Beautiful Liar (27 page)

She came downstairs five minutes later. Objectively I could see that she looked healthier than she had when she went in—her skin seemed clearer, and there was colour in her cheeks. Twelve weeks off the booze had done her a world of good.

The counsellor stepped forward to hug my mother goodbye, but I hung back a little.

My mother turned to me. I was worried that she might try to hug me, too, but she had the sense to hold back.

“Thank you for coming, Nina. It means a lot.” Her eyes were grave as she spoke, as though she wanted me to know she was taking it seriously. “I appreciate this hasn't been easy for you. And I know you're fed up of hearing promises that I can't keep, so I won't make any. I'll just say that I'm pleased you're here today.”

The prickle of tears in my eyes took me by surprise. I hadn't expected to get upset. I'd felt sure I was beyond it. But it was so different from her usual speeches—so lacking in bravado—that I found myself getting choked up.

“Yeah, well.” I cleared my throat. “We should be getting
out of here.”

We took the Tube to the flat. My mother asked questions along the way—about my new job and how April was getting on. I gave her short, factual answers.

I enjoyed showing her around the flat I'd rented for us. The smart new-build was a world away from our flat in Hayfield Court. It was a low-rise block near the river, and now, in the middle of the day, everyone was at work, so the place was beautifully quiet and peaceful. Inside, the flat was bright, clean and neat. I'd already arranged the few belongings I'd managed to save after the fire, so it would feel more like home.

“Oh, Nina.” My mother looked round in frank disbelief, clearly impressed. “This is lovely. I know it hasn't been easy, but you've done so well.”

It felt good to hear her say that—better than I'd expected.

We cooked dinner together. Mum told me she'd be attending local AA meetings, and that she was also going to try to get a job. I wasn't about to let myself get too excited. We'd been down this road before, and it had led to nothing but disappointment. My main concern was getting April back with us—our social worker visit was due soon.

“Maggie wants to meet up next week,” I said, once we'd finished eating. “She's coming round here for a home inspection, and to talk to us both to see if we're able to look
after April properly.”

My mother listened solemnly.

“We just have to make sure that there's nothing out of place here.” What I meant by that was, we can't have vodka bottles lying around, or my mother doing one of her famous disappearing acts. She looked down at the table, and I could see she understood what I was getting at.

I stood up and started clearing the dinner plates and cutlery. “I'll wash up.”

I turned towards the sink.

“I'll give you a hand,” my mother said.

I switched the taps on. It helped cover the silence.

* * *

I counted to ten and then tried to do up the zip on my skirt again. I wrestled with it for a good minute or so and then finally gave up, muttering a loud curse. Whatever I did, the thing wouldn't budge.

I glanced at my watch, wondering what to do. Our social worker, Maggie Walker, was due round any minute. I'd wanted to look as respectable as possible for our meeting, so I'd ditched my usual jeans and T-shirt, and opted for a grey pencil skirt and white shirt. But at this rate I was going to be meeting her half-dressed.

There was a knock at my bedroom door. “Everything all right in there?” my mum called through. She must have
heard me swearing.

“Yeah,” I answered instinctively. Then I gave a sigh of defeat. “Well, no. Not really.”

Mum tentatively pushed open the door, and poked her head in. She looked surprisingly conservative in a smart navy coat-dress. She'd also kept her make-up light and had pinned her white-blonde curls back in a neat chignon. Like me, she was determined to make a good impression. “Anything I can help with?”

I didn't answer, but instead turned my back to her, so she could see the problem.

“Here. Let me.” She came over and fiddled with the zip for a second, pulling out fabric that had caught in it, and then fastened it all the way up. “There.” She smiled at me in the mirror. “You look really pretty in that. You should wear skirts more often.”

It was the first time in a long while that she'd done anything for me, and I wasn't quite sure how to respond. Fortunately the doorbell saved me from answering.

