Beautiful Liar (2 page)

She often asked me why I didn't have a boyfriend. That was why. Who wanted to be so reliant on another human being that they couldn't cope by themselves?

“So what happens now?” I said. “To April.”

Maggie sighed, her cheeks puffing out as she shook her head. “Look, love, I'm not going to lie to you. It's bad this time.”

“Yeah.” I didn't bother to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “I kind of guessed that.”

She smiled a little, and then grew serious. “As of this morning, the court's placed April in foster care. The judge won't make any final decision for a while, but the way things are looking, I think there's a strong chance your mother's
parental rights will be removed and your sister will be placed permanently in care until she's eighteen.”

“No.” I was already shaking my head, ignoring the cold, sick feeling in my stomach. “That can't happen.”

I thought of all the awful statistics about children who'd been in foster care—the high incidence of eating disorders and self-harm. I didn't want that for my sister. In fact, I'd tried to ensure she had as normal an upbringing as possible. I could've gone to university, and left my mum and April to it. But instead I'd chosen to leave school at sixteen and work in a series of minimum-wage jobs, so I could keep our family together.

And now April was going to be taken away from us.

I looked over at Maggie. “Tell me how to get her back.”

“Very simply, you need to be able to prove that you can give her a safe, stable upbringing.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “I can do that.”

The social worker pursed her lips. “Nina, you have to be realistic.” Her voice was gentle—the way it is when someone's delivering news you don't want to hear. “Right now you don't even have anywhere to live.”

It was true. Weeks of repairs would be needed before the flat was habitable again. Doreen had offered to let me stay on her couch for as long as I needed, but her place was already crowded.

“And your mother needs to get sober,” Maggie went on.
“She needs a more aggressive solution this time. That means rehab—”

“So we'll do that.”

She looked sceptical. “Come on. You know how long the NHS waiting lists are. The judge will have ruled against you by then. That means twelve weeks at a private facility—which is going to set you back at least ten grand.”

“I'll find a way to get the money. I can stay on a friend's floor—” Even as I said it, I knew how ridiculous it sounded. My work and taking care of my family had never left me time for friends. “I'll get another job—”

“You've lost your job, too?”

Damn. That last piece of information shouldn't have slipped out.

“I kept being late for shifts.” Dealing with my mother's dramas meant I wasn't the most reliable of workers. When I'd called the manager at the petrol station to tell him that I'd have to miss the morning shift, he'd told me not to bother coming back.

Maggie's grey eyes filled with sympathy. “Oh, sweetheart, be realistic. I know you're tough, but this is too much, even for you.”

“Yeah?” I bristled. “So you think I should just walk away, is that it? Just forget all about April?”

“No, of course not.” Maggie spoke with exaggerated patience. “I just think you need to understand what you'd be
getting yourself into.”

“Don't worry about me,” I said with far more confidence than I felt. “I'll do whatever needs to be done.”

Maggie gave me a rueful smile. “I've no doubt that you will. I'm just not sure you should have to.”

I looked away. I didn't need to be reminded of how hard this would be.

She reached out and squeezed my arm. I turned and saw the concern in her eyes. “Nina, you can't do this all on your own. Isn't there anyone you can ask for help? A relative or family friend, perhaps?”

“There's no one.” Both sets of grandparents were dead, and my parents were only children, so there were no aunts or uncles around. And my mother had managed to alienate every friend we had over the years with her drinking. “You of all people should know that.”

Just then, April came out to the waiting room, so there was no more time to talk. She spotted Maggie straight away, and seemed to know immediately what her presence meant. I'd worried that my sister might get upset at the thought of having to go into foster care, but perhaps by then she'd resigned herself to it, because she just gave me a long hug.

“You'll get me out as soon as you can?” she whispered in my ear.

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Although right then, I had no idea how I was going to keep my word.

* * *

After April left, I spent the rest of the day by my mother's bedside. I might have despised the way she behaved, but she was still family, and I needed to make sure she was all right.

It was dark by the time I reached our flat. The emergency services had left and red tape criss-crossed the door, warning against entry, as though it was a crime scene. I quickly checked the walkway. There was no one around, so I ducked under the tape and used my key to let myself in.

The front door opened directly into a combined kitchen-living-dining area. I stood there for a moment, my shoes sinking into the sodden carpet, and took in the damage. The walls were black from soot and flames; the furniture destroyed by the water and foam used to extinguish the fire. The place was completely uninhabitable.

It was then that the hopelessness of the situation finally hit me.

I had no home and no job. And then, to top it off, in order to get April back I needed to get my mother sober. Maybe that sounded simple enough, but right then it felt as reachable as the moon.

So, feeling like I had no other option, I did something
that I knew my mother wouldn't approve of. I took out my phone and called Duncan Noble.

I spent the night on Doreen's sofa. It was pretty much my only option. Growing up with an alcoholic parent made it difficult to form friendships. Mum's drinking habit was our family's dirty little secret, something that had to be continually covered up, and it was impossible to form meaningful relationships if you were always hiding the truth.

The following morning, just before eleven, I stepped off the Tube at Canary Wharf, London's newest business district. I had fifteen minutes to get to my meeting with Duncan Noble, the multimillionaire owner of luxury leisure group Noble Enterprises.

As I walked through the underground shopping centre to his offices, I tried to ignore the churning in my stomach. I had no idea what kind of reception I was going to get from the man—in fact, quite honestly, I still couldn't believe he'd agreed to see me. My father had worked as his chauffeur for
about a decade before he died, and from what I understood, they'd gone from employer and employee to close friends over that time. But still . . . it had been almost six years since I'd last seen Duncan Noble. I'd only called out of desperation the day before because I couldn't think of any other option. But I just hoped I hadn't made a mistake.

