Little White Lies (35 page)

“Ready?” Aunt Grace asks as I step into the blinding June sunlight.

I take a deep breath. “As I’ll ever be.”

The truth is, I didn’t even want to wake up this morning, didn’t want to come here, didn’t want to remember what date it was. But Aunt Grace was determined.

“It’s important,” she said. “We can’t undo what happened, but we shouldn’t try to forget that day two years ago either. It changed all our lives.”

Two years.
I can’t believe it’s really been two years.

It feels like just yesterday.

It feels like a lifetime.

I gaze around the sunny graveyard as I follow Aunt Grace, Gran, and Millie down the winding pathway. It’s changed so much since the day we buried Poppy. Then, the ground was shrouded in damp dead leaves, but now it is carpeted with pretty flowers coming into bloom, a sign of new life, new beginnings... new hope.

“Let’s play hide-and-seek!” Millie cries.

“I...” I hesitate. I’m not really in the mood for games, and it
is
a graveyard.

“What a wonderful idea!” Gran smiles. “Let’s hide together and wait for someone to find us!”

“Okay!” Millie beams.

“Poppy was always
wonderful
at hide-and-seek,” I hear Gran say as they wander off, hand in hand.

“I know!” Millie grins. “That’s why I want to play it!”

I smile as she skips through the leafy shadows, the dappled sunlight dancing over her golden hair.

“She’s come through this better than anyone.” Aunt Grace smiles. “Thanks to you.”

I shake my head. “I haven’t done anything.”

“You’ve been here for her,” she argues, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “For both of us. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”

“You’ve always been there for me,” I counter. “I owe you everything.”

“You don’t owe me a thing—you’re family.” She kisses my head. “But I still feel bad about you dropping out of uni.”

“I’ll start again in September.” I shrug. “And hopefully I’ll get better grades now that I’ve retaken my A levels!”

“You should—you’ve worked so hard. I’m so proud of you.” She beams. “And... and thank you for your support with Amir too. I know it must be weird, now that we’ve started seeing each other again. It probably seems really quick.”

“You’ve waited months.” I smile. “Over a year, really. And Amir’s lovely. He’s great with Millie, he adores you, and life’s short.” I squeeze her tight. “You need to do what makes you happy, be with
people
who make you happy. You never know... when they’ll be gone.”

I think of Poppy and Uncle Jim... Just two years ago I completely took them both for granted, two of the people I love most in the whole world—forg
etting to call them back, letting months go by between visits. I was so wrapped up with myself and my own new life at boarding school, I had no idea what was going on back home, no clue things weren’t right between Aunt Grace and Uncle Jim, was oblivious that Poppy had met a new guy in the art gallery.... If I’d just made more of an effort, been more attentive, more involved, then perhaps... I sigh. Christian was right, you can’t change the past.

But you can learn from it.

That’s why, wherever I end up studying in September, I’m not going to make the same mistake again. I’m going to stay in touch as much as possible, like I am with Uncle Jim. It hasn’t been easy. I was scared to visit him at first. Terrified he wouldn’t want to see me, that he’d hate me, even, after my terrible betrayal. But before I could say a single word he just wrapped his huge arms around me and hugged me so hard my insides crumbled. When we finally parted both our faces were streaked with tears.

“I’m so sorry, Lulu,” he sighed, his eyes shining. “You did the right thing—what I should have done a long time ago. I’m sorry I didn’t. I’m sorry I lied about it. And I’m—I’m so sorry for what I did.”

“I know.” I nodded. Then we hugged again until the warden made us part.

A few visits later, I brought Millie with me. Aunt Grace still didn’t feel up to facing Uncle Jim, but she decided Millie was now old enough to visit him, and that it was important that she should have her father in her life.

“He’s still her daddy, and she needs him,” Aunt Grace told me. “And he needs her. Whatever he’s done, he doesn’t deserve to lose both his daughters.”

We’d all been anxious about how she’d cope, seeing him in prison, but she just squealed with delight and jumped into his arms as Uncle Jim’s face exploded with joy. Then we spent the whole hour playing together in the children’s area, reading stories and painting pictures.

