Page 53 of You Lied First

A s Margot drives up the sweeping driveway to ‘Buckingham Palace’, aka her dad’s retirement living home, the newly discovered body weighs heavily on her mind.

How much will she tell him about what’s been going on?

She’s always been an open book when it comes to him and now she’s no longer simply out of her depth: she’s actually got no idea how her life can continue on its current trajectory.

Even if she tries to keep her worries to herself, she probably won’t be able to.

From the driveway, the building could easily be mistaken for an old country house.

It’s a new build, though, positioned in extensive gardens that the residents are free to tend to or just to enjoy.

There’s a recreation block with an indoor/outdoor pool, tennis courts and a gym, as well as visitors’ suites for when family want to stay over.

It should bring Margot joy to see the beautiful house and grounds, but the feeling is bittersweet.

Topping up her dad’s rent to live here is yet another way for Guy to control her.

When they’d returned to the UK, she’d wanted to move her dad into their house – a solution he’d been happy with – but Guy had refused point-blank.

The council facility had been grim, and he hadn’t been able to afford rent on somewhere as lovely as this – so here she is, beholden once more to Guy.

Margot finds her dad sitting in his sunny living room with a coffee and the papers, having a chat with an invisible person.

It happens. He’s usually fully lucid and on the ball, but he does sometimes have the odd visit from people who’re present only in his mind’s eye.

While it used to upset Margot to see him talking to no one, she soon realised there’s nothing she can do about it, and it brings her dad as much joy – or frustration – as actually having a real person in the room.

‘Hello, hello, who’s this?’ she says jovially as she knocks and enters.

‘You know Walter!’ her dad says. ‘He’s just leaving, aren’t you, Walter? To what do I owe this honour? I thought we were going to do the iPad these days.’

Margot steps aside to let ‘Walter’ pass then leans down to give her dad a kiss before sitting down on the chair Walter was presumably just inhabiting.

‘I just wanted to see you, Dad. That’s all. How are you?’ She feels her voice wobble.

Her dad beams and rubs his hands together. ‘Couldn’t be better. It seems you’re the one I need to be worrying about. Look at the state of you. Don’t tell me you’re doing some new-fangled diet? What is it this time? Not eating from midnight to midnight?’

As much as Margot tries to laugh, she can’t stop a sob from escaping.

‘What is it?’ he says, leaning closer to her and rubbing her arm.

‘Hey, hey, hey. You can tell me. There’s not much I haven’t heard in this life.

Not much that’ll shock me.’ He waits and Margot wonders if she really can tell him.

It feels like he’s the only person in the world she can talk to right now. ‘Can I tell you? Something really bad?’

‘Of course,’ he says. ‘That’s what dads are for – no?’

‘And you won’t judge me? Or dob me in to the police?’

‘The police, Margot? What’s happened?’

So she unburdens herself of the whole story, slowly and falteringly at first, then faster. Everything – from Guy’s affair and why they left Oman, to the holiday, the desert camping trip and the dreadful aftermath of guilt and suspicion.

‘And now a body’s been found exactly where we were camping. It can only be her. What am I going to do?’

Margot’s dad sits back in his chair with his eyes closed. She watches his chest rise and fall, wondering if he’s thinking or has fallen asleep. How much of what she just said did he even take in?

‘Dad?’ she says eventually and his eyes snap open.

‘So, either the fall from the quad bike was why she died, or one of you did it?’ he asks. She nods. ‘And this friend of yours, this Sara, checked her over after the fall and said she was fine. And she looked fine to you?’

Margot nods.

Her dad rubs his jaw in silence.

‘What are you thinking?’ she asks when she can’t bear it anymore.

‘Well, what I’m thinking is that it takes a lot of force and strength to kill a person. And I know you wouldn’t and couldn’t do it. I don’t know this Sara person, but I do know one thing.’

‘What?’

‘That I think your husband is perfectly capable of killing someone.’