The Worst Lie Read online

  The Worst Lie

  Shauna Bickley

  Being part of a family is a wonderful gift and I’m fortunate to be part of a wonderful family

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Other Books

  1

  Little Stillford, Wiltshire

  During daylight hours, the inner and outer stone circles had bustled with visitors, but past midnight they were empty and silent: the silver crescent of the moon hidden behind a cloud. Woods surrounded the circles and mist crept from the darkness, curling along the ground and around the grey stone sentinels.

  The tall, imposing stones of the outer circle stood eight feet high, with wider gaps between them for their compass point entrances. Over the centuries, the outer circle had lost several stones, but the inner circle was mostly intact, one stone lying horizontal where it had toppled centuries before.

  The moon moved from behind the cloud. The slight, silver gleams barely lit the circles or the body of the woman on the grey surface of the fallen stone, her long dark hair fanned out around her head. Her face was pale, eyes closed. At a first brief glance she might have been asleep, but there was no tell-tale rise and fall of her chest, no breath stealing past her lips.

  2

  Lexie Wyatt

  Nettleford, Dorset

  2018

  ‘Do you believe that things you’ve done in the past come back…’

  ‘To haunt you?’ Lexie filled the pause her friend Helen had left.

  ‘Yes, I suppose.’

  ‘Karma? That kind of thing?’ Lexie gazed towards the school buildings, watching the last of the children amble inside, and tried to pull some philosophical thoughts together. Not an easy task first thing in the morning. She’d been racing a deadline to finish a series of articles for Tempo magazine. Around midnight she had emailed the files to the editor and now relished the freedom and relief. ‘I like to think life’s fair. That someone marks all the pluses and minuses and somewhere the bad things catch up. But it’s more of a hope than a belief.’

  Helen’s ‘hmmm’ came out in a sigh.

  ‘What’s brought this on?’

  Helen gripped the gold initial H around her neck, running it along the chain. If she wasn’t careful she’d break the delicate links. There were faint smudges under her eyes as if she hadn’t slept well.

  ‘Kids playing up?’ Lexie doubted they were causing the sleepless nights, but it was a useful opening. ‘Or is there something else wrong?’

  ‘Not really, but yes. If that makes sense.’

  Lexie nodded to show she understood. Sort of.

  ‘Gareth and I had a phone call yesterday from an ex-university friend of ours. Well, more a friend of Gareth’s than mine. We haven’t heard from her in years and then she rings.’

  ‘Perhaps she felt guilty. It happens.’

  ‘Eden never does anything without a reason.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘That she’d like to meet up. She does work overseas most of the time.’ Helen’s admission sounded grudging. ‘And she said she felt bad at not keeping in touch, the usual stuff.’

  ‘So what’s the problem? You go out for dinner one evening, a few hours of food and conversation, air kiss goodbye and you don’t have to see her for another decade or so.’

  Helen let go of her necklace and pulled at the hem of her linen top. ‘Eden said she’d prefer to come down here. Didn’t want to stay in London. Too much to catch up on for just an evening. She always did railroad people into doing what she’d already planned. I was flustered, surprised at her call and the children were tearing around trying to find their school things.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘The tenants have just moved out of our rental house. I wasn’t thinking straight and said Eden could stay there.’

  ‘Oh, that is a bit different from an evening out.’

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘And Gareth knows her well?’

  ‘Yes, they were friends before I met either of them. Eden went out with Gareth’s best mate.’

  ‘So he must be pleased about seeing her again.’

  Helen screwed up her face, frown lines etched across her forehead. ‘Not really.’

  ‘Now that you’ve invited her, it’s difficult to make an excuse and back out, but if things get too much after a day or so you could tell her you’ve got a new tenant moving into the house.’

  ‘That’s a good idea.’ Helen pulled her car keys out of her bag and they walked along the road bordering the school grounds. ‘I’d be a lot happier if she hadn’t got in touch. We’ve changed and I like the life we’ve made here.’

  What had Helen asked? Things you’ve done in the past…

  ‘When’s Eden arriving?’

  ‘Today. She texted and asked if she could bring a work colleague with her. I’m driving round to the rental house later to see her. As it’s just down the road from your place, do you fancy coming with me?’

  Helen phrased it as a question, but Lexie heard the note of appeal in her voice.

  ‘Of course.’ In the two years since Lexie, Nathan and their daughters had moved to Nettleford, Helen and Gareth had become good friends. She’d do all she could to help.

  Lexie lived on the outskirts of Nettleford, a short walk from Helen’s rental property, while Helen lived in the centre of town. When Helen texted to say she was on her way. Lexie sauntered along the lane and arrived a few minutes before Helen drove up. A quick glance at Helen told Lexie her friend had spent the morning shopping. Helen wasn’t usually a shopper, but Lexie didn’t recognise any of the smartly casual items. White cropped jeans paired with a sky-blue blouse, and a cardigan knotted around her shoulders as only a posh-shop assistant could manage. She’d have spent more time scrutinising Helen’s black sparkly sneakers if she hadn’t been so surprised at the department store applied make-up that Helen now wore.

  ‘I totally approve,’ she whispered, eyes straight ahead, as they strolled up the path.

