Page 45 of You Lied First

M argot sometimes jokes with herself that she’s missed her calling.

She should have been a magician because creating an illusion is one of the things she does best in life.

If any observer were to see the Forrests in those early January days, they would never guess what was lurking beneath the happy facade Margot presents – both in real life and on social media because she is an absolute pro at showing off Guy’s best side in public as well as keeping up appearances.

Now she adds a new feather to her bow: being a pro at pasting over the fissures in her marriage.

The downside is that the more she has to hide, the more it stresses her out.

But when she’s stressed she works – and so, with the pressing deadline of the stately home to deliver, she throws herself into work.

And tries not to let any thoughts about camping, sand, deserts, shovels and bodies distract her.

After the frame of the mansion is finally complete, the next step is to gather a file for each room containing paint swatches, samples of the wallpaper and photos of every fixture and fitting.

She’ll use these files to recreate the tiny pieces of wooden furniture, the lamps, the rugs, the pictures and all the minuscule paraphernalia that fill the real house.

She enjoys this work and she does it humming along to the radio, which is on s oftly in the background, until her concentration is broken.

An unfamiliar ring is coming from her iPad.

Her dad’s calling on Skype – for the first time ever.

‘Dad!’ she says as she accepts the video call. ‘You’ve discovered Skype?’ Her view is right up his nostrils. ‘Move the iPad away from your face.’ His face comes into proper view.

‘Hello, dear,’ he says. ‘Can you hear me?’

‘Yes. Can you hear me?’

‘Yes! Are you impressed?’ His eyes twinkle and she can see just how pleased he is with himself for working this out on the iPad. She bought it for him for Christmas so he could be a bit more connected.

‘Of course!’ she says. ‘It’s lovely to see you.’

‘Yes, I thought it would save you driving over here all the time if we could chat like this every now and then. Arthur showed me how to do it.’

Margot can just imagine the two old men sitting in the residents’ lounge or the conservatory with their iPads, and the thought makes her smile.

‘So how are you?’ she asks. ‘Still enjoying life at Buckingham Palace?’

The door to her studio bursts open behind her and she spins around. When she sees the look on Guy’s face, she says gently to her dad, ‘Dad, can I call you back? Just give me a couple of minutes.’

‘What’s happened?’ she says when she’s hung up the call. A vein in Guy’s neck is pulsing and his eyes are narrowed. Her insides clench. Guy’s temper is never pretty.

He thrusts his phone so close to Margot’s eyes she can’t read what he’s showing her.

‘This,’ he says. ‘This is what happened.’

Margot pushes the phone away so she can focus on the screen. It’s a ‘missing person’ appeal about Celine and Margot sees with a sinking heart that Liv has reposted it on her own Instagram account. Liv’s added a prayer hands emoji with her own addition: Anyone seen her?

‘What the fuck is she playing at? I thought you spoke to her!’ Guy says.

‘I told her she was missing. Guy! Calm down.’ She drops her voice to a whisper because Flynn is at home. ‘You can’t expect her to know anything! Okay? Think about how it looks from her point of view. Please.’

‘Why would she even get involved? Is she really that stupid? For fuck’s sake, this is serious!’

‘She doesn’t know we had anything to do with it. Get a grip!’

‘Don’t you dare speak to me like that!’ Guy snarls.

‘Or what?’ Margot says.

Guy storms towards her breathing hard as he backs her up towards the shelves, and raises his hand as if to slap her. Margot jerks away, out of reach.

‘I’m trying to protect us, that’s all,’ Guy hisses. ‘There is no room for mistakes!’

Margot takes a deep breath in and notices that it judders as she lets it out. She’s sweating. Guy’s never raised a hand to her before, but she can see now just how stressed he is about the Celine situation. He’s been hiding it well.

‘I mean, reposting is the natural thing to do if you’re not involved. And we’re not involved,’ she says as gently as she can, because she doesn’t know where in the house Flynn is.

‘Get her to take it down,’ he growls.

‘But—’

‘No “buts”.’

‘Guy, please. You’re overreacting.’

‘She needs to take it down right now,’ he says, ‘and she needs to wind her stupid neck in or I’ll go to her house and I’ll shut her up myself.’ The strangling motion he makes with both hands shocks Margot. Even more than the hand he raised a moment ago.

‘I’ll speak to Sara,’ she says with both palms up in surrender. ‘I’ll ask her to take it down. Okay?’

Margot makes a mental note to tell Sara but then her iPad rings. She and Guy both stare at it, then Guy says, ‘You gonna get that?’

‘Er, sure,’ she says, but she waits till Guy’s out of the room before she reconnects with her dad.

Her mind’s not on the things he tells her about – the theatre trip to see a play by the local amateur dramatics group, the keep-fit classes he’s joined and the art club he’s enjoying.

‘Margot,’ he says after she’s responded with yet another automatic ‘nice!’ ‘What’s wrong? Is everything all right with Guy? He sounded angry earlier.’

‘Oh, nothing. Just work stuff,’ she says, but her dad is peering at her through the screen, his eyes close to the camera.

‘Baby girl, you know I don’t have to live in this place, don’t you?’ he says gently. ‘It’s nice and everything, but it’s not the be-all and end-all. The main thing is your happiness.’

‘Oh, but Daddy, you love it there. You’re so happy. The pool, the gardens … your friends.’

‘They’ll still be my friends wherever I am. I’m just saying: don’t let this arrangement with Guy hold you back from … anything you might want – or need – to do. We’ll find a way.’

Margot frowns. ‘What are you saying?’

‘I’m saying I know he’s your husband, dear, and I know that you’re very loyal and you try to make the best of things. But, at some point, you have to ask yourself: at what cost, Margot. At what cost?’