Beautiful Liar (33 page)

He shook his head, and I could see he still regretted what he'd done. But I hardened my heart to him—after all, it was his irresponsible behaviour that had led to my father's death.

“We started playing drinking games. I have no idea how much I drank. I wasn't even thinking about being over the limit when I drove home.” His eyes were fixed on the road, and I had a feeling he didn't want to look in my direction. “When
the crash happened—” He broke off, choking a little on the words. “I got out to check on your father. I could see he wasn't in good shape, but I didn't realise he was—”

“Dead?” I filled in.

“Yes.” He closed his eyes briefly. “But even being injured would have been bad enough. Suddenly I was facing prison instead of university.

“I didn't know what to do. I went straight to Alex's bedroom and woke him up. I was hysterical, saying that my life was over. Alex offered to take the blame. He was only sixteen at the time, whereas I was eighteen. He was younger, so he reckoned that at worst he'd do some time in juvenile detention, but that he wouldn't have a permanent record.

“Alex had already confessed to our father before we learned that the other driver—your dad—was dead. By then it was too late for him to backtrack. Alex was prepared to do the time for me. He didn't intend the crime to go unpunished. What he didn't bank on was that Dad would cover the whole thing up. He felt awful about what happened, but there was nothing he could do about it.”

I tried to take in the enormity of what he'd told me, but it was too much.

“So what you're saying is that Alex was covering for you then, and he's still covering for you—even though it's ruining his life. Even though it's stopping us from being together.”

Giles was silent for a long moment, and then he slowly began to nod.

He looked pale and weasel-like, shifting uncomfortably under my gaze. I couldn't believe I'd thought he was attractive. Deep down I didn't think he was a bad person—just a coward. No wonder he'd been so nice to me—I couldn't imagine how he must have felt, being tasked with looking out for me at Destination, the girl whose father's death he'd caused. I must have been a permanent reminder of his sins, which he'd tried to atone for. I thought of how he'd made a pass at me—had he even felt anything for me, or was he just hoping to make up for what had happened? Had he created a romantic fantasy for himself, where we'd fall in love and that would make up for everything? I'm not sure even he would know the answer to that.

“But why didn't you come forward?” I asked. “Why didn't you set everyone straight?” I couldn't imagine letting anyone take the blame for me like that. Deep down, I'd still know that I'd done wrong. And that would be impossible to live with.

I saw a look of shame cross his face. “Because I knew Alex would get through it. He was always tougher than me. He'd always dealt so well with our father's abuse. He said to me Dad thinks so little of me anyway, one more incident isn't going to hurt. And God help me—” He let out a sob. “I went along with it. Because I'd seen the way our father
looked at Alex—the constant disappointment—and I couldn't stand the idea of him looking at me like that, too.”

He wiped his hand across his face, trying to rid himself of the tears. I could see his guilt and remorse. He might have let Alex take the blame, but he'd never stopped blaming himself.

“So where's Alex now?” I said quietly, once he seemed to have calmed down a little.

“One of Hugh's cousins drank too much. He's only sixteen, and they had to call an ambulance to take him to hospital to get his stomach pumped. Alex was organising it all, and talking to the police about what happened. He told me he was meeting you, and asked me to ask you to wait five more minutes for him . . .”

“So why didn't you?”

“Because I was worried about what he was going to say to you tonight.”

“He was planning to tell me the truth? That it was you driving the car that night?”

Giles shook his head. “He said that he wouldn't. He said that he thought the two of you could find a way to get past what you believed had happened, without him having to dob me in.”

Alex was right about that. I'd already made up my mind to try to see beyond it—to recognise that he wasn't that same person who'd caused the accident all those years earlier.

“Then what was the problem?” I said. “If he was planning to keep your secret, then why did you bother to interfere?”

“Because I couldn't trust him not to say anything. Alex is my brother, and I know he's loyal to me, but I knew that couldn't compete with how he felt about you. If your conversation had gone badly tonight, and he felt he was losing you, I didn't know what he'd say . . .”

“But if that's the case, what was the point of trying to separate us tonight? Wouldn't he just have told me another time?”

Giles frowned. “I think I was hoping I could reason with him, or we could find a way to tell you together.” Then he shook his head, as though to clear his thoughts. “Oh, to be honest, I don't know what I was thinking. I just panicked.”

I saw tears in his eyes. “It was one mistake, Nina. And I'm so sorry that it ever happened. If I could take it back, I would.”

“Oh, save it, will you?” I was growing a little tired of his self-pity. “How could you be so cowardly? You could have come forward at any time and admitted what you'd done, but instead, you preferred to see your brother—your younger brother—suffer for it. You ruined Alex's relationship with his father, and you ruined our relationship, too. You're pathetic.” I gave him a look of disgust. “Now, can you drop me somewhere, because I really don't want to be anywhere near you.”

“Wait, Nina.”

The panic in his voice made me stop, take a deep breath and turn to look at him. He looked pathetic sitting there, his eyes filled with fear.

“What?” I asked.

“I—I just wanted to know what you plan to do. If you're going to go to the police . . .”

I gave a dry laugh. “You really are unbelievable. I thought you were going to apologise for all the pain you've caused me and my family—and Alex, too. But instead, you're still thinking about saving your own skin. I don't know why I expected anything else.” I paused to let my words sink in. “And now, will you please let me out of the car?”

I expected him to slow down and pull over, but instead the car began to speed up. “I'm sorry, Nina. But I can't do that.”

