Lies Love Tells (Eastcove Lies Book 1) Read online

  21.30

  ‘I must make a move.’ Smith, once again, left me on the floor alone.

  ‘Is that the real reason you wanted me to change my shift? Because you have somewhere else to be tonight?’

  Smith grinned wolfishly. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Will you come to mine later this evening?’

  Smith avoided my eyes. ‘I can’t.’

  My clothes were strewn over the chairs in his office. I retrieved them and crossly put my trousers on the wrong way around. Smith laughed. Ignoring him, I tugged them off and slipped them back on properly. ‘I don’t know why I bother with you.’

  Smith loped over to me and curled his arms around my waist, stooping to kiss me on the tip of my nose. ‘Because I’m irresistible,’ he murmured.

  ‘Cocky more like.’

  Smith laughed. ‘Whatever. You love it.’

  No, I added silently, I love you. Shock froze me. Where had that thought snuck up from?

  ‘Are you okay?’ Smith gazed at me, concern in his eyes.

  My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as if it were an ice-sculpture. ‘Sure,’ I squawked, my voice sounding odd, even to myself.

  ‘You look a bit pale.’

  Yes, because I just realised I love you. You, who uses me for sex. ‘I’m fine.’ My voice still came out strangled. ‘I’ll leave you to lock your office.’ I skirted out of his grasp and scurried to the door.

  ‘You’re still okay to work tomorrow evening, aren’t you?’ Smith asked.

  Opening the door, I nodded mutely before waggling my fingers at him and departing. I didn’t trust myself to speak. I couldn’t risk losing Smith by admitting I was in love with him. The feeling was sure to pass, wasn’t it?

  ***

  Tuesday, 14th September, 1999

  08.30

  Had a mouse crept into my mouth while I had slept, and died? My rough tongue rasped against my cracked lips. It was light outside but the curtains were drawn. Shakily, I eased my legs over the edge of the bed and padded, bleary eyed, to the bathroom. My head pounded. The toothpaste tasted like alcoholic cheese and onion crisps, answering my question as to why my mouth was well-furred. Too much alcohol and stinky crisps the night before. I groaned at my reflection in the bathroom mirror as drizzles of memory returned.

  Aghast I lowered my gaze from the mirror down to my body. Why was I wearing a body-stocking? Why was the lace laddered and ripped?

  Drying my mouth on the back of my hand, I stumbled to the bedroom and stopped dead at the sight of my rumpled bed. Under the duvet was an immobile form, sporadically emitting tiny snores. I gulped and tiptoed to the bed, reaching for the covers.

  Please let it be Smith, please let it be Smith.

  ‘Hi ya, babe!’ Mr Him sleepily rubbed his eyes. ‘Any chance of a cup of tea? Milk and two sugars.’

  Shame rushed at me, filling my ears with its words. What a fool I had been! ‘I’m supposed to be at “Viola’s” in fifteen minutes,’ I lied.

  ‘This early?’ Mr Him’s fake-tanned torso shot up. ‘Are you just trying to get rid of me?’

  I shook my head. Yes, yes, yes! ‘No really, it’s for a training thing.’ What a monumental screw-up.

  ‘Whatever.’ He tossed the covers aside and eased off the bed.

  Mr Him still had his white socks on but was otherwise naked. I tried not to shudder as he sauntered over and pressed his body against mine.

  ‘You were a firecracker last night, babe.’ His breath smelt of stale cigarettes and lager. ‘Sorry I passed out straight after the fun.’ He pinched my nipple. ‘Nice little fun-bags you have there!’

  I couldn’t even remember getting into bed with him in the first place, let alone having sex with him. I turned away to hide my blazing cheeks and reached for my dressing gown as slivers of memories returned. Yup, had definitely had sex with him. Because I’d felt lonely and wanted someone to spend the night with me. One name bounced around in my head. Smith.

  Mr Him rummaged on the floor for his clothes. ‘Can I see you later?’

  ‘Maybe.’ No! No!

  Now fully dressed, he twisted me to face him and kissed me again. ‘You and me, babe, we have a connection.’

  I struggled to think what it was. All I could think of was Smith and how it should’ve been him standing before me. ‘I’m working this evening.’

