Little Liar by Julia Gray

Author:Julia Gray
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Andersen Press Ltd
Published: 2018-06-06T16:00:00+00:00

2

March the eleventh was a Saturday, and also my birthday.

I woke early with a sharp, winded jolt. I’d been dreaming of the flowers. The tightrope in the darkness, and the flowers, and that indecipherable message, lettered with my right hand: O angry flame. Attention, Aliénor. I splashed water onto my face and made myself breakfast – toast, yogurt, coffee, more than I’d usually eat – but the dream still clung to me, the way savage and messy dreams do. Then Evie called from her trailer; even though the line was poor, she belted Stevie Nicks’ Edge of Seventeen down the phone with such gusto that I laughed aloud, and finally the dream was gone.

‘How are you?’ she said.

‘I miss you loads,’ I said. ‘But I’m fine. The weather’s all right. A bit changeable.’

While she told me at length about the joys of hooking corpulent C-list actresses into waist-hugging corsets, I opened a small pile of cards. There was one from Petra and Bill, another from an old friend of Nana’s, and a third from my French godmother, whom I seldom saw. Nothing from anyone younger than forty-five. Nothing from any of my former obligatory friends. This was not unexpected. But it made me feel something I did not often feel, because over the years I had taught myself to delight in solitude.

It made me feel lonely.

I thought for a while. And then I reached for my mobile and, with care, wrote a text to Bel. It was simple enough, the kind of message I never sent to anyone, ever.

Howdy, it said. How’s tricks?

Then I sat back with a book and waited.

Almost comically quickly, my mobile rang.

‘Nora, honey, it’s me. I’m having a party and I want you to come,’ she said.

There was no mention of why she’d been ignoring me at school. Heartsick Bel was gone; I wondered what had changed. I presumed it was connected to the party, and her reasons for giving it.

‘Green!’ said Bel, having given me some directions that seemed vague in the extreme. ‘Wear green. Bring anyone you like, and a bottle, of course. Two bottles.’

From eight, she’d said, but I waited until closer to nine before I set out on the tube. I had two bottles of wine, one red and one white, bought with some of the cash that Evie had left. I’d carefully planned the journey – two tube changes, and then the overland, and then a fifteen-minute walk. From where we lived, it was well over an hour. It felt like the apex of bravery to be going to a party alone.

The dress code caused me some concern. Evie owned plenty of green garments, but I didn’t like the idea of wearing something eye-catching as I walked through an area of Outer London – somewhere near Hampton Court – with which I was unfamiliar. I was therefore wearing close to my ordinary clothes – jeans, a black vest top, a denim jacket. My concessions to Bel’s code were a shamrock badge

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