We’ve been to see him every two weeks since then. Occasionally Aunt Grace comes too, and I write to him as often as I can. He needs our support now more than ever, since the country’s turned against him, the tabloids demonizing him for what happened, just like they originally did with Christian.

But Uncle Jim’s no more a demon than Christian appeared to be.

He’s human. He’s made mistakes. And God knows, he’s paying for them. He’ll be tortured with the guilt and heartache of killing his beloved Poppy for the rest of his life. The rest of the country should just mind their own business.

Suddenly Aunt Grace stops walking, and I look up, surprised. I follow her gaze to see a woman kneeling by a grave, with a stroller.

Sabina.

I swallow hard. It’s the first time I’ve seen her since Poppy’s funeral, but of
course
she’d be here today—it’s the day Tariq died, after all. I watch as she slowly stands up, turns—then freezes when she spots us.

Before I can say anything, Aunt Grace hurries towards her.

“My dear girl, can you ever forgive me?” she asks, taking her hand.

Sabina’s eyes widen.

“You’ve been through so much, suffered such a great loss.” She turns to Tariq’s headstone. “He was a very brave young man, and I’m sorry that it’s taken so long for that to be recognized.” She gestures to the bouquet in her hand. “May I?”

Sabina nods, and Aunt Grace bends down to gently place a white carnation on Tariq’s grave. She takes a deep breath and touches the headstone gingerly.

“I’m so very sorry for what happened,” she sighs, shaking her head. “For everything...” Her voice cracks.

Sabina stares at her for a moment, then steps forward and places her hand on Aunt Grace’s shoulder.

“It’s not your fault,” she says quietly. “You didn’t know. None of us knew what really happened.”

Aunt Grace shakes her head wretchedly. “But I
should
have known—he was my husband, she was my
daughter
.”

“Yes. She was your daughter. Your child,” Sabina says, glancing at Ash. “And I’m so very, very sorry for your loss.”

Aunt Grace looks up at her, her eyes full.

“She was a lovely girl,” Sabina tells her. “She was too young to die.”

Aunt Grace nods. “So was Tariq.”

“He was.” Sabina sighs. “But now at least the world knows the truth about him, who he
really
was.” She looks at me. “Leo told me what you did. Thank you. It must’ve been really hard.”

I nod. “Doing the right thing often is.”

She smiles sadly. “It never stopped Tariq.”

“He was a true hero,” Aunt Grace tells her. “You should be very proud.”

“I am.” Sabina smiles. “We both are, aren’t we, Ash?”

“Well, hello, Ash!” Aunt Grace smiles, bending over his stroller and shaking the toddler’s hand. “How lovely to meet you. What a handsome young man!”

Ash grins at Aunt Grace, then pulls his blanket over his face.

“He’s a bit shy,” Sabina laughs and I marvel at how much she’s changed since the funeral—how much younger she seems, her face falling naturally into a smile, her eyes bright. Happy.

“Can I...” Sabina hesitates. “I mean, would you mind giving Poppy a flower—from me?” She picks out a beautiful pink bloom from Tariq’s grave and offers it to Aunt Grace.

Aunt Grace looks at it for a moment, then shakes her head, wraps her arm around Sabina’s shoulders. “We’ll go together.”

I smile as I follow them along the path to Poppy’s grave. They’re free. Free from guilt, from persecution, from the shadow of Tariq’s alleged crime. The truth has set them free, and now Sabina and Ash can finally live their lives in peace.

And so can Christian. Wherever he is. He’s a free man. No longer Christian Webb. No longer a criminal. No longer a jailbird.

I watch a flock of birds scatter into the air as we approach, swooping through the boundless blue sky. What an odd term—
jailbird
. If there’s one creature that should never be caged, it’s a bird. I watch them flutter and soar, chirping and singing, my heart lifting as they fly far, far away, disappearing into the distance.

I may never see him again, but at least that’s his choice now. He’s free to do whatever he wants.

And I’m glad. I know I did the right thing.

“Well, I never,” Sabina says suddenly. “Isn’t that a sight for sore eyes?
Leo
!”

My heart stops.

Slowly, unable to breathe, I turn and drag my gaze across the graveyard, goose bumps breaking out down my arms.