  Mr Him shrugged easily. ‘I’m off on holiday tomorrow with some of the lads from work, I’ll call you when I’m back.’

  I nodded and followed him to the front door.

  ‘Oh,’ he said before I closed the door. ‘You are on the pill, aren’t you? It’s just I know I didn’t have a condom in my wallet and normally when I pass out like I did last night, I’d still be wearing it.’ He erupted into a fit of laughter punctured with bursts of coughing.

  I watched, immobilized, as without a care, he sauntered to the front gate and waved goodbye, lighting a cigarette up on his way. I slammed the door shut and flew up the stairs to the bedroom. I couldn’t have been so irresponsible could I? Yanking the covers off the bed, my heart leapt into my throat. Nothing. Not even a tissue. I flung myself to the floor and peered under the bed. There was something there. Triumphantly I reached under and picked it up. I clutched it happily to my chest before I remembered exactly what it was and shrieked in disgust.

  ***

  Thursday, 30th September, 1999

  20.30

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Mr Him remarked as soon as I’d opened the front door to him, his face glowing tarnished-teak from his holiday. ‘You look like you’ve done ten rounds in the boxing ring.’

  Self-consciously I patted my tender eyes. Ten rounds in the boxing ring would’ve been preferable to the truth. After the time I’d realised I was in love with him, Smith had suddenly changed my shifts from evenings to mid-mornings and we no longer saw each other at the end of each evening. He hadn’t given me an explanation, the only thing he had succeeded in giving me were sore eyes from all of the crying over him.

  Mr Him ushered me back inside and led me to the sofa. ‘Sit down,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll put the kettle on and you can put your feet up.’

  Wearily, I smiled my thanks and sank into the squishy sofa.

  ‘I’ll just take a piss first,’ Mr Him called from the hallway.

  My fuddled brain began clunking into action, reminding me why the tears had been all the more violent in the past hour.

  ‘What’s this?’ Mr Him suddenly appeared in the doorway.

  I peered at the small, white plastic stick in his hand and gulped. Too late.

  ‘Are you pregnant?’

  I nodded slowly.

  Mr Him’s face lit up and he actually jumped up and down. ‘Fantastic! I’ve always wanted to be a dad. I can’t believe this is happening to me! I’m going to look after you and the baby, just you wait and see. I’ll do everything I can to make sure the baby doesn’t want for anything in its life, not like me… my old man was a right tight bastard but I won’t be anything like him. Oh, Saze, this is brilliant!’

  My energy having deserted me, I wondered when would be a good time to tell him the baby wasn’t his.

  Mr Him withdrew a mobile phone from his pocket and tapped out some numbers. ‘Mum?’ His voice rose to glass-shattering levels. ‘I’m going to be a dad!’

  I groaned; what a mess. Smith was going to be a father. The trouble was he didn’t know it and I didn’t know how to tell him.

  22:15

  ‘I can’t believe you let me tell my mum I was going to be a dad!’ Mr Him’s face contorted furiously. ‘What’s wrong with you? Are you some kind of sicko?’

  I peeked out at him from between my fingers. Yikes, he’d been yelling at me for nearly two hours. I’d only had sex with the idiot the once, I didn’t want to imagine what he’d be like if we’d actually been an item before this fiasco happened. Was it my fault he’d put two and two together and come up with thirty-six? He hadn’t even had the sense to ask how late my period was. It had been on th
e 2nd of August, which meant I could be about seven weeks pregnant. No wonder my jeans had been feeling a little tight. I’d assumed it was because of all the bread I’d been baking (and scoffing) lately. Smith hadn’t commented on my waistline but then again, my waist wasn’t the thing which had interested him whenever we’d been naked together.

  ‘You’re not even listening to me!’ Mr Him howled.

  Cautiously, I lowered my hands and peered up at Mr Him. He paced the room like a caged animal. His clenched fists at his sides bore white knuckles, and red blotches erupted over his face.

  ‘I never said the baby was yours.’

  Mr Him exploded into a high pitched wail. ‘How many other men have you been shagging?’

  ‘Pardon?’ I asked, offended. One night stands were supposed to be easy; trust me to have ended up with the one who wouldn’t let it go.

  Mr Him pounded over to where I sat on the sofa and glared down at me. ‘You’ve obviously been putting it about.’

