Page 3 of You Lied First

T he sun is setting and I’m adding the finishing touches to the dining table in the garden when Guy appears at the sliding door looking rested.

He’s changed into a polo shirt, linen shorts and leather flip-flops, and his hair’s damp from the shower.

He rubs his hands together, every inch the successful businessman enjoying the holiday he’s earned.

‘Hey, hey! This looks incredible!’ he says, surveying the fruits of my labour.

I’ve used the villa’s crockery, cutlery and glassware but added candles and cheerful paper napkins, along with a couple of strings of fairy lights, which I’ve tangled around a centrepiece of bougainvillea and threaded among the glasses.

The garden already has a great set of string lights that fans out like splayed fingers from the house to the fence at the rear of the garden.

Underwater LEDs light up the pool, making it look even more inviting in the evening than it did during the day.

The effect, even though the sun is yet to set fully, is enchanting.

‘It’s nothing,’ I lie.

If Guy knew the amount of thought and planning I’ve put into this he wouldn’t believe it.

I’d even brought the paper napkins from home.

He and Margot appear to be the type of people for whom things just fall into place.

But when the idea for us to join the Forrests on this holiday had first been born, Guy had absolutely refused to let me pay for our stay in the villa.

It would cost them the same whether or not Liv and I came, he said, so I’d decided the least I could do, to make a contribution, was to make myself a useful house guest. The table setting is the first of my surprises. The second is dinner.

‘Did you manage to sleep?’ I ask.

‘Like the dead.’

‘And Margot?’

‘She’ll be down in a minute. How about you? Did you get some sleep?’

I nod, although I hadn’t slept a wink. I was both too tired and too wired.

My head had started pounding, the blood whooshing at my temples, so I’d got up and gone for a short walk around the area to get my bearings.

Although I’d spotted various hypermarkets on our way through Muscat, it seems we’re in a residential area that has no shops within easy walking distance.

Guy’s said several times that I’m insured to drive the Land Cruiser but I’ve never driven a left-hand drive on the ‘wrong’ side of the road.

The last thing I want is to get into an incident in a country where I don’t understand the language.

‘Do you think people are hungry?’ I ask. ‘Dinner’s ready to go – it’ll take about ten minutes.’

‘Dinner? What do you mean?’ He peers at me. ‘You’ve cooked?’

I feel myself blush. ‘Just something simple. I didn’t know what would be available on our first night, so I brought some bits with me. Everyone likes pasta, right?’

‘You are an absolute angel,’ says Guy. ‘In that case, I should see about opening a bottle of wine to match this feast.’

Like moths to a flame, the others find their way to the garden in time for sundowner drinks, so I boil up the pasta and heat the jar of Tesco Finest sauce I brought in my luggage. I even remembered to bring Parmesan cheese because Liv won’t eat pasta without it.

‘I thought we’d all be too tired to go out, so ta-da! Dinner is served!’ I announce. I carry the platter of simple pasta as if it were a banquet, and Guy, Flynn and – to my absolutely joy – Liv clap.

‘Is it aubergine and ricotta?’ she asks, peering at the sauce, and I nod as my face splits with a smile.

‘Of course. And there’s Parmesan, too,’ I say. ‘Liv’s favourite,’ I add for the others.

‘Well, thank you,’ Margot says. ‘Although you do know you don’t have to do this every day, don’t you?’

I smile at her, happy at first, but then unsure of what she means. Is she telling me that she’d rather do the cooking herself and that I’ve stepped on her toes as the hostess? Or does she intend to eat out every night? Have I done something wrong by cooking at home? I’m lost.

‘Dig in,’ I say, offering the bowl.

‘Leave some for everyone else,’ Margot warns Flynn.

‘What?’ he says. ‘I’m hungry.’

‘Just to let you know, the only thing I have for dessert is Wispas!’ I smile at Liv. It’s homage to the ‘picky teas’ I used to prepare on Sunday evenings when she was a kid, back before everything happened. The Wispas were her favourite part.

‘This is delicious,’ Guy says, nodding, after he tastes his first forkful. ‘And so thoughtful. Thank you, Sara.’ The smile he gives me is warm. He’s way easier to read than his wife. ‘So, what shall we do this week? I’d love to get in a round at the golf club …’

I notice Margot look down at her plate as if she expected nothing less. A golf widow maybe? Interesting.

‘… and maybe catch up with Tom and Di. I think they’re still here. Maybe Tom will bash a ball with me.’

‘Well, I’d like to go to The Chedi for a spa and beach day,’ Margot says. ‘I’d also like to take a look around the Opera House – I used to love going there. And I always love having a look around the fish market.’

‘Liv wants to go shopping,’ Flynn says.

‘I’ve seen some amazing malls on TikTok!’

‘I wouldn’t mind looking around a souk,’ I say. ‘Maybe it’s something we could do together, Liv? What’s good to buy in Oman?’

‘Silver,’ Margot says. ‘Gold. Jewellery. Arabian perfumes. Carpets, if you need any. Frankincense. Omani daggers, but I don’t advise trying to get those home in your luggage.’

‘Makes a change from Marks and Sparks!’ I say, and only Guy laughs.

‘It’s best in the evening,’ Margot says. ‘But you need to know what you want and then you need to haggle. They’ll see you coming a mile off.’

‘Do you want to do any sightseeing?’ Guy asks. ‘I mean, we’ve done most of it, but there might be things you’d like to see.’

‘I don’t want to get in your way if there are people you guys need to see.

I’m happy to take Liv off for a bit here and there.

I’ve done some research and there’s a hop-on, hop-off bus we could take.

See a bit of the city? Flynn, you’d be welcome to come with us, of course.

And I’m sure Liv’ll want to top up her tan, so we can hang out by the pool, too.

‘Nonsense!’ Guy says. ‘We’re happy to show you around, aren’t we, Mar? We could start with a bit of sightseeing around town tomorrow. Why don’t we all go out together and then you can take it from there?’

‘That sounds terrific. Thank you,’ I say, smiling at Guy.

Margot’s chair scrapes on the tiles as she stands to gather the empty dishes and I sit back, finally beginning to relax: this holiday might actually be wonderful.