees of four thousand pounds per term, was worlds away from the comprehensive she’d taught at in Exeter.
‘Can those at the back fill up some of the benches down here?’
She put her hand to her stomach as it groaned for the breakfast she’d been unable to eat. Her skin was clammy, a sheen on her face. The clock high on the wall said five past: was there time to go and flick some powder over her nose? Anna didn’t want him to see her like this, had never let him see her when she was less than perfect – jumping out of bed, diving into the bathroom, brushing her teeth, showering, putting on make-up before he’d even opened his eyes.
Did he know she was here? Had he heard her name and thought it was merely a coincidence? Or was he rushing along the corridor now, anticipation doing the same dance through his veins as it was through hers?
And yet, this morning, instead of the buzz she’d been expecting to feel when the alarm had gone off, a sense of unease had taken its place.
She’d been tempted to call in sick, and it wouldn’t even have been a lie – what earlier had been a dull throb behind her right eye was now like a hammer blow.
Crouching down, Anna dipped her hand into her bag, found a blister pack of paracetamol and popped the last two tablets out onto her palm. Her mouth was so dry she wasn’t sure she’d be able to swallow them.
She straightened up and gave a reassuring smile, as much to convince herself as her students. No response: they were caught up in their own dramas.
So many times, she’d been tempted to step out in front of Robbo. Last Saturday she’d followed his car, as she had every Saturday for the past few months, sunglasses on despite the rain, hair bundled into a cap. He would park at Sainsbury’s, walk into town. Each step he took or window he looked in, the ten minutes or so spent in the bank, the quick browse around the farmers’ market – she knew it all. It would have been so easy to walk into his path and feign surprise at seeing him. But so far, her cowardice had outweighed both the longing to speak to him and the need to make him realise she didn’t want to give up on them. That she wouldn’t.
She tipped the tablets into her mouth.
‘You okay, miss?’ A sandy-haired boy, with freckles to match – Tyler or Taylor or something like that – waved from the front row. The students around him nudged each other.
The bitter chalk of the tablets clung to the back of her throat. ‘Sorry. Right. Where were we?’ Reaching for her necklace again, she rolled it between thumb and forefinger, glanced at the door. In a minute, seconds even, he would be coming through it. She fought the urge to slip the silver heart into her mouth; he used to do that, pushing it between her lips, his tongue following, chasing it around.
Anna blinked, brought herself back to the present. ‘So, remember what I said: ask questions, be inquisitive, soak up the atmosphere of the place. I know some of you won’t be applying to come here but it’s a good chance to get a feel for university life.’
The chatter continued, snippets floating across the room towards her: gossip about a celebrity, the latest series they were binge-watching on Netflix.
What would he say when he saw her? Ever since she’d made the decision to move to the town where he lived, she’d imagined the look of surprise, and then of delight on his face.
And yet her legs were trembling. Lack of food, low blood sugar probably. Certainly not nerves. How could she be nervous about meeting him?
She headed towards the lectern, clutching it with both hands when she reached it.
The glass door creaked and Anna’s eyes swivelled towards it. Her heart was thudding, its beat filling her ears.
It wasn’t him.
A small woman in flat, ugly shoes scurried across the floor towards her. The secretary.
‘Miss Farrow?’
Anna nodded.
‘So sorry for the delay. Some crisis in the lab. Professor …’ Before she had a chance to get the words out, the door creaked again and the secretary turned. Anna didn’t.
Instead she stared at the students, her white knuckles, at the sparkly Alice band that was attempting to hold the secretary’s candyfloss hair in place.
‘I’ll leave you in his capable hands.’ A touch on the arm and she was gone.
And Anna finally looked over.
At him.
Robbo.
He hadn’t seen her, heading straight for the students, welcoming them to the department, explaining who he was. And then his head twisted towards her. His face lit up, briefly, before the smile left his lips. Anna told herself it was shock, that was all, he hadn’t been expecting to see her, not here, not like this.