Noble Enterprises was located at One Canada Square. It was the tallest skyscraper in the Wharf, fifty storeys high and home to everything from boutique hedge-fund-management firms to advertising agencies. I walked into the huge marble lobby and tried not to look as intimidated as I felt. Security checked my bag, and then reception took my name and called up to make sure that I was expected.

Once I was signed in, and had been issued a name tag, I took the lift up forty floors to where Noble Enterprises was based. Now I was there, I felt a flutter of nerves—but there was no turning back. I needed help, and this was the only idea I'd had.

A haughty blonde, who looked only a few years older than me, was there to greet me when I stepped out of the lift. She introduced herself as Pandora Spencer, Duncan Noble's PA. I didn't exactly have much in the way of a wardrobe, so I'd opted for my usual tough-girl look—jeans, T-shirt and biker boots. Next to the well-groomed Pandora, in her tailored black dress and heels, I felt decidedly scruffy.

Pandora must have been of the same opinion, because as
her sharp eyes ran over me I could tell she wasn't impressed with what she saw.

“Duncan's ready to see you.” Her voice was clipped and unfriendly, as though I wasn't worth making an effort for. “So if you'd like to follow me.”

She didn't attempt any small talk as we walked. The workplace was open-plan, but at the sides there were glassed-off offices, which I guessed were for the senior employees. Naturally Duncan Noble had the best of these—a corner office, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a direct view across the Thames to London's newest landmark, the Shard.

Duncan Noble stood as we entered. Six years on, he hadn't changed much. An attractive man in his late fifties, he had that suave sophistication that made older men like Sean Connery and Pierce Brosnan eternally appealing—from his salt-and-pepper hair to his Italian wool suit and handmade leather shoes.

“Nina.” Duncan didn't smile as he greeted me. In fact, he remained behind his desk, and put out his hand. “It's been a long time.”

The coolness of his welcome surprised me. I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting—but perhaps a little more exclamation over how much I'd grown up. Wasn't that what usually happened when you saw someone you'd known as a child and were meeting again as an adult? Instead, I got the feeling he really wished I wasn't there.

“Thank you again for seeing me.” I stepped forward and shook his hand, deciding the best way to deal with the situation was to match his formal tone.

He gave a brief nod of acknowledgement. “So before we start, can Pandora get you a coffee or anything?”

I saw her lips thin at the prospect of having to fetch me a drink, and I have to confess that it was almost enough to make me ask for something. But that would have meant prolonging the meeting, and I frankly wanted to get this over and done with.

“I'm fine, thanks,” I told him.

Pandora retreated from the room before I could change my mind. Once she'd gone, Duncan sat back down in his leather Eames chair, and indicated for me to take the seat opposite.

Once we were both settled, he fixed me with a steely gaze. “So, Nina.” His tone was brusque and businesslike. “I presume this isn't a social visit. So why don't you cut to the chase and tell me what the hell you're doing here?”

To be honest, the aggressiveness of his question didn't surprise me. After all, his last interaction with my family hadn't exactly been pleasant.

On the day of my dad's funeral, Duncan had promised to look after our family, and for the first few months, he'd given my mother money and checked in on us all the time. Then one night, I'd woken to the tail end of a huge argument
between him and my mother. I'd crept downstairs in time to hear her ordering him out of the house and telling him never to come near us again.

That was the last I'd seen of him. No wonder he was a little wary about my sudden reappearance in his life.

Luckily, I'd thought through what I wanted to say to him. So I ignored his hostility, and launched into my speech. “That last night at the house—you said if I was ever in trouble, I should come to you.” He'd spotted me on the stairs when he was leaving, and slipped me his business card before my mother could see.

“I remember.”

“Well, I need your help.”

Given the history between my mum and him, I'd decided it was best not to talk about her part in the story, just in case he refused to help. Instead, I told him that I'd been at university, got myself into some financial difficulty, and had to drop out.

“So how much do you want from me?” he said, once I'd finished speaking.

It took me a second to work out what he was getting at. “You think I'm here for money?”

His lips curved into a cynical smile. “It would feel like a safe assumption.”

“God, no!” I didn't want him to think I was a scrounger. “I just want a job.”

I'd stayed up late the previous night working out the logistics of how I could get us out of this mess. I actually had enough savings to cover Mum's rehab—courtesy of a small inheritance from my father when I turned eighteen, plus I'd saved every penny I could from my jobs over the years. I'd planned to use the cash to help April out with university, but getting my mum sober would have to take precedence.

Unfortunately paying for rehab would pretty much clear me out—which meant I needed a job, and one that paid well. Given the current youth unemployment in London, my chances of securing anything other than minimum wage seemed unlikely. And I didn't have the time for a lengthy interview process. Which made Duncan Noble my best option.

“Well,” he began, and with that one word my heart sank. I could tell he was about to turn me down. “I applaud you for showing the initiative to come here. But I don't believe we have any openings at the moment.” He pulled open the top drawer of his desk, and took out a chequebook and flipped it open. “However, I'd be more than happy to help you clear your debts. Maybe even pay for you to continue at university—”

I was already on my feet as he picked up his Montblanc pen and started to write.

“I already told you, I don't want your money.” The sharp tone of my voice must have got through to him because he
stopped what he was doing and looked up at me. “I need a job, not charity,” I said more reasonably. After all, he'd been good enough to see me. “I understand if that's not possible, so thank you for your time. I think it's best if I go.”

I could feel tears of frustration pricking at my eyes, and I turned away quickly, eager to leave before I let myself down by crying. My hand was on the cold stainless-steel handle of the glass door when he said, “Wait.”