Maggie Walker hadn't changed at all over the past few months. She still looked dishevelled and thrown together, like she'd just rolled out of bed. But she wasn't the one being judged. I hoped she could see that we'd changed—or at least that our situation had.

Maggie made a quick inspection of the flat and seemed impressed. It was just as well, given that my mum and I had
spent the previous day cleaning and tidying. Then we all went through to the kitchen. I made tea in a pot, and got out the good china—matching cups and saucers, one of my parents' wedding gifts. Then the three of us sat at the round table, while my mum and I waited to be interrogated.

Maggie asked about my job, and made little notes on her pad as I talked, which made me even more nervous than I already was. I could hear my voice shaking as I spoke. She smiled kindly at me, so it didn't seem like it had gone too badly. I suppose at least she knew I cared.

Then she turned her attention to my mother. Mum spoke in depth about her time in rehab, and the social worker listened attentively. Thankfully, she seemed more impressed by my mother's resolve than I was.

Once my mother had finished her spiel, Maggie had a chance to have her say.

“I know things haven't been easy for your family, and I can see that you've done your best to put things right.” I tensed. I could feel a “but” coming on, and that worried me. “But it would be remiss of me to allow April to come back to live with you if I thought for even a moment that she might be put at risk again.”

Hearing that, my heart sank. I opened my mouth to argue our case, but she put her hand up to stop me.

“I've heard everything that I need to hear, and I can see how committed you are to making things work—for April's
sake. And so my recommendation is that she can come back and live with you.”

Relief coursed through me. I hadn't even realised I'd been holding my breath until I let out a deep exhale. Without thinking, I found myself turning to my mother. She looked as relieved and delighted as I felt, and we embraced.

“I can't believe it,” I said as she hugged me to her.

“That's such great news. Such great news.”

Maggie waited until we'd finished, and she had our full attention again. Then, as though she didn't want us to get too overexcited, she gave us her sternest look.

“I will, however, be visiting regularly to check up on you. And if I see any evidence that this isn't a fit place for a minor to be living, I will recommend that April is immediately removed.”

My mother took my hand, in a show of solidarity, I suppose. “We understand.”

“That was amazing, Mum.” April pushed her empty plate away, and flopped back in the kitchen chair. “I'd love to have a third helping, but I couldn't squeeze in another bite.”

She patted the bulge of her stomach to prove her point. I couldn't help smiling. It was my sister's first night back with us, and so far everything was going perfectly. She'd loved the flat and her new room, and Mum had made her favourite dinner, lasagne, to celebrate. But mostly, I think she was just pleased to be back with us again.

For my part, it felt great to have April back. Having her around made the flat feel more like a home. It also forced Mum and me to call a truce.

“Yes, it was one of my better efforts,” my mum said. “Although I think I could've done with adding wine to the sauce.”

I shot her a glare that could have cut glass.

“I was only joking!”

Seeing the anxious look on my sister's face, I managed to swallow down my retort. I didn't want to ruin her first evening back.

“I'll make us some tea,” I said instead.

I got up and filled the kettle, leaving April and my mother to catch up. They hadn't seen each other for three months, because Mum hadn't wanted my sister to visit her in rehab. As I waited for the water to boil, I leaned against the countertop, content to watch them together. They looked so alike, and they were both much more girly than me, gossiping about clothes and the latest celebrities.

“So what about boys?” my mother asked. “Is there anyone nice in your class?”

I rolled my eyes. It was so typical of my mother to ask about boys before schoolwork.

Luckily April pulled a face. “No, all the boys are horrible.” I felt pleased that she hadn't turned boy-crazy yet. But then she cast a sly look over to me. “But Nina has a boyfriend.”

I froze. I hadn't thought to tell April to keep her mouth shut about Alex—mainly because I didn't have a great reason for doing so.

April didn't seem to notice my discomfort, though. She carried on talking, oblivious to my signals to stop.

“He's really good-looking.”

“Oh?” Mum looked absurdly pleased.

“And he's got an amazing car. He must be really rich.”