He turned back to the students, clapped his hands. ‘Okay, everyone. We’ll be splitting you up into two groups and we’ll meet back here after the tour for questions.’
The babble of chatter filled the room again.
Unhooking her fingers from the lectern, Anna started walking towards him, legs heavy, every step like she was wading upstream through a river.
He was waiting for her. He stared at her outstretched hand as if he didn’t know what he should do w
‘What …?’ He shook his head and then dropped her fingers as if he’d been burnt.
The door creaked. A girl with blue hair swept in.
‘Ah, here’s Millie, everyone.’ Robbo moved towards the students. ‘She’s going to take you on a tour of the laboratories.’
‘Hurry up. Haven’t got all day,’ Millie said, bouncing up and down on her Doc Martens.
Robbo said something to the girl and she let out a squeal of laughter before slapping him on the arm. Planting her feet firmly on the ground to stop herself from moving, Anna glared at her, wondering how it would feel to yank her by that ridiculous blue hair and drag her away from Robbo. She wouldn’t be laughing then.
Anna lost sight of them as the students filed towards the door.
‘Are you not coming, miss?’ Tyler – that was it, she remembered now – was holding the door open for her, the last to leave.
‘Be right with you.’ She picked up her handbag, rummaging through the contents, pretending she was searching for something.
He hesitated.
‘Go on.’ She flicked her hand in the direction of the other students. ‘You’ll lose them.’
The door swung to with a bang as he left.
Anna had pictured many things, built up scenarios in her head of what Robbo would say when they met, but this, what had just happened, had not been one of them. The look on his face when he’d seen her … it had stamped on the hope she’d been kindling. But maybe she’d imagined it? Perhaps it was just shock after all?
The door creaked.
Robbo.
No, she hadn’t imagined it: something much darker than shock was written over his face.
And yet, as he walked across the room, she convinced herself it would be all right, he’d pull her towards him, put his lips on hers.
He stopped three feet away from her, just out of reach but close enough for her to smell the spice of his aftershave. There was a blue hair on the collar of his corduroy jacket. She fought the urge to brush it away.
‘What are you doing here?’ He ran his hand through his hair, a gesture so familiar she had to dig her nails into her palms to stop herself from crying out.
‘I work at St Edward’s.’
‘You work in Exeter.’
‘I fancied a change.’ The lie sounded flat, hollow.
‘But you know I live here, work here.’
Anna unclenched her fists, flicked her hair back over her shoulder. She knew it looked good: one hundred and twenty pounds spent on honey-blonde balayage highlights had seen to that.
‘I was headhunted.’ Another lie. ‘It was too good an opportunity to turn down. Head of department.’ At least that was the truth. She was gabbling, trying to fill the silence with words to prove she hadn’t taken the job because of him. Because of what they’d had.
But it was too late: his chocolate-brown eyes darkened, his head shook back and forth. The lips she’d liked to trace with her tongue settled into a thin line. He didn’t want her. Her throat tightened. She tried to swallow but her mouth was still too dry, the residue of the paracetamol acrid, the taste filling her mouth. What had she done? How could she have been so stupid?
Wrapping her arms around herself, she took a deep breath, stuck her chin out. ‘It’s not a problem, is it? We’re grown-ups. Just because we had a … a fling, that doesn’t mean anything, does it? For God’s sake, Robbo. It’s more money. Better prospects. You’re not going to begrudge me that, are you?’ The words after everything else hung in the air between them.
‘Oh, Anna.’ He scuffed the toe of his shoe on the parquet floor, back and forth. Tan, a soft leather; she’d never seen them before. ‘I won’t change my mind.’
‘Did I say I wanted you to?’
He had the good grace to blush. ‘You need to move on.’
‘I have done. I was headhunted, Robbo. Get it? The world doesn’t revolve around you, you know.’
He held up his hands in an apology. ‘Sorry, it’s just a shock, seeing you here like this. And I’m glad you’ve moved on. Any bloke would be lucky to have you. Is there anyone?’