  ‘What?’

  Mr Him’s face turned progressively redder. ‘I’m right, aren’t I? You’re nothing but a common tart—’

  Thankful to hear the ringing of the doorbell, I jumped up and scarpered in the direction of the front door.

  ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ Mr Him wailed. ‘What’s your boss doing here?’

  Smith strode into the lounge and ran an interested glance over Mr Him. ‘Ah,’ he mused. ‘The man who didn’t want to tell me his name.’ His lips twitched.

  Mr Him muttered something under his breath. ‘Is he the father then?’ he demanded. ‘As I’m obviously not.’

  Smith frowned. ‘Saze, is there something I need to know?’

  Mr Him stomped past Smith and out into the hallway. ‘I dunno, mate, I wouldn’t trust her. I thought we had a thing then I find out she preggers and not by me.’ He wrenched the front door open so hard its handle crashed against the wall and embedded into the plasterwork. ‘I’d ask for a paternity test if I were you.’ He threw a disgusted look at me. ‘I hope you’re happy you broke my mum’s heart. She’ll probably have a stroke when I tell her you lied to me!’

  I watched Mr Him storm down the garden path. ‘I never told you the baby was yours, you just assumed!’ I screamed after him.

  Mr Him slammed the front gate behind him, flicked me the finger and stomped off.

  ‘Saze?’

  I’d momentarily forgotten about Smith. I must have swayed on my feet because he steadied me. ‘Let’s get you inside.’

  I wondered why he had suddenly materialised at my house but most of all I wondered how he would react to my news.

  22.45

  I was on the sofa, hugging my knees to my chest when Smith brought in two mugs of steaming coffee. Silently, I watched him pull the tiny coffee table in front of the sofa and carefully lay out two cup mats. He placed the mugs on the mats and straightened back up, absentmindedly rubbing his chin; a habit I’d always found cute.

  His back was to me when he finally spoke. ‘I’m not going to ask if the baby is mine,’ he began. ‘Because I know it is. I assume it was a one-time event with that other wanker.’

  I nodded in dismay, a lone tear meandering its way down my cheek. ‘Yes,’ I replied in a small voice, realising he couldn’t see me.

  ‘I thought we’d been safe.’ Smith’s shoulders stiffened.

  ‘Uh-uh.’ I didn’t trust myself to speak for fear of releasing a torrent of tears. More than anything I wanted to touch Smith. Instead I settled for squeezing my knees all the harder.

  ‘I hadn’t expected this.’ Smith slowly turned to face me.

  I couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. ‘Neither had I!’ I gulped. ‘I’m nineteen!’

  Smith rubbed his chin again and a small part of me wanted to slap his face, while the rest of me wanted to scream out how much I loved him.

  ‘Exactly,’ Smith replied slowly. ‘You have your whole life ahead of you. I’m older than you, I’m not right for you.’

  You are, you are! I thought. ‘It’s only twelve years,’ I pointed out. ‘You’re only thirty-one, that’s not old.’ My voice sounded needy but I couldn’t help it.

  Smith knelt on the sofa next to me, his knees pressing against my thigh. ‘Oh, Saze.’ He stroked my face. ‘Are you sure you want to keep it?’

  ‘What?’ I jumped to my feet, knocking him off the sofa in the process. ‘How dare you?’ Tears threatened to rip though my eyelids.

  Smith clambered to his feet and smoothed his shirt down. ‘It’s just you’re so young…’ His voice trailed off and he looked at me helplessly.

  My own voice wobbled. ‘Don’t worry; I won’t push my baby onto you. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of the both of us myself!’ Angrily, I turned away as tears spurted from my eyes. ‘Get out… go on, piss off!’

  I raced from the room and into the kitchen, hastily pulling tissues from the box in the drawer to blow my runny nose on. There was no response from Smith. The silence only made my tears all the stronger and I broke into gulping wails and sobs. I felt a touch at my waist and jumped.

  Smith twisted me to face him and pulled a tissue from the box. Gently, he dabbed my face and eyes dry before drawing me close and smothering me with kisses. ‘I never said I didn’t want the baby,’ he said between kisses. ‘It’s just a surprise, that’s all. I don’t want you to feel you have to be with me. I want you to be with me because you want to, not have to.’

