Page 15 of You Lied First
W ith the pool and villa to myself for most of the day, I’m a pig in clover.
For a few hours, I don’t need to be the perfect houseguest; I don’t need to worry about stepping on toes, offending egos, making faux pas and worrying about what Margot thinks of me.
I find a local English-language radio station and boogie around the kitchen as I make breakfast, pretending to myself that the villa with the glittering pool is mine – that the life here in the gorgeous sunshine is all mine, mine, mine.
And maybe it could be! I’ve always hated the dank greyness of the British winter, the short days, and the endless rain that leaves everything wet for weeks at a time.
Maybe I could make this work. I do some visualising, trying to send a message out to the universe that I’d be open to life in Oman.
Maybe Liv would come with me once she finishes school.
They must have universities here. I smile to myself as I think about Michael taking that and shoving it in his six-holidays-a-year pipe.
I see that Margot’s bought some flour and we have milk, sugar and eggs, so I whisk up some batter and make a stack of pancakes which are just about ready as Liv and Flynn come down. I haven’t been this domesticated in years, and the pancake recipe is a bit hit-and-miss but who’s watching?
‘Ta-da! Breakfast’s ready – if you fancy some,’ I say, and the look on Liv’s face is one I know I’ll cherish. Selfishly, I hope news of the wonderful pancakes I made for the teens filters back to Margot.
‘Oh, wow, thanks,’ Liv says. ‘Flynn loves pancakes!’
‘Great! What do you have on them?’ I ask. ‘We don’t have syrup but there’s Greek yoghurt, bananas and blueberries. Oh, and dates?’
‘Amazing,’ Flynn says. ‘A bit of everything, maybe?’ As they both sit down and start helping themselves – and I whip out all the fruit and start slicing bananas and pass over the Greek yoghurt – I experience for the first time in forever what a joy it is to feed people who want to eat.
I can be a good mum. I know I can. I just need to be given the chance.
Maybe it’s true what they say: the way to someone’s heart is through their stomach.
Well, with Liv, maybe it’s through her boyfriend’s stomach, but at least I’ve had another chance to impress her.
When their taxi comes, I wish the kids a fun time at Marah Land and start clearing up the kitchen.
I’m tempted to leave it till later since I know Margot will be out all day, but the thought of the look she’d give me if she came back to a messy kitchen is enough to motivate me.
Before long, I’m stretched out on my towel on a lounger by the pool, thinking how wonderful it would be to have this as an everyday thing.
Imagine getting up in the morning and being able to have a swim before breakfast! Imagine the weekends lying by the pool!
I lose myself in my book, make a sandwich for lunch, and continue my day by the pool.
Who needs the expense of The Chedi when you have this in your backyard?
People who have money never seem to ask themselves if there’s a perfectly good, free option for what they want to do.
What will Margot be doing over there? Exactly what I’m doing here, but for loads of money.
That thought gets me wondering what she thought when I didn’t offer to go with her.
Did she think I was being a cheapskate? Or that I was giving her space?
I’ve moved from being slightly scared of her to feeling like I might want, maybe, to be friends with her.
If things continue with Flynn and Liv, Margot and I will be seeing a lot of each other in the coming years.
But Celine’s words about me being on Margot’s radar have rattled me – now I feel I need to prove to Margot that there’s absolutely nothing between Guy and me.
Speaking of which, perhaps I should have just gone with her to The Chedi, after all?
Was she waiting for me to offer? Or being polite and not inviting me in case I couldn’t afford it?
For a counsellor, I sometimes surprise myself with how socially inept I can be.
‘Yoo-hoo! Sara!’
In one movement, I scramble to sit up, get my sunglasses over my eyes and arrange my legs in the most flattering pose I can think of, like I’m modelling for a magazine cover.
As I do so, I notice that the sun is significantly lower in the sky.
I must have fallen asleep. My skin feels hot. I bet I’m red as a beetroot.
‘Celine! Hi! Oh, and hello, Guy!’
They both stand over me, blocking out the sun.
‘Had a good day?’ I ask. ‘How was golf?’
They look at each other.
‘Great,’ says Guy. ‘Celine was at a loose end, so I persuaded her to join me.’
‘Oh, nice,’ I say. ‘I didn’t know you played.’
She laughs. ‘I hacked my way around to keep him company. He hates playing alone. Anyway, “Celine says” we’ve earned a glass of wine, so how about you fetch us all one, G?’
‘Amen to that,’ he says. ‘I’m on it.’ As he disappears off into the villa, Celine sits on the lounger next to me. She stretches her fingers out and looks at her nails.
‘By the way, look, it’s nothing suspicious or anything, but maybe best not to mention to Margot that I was with Guy today.’
I take a moment before I reply because the funny thing is, I hadn’t been suspicious.
Yes, a part of me wondered how they ended up playing together, though it really is none of my business.
But now it sounds entirely like she’s covering something up.
My mind rewinds at high speed through the times I’ve seen them together: is there something going on between these two? Has there ever been?
‘Of course,’ I say. ‘But – should I be suspicious?’
Celine closes her eyes and puffs out a little air. It seems as if she’s not going to say anything else, so I wait. I know that silence is often rewarded with further elaboration, and I am not wrong.
‘Who, in such a long marriage, is actually happy?’ she says eventually. ‘Show me that person, and I’ll show you a liar.’ She laughs and looks towards the villa.
Ouch, I think. Messy.