Page 12 of You Lied First

W hen Flynn and Liv come in, Margot’s cooking.

She’s decided to make a creamy potato dauphinois laced with garlicky sautéed mushrooms to go with her fish and salad.

The oven has heated up the kitchen to what feels like fifty degrees despite the extractor running so fast it sounds like it’s going to take off.

Under her hair, Margot’s scalp feels wet with sweat and she keeps blotting her forehead with kitchen roll.

If the others hadn’t had that stupid lunch, they’d probably be getting ready for drinks and dinner somewhere nice right now.

Maybe that Indian they used to go to. It was always nice there.

Flynn and Liv have beach towels knotted around their hips and wet hair.

‘How was the beach?’ Margot asks. ‘Try not to drip on the floor, please.’

‘Sea’s quite cold but the pool’s lovely,’ Flynn says. ‘What’s for dinner? I’m actually starving.’

‘Flynn Forrest, I swear you never stop eating. I’ve got fish. Olivia, are you hungry, too? Do you need dinner?’

‘Yes, please, Mrs Forrest. I didn’t eat much at lunch, to be honest. Fish sounds lovely. Do you need any help?’

Margot smiles. ‘No. Thank you. I’ll just throw a few extra veggies into the salad and Flynn’s dad can barbecue the fish, so no problem. Thanks for offering.’

‘Cool,’ Flynn says. ‘Babe, you go on up, I’ll be up in a minute.’

Margot’s mum-radar springs to life. Her son has been glued at the hip to Liv on this holiday.

She’s always had a very close relationship with him, but she can feel her influence starting to swing to Liv, and it gives her an unnerving feeling of being untethered.

No longer needed. She turns to face him with a soft smile.

‘You all right, darling?’

Flynn’s face creases in the way it used to when he was upset as a child. ‘Yeah. But. Well … it’s Celine,’ he says. ‘I mean, is she going to hang around with us all the time?’

Margot tries not to show her own opinion. ‘Does it bother you if she does?’

‘I just … she’s … uh, I don’t know. I just don’t think it’s right. It’s our holiday, yeah?’

‘It certainly is.’

‘So … why is she always here?’

Margot blows air out of her mouth in lieu of the words she can’t say. Because your dad wants her to be.

‘She lives here, and she’s excited to see us,’ Margot says mildly. ‘All her friends are away. She’s probably having quite a lonely time.’

‘But still.’ Flynn’s tone is petulant and Margot wonders what Celine has said or done to get under his skin like this. Nothing surprises her when it comes to their ex-neighbour.

‘Come here.’ Margot pulls Flynn into a hug, breathing in the swimming-pool smell of his skin. It takes her back to the days when he was small enough for her to squat down and envelop his whole body in a warm, dry towel after he’d been in the pool.

‘I want you to have a good holiday, too,’ Flynn says when she lets him go. ‘That’s all.’

He catches her eye, and she freezes, then quickly turns her back and checks the oven while she gathers herself.

‘Okay,’ she says. ‘Well, look, I certainly won’t be inviting her to join us for anything, but I can’t speak for your father.’

‘Exactly,’ Flynn huffs.

Margot pretends not to hear.

‘Right,’ Flynn says after a beat, ‘I’m gonna have my shower.’

‘Nice chatting!’ Margot calls to his back.

Moments later, Sara appears in the kitchen. She’s freshly dressed in a linen shorts-and-shirt two-piece that Margot recalls seeing in the sale in a shop in the Regent Arcade.

It hasn’t escaped Margot’s notice that Sara spent time with Celine this afternoon and she really doesn’t like that.

Celine knows things that Margot would rather weren’t discussed.

She tried to catch what was being said from the balcony, but only got snatches of sentences thrown on the wind.

Though she’s sure she heard her name and Guy’s name.

What was Celine telling Sara? Margot doesn’t like the idea of them talking about her.

Doesn’t like the idea of them being friends.

Paradoxically, she doesn’t like being excluded, yet she knows she can hardly expect to be included in their blossoming alliance, given how standoffish she’s being.

‘Mmm, something smells yummy,’ Sara says. ‘I can’t believe I’m hungry again. Is there enough fish for one more?’

‘Of course,’ Margot says, forcing a smile.

‘Oh, great! Because if there isn’t, I can fix myself a sandwich or something.’

‘No, it’s fine. The kids are hungry, too, and it’s best if the fish is cooked today anyway.’

‘What can I do?’ Sara asks.

Margot slides over a bunch of celery. ‘Can you dice that and mix it though the salad?’ Celine has not been invited over tonight, but Margot is sure as the sky is blue that her nemesis will turn up. Celine loathes celery and Margot just can’t help herself: small victories.

When Guy comes down and sees that Margot’s cooking for everyone, he insists – as she knew he would – on barbecuing the fish.

It’s not to do with kindness; it’s about being the centre of attention; it’s about the showmanship of producing the meal for everyone, despite the fact that it was Margot who chose the food, bought it and worked away in the sweatshop of the kitchen.

Margot gives Guy a chance to get the barbecue lit, then loads up a tray with crockery, cutlery and glasses and steps through the patio doors into the balmy evening, pausing to inhale the scent of jasmine and frangipani that have cooked all day in the gentle warmth of the winter sun.

Flynn and Liv, showered and dressed, are now sitting on the edge of the pool, their feet once again dangling in the water, ripples spreading across the surface.

Flynn turns on hearing her footsteps. ‘Hey. When’s dinner?’

‘Fish ETA five minutes,’ Guy calls from the barbecue.

‘Sara’s just setting the table if either of you want to help,’ Margot says. To their credit, both the kids haul themselves up and come to the table, painting wet footprints across the tiles as they set the places and light the candles.

‘Lay a place for Celine!’ Guy calls, and Margot screams silently. Her husband is like the bloody Pied Piper, she thinks – his group of fans and hangers-on grows by the day.

‘Sure!’ Sara says. ‘I was chatting to her by the pool this afternoon. She’s so nice! She was telling me all about her life here. It sounds amazing.’

‘I bet it does,’ Margot says. ‘What else did she say?’

‘Oh, nothing much. Just girl chat, you know how it is.’

Margot wishes she did. She glances at Celine’s villa.

Like the others around the pool, it’s cast in darkness and that gives her some cause for hope: maybe Celine’s gone out.

She goes back into the kitchen and brings out the salad.

Liv and Flynn take their seats at the table while Sara lingers, looking to see if anything else needs doing, and making sure she doesn’t sit before Margot does.

Margot understands why she’s doing that, but it still irritates her.

She could do without the pressure of being the hostess.

‘Thanks, Sara. I think that’s everything.

’ Margot sinks into a chair. She wishes she could bottle the heady evening scent of the plants and take it back to Cheltenham with her.

She misses this place so much her chest actually aches, and the familiar resentment about having to leave rolls over her again.

She reaches for the wine Guy got this afternoon via Tom and pours herself a generous glass.

‘Right! Grub’s up!’ Guy calls as he slides the grilled sheri onto a serving plate and brings it over. He looks around.

‘What, no Celine?’ He sounds disappointed, as if it won’t be a decent evening without her. As if the people already there are worthless.

‘Her lights are off,’ Margot says placidly, ‘so maybe not.’

She exchanges a quick glance with Flynn and they smile.

‘Let’s dig in,’ Guy says, and then Margot hears it:

‘Yoo-hoo, guys! Got space for a little one?’