Lie With Me Read Online Free Page B

Greek thing, I was a mess then. It was what – eight years ago?’
    ‘Ten.’
    ‘It’s not a period in my life I’m proud of. We’d been on one of those booze cruises. I lost my friends; the boat left the port without me. And then I bumped into Andrew and luckily he helped me out. But I’ll be straight with you – the details are, to this day, rather hazy.’
    ‘Do you want me to tell you what I remember?’
    ‘If you must.’
    She laughed. ‘You burst into the taverna where we were having dinner. You were wearing a purple T-shirt that said “Zeus Nightclub” on it. You were shouting and being rude. You started singing.’
    ‘Was I?’ I winced. I was encouraged by the fact she seemed to find it funny. ‘Zeus, yes. I remember that T-shirt. And . . . singing . . . singing was never my strong point.’
    ‘Andrew sorted you a taxi. Poured you into it: I think that’s how he put it.’
    ‘Andrew is a gentleman.’
    A shout of noise from the kitchen. Alice took a last look at her stub of cigarette and flicked it into the flower bed. She was wearing a little purple cardigan, the sort of thing an old lady might wear, and she pulled it together at the neck. Her face grew suddenly serious. ‘Every detail of that night is etched on my memory. I remember everything. It was such a terrible time.’
    ‘I heard. Your husband . . .’
    ‘I don’t mean Harry.’ She shook her head, let out a small, bitter laugh. ‘He died the year before. No. I mean that night, the night Jasmine went missing.’
    If I searched hard enough, somewhere in the murky depths of my mind I could find what she was talking about, but it was just scraps, oddments, broken trails.
    ‘Remind me,’ I said.
    Alice frowned. ‘Jasmine. Jasmine Hurley. You were there. Poor Yvonne, her mother. God.’ She let go of the cardigan and her hands waved in the air, fingers tense. ‘It was in the papers. You must have heard about it the next day, read about it. Where were you staying? Elconda? Even the Pyros police, who were hopeless from the beginning, would have taken their enquiries at least down there . . . Surely you remember.’
    I bowed my head, embarrassed, as ever, to be found emotionally wanting. She had prodded my memory, though the details were still vague – a teenager who ran off, a single mother, a dodgy boyfriend? ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ I said. ‘I do. I’m sorry.’
    She rested the fingers of one hand on the bridge of her nose. I patted her shoulder, putting as much anguish and concern into my face as I could muster. I was keen to get back inside now. It wasn’t just the cold. I was feeling inadequate, and also nettled – the two emotions merging and doing each other no favours.
    Through the cross-hatch of shrubbery, lights flickered from the kitchen. Andrew was walking around the table, the decanter in his hand glinting. Tina had crossed to the other side of the room, and was bending to lift a bowl – trifle? – out of the fridge. Boo had her arms in the air: she was trying to take off her cardigan and she’d got her top tangled with it. I caught a flash of skin and bra strap.
    A high-pitched chirrup brought my attention back to Alice. She wiped her eyes and wriggled her mobile phone out of the front pocket of her jeans.
    ‘Phoebe – my eldest – wanting to be picked up from a party,’ she said, studying it. ‘Well, she’ll have to get the night bus. I’ve had far too much to drink.’
    She tapped a quick text, saying as she did so: ‘Honestly, she’s nearly eighteen and about to leave home. You’d think she’d have learnt a bit of independence.’ She slipped the phone back into her pocket, angling her hip forward to make it easier. ‘Though God knows what I’m going to do when she’s gone. I can’t walk past her room without imagining it empty.’
    She shivered, hunching her shoulders together and rubbing her lower arm. ‘I suppose we’d better go back in.’
    ‘Let’s see your phone again,’ I