The Girl Who Lied(66)

‘When isn’t she?’ I can’t help but mutter the remark, albeit quietly into my glass.

‘Ah, come on, Erin. She’s not that bad,’ says Joe. ‘She’s had a lot to contend with since…’ His voice trails off.

‘Since the accident,’ I say. ‘Well, she’s not the only one.’

‘It was and has been difficult for all of us,’ says Bex. ‘Admittedly, more so for others.’ She gives me a comforting look. Bex is kind, always the peace-maker. ‘Don’t mind Joe, now,’ she says. ‘He’s always had a soft spot for Roisin.’

‘That might be so, but Roisin and myself, we go back a long way,’ says Joe. He leans over to Bex. ‘But you, my love, know I have eyes for you and you alone.’

‘Is that so?’ says Bex, tapping his arm. ‘I always remember when we were teenagers, how you and Roisin were glued to each other’s sides. I used to think you were going out with each other.’

‘God spare us,’ says Kerry.

‘We were friends,’ says Joe. ‘Sure, we were more like brother and sister back then. Wouldn’t you agree, Erin?’

‘A proper double act,’ I say. I realise I haven’t quite managed to inject the banter into my voice that everyone else has been enjoying. Three pairs of eyes look at me in an awkward moment of silence.

‘Right, who’s for another round?’ says Kerry, putting us all back on an even keel. ‘Come on, Joe, you can help me at the bar.’ He gives his cousin an indiscreet kick under the table.

We spend the next couple of hours on safer subjects, the atmosphere being warm and enjoyable.

It’s early evening when we part company with Joe and Bex at the top of the High Street. I lean into Kerry as we wave them off down the road.

‘I think your plan to get me wrecked has worked,’ I say.

‘Not too wrecked, I hope,’ says Kerry. ‘I’ve got plans for you.’ He gives me a tap on the backside.

‘And I have plans for you.’ I return the gesture.

I’m not sure what time it is when I wake up, but the evening is drawing in, the last flecks of daylight shimmer against the dipping sun. I pull the duvet up and snuggle against Kerry, who is sleeping soundly. I feel relaxed and happy despite the altercation with Roisin earlier.

I think about it rationally. Okay, Roisin found the photograph of me and Niall. I don’t know how or where as I don’t know what Niall did with it after I gave it to him. It’s irrelevant, really. The fact of the matter is that Roisin has it. The words I’d written on the back, one plus one equals three, were obviously a giveaway and she must have guessed I was pregnant when I was with Niall. And the reason for her resurrecting it all now, well, that’s simple. She wants revenge. She’s always blamed me for the accident and hated that anyone should feel sorry for me or my family. I remember between the accident and the funeral, she was going around the village telling people it was all my fault. Apparently, she hated it if anyone sympathised with me. I’m not sure whether she’s hedging her bets that she knows what happened to the baby or not.

Kerry stirs and rolls over, his arms slipping round me. ‘Hello, there,’ he says, his voice heavy with sleep. ‘You okay?’

I wriggle even further into his embrace. ‘Of course. You?’

‘Silly question.’ He squints and rubs at his eyes so he can see the face of his watch. ‘Half-eight. We must’ve been asleep a good hour. Cup of tea?’ He rolls over out of bed, pulling on his jeans and t-shirt.

I get myself dressed and follow him out to the living room, where I make myself comfortable on the sofa, curling my legs up underneath me.

‘I’m not used to all that afternoon drinking,’ I say, accepting the cup of tea Kerry offers me. ‘I feel like I’m getting a hangover now. I’m such a lightweight.’

Kerry sits beside me and we drink our tea in silence for a while until he speaks. ‘So…,’ he says.

‘So?’ I repeat, although I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming next. I brace myself.

‘Soooo, what’s the story with Roisin?’





Chapter 22


I look at him. I know he’s not going to like what I’m about to tell him. Not after the secret he shared with me about his mother. Briefly, I wonder whether I can make up something. Tell him a lie. But what would that achieve? Nothing. He’s trusted me. I have to trust him with what I can.

‘When I was sixteen and going out with Niall Marshall, I fell pregnant,’ I say, measuring each word. ‘It was in the spring, my last year at high school. Niall’s last year in the sixth form. He was going off to university in the September.’