  ‘I love you!’ The words blurted free of their own accord. ‘I want to be with you.’

  Smith kissed me again. ‘I love you, too, Saze, so very much it scares me at times. No-one else has ever made me feel this way. That’s why I push you away, I’m scared you’ll realise I’m too old for you and leave me heartbroken.’

  I laughed. ‘Smith Rowan, hopeless romantic, who’d have guessed! I’ll never break your heart.’

  ***

  Friday, 29th October, 1999

  06.45

  ‘Leave her to rest, love.’ The kindly nurse touched Smith on the arm. ‘How about you take yourself to the café for a cuppa?’

  Shadows bulged grey underneath Smith’s eyes. The dark prickle of stubble peppered his jaw and I could hear its coarseness as he anxiously rubbed his chin. He lowered his face to mine but I turned away. How could I let him kiss me?

  I had failed.

  Our baby was lost.

  I couldn’t even cry.

  There was a huge emptiness inside.

  Smith plodded despondently from the room, pausing at the door to smile at me. Again, I turned away from him. Only when the anguish of his heartfelt sigh flooded my ears did I cry. For the baby we would never know, for Smith himself, and for me. It had all been too fleeting. For a short time I’d had a baby and an adoring boyfriend.

  Now all I had was an angry desolation.

  We weren’t even allowed a birth certificate because I’d only carried my baby for about twelve weeks. It was like our little baby had never existed. Except my baby had. I had carried, cared for, loved, spoken to, and sung to my baby. Then my body had let me down and I’d ended up breaking Smith’s heart anyway even though I’d promised I wouldn’t. I didn’t deserve him. If I couldn’t have our baby, I couldn’t have Smith.

  ***

  Friday, 17th March, 2000

  ‘I could murder a cup of tea.’ The snoring bulk snuggled under the quilt finally awoke.

  I sighed quietly, slipping the strap of my handbag over my shoulder. I had hoped to have left by now. ‘It’s not my kitchen.’

  Tanned arms stretched from under the covers and a sleep-creased face peered out. ‘But you know your way around it. It isn’t your first time here. If I remember properly, you were in this bed last Wednesday.’

  And the sheets still hadn’t been changed since. ‘Sorry, I’ve got to go.’ I made my way towards the bedroom door.

  Mr Him tossed the covers aside, jumped out of his bed and padded after me. ‘You can stay this morning. We could share a shower. I’ll
soap you, you can soap me.’

  I paused, my hand hovering over the lock on the flat door. Plastering a smile across my face I turned back to face him. Yikes, could I ever get used to those white socks and tanned, naked body? ‘I really do have to go. I have an interview at “Masons Advisors” in an hour. I must go home and change.’

  Mr Him stretched his arms above his head, curving his torso backwards and thrusting his shaved pubic area towards me. ‘How about hooking up this evening?’ He straightened up before pinning me to the door.

  I tried not to shudder as he pressed his nakedness against my pale pink dress. I slipped under his arms and forcefully opened the flat door. ‘Maybe.’

  The street outside was already busy even though it was barely seven. I wished I’d worn a jacket out last night. It was a cold morning and goose-pimples prickled my arms. Why had I ended up with Mr Him again? It had become a regular bad habit and one I needed to break, fast.

  A thought of Smith crept into my head and I forced it out. I didn’t even deserve to think about him. I’d let him down. I’d failed. I held in the tears that always came whenever I thought of Smith. With every thought of him, every memory, a little crack appeared in my heart. Besides he’d probably moved on with his life by now.

  I thought of Mr Him with his white socks and shaven head. Mr Him was cocky, demanding, and more than a little petulant. Lately I had noticed a shift in his attitude towards me. He didn’t seem to like me speaking to any other males but I knew many of his friends were female so it all felt rather one-sided.

  I wove hurriedly down the street, darting between people setting off for work and flowing in the opposite direction to me, and tried to pull my thoughts together. This thing with Mr Him was really nothing more than a thing. Nothing to worry about. Slightly cheered by the realisation I could stop torturing myself and stop drunkenly falling into bed with a white-sock-wearing-tanaholic-weirdly-hairless-ignoramus any time I wanted, I nipped into the little newsagent on the corner of Mr Him’s street and picked up a local paper.