My mother looked over at me. “I did wonder about all those secret phone calls you've been making,” she teased. “So who is the young man, and why haven't I met him yet?”

“It's no one.” I tried to sound dismissive. “April's got it wrong.”

But April wasn't having any of it. “That's rubbish, and you know it. He was totally in love with you, and you with him. I could tell when he gave me a lift. Now, what was his name again . . .” She thought for a moment. “It was something beginning with A,” she mused. I prayed she wouldn't get it, but a moment later she looked up, triumphant. “I know! It was Alex. Alex Noble. I remember, because I thought it sounded really posh . . .”

The blood began to drain from my mother's face.

I had no idea what to say—or what she was going to make of it. But she obviously didn't want to let on in front of April that anything was wrong, because she turned to her and smiled brightly.

“That's enough for now, sweetheart. Let's allow your sister some privacy. Why don't you run along and unpack? I'll bring you your tea.”

She waited until April had left the room, and then she turned grave eyes to me.

“So is April right? You're seeing Alexander Noble?”

“Yes, I am.” I said it almost defiantly. “What of it?”

Because of what Duncan Noble had said, I expected her to hit the roof, to start ranting and raving. But instead she sighed deeply, looking at me with sad eyes. “Oh, Nina,” she said, and then stopped, shaking her head at the news. “How did this happen?”

I quickly explained about having had to approach Duncan Noble for a job. Seeing her mournful expression as I spoke made me finally unleash. “Seriously—not you, too. Why does everyone have such a problem with us being together?”

My mother studied me for a long moment, as though she was weighing how to answer. Then at the last minute she surprised me by forcing a smile. “I don't have a problem with you and Alex being together. I was just surprised, that was all.”

I wasn't sure if I believed my mother. But I didn't care. I was happy with Alex. I didn't give a damn what anyone else thought.

* * *

The following night I went over to Alex's place for dinner.

It was a strange period for us. We'd been used to seeing so much of each other when I was working for him and we were living under the same roof. Now it was much more difficult to meet up, especially since I was trying to spend time with my mum and April, and get our lives back to
some semblance of a routine.

We'd talked about going out, but ended up ordering pizza again, which we ate curled up under the covers of his bed, watching a DVD. He'd wanted me to stay over, but I'd reluctantly said no. While my mother had been on her best behaviour ever since coming out of rehab, I still didn't trust her alone with April.

“If anything happened to her, and I was over here, I could never forgive myself.”

I still woke up sometimes thinking about how different the outcome of that night of the fire could have been.

Alex said he understood, and when it got to eleven, he drove me home.

I didn't tell him that my mother knew about him until we reached my flat. When he pulled up outside, he leaned over to kiss me, and I let him, wanting to put off revealing the truth to him for as long as possible.

Finally, I pulled away. He reached out and touched my cheek. We were parked under a streetlamp, and the light reflected off his strong jaw and cheekbones.

“I'll wait here until you get to your front door,” he said.

“You could walk me to it, if you want.” I waited a beat. “Maybe even come in for a bit? I know April is dying to see you again.” I rolled my eyes at that last part. If April had been a few years older, I think I'd have had serious competition for Alex's attention.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “And how would we explain that to your mother? Would I have to pretend to be someone else?” I laughed a little. I could tell he was trying to make light of the situation. “Take on a fake name, a fake identity . . .”

I took a breath. “You wouldn't have to.”

“How come?”

“Well,” I said carefully, “as of yesterday, my mother knows all about you—courtesy of my gossip of a little sister—so you might as well come in and meet her.”

It took a moment for him to speak. His face went very still, and his eyes looked away from me, fixing on a point in the distance.

“I don't think that's such a good idea.”

“Why not?” He had no answer. Even though I could tell he didn't want me to, I pressed on. “Please. Do this for me. It means a lot.” I felt I needed to give more explanation. “I haven't got on with my mum for years. I'd given up on her, if I'm being honest. But she really seems to be trying this time. You're important to me, and I want her to know you.”