Page 2 of You Lied First
M argot slides the French door back and steps out onto the balcony, breathing in the heady botanical scent of the garden, which mixes with the familiar scent of chlorinated water warmed by the sun.
She runs a finger along the balcony guard rail and absently notes the pale coating of dust – not her problem this time.
Below her, the light dances on the surface of the pool and she watches as Flynn and Liv flick off their shoes and dip their toes in the water, exclaiming with pleasure when they discover the water’s heated.
Seeing her son down there takes her back to the times she used to spend on the balcony of the adjacent house, as she watched Guy in the pool with a much younger Flynn.
Her ‘boys’ had been so close when Flynn was growing up.
Margot, as a stay-at-home mum who spent every waking hour – and often the sleeping ones, too – with Flynn attached to her, had been very conscious of making space for father and son to spend time alone together for the scant few hours a week that Guy was home from work.
But that hadn’t meant she hadn’t kept a watchful eye.
While they roughhoused in the pool, she’d bring a book and a glass of iced mint-lemonade up to the balcony and pretend to read while discretely making sure Guy didn’t throw their son too far, too hard, too deep.
Flynn’s screams of joy would bounce off the walls of the surrounding villas, causing her to worry that the noise was a nuisance to their childless neighbours.
In those days, Flynn couldn’t get enough of his father’s attention.
She wonders when they lost that closeness.
Had the shift been so insidious that she hadn’t noticed it happening?
Now, her eyes move to the villa directly opposite.
All the doors and windows are closed. It’s impossible to tell if it’s occupied, let alone by whom.
Sweat beads on her hairline and she wipes it away with the back of her hand.
It’s the warmest part of the day and the balcony’s in the full glare of the white-hot sun.
She turns back to the bedroom and dials the air conditioning as low as it’ll go.
It’s nice to be in Oman. But here? She’s disappointed.
Yes, it’s a lovely villa; yes, they used to live here; and yes, until the end, they were largely happy here but, when Guy had told her he was going to surprise her with the accommodation, she’d pictured a five-star beach hotel with a spa, not self-catering in the compound where they used to live.
Guy’s reasons for wanting to come back might be oblique, but right now the bigger question she faces is whether any of their old neighbours are still here.
Margot very deliberately lost touch with them and is in absolutely no hurry to reacquaint herself.
Back in the room, she tries to stifle her huffs as she unpacks her things.
‘Oops,’ Guy says, appearing suddenly behind Margot. ‘Think I just put my foot in it.’
‘How?’ Margot shakes out her clothes as she hangs them, hoping that any creases will vanish, and she won’t have to resort to using her travel steamer. Under her baseball cap, her hair feels rank. The clothes she’d put on at home the previous day are too warm, and she’s hanging for a shower.
‘I think Sara thought Liv would be in a separate room to Flynn.’
Margot winces. ‘Ouch.’
‘Well, if she didn’t know before, she does now,’ Guy says. He unlocks his case and starts making piles of clothes on the bed. He’s a fastidious packer and an even more fastidious unpacker, a quirk that contradicts his usual laissez-faire attitude to life.
‘I’d love to know why Olivia doesn’t live with her mum,’ Margot says.
‘I know they say it’s because the dad’s house is bigger and he works from home so he’s around more, but it’s odd, isn’t it?
That she doesn’t live with her mum? Especially a girl at that age.
I’m sure there’s more to it. Something must have happened. ’
Guy waves his hand dismissively. ‘I’m sure it’s all very civilised or Liv wouldn’t have wanted her mum to join us.
’ He opens his side of the wardrobes, wipes the surface with a tissue, then lines up his T-shirts in a stack on the shelf with the precision of a civil engineer. ‘It’s none of our business, really.’
‘Well, I hope they keep it civil while they’re here,’ Margot says. ‘I don’t have the headspace for drama. It’s our holiday, too. Did you bring a proper shirt in case we go somewhere smart?’
‘Mar, please stop worrying. Everything will be fine. You saw how excited Flynn was when Liv agreed to come. And, yes, I did bring a shirt. Two, actually. And shoes.’
Margot turns away. She’s used to being the only woman in her son’s life – the sun around which his love orbits – and adjusting to Liv’s encroachment is not easy.
‘Let’s try to remember it’s supposed to be a family holiday,’ she says. ‘Happy families – okay?’ She gives Guy a bright smile then turns away but his fingers land on her sinewy shoulders, massaging them from behind. She stills under his touch.
‘I’m actually looking forward to getting to know the mother of our son’s girlfriend,’ Guy says.
‘Liv is lovely so I’m sure Sara will be as well.
Also, as I said when we discussed this ad infinitum , I thought it would be nice for you to have the extra female company – to not be outnumbered by men as usual.
It’s going to be fine. No – it’s going to be better than that – it’s going to be fantastic ! ’
They both turn as Flynn thuds into the room, shadowed by Liv. ‘Mum! I saw it! Our old villa. It looks just the same!’
‘Glad to hear it hasn’t been sucked into a third dimension,’ Guy says. ‘Especially given we’re right next door.’
‘Where are we sleeping? My old room?’ Flynn nods his head towards the room Sara’s in.
He hooks his fingers over the door frame, showing off the full extent of his six-foot height as he stretches his shoulders revealing a couple of inches of taut, muscled abs.
When the Forrests had left five years ago, he’d not been able to reach the frame at all.
‘Liv’s mum’s in there, so either of the front bedrooms,’ Margot says.
Liv is standing shyly behind Flynn. ‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘And thank you for inviting us. It’s very kind of you, Mr and Mrs Forrest.’
Margot smiles benignly. ‘You’re welcome, Olivia. It’s a pleasure to have you here.’ She searches to find it in herself to ask the girl to call her by her first name, but she can’t, not yet.
‘So what’s the plan?’ Flynn asks. ‘Swimming? Food? Both?’
‘Do you ever stop eating?’ Margot says. ‘We ate practically the entire way over here.’
‘I don’t know about you, but I could do with a nap,’ Guy says.
‘How were the beds on the plane?’ Liv asks, her eyes alight.
There’d been much excitement about the Forrests being in business class on the Birmingham to Dubai leg of the trip; a lot of oohing and aahing over the lie-flat beds, the privacy and the comfort of the A380 aircraft.
Guy had asked Margot if they should upgrade Liv and Sara to join them, but Margot had sunk that idea as quickly as it had surfaced – and she hadn’t felt guilty even when she’d seen how tired and crumpled Sara had looked in Dubai airport this morning.
‘Flynn’s father was far too busy propping up the bar to sleep,’ Margot says.
‘Free-flowing champagne!’ Guy smiles with a wink that makes Liv giggle. ‘I mean, what kind of human being would waste their time sleeping?’
One who wasn’t busy flirting with the cabin crew, that’s who, Margot thinks.