Read Online Telling Lies to Alice by Laura Wilson - Free Book Online

mind.
    “What was that ?”
    “My dog. Why . . . I mean, what are you doing here?”
    “I’ve come to see you, of course. Aren’t you going to ask me in?”
    I heard myself say, “Oh, yes, sorry . . . please, come in,” and I stood back and let him bring his suitcase into the hall. “Are you . . .”
    “I thought I’d stay a few days, if that’s all right with you.” He looked straight at me. I dropped my eyes first. It was pathetic. I was totally flustered, and he could see it.
    “I don’t recall inviting you,” I said, trying to pull myself together.
    Jack held out the flowers as if I hadn’t spoken. “I bought you these.”
    “That’s very kind of you,” I said automatically.
    “Now then. Where do I go?”
    I watched Jack look round the kitchen and saw it through his eyes—the dirty lino, the dishes in the sink, the saddle in the armchair, the dog shedding hairs on the sofa, and me with my bare feet, grubby T-shirt, and jeans cut off at the knee. A drip from the drying rack landed on his head. He looked up. “What’s that thing hanging down?”
    “A girth.”
    “Oh. What’s a girth?”
    “Keeps the saddle on the horse. How did you get here?”
    “Train. The taxi dropped me at the gate. I thought I’d stay a few days—I’m sure you could use a bit of company. I’ve been worried about you, out here by yourself.”
    I stared at him.
    “Jack, I haven’t seen you since Lenny’s funeral.”
    “You haven’t thought about me at all, have you?” he asked aggressively.
    “Yes, of course I’ve thought about you,” I said, taken back. “Actually, I was thinking about you the other day, wondering if—”
    “You don’t have to pretend, Alice. There’s someone else, isn’t there?”
    “What are you talking about, someone else?”
    “Another man.”
    “What do you mean, another man? Even if there was, I don’t see—”
    “It was a joke, darling.”
    “It didn’t sound like one.”
    “Well, it was. You never did like hurting people’s feelings, did you? Was that why you went to bed with me, all those years ago?”
    “No! Jack, stop it! I don’t understand what—”
    Jack interrupted. “Lenny bought this place, didn’t he?”
    “Yes.” To my dismay, my eyes filled with tears. I turned my head away, but not quickly enough.
    “Never mind, darling. I’m here now.” As if I’d begged him to come. Before I could reply, Jack said, “Does he always do that?”
    “Who?”
    “Your dog. Does he always fall asleep with his arse hanging off the sofa like that?”
    “All the time. Jack, I still don’t—”
    “You’d think he’d slip off, wouldn’t you? I don’t see how it can be comfortable. What’s his name?”
    “Eustace. Jack, why are you here, actually?”
    “I’m here because I wanted to see you, actually. And London’s like a bloody furnace. Anyway, now you’ve got me, you might offer me a drink. I wouldn’t mind something to eat, either. Actually.”
    “I can make you a cheese sandwich, and I think there’s some scotch . . .” I put the roses in the sink and started pulling things out of the fridge. “Cheddar?”
    “Anything. This is a nice old place.” He went over to the table and picked up a snaffle bit while I concentrated on cutting bread. “Wouldn’t fancy that in my mouth. Have you got a horse of your own?”
    “Two. Pickle?”
    “Why not? Where’s the booze?”
    “Oh, sorry. Try the cupboard in the corner.” Jack stuck his head in and reappeared holding an elderly bottle of Johnnie Walker. I was hoping he’d go and sit down but he leant against the worktop and watched me. “You’re still gorgeous. Dishevelled, but gorgeous.”
    “Thanks. By the way, does Val know you’re here?”
    “Still cynical, as well. You haven’t given me a kiss yet.”
    “So I haven’t.” I said it as flippantly as I could and kept my eyes on the breadboard.
    “I’ve thought about you a lot.” Jack put his hand on my arm. I jumped. I couldn’t help it.