His hair is back to his natural blond, and cropped short, making him look younger than he did before, but as those piercing blue eyes meet mine it’s like the last eight months just melt away.

Christian.

Before I can read his expression, his gaze flicks to Sabina as she laughs and rushes over to him. Aunt Grace follows, but my feet are rooted to the ground.

I watch him embrace Sabina warmly and my heart aches—I’m desperate to run to him, but terrified of rejection.

Slowly, he releases her and bends to gently lay down a bouquet of flowers.

At Poppy’s grave.

My heart plummets. Of course.
Poppy.
He’s come to see Poppy. Not me.

“You found us!” Millie cries, rushing at Aunt Grace as Gran walks out from behind a tree. They all gather round Poppy’s grave, but I can’t move, can’t join them.

I stare at my feet, trying to make myself invisible. He has every right to hate me. And whatever I do, I don’t want to make things worse.

Suddenly there’s a sound of someone clearing their throat and I look up, startled.

“Not interrupting anything, am I?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“No...no, sorry, I—I just...,” I stammer, looking away quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t expect you to be here. Sorry.” I stare at my feet.

“Lou, look at me.”

But I can’t. I can’t face him after all I’ve done.

“I thought I might find you here today,” he says quietly.

He did?

“I went to your house a while ago.”

Really?
Hesitantly, I allow myself to look up a little. I stare at his trainers. “We moved,” I say. “There were... too many memories.”

He nods. “I tried your halls too.”

He went all the way to
Sheffield
? My gaze drifts up to his knees.

“I... dropped out,” I explain. “I decided to resit my A levels instead, and apply somewhere closer to home. Make a fresh start.”

“Seems like everyone is,” he comments. “Vix too. I couldn’t find her in Sheffield either, but then I saw her byline in the paper. She’s doing really well.”

I smile. “She is.”

“She owes you a lot,” he says, stepping closer. “We both do.”

My heart beats harder.

“I’m an idiot, Lou. You gave me my life back and gave me a future worth living, and how did I repay you?”

My eyes travel slowly up to his stomach.

“Because of you, now everyone knows the truth. Not just about me, but Tariq too.” He looks over at Aunt Grace and Sabina chatting to Gran, while Millie and Ash race each other between the trees, giggling.

“You did this. You told the truth. That’s all I ever wanted.” He turns to me. “Till now. Till you.”

I dare to raise my gaze to his chest, my heart racing.

“Let’s have our own fresh start,” he suggests. “No more lies.” He holds out his hand and finally, nervously, I look up and meet his gaze.

“Hello.” He smiles, those blue eyes sparkling at me. “I’m Leo.”

“Hi.” I smile back, his hand warm in mine as I shake it tentatively. I take a deep breath, hesitate.
The truth.

“I’m Lucinda.”

His eyes widen for a moment, then he laughs, a rich, warm sound, and shakes his head in disbelief.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you at last, Lucinda.” He grins, pulling me closer. “Truly.”

And as his lips meet mine and the last of our lies are scattered to the wind, finally, wonderfully, it’s just me and him.

Acknowledg
ments

Huge thanks…

To my wonderful editors, Jane Griffiths, Michelle Poploff, Amy Black, Venetia Gosling, and Rebecca Short, for believing in me and my characters, and without whom this tale—and my life—would be a very different story.

To my brilliant agent and lovely friend, Jenny Savill, and all at the fantastic Andrew Nurnberg Associates for your incredible warmth, faith, support, and guidance.

To Guido Liguori, for so very generously sharing his wisdom, advice, and expertise.

To all my uni mates, especially Andy, Lander, Steve, Nick, Mach, and Sean, who not only made my time in Sheffield so memorable but became friends for life.

To all my author friends at The Edge and SCBWI, for their much-valued insights, good humor, and encouragement.

To Chris, for his endless support and love through this rollercoaster of a dream, for not going crazy when I became a hermit, and for keeping me sane, making me laugh, and doing the washing up when it wasn’t his turn.

And finally to my incredible family, who are a constant—and much treasured—
source of love, laughter, and inspiration.

Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart.