Page 20 of You Lied First

I don’t know how Guy arranges it, but by mid-afternoon the following day, our group is in possession of three tents, bedding, enough food and drink to feed a starving army, a camping stove, cooking equipment, head torches, two Land Cruisers, a quad bike on a trailer, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.

I bite my lip as I look at the assembled gear. It’s only for one night.

‘I’ll pull the trailer,’ Margot says. She’s been quiet all morning, but I put it down to the fact that she’s been getting together all the kitchen supplies we need.

I tried to help her but, with no idea what we’ll need, I’m only as good as the orders I’m given, and I get the impression that Margot prefers to do it alone.

Flynn leads Liv to Margot’s car, so I get into the other one with Celine and Guy and, before you can say yalla , we’re bowling through Muscat towards a road that slices through different mountains than the ones we drove through the other day.

The mood in the car is upbeat and carefree with Celine’s phone playlist connected to the audio, Guy beat-boxing like a YouTube rapper and all of us singing along, and it makes me realise how much I’ve been tiptoeing around Margot.

‘It’s not the most picturesque drive,’ Guy says, ‘but it shouldn’t take more than two hours, especially if Margot keeps up.’

‘It might not be chocolate-box pretty,’ I say, looking at the scraggy mountains, ‘but it’s very striking. And so alien to me. I don’t drive through mountains very often.’

‘I don’t suppose you do,’ Guy says. I don’t think he means to put me down, but I feel gauche because I remember Liv telling me that the Forrests drive down to the Alps each year to ski.

As we leave the town behind us, the traffic quietens.

Guy settles back in his seat, leaving only one hand loosely on the wheel, which makes me feel a little uneasy at 120 kph, but I tell myself that he knows what he’s doing.

Ahead of us, the six-lane road snakes through grey mountains.

We pass a quarry and an oasis of palm trees.

We speed past the odd truck and several low-slung sedans with number plates written in Arabic, and then, when I see a sign to a prison, Guy exits that road and joins a different one.

Celine turns the music down. ‘So, I know you two met through your kids, but did you ever come across each other before that? At the school gate or events or anything?’

I smile to myself. The closest I’d got to the Forrest family before the teens had fallen in love was reading the article about Margot’s Mansions in The Cheltenham Post .

Even now, on the very rare occasions I drop Liv off at school, I might see Flynn climbing out of a navy Range Rover and catch a glimpse of Margot’s cap of ice-blonde hair through the window, but that’s about it.

‘No,’ I say.

‘I’d seen Sara around,’ Guy says, ‘but our paths hadn’t properly crossed, had they?’

‘Nope. Not really.’ I suspect Guy’s lying, but I appreciate the kindness. ‘I’m not there much, to be honest.’

‘Don’t you all go for coffees or something after drop-off? Or tennis mornings?’ Celine asks. ‘The mums at my school are always yacking in the coffee shop.’

‘It’s not like that at secondary school,’ I say. ‘Most of the kids get there independently.’

‘Of course, and am I right in thinking that Liv doesn’t live with you? So you wouldn’t be doing drop-off anyway.’

‘Mmm-hmm,’ I say.

‘So tell me about that!’ she says. ‘I’m fascinated. Why him and not you? If you don’t mind me asking.’

‘Oh, it’s nothing, really,’ I say. ‘We got divorced and, well, his house is bigger than mine and I was busy studying for my counselling qualifications and out at work, while he works from home, so we just thought it made sense, really. He’s around more than I would be. I see Liv on the weekends.’

‘Really? It’s just because his house is bigger?’ Celine asks, shaking her head. ‘Don’t you miss her? Wouldn’t you want her with you as much of the time as possible?’

‘Celine,’ Guy says in a warning tone.

She throws her hands up and gives me a grin. ‘Sorry. I just find it interesting. Not having kids myself, it’s hard to imagine.’

‘Well, anyway. Just think,’ Guy says, ‘if Liv and Flynn hadn’t locked eyes across a crowded chemistry lab or something, we wouldn’t be here now. So I’m grateful to the little shit for that.’

We all laugh.

‘And how’s Margot’s dad?’ Celine says. ‘She wasn’t very forthcoming when I asked her. I hope he’s all right?’ She’s got her feet up on the dashboard, a portrait of relaxed.

Guy pretends to scream. ‘He’s Margot’s dad, that’s how he is. Living in the fanciest old people’s home you’ve ever seen, with an indoor swimming pool and a gym, and refusing to consider moving anywhere else, even though he knows how much it’s costing me.’

‘Ouch,’ Celine says. ‘Couldn’t he live with you?’ She turns back and gives me a wink. I lean forward a little so I don’t miss what Guy says.

‘Nope. No way. And, furthermore, Margot thinks that if we try to move him anywhere else, he’ll take himself off to Dignitas.’

‘And you wouldn’t let him?’ Celine says cheekily. ‘I mean …’ She shrugs one shoulder and bites her lip.

Guy laughs. ‘Much as I might be on board with that plan, you can imagine that Margot isn’t.

So, yes, the upshot is we continue ploughing recklessly through money that should have been my retirement fund.

And that, Celine, is the answer to the question of how Margot’s dad is: ridiculously healthy and bloody annoying. ’

The topic moves on, so I tune out and let my mind drift on to what the next twenty-four hours will bring.

I’m really looking forward to seeing the desert, but I wish we hadn’t brought the quad bike.

A fifteen-year-old girl who lived just outside Cheltenham broke her neck a couple of years ago, being driven by a boy who rolled it over accidentally.

It had been all over the news and it really struck a chord with me, like sometimes these things do.

That poor, innocent girl. If anything ever happened to Liv I don’t know how I’d carry on.

I turn to look out of the back window and see Margot doing her best to keep pace with Guy, whose speedometer is tinging its disapproval at the fact he’s over the limit.

Liv’s in the front seat next to her, and the two of them look totally badass in the big four-wheel drive, their sunglasses glinting in the sunlight.

I smile to myself, hoping she’s put yesterday’s souk trip far behind her, and then there’s an almighty bang.

Celine screams and I gasp as the car rocks and veers hard across the road towards the central reservation. I don’t even have time to brace myself.