The Girl Who Lied(2)

‘No. Sorry. You have the wrong number.’ I can’t speak to her. Not now. Not at work.

‘Oh, I don’t think I have,’ she replies. I can hear amusement in her voice. It’s the same patronising voice I remember from when we were at school. ‘And before you hang up, you might want to listen to what I have to say.’

I look up towards Ed’s door. It’s closed. The frosted glass blurs his outline, but I can see him there, sitting at his desk.

‘What do you want?’ My voice is low, almost a whisper. I hope she can’t detect the undercurrent of fear.

‘We need to talk,’ says Roisin. ‘Oh, and you can drop the accent.’

‘What do you want?’ I repeat, ignoring the snipe.

‘If you hadn’t ignored my emails, you would know.’ She’s enjoying this, I can just tell. It reminds me of when we were kids. She loved being in control then, whether it was as five-year-olds in the playground, twelve-year-olds listening to music or teenagers deciding what to wear for a party. It always had to be on Roisin’s terms. And I’d let her. She was pretty, she was popular, she was rich, she was all the things I wasn’t. She used to tease me then and she’s doing it now. Except, I’m not the same person as I was then. A little flicker of defiance ignites within me.

‘Look, Roisin,’ I say. Perhaps if I stand up to her now, like I should have done all those times before, I can call her bluff. ‘Whatever it is you want to talk about, spit it out. I haven’t got all day. I’m about to go home.’

‘Don’t go getting yourself all worked up now, Erin,’ says Roisin. ‘I’ve found something of yours.’

‘What’s that, then?’ I can’t for one minute think what it is and for that reason the unease shifts up a gear.

‘A photograph.’ She pauses for effect. It works. Then she continues. ‘A photograph of you and Niall.’

‘Roisin, can you get to the point,’ I say, noticing through the glass that Ed is standing up, getting ready to leave.

‘I tell you what, I’ll scan it and email it over to you.’

I hold in the sigh of exasperation. I don’t want her to know I’m riled. I can see Ed putting on his jacket. Any minute now he’ll be out of the office and waiting to take me for a drink. Neither of us has work tomorrow, so we had planned an evening out, which usually meant my staying over at his place.

I need to get Roisin off the phone. ‘Don’t email my work. Send it to my private email.’ I quickly rattle off the address.

‘Make sure you get back to me,’ says Roisin. ‘We need that talk.’

I put the phone down without answering just as Ed walks out of his office, his sports holdall in one hand and car keys jangling in the other.

‘All set, then?’ he says.

‘Erm, I’m not feeling too well,’ I say, not quite able to meet his eyes. ‘I feel a bit sick.’ That’s not actually a lie. I feel queasy at the thought of what Roisin is sending me.

‘That’s not like you,’ says Ed. ‘We can go straight to mine, if you like. Skip dinner.’

I smile at him. ‘To be honest, I think I’d better go home.’ Again that’s no lie. ‘I don’t think I’d be much company tonight.’ I pick up my bag and take my coat from the peg. ‘Sorry.’

‘Hey, that’s okay,’ says Ed. ‘Are you going to be okay to drive or do you want me to drop you home?’

‘I’ll drive. I’ll be fine.’

‘Text me when you’re home,’ he says. He gives me a hug and drops a kiss on top of my head. ‘I’ll give Ralph a call and see if he fancies a pint. Now, drive carefully and don’t forget to text.’ He’s scrolling through his contacts list and calling up Ralph before he’s even out the door. ‘Ralph, mate! What you up to tonight?’ And then he’s disappearing out of the door.

When I get back to the house, where I rent two rooms on the top floor, I call out a quick hello in the hallway and then head straight up. I hear Stacey, one of the house-sharers, call out a greeting. She rents the room at the front of the house. We’re friendly, but not friends. Same for the guy who rents the middle floor. I’m not even sure what he does, but he keeps himself to himself. We each do our own thing. I like it that way. Everyone at arm’s length.

I unlock the door at the top of the second staircase and step into my own bastion of safety. I make myself a cup of green tea and sit down in front of the laptop. I notice my hand shakes slightly as I move the mouse around on the pad and access my emails.