Was there a hopeful note to the question? A yes would show she was over him, hadn’t taken the job because of him. The urge to say it itched away at her: would the jealousy still be there, the jealousy that caused him to snap, sulk? To hit. Not her, of course, never her, but years ago, he had punched a guy who had slapped her bum in the college bar. Robbo’s ferocity had frightened her at the time – how she wished he would show that same ferocity now. But if there was a chance, just a chance he might reconsider … if it was just shock that was making him act this way, say these things …
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘No, there isn’t.’
His chest was rising and before he had the chance to let out the sigh she could sense building up in him, she said: ‘But I’m online dating. Playing the field. Meeting some interesting men. Very interesting. Very …’ Her words petered out.
‘That’s great, Anna. Really, it is.’
‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘Yes.’
He stepped forward and, for a second, she thought he was going to kiss her, but he simply lifted his thumb to her cheek. His hand lingered for a moment before he snatched it back.
‘You shouldn’t have come here, Anna.’
His voice was so quiet she could hardly make out his words.
‘Robbo?’
‘I mean it, Anna. Stay away from me. It’s over.’
The smell of chicken chow mein filled the room but, instead of fishing the ready meal out of the microwave, Anna headed straight for the fridge. She was going to finish off last night’s bottle.
Her mobile beeped. She allowed herself a moment of believing Robbo might have texted her, excitement making her snatch up the phone.
It wasn’t him. Of course it wasn’t. He probably didn’t have her number now. She certainly didn’t have his; he had changed it, no doubt fed up with the constant calls she’d made when he’d dumped her last November. Over. That’s what he’d said to her then, the same word he’d used this morning. No explanation for why one day he loved her and the next he didn’t.
She opened the message. Lisa.
You’ll never guess … Her sister always liked to build the tension in any situation.
Waiting for the photo to load, Anna took a large gulp from her glass, the wine like acid in her mouth. Of course she could guess – she knew love when she saw it, in others at least. And Joe had whisked Lisa off to Paris to celebrate their year anniversary. After meeting on an online dating site, the pair had been infatuated with each other ever since. They liked the same bands, food, films, laughed at the same things. Lisa, who had forged a sick note nearly every week to get out of PE when they’d been teenagers, had taken up running, saying it was important to have a hobby they could share. They pounded the streets. He massaged her feet afterwards. She washed his running gear. A perfect couple.
Anna took another swig of wine. A solitaire diamond, shaped like a raindrop, filled the screen. She’d pointed out a similar one to Robbo last June when they’d gone to Lyme Regis for the weekend. He’d laughed, tugging her away from the window, said he’d buy her a crab sandwich instead.
Congrats! She added some emojis, a love heart and a bride, a couple of champagne flutes.
Will you come wedding dress shopping with me?
Of course I will. There was no one else to do it, after all. Their stepmother wasn’t the motherly type, even though she’d been in their lives since their mother had died when Anna was six and Lisa was four. And her father … he probably wouldn’t go to the wedding if it wasn’t in a church, which Anna was sure it wouldn’t be: after having religion shoved down their throats throughout their childhood, both she and Lisa had turned away from it as soon as they’d left home.
What you up to? The reply came back almost immediately.
Just chilling at home.
Home. Anna sighed. This wasn’t home. A rented ground-floor flat in a block near the hospital, it was a box with three rooms: a kitchen-cum-living area with patio doors that opened onto a patch of sunless lawn bordering the road; a bedroom with a double bed pushed up against one wall, fighting for space with a single wardrobe and a lop-sided chest of drawers; and a tiny bathroom with a bath so short she couldn’t lie back in it. So unlike her flat in Exeter, with the airy rooms framed by Georgian windows, the high ceilings. The sofa she’d saved up three months’ salary for. The huge brass bedstead dressed with white linen and pale blue cushions. Her dressing table, her cosmetics piled high on it, fairy lights around the mirror. That was home. Especially when Robbo was there with her.