  The front door of the property opened and a woman hurried out.

  ‘Helen, it’s brilliant to see you.’ She initiated the hug, Helen the unwilling participant. Eden’s denim shorts and t-shirt showed off her light tan and slim figure, and the short pixie hairstyle suited her small face.

  As they drew apart, a man came out of the house. Lexie guessed Eden’s age to be mid-thirties, the same as her, but the guy was around ten years younger and a dead-ringer for a young Brad Pitt.

  Eden tugged him forward. ‘This is Hunter Munroe. We work together.’

  They might be colleagues, but the touch of his hand on her lower back and her light caress of his upper arm made it obvious they were also lovers.

  ‘And this is my friend Lexie Wyatt,’ said Helen. ‘Lexie and her family live in the next house along the lane.’

  ‘Lovely to meet you,’ said Eden. ‘Come on in. I’m dying to catch up on all the news. It’s been absolutely ages. I’m so bad at keeping in touch. When did you move out of Londo
n? Have you seen any of the others from uni?’

  Helen talked briefly about the children, their move to Nettleford, and Gareth, her husband, starting up his own company, as Eden made mugs of coffee.

  ‘What work do you do?’ Lexie asked Eden when they settled in the lounge.

  ‘Foreign correspondent. Freelance. Hunter’s a photo-journalist.’

  ‘That sounds exciting.’

  ‘It is, although it took years of bottom-of-the-pile jobs before I got a decent one. About eighteen months ago the not-so-hidden agendas began impacting too much on the stories I wanted to tell and so I decided to go freelance.’ Eden glanced at the young man next to her. ‘Hunter and I knew each other from previous projects.’

  ‘From your news reports, you always seem to be where the bullets are flying,’ said Helen.

  ‘That’s not my intention. Most of our work now is in refugee camps, but the sheer number of people fighting for survival means they can be violent places as well. The television news is mostly interested in the bombs and battles, but the refugee stories need to be told, even if people don’t like to hear them.’

  ‘It still sounds dangerous,’ said Lexie. When they first arrived, she’d noticed Eden’s barely-there stud earrings and her simple, fine silver chain, both of which suited her slender frame and features, but they were also more realistic for her lifestyle and work than large fashion pieces.

  Eden shrugged away the comment before standing and picking up a photograph from the dining table. ‘Remember this?’ She handed it to Helen.

  Helen didn’t appear comfortable as she looked at the photograph. ‘Yes, I remember.’

  Lexie shuffled along the couch to glance at the photo. A loose cluster of people stood against the backdrop of two large standing stones. The huge stones were taller than any of the group. Lexie thought they might be part of the Little Stillford stone circles in Wiltshire. She’d never visited them but had seen plenty of images. The group were posed, smiling, a few of them with their arms around each other. A younger Helen gazed at the photographer, a tentative smile on her face.

  ‘You look terrific,’ said Lexie to Helen. ‘I never have a decent hair cut in any of my old photos, and I’m always wearing something that looks wildly out of date.’ Lexie checked the photo more closely. ‘Oh my goodness. That’s Madelaine McDonald.’ She pointed to the young woman in the centre.

  As she glanced up, Lexie caught a flash of Eden’s self-satisfied smile before it was replaced by a neutral expression.

  ‘Yes, she and I shared a flat with Helen when we were at university,’ said Eden.

  ‘But she’s famous.’ Lexie turned to Helen, ready to joke about her friend keeping news like this quiet, but Helen sat straight, her mouth a tight line.

  ‘To be fair,’ said Eden, ‘Madelaine was still studying then and wasn’t well-known.’

  Lexie contemplated Madelaine again. The actress stood in the centre of the group: tall and slender, her long, blonde hair and large, blue eyes a filmmaker’s delight.

  ‘Has Gareth changed much?’ Eden asked Lexie. ‘I haven’t seen him for years.’

  Why ask her and not Helen?

  Lexie felt Helen stiffen beside her. In the photo, the man with his arm draped across Madelaine’s shoulders was handsome enough to be another pre-famous actor. His jeans and short-sleeved open-necked shirt accentuated broad shoulders and a toned figure kept fit in the gym or playing sport. Lexie examined the figure more closely.

  ‘It’s Gareth.’ She turned to Helen for confirmation, but Helen glanced away. Gareth, her friend’s husband, had once dated Madelaine McDonald?

  Eden nodded, again the hint of a smile.

  ‘Do you want a lift back along the road,’ Helen asked Lexie as they walked down the path to her Toyota.

  ‘I’m okay walking, unless you want to come in and have a chat. It must be odd meeting up with Eden after all these years.’

  ‘Yes.’ Helen unlocked the car door, but stood playing with the remote. ‘Very strange.’ The two words roused her to action and she got into the driver’s seat. ‘I’ll see you later when we pick up the children.’

  Lexie watched the vehicle disappear along the lane. Back at her house, Max did his usual “dance”, claws clicking on the kitchen tiles and then cocked his head to the left, giving her what she always thought of as his smile. Once he had her full attention, he pulled his leash off the lowest shelf and dropped it at her feet, tail wagging.

  ‘You are a gorgeous boy,’ she told the golden retriever, patting his head.

  Together, they walked through the garden and the area of fruit trees to a tall fence. Lexie unlatched the gate and they climbed the hill. At the top, she sat on the wall marking the boundary of their property and gazed over Nettleford while Max dashed here and there. After being made redundant from her job in London and moving to Nettleford with Nathan’s work, the changes had been overwhelming and her life had felt out of control. Helen’s friendship had changed that. Even now, Lexie wasn’t sure how things would have worked out without Helen’s grounded common sense and advice. In the two-and-a-bit years she’d known Helen, she couldn’t remember seeing her so troubled.

  When Max showed signs of tiring, they sauntered back down to the house. Lexie had a list of jobs to do, top of which was a call to Jo, the magazine editor. They spent five minutes finalising a few small changes to the work Lexie had submitted, and then she updated Jo on her progress for the next pieces and jotted down other ideas as they came to her. Writing features and articles for Tempo magazine had also helped Lexie to regain her composure and sense of self after the move to Nettleford, and she appreciated that it allowed her to work from home most of the time. Initially, she had worked on one of Webber Media’s other magazines but she preferred her current position.

  Lexie’s thoughts kept returning to the photo. Gareth and Madelaine McDonald? She found it difficult to think of Helen’s husband as the boyfriend of a famous actress. Gareth, who played basketball and soccer with his children in their garden and who occasionally moaned to Nathan about late client payments from his management consultancy business.

  She shoved another pile of washing into the machine and then sat at the dining table with her laptop. Max flopped down on her feet, his tail thudding on the floor until he dropped off to sleep. Lexie googled “Madelaine McDonald” and skim read some of the links, jogging her memory of things she’d forgotten and discovering new items. Madelaine had studied at the Bristol Old Vic Theatre School. That made sense as Helen and Gareth had been at Bristol University. There was a list of Madelaine’s early credits, mostly commercials and theatre roles. Her big break came with the lead role in an independent film, The Legacy of Time, written and directed by the then-unknown Spike Lamont, who’d since gone on to write and direct a number of successful Hollywood movies.

  The film’s promotional poster was one of the iconic images of Madelaine. Lexie drew in a sharp breath, pushing back her chair and disturbing Max from his sleep.

  ‘Sorry.’ Lexie patted Max’s head, still staring at the image on her screen. The picture was as familiar to her as the open-mouthed shark in Jaws or the black against red dinosaur illustration for Jurassic Park. What she hadn’t remembered was that this shot was taken at the ancient circles of Little Stillford. Madelaine’s film character lay dead on the horizontal stone, her blonde hair artistically spread out around her head. The white chiffon dress, creatively arranged, showed off slim legs and a teasing glimpse of thigh, as if a light breeze had blown the edge of the wispy material.

  It was silly of her to be so startled. Eden’s photo must have been taken around the time Madelaine and Spike made the film.

  Lexie tapped her index finger against her cheek as she remembered the first time she’d seen Madelaine. An arty boyfriend had taken her to see some cutting-edge new show at a theatre above a pub in Earl’s Court. She hadn’t understood much of the play, but she’d been impressed with Madelaine in one of the supporting roles. The cast had been unkn
owns and the pub below the theatre intimate enough for Lexie to speak to Madelaine for few minutes after the show. The second time she’d seen Madelaine was in a small production of Hamlet. The actress had been perfect as the tragically beautiful Ophelia.

  The Legacy of Time had been a huge success and should have been Madelaine’s stepping stone to stardom. The reviews praised her in the leading role, and Spike Lamont as the writer and director. Lexie vividly recalled watching the film, not knowing at the time that the beautiful actress was dead.

  If she was ever tempted to get in touch with friends from her days at London University, Lexie hoped it would be a more enjoyable experience than that with Eden. When Helen asked her question about the past, her expression had been haunted. Lexie snorted at her own imagination. Haunted! Whatever next?

  However, that thought decided her. Helen was anxious about something and Lexie had time to visit her before they needed to pick up the children from school.

  The early summer sun had finally broken through the grey cloud and the afternoon was steadily warming up. When she arrived at her friend’s house, Gareth was just leaving. He had his own business with an office in the town centre, so Lexie was a little surprised to see him. He kissed Helen goodbye and strode down the path to where his car was parked on the road, but smiled and stopped when he noticed Lexie crossing the road. They spoke briefly before Gareth excused himself, saying he was off to visit a new client and had dropped by to pick up some papers he’d left at home.

  ‘Come on in,’ said Helen, as Gareth drove away to his appointment.

  Lexie followed Helen through the lounge and into the garden, thinking about her friend’s husband. Until now she had never considered Gareth’s romantic life before he met and married Helen. In an abstract fashion she understood they’d both had previous romantic relationships, but discovering that Gareth had dated Madelaine surprised her. In the intervening years, his blond hair had darkened to a light brown, and while he wasn’t overweight he’d lost some of the muscular tone shown in the photo. Lexie still considered herself relatively young and interesting, but now wondered whether other people simply saw her as a mother of three girls living in a small town. Was that what happened to you in your thirties?