Page 37 of You Lied First

A s they come into the outskirts of Muscat, Margot takes a small detour along the seafront, where it’ll be possible to hurl Celine’s phone into deep water. She stops the car and looks at Sara.

‘Here’s good, I think. Ready?’

But Sara is leaning forward, peering into the footwell. ‘I can’t find it. Can you put the light on?’

Margot clicks it on and searches around the seat area. ‘Where was it? Were you holding it, or did you put it in your bag?’

Sara rummages through her handbag. ‘I didn’t put it in my bag. I had it on my lap.’

‘When did you last see it?’

‘Umm. At the petrol station. When we stopped, and I got out to get the water … oh, shit.’

Margot breathes out a shuddering breath. ‘No. It’ll be here. Come out, move the seat.’

She uses her phone torch and they both examine as far as they can under both front seats and finally Margot has to accept that they’ve drawn a blank. ‘Jesus. Now what?’

Sara shrugs. She looks as if she might cry.

‘I’m sorry. I, just … Guy was hassling me about changing the flights and I was distracted.

Now I think about it, I can imagine how it might have fallen out.

Shall we go back? Do you want me to go back in a taxi?

I will if I have to. You can go back to the villa and just say that I met a random friend or something? ’

Margot stares at the sea, her hands on her head as she thinks.

The phone should be out there, under that mass of water, being destroyed, never to be found.

Now it’s at a petrol station somewhere in rural Oman.

Incriminating evidence. But what can they do?

She goes back to Sara, who’s standing by the car looking utterly destroyed.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Sara says. ‘I don’t know what else to say.’

‘Come on, get in,’ Margot says. ‘There’s nothing we can do now. Going back will take time we don’t have and if we start looking for a missing phone we’re only going to draw attention to it and to ourselves. We just have to hope no one finds it. Or that it’s damaged. Or for a miracle.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yep.’ Margot starts the engine. ‘But one thing: don’t tell Guy anything about the phone. Please? Do that for me?’

‘Sure,’ Sara says. ‘Thank you.’

Guy must be watching for them because when Margot and Sara reach the villa, the front door swings wide and he’s there in the doorway.

‘All okay?’ he asks.

She nods. ‘Yep.’

‘Well done,’ Guy says and he gives them both a nod.

‘How are the kids?’ Sara asks.

‘Fine,’ he says. ‘They’re disappointed about leaving early, but I said we needed to get back for an urgent work meeting – a VVIP house commission I couldn’t talk about.

And that, Sara, you’d decided you may as well come with us.

Hope that’s okay. And they were more than happy not to go to the hospital. ’

Later that day, Margot and Guy take the cars to be valet cleaned and return them to the hire company, so they have a smoother journey through the airport in the morning.

Margot then throws together supper from the odds and ends left in the fridge.

As she lays the table for the final time, Sara hesitates over the sixth place.

‘Lay it,’ Margot tells her. ‘The kids will wonder if we don’t.’

It’s ironic how happy she’d be to see Celine now, Margot thinks, given how she used to dread her appearing from across the pool at dinnertime with her wearisome predictability and chirpy yoo-hoos.

The weather’s absolutely perfect, the air warm velvet on Margot’s skin as she bustles about, but she can’t look at the pool.

Is she the only one who sees the shape of Celine stretched out on a sunlounger, ghostly in her white swimsuit?

‘This is good,’ Guy says, nodding, as they place the food on the table. ‘Just like any other night. Nothing out of the ordinary. Good work, ladies.’

‘What did you say to Diane and Tom when you gave the camping stuff back?’ Sara asks.

Guy had vacuumed the tents and packed them up properly, refilled the quad bike, and taken everything back that afternoon.

‘Nothing. They weren’t home. I left the stuff in the garage for them.’

‘Should we tell them not to say anything about us borrowing the gear if anyone comes asking questions?’ Margot knows that the British expat community in Muscat isn’t that big. One degree of separation, if that. Once Celine is reported missing, it’s bound to come up in conversations with Tom and Di.

‘No,’ Guy says. ‘We’ll look like we’re hiding something.

It’s suspicious. Trust me, they’re cool.

They won’t say anything. Tom and I go way back.

The things we know about each other …’ He laughs to himself.

‘Anyway, look, to be honest, by the time anything’s found – if it’s found at all – it’ll be incredibly difficult to pinpoint when it happened exactly. And we’ve only been here for a week.’

‘A week. Imagine,’ Sara says.

‘I know!’ Guy says. ‘It doesn’t seem like it, does it?

And we flew in during a massive influx of Christmas holiday tourists so if it comes to it – and that’s a big if – finding out who did this is going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

’ He summons a smile. ‘Right, shall we call the kids? Remember, Celine came back with you two and, as far as we know, she’s in her villa. Okay?’

Flynn and Liv don’t need to be called twice; they fall into their seats and start passing round the dishes.

To an outsider, all would look normal, Margot thinks.

Two families eating on the terrace on the last night of their holiday, with the fairy lights twinkling and the garden lights reflecting off the gleaming surface of the pool. Happy memories.

Only not.

‘I don’t wanna go back,’ Flynn says. ‘Why can’t we stay with Sara while you two go back?’

‘Yeah,’ says Liv. ‘Please, Mum?’ She gives her mum a puppy-eyed look.

Sara examines her fork as she loads it with vegetables. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘It’s all booked now, and I can’t change it.’

‘Really?’ Liv puts her head on one side like she doesn’t believe her.

‘Really,’ Guy says. ‘Now eat up. I think there are ice creams that need finishing after this.’

‘Should we wait for Celine?’ Margot asks.

Guy looks over to her villa. ‘I gave her a shout but she’s probably had more than enough of us by now!’ He gives a little shrug. ‘She’ll come if she wants. Dig in.’

They pack after dinner, then the adults clean out the villa, empty the bins, and finish everything up ready for their departure.

By the time that’s all done, Margot’s so physically tired she thinks she might never wake up again, but then she remembers Celine’s phone.

Will the person who finds it just take out Celine’s SIM and put in a new one?

Will they wipe it and sell it? Celine won’t be reported missing for a day or two.

There aren’t yet any dots to be connected to a crime. Could it be that simple?

The alarm’s set to go off in the middle of the night, and she dozes fitfully, her mind going down a rabbit hole of what will happen if this is ever traced back to them.

Aside from the legal ramifications and the terrifying possibility of extradition and jail, if it comes out that the Forrests have anything at all to do with a woman going missing – let alone a dead one – the media will destroy Margot’s Mansions.

It’s a business built on trust and word of mouth; built on the wholesome image she projects on social media, and the media loves it when people like her fall from grace.

Next to her, Guy lets out an enormous snore and then a fart rumbles out of him.

Margot sighs and rolls over to face the other way as another even more devastating thought hits her.

What they’ve just done binds her to Guy forever.

If she ever entertains the idea of leaving him, he’ll hold it over her, she knows he will.

Perhaps that’s why he was so keen to cover it up and run.

It’s one more tool he can use to control her.