The Lie. C.L. Taylor
in the distance, while the lake below, black against the glittering lights of the city, glistens in the moonlight. London couldn’t feel further away than it does right now.
I take a sip of wine then place the glass on the ground. It wobbles precariously but doesn’t tip over. I’m drunker than I thought. The sound of someone shouting along to Madonna’s “Holiday” drifts across the night air towards me. There’s a pause, a loud splash from the swimming pool, and then the singing continues. It’s Al. The laughter is all part of the act that she’s okay, just like the ceremonial burning of Simone’s photo in the firepit earlier and the solemn promise to “never, ever, get involved with a baby dyke again”. Two thousand miles away and a bottle of red wine in her hand, and she’s over the love of her life. If only it were that easy.
Leanne joins in the singing, her thin reedy tones picking out the words “holiday” and “celebrate” then falling silent for the rest of the song because she doesn’t know the words. Al laughs and Leanne laughs, Al dances and Leanne dances, Al sings and Leanne sings. Leanne does exactly the same with Daisy – it’s her M.O. She reminds me of one of those birds who jump from one rhino’s back to another, hitching a ride, pecking for food and enjoying the protection of the bigger animal.
Movement from the bushes to my right makes me glance round. The leaves at the base rustle ever so slightly as a gecko creeps out. Its padded fingers grip the ground and its bulbous eyes swivel from side to side. I stare at it, transfixed. I’ve only ever seen a gecko in the zoo before. It’s strangely beautiful and almost other-worldly with its black, unblinking eyes.
“Here you are!” Daisy comes crashing down the steps towards me, a fresh bottle of wine in one hand, a glass in the other, a blanket thrown over her arm.
“Don’t hate me, Ems!” She throws herself onto the bench beside me and wraps her right arm around my neck, pulling me into her. Red wine sloshes out of the bottle and drips down the front of my swimsuit. “I was only having a laugh.”
“I know.” I peel the bottle from her fingers and place it on the floor then untangle myself from her arm, but she continues to push the blanket into my face in a clumsy attempt to mop up the wine. “But I wish you’d stop doing it at my expense.”
“Stop being so sensitive. It’s just a bit of fun.”
“Yeah, because I loved being the punchline of my family’s jokes as a kid.” I can hear the whiny, self-pitying tone in my voice but I can’t stop myself. Daisy’s an aggressive drunk; I’m a maudlin one.
“Oh, for God’s sake.” She lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Sometimes I think Leanne’s right.”
“What about?”
“You.”
I inch away from her. “Go on.”
“No.” She peers at me. She took her contacts out earlier because they were gritty at the end of the day, and she’s too vain to wear glasses. “You’ll get pissed off.”
“Tell me.”
“No.” A smile plays on her lips as she shakes her head. She’s so drunk this conversation has become a game. She knows it’s dangerous but she can’t stop herself from playing it.
“Just tell me, Daisy.”
“Okay, okay. Fine. She thinks you can be a bit of a misery guts, sometimes. You say stuff that lowers the mood. Your parents are doctors, they’re still together, your brothers and sister are successful and you’ve got a job that pays okay even if your boss is an arsehole. Compared to what Leanne’s been through, what the rest of us have been through, you haven’t really got that much to moan about. That’s all.”
“And you agree with Leanne, do you?”
“Sometimes.”
I stare at her in bewilderment. Seven years, Daisy and I have been best friends, and this is the first time she’s said anything about me being a drama queen. Leanne’s been trying to drive a wedge between us for years, ever since we met at uni. “The three amigos”, that’s how Leanne referred to herself, Daisy and Al when they stayed up in Newcastle for the first Christmas holidays because none of them wanted to go back to their families. I wanted to stay up with them too, but Mum pulled a guilt trip on me. She told me Granny wasn’t very well and how would I feel if I missed her last Christmas because I chose to get drunk with my friends instead (Granny’s still alive and well). Leanne went out of her way to exclude me when I came back in the New Year. She invited Al and Daisy to the cinema, to club nights and to dinner parties at their halls of residence, all the while telling Daisy that she’d invited me but I’d made excuses about revision and said no. I know Leanne and Daisy have been spending more time together in London than usual because they both work flexible hours, Daisy in the pub and Leanne in the salon, and consequently they’ve been “babysitting” Al in the run-up to the holiday, but I never once thought they’d spend their time slagging me off.
“Thanks, Daisy.” I stand up. “I try and talk to you about you taking the piss out of me and you use it as an excuse to have a dig at me.”
“Stop being so bloody sensitive.” She stands up too. “And anyway, that story wasn’t about you. It was about that tosser you pulled. That’s who I was taking the piss out of. It was funny.”
“It wasn’t funny. Elliot could have been run over.”
“Elliot, was it? And there was me thinking he was some random guy who was just after a shag. He was rude and he deserved to be kicked out of the taxi. I did you a favour, Emma.”
“No, you didn’t. You kicked him out because he called you a drunken bitch. Daisy, you threatened to find out where he worked and hunt him down if he shagged me and didn’t call afterwards.”
“And?”
Her eyes glitter. There’s no reasoning with her, not when she’s like this. The evening can only go one of two ways now – she’ll either have a raging argument, or she’ll pass out. And, if I keep quiet, hopefully it’ll be the latter.
No such luck. Daisy’s on a roll now and won’t shut up. “Because he tried to snog me, you know, Emma – lovely Elliot, who you’re so keen on defending. He was all over me while you were in the toilet at Love Lies. That’s the real reason I kicked him out of the taxi, not because he called me a drunken bitch but because he was a shit and he didn’t deserve you.”
I’m just about to respond when – “Surprise!” – Al leaps from the top step and lands next to Daisy. Still soaking from the pool, she wraps Daisy in a wet bear hug, and clamps a hand to her mouth. Daisy puts up a half-hearted fight to free herself, but she and Al both know it’s in jest. Al looks across at me, and smiles. “No arguing, you two. We’re on holiday, remember? Oh! Look at that gecko.”
“What gecko?” Leanne makes her way gingerly down the steps. She pulls the grey cardigan tighter around her shoulders but it doesn’t stop her shivering. “What are you two doing? We could hear you shouting from the pool.”
“Here.” Al crouches down on the ground and reaches out a hand to the creature. The gecko speeds away and zips under the bench.
“Leave it.” Daisy tugs at the black strap of Al’s swimsuit. “Let’s get some more wine and go back in the pool.”
“I’ve never seen one of those before.” Al peers intently under the bench.
“Al!” Daisy yanks her swimsuit again, but this time she’s swatted away.
“Not now, Dais.”
The playful expression on Daisy’s face vanishes, and she twists away, wrapping her arms around herself as she turns her back to us and looks out towards the lake.
“I’m going to get my camera. Come with me and grab a blanket.” Al stands up and gestures at Leanne, who’s still standing on the bottom step, staring at us through the darkness. “You look cold.”
“Yeah.”