It was then that I noticed how fast we were travelling. It was late, so there were few cars on the road, which gave us a clear run. I looked round, trying to get my bearings. We were driving along the Embankment, past Temple Station and coming up to Waterloo Bridge. On the other side of the river, I could see the distinctive OXO Tower, and the Royal Festival Hall.

“Where are we going?” I looked over nervously at Giles, suddenly concerned about his state of mind. Now the secret that he'd been keeping for years was out, what did he have to lose?

“I
want to go to my flat.” I remembered then that he lived in some new development by the water near Battersea. I just wondered what he was going to do when we got there. I'd find out soon, that was for sure—we were already driving by Tate Britain.

It was then that I saw it. In the rear-view mirror I spotted a car gaining on us. It was too far away to see exactly, but I was sure it was a silver sports car of some kind.

Alex.

He must have guessed what was going on, and was coming after us. I felt a surge of hope.

I flicked a look over to Giles. Thankfully, he was too caught up in himself to notice the other car.

I decided to try one last time to reason with him. “Giles, please, let me out.”

But he shook his head. “I'm sorry, but I can't do that, Nina. Not until I make you understand that you can't say anything about what you know.”

I wanted to tell him that I wouldn't—it would have been the sensible thing to do. But somehow the lie stuck in my throat. I couldn't betray my father that way—even to save myself.

Giles pressed his foot on the accelerator. The dial on the speedometer flickered up to ninety miles per hour. Ahead, I could see the pretty lights of Chelsea Bridge, and across the
river the looming chimneys of Battersea Power Station. We must have been nearly there, but at the speed he was going I wasn't sure we were going to make it. The car was veering from one side of the road to the other in such an erratic way that I felt a deep fear spread inside my belly.

“Slow down, Giles. Please,” I begged.

As we rounded the corner, I saw a large truck coming for us. It was straddling the middle of the road.

“Watch out!” I cried.

If Giles had been travelling at a normal speed, he could have slowed the car and let the other vehicle pass. But he was going too fast for that. All he could do was try to swerve to the left to avoid a head-on collision. But he must have misjudged the manoeuvre, and instead of pulling back onto the road, the car continued along a diagonal path, cutting straight across the pavement. The low wall that lined the Thames Path should have brought the car to a stop, but the vehicle was going at such a speed that instead we flew straight over it, and towards the dark river below.

In the split second that we sailed through the air, my brain was just about able to process what was about to happen. I clutched at the dashboard, bracing myself for impact, and took a deep breath.

But as the car hit the water, I felt with utter certainty that I was about to die.

I felt the impact go straight through me, the force rattling my bones.

A moment of relief at still being alive was replaced by a paralysing terror as the full extent of my predicament sunk in. My seat belt had helped hold me in place, so I didn't get knocked out—along with the way I'd braced myself against the dashboard. But as the airbag deflated, I could feel the car was already starting to sink, engine first. Ice-cold water began to fill the compartment, and I sensed I had seconds to get out.

Something clicked in my brain, and I remembered an article I'd read about a woman escaping her car when it went over a bridge and into a river. There'd been one of those breakout boxes, telling you what to do in the event of you ending up the same way. All the details came rushing back. From what I recalled, the window was my best chance of
escape, but the electronics would only work for a couple of minutes in the water. I hit the switch, and undid my seat belt, preparing for escape. I gave a quick glance over at Giles, and he seemed to be copying my actions. I had no time to check, as the car became fully submerged. I took a deep breath and slipped out of the window, using all my strength to push upwards through the ice-cold river.

The inky-black water seemed endless. It was impossible to see, so I had no sense of whether I was going in the right direction. I could feel panic grip me as my lungs began to fill.

And then I saw them—little pinpricks of light shimmering ahead of me. Relief coursed through me, and I began to swim towards them, my arms and legs powering me along as I found a reserve of strength.

Seconds later I broke the surface, gasping for breath.

As I trod water, I looked around for the shore, feeling disorientated in the dark. My body felt heavy in my sodden clothes, and I wondered how I would muster the strength to swim any farther. Then I felt strong arms round my waist.

“I've got you.” It was Alex. His lips were warm against my ear. “Don't panic. You'll be fine.”

I was too weak to talk. So I relaxed into his hold as he swam with me back to shore.

Arms reached over the side and hauled me upwards and onto the pavement. A crowd had gathered. As someone
wrapped me in a blanket, I realised Alex wasn't with me—he was still in the water.

“Where is he?” Alex called up. I knew immediately who he was talking about.

“He's still down there. Giles is still in the car. But Alex, don't! It's too dangerous—”

But he was already swimming off, back to the middle of the river. All I could do was watch helplessly as he dived back down into the deep.

Passers-by were surrounding me, trying to get me to sit down. But I needed to make sure that Alex was all right. My teeth were chattering as I stood by the edge of the river, watching the dark water. Instead of slowing down now that I was safe, my heartbeat was speeding up. If something happened to Alex, I didn't know what I'd do. What was taking so long?

“There!” a man called. “There's someone in the water!”

I looked in the direction he was pointing. Sure enough, there was a figure, but I couldn't make out who it was. I moved forward, so close to the edge that there were worried murmurs and hands held me back. Then a second later, the swimmer moved into the light, and my whole body relaxed—it was Alex.

He was safe, but alone.

That's when I passed out.

* * *

The rhythmic sound of a machine woke me up. My eyes fluttered open and I saw that I was in a hospital bed. There was an IV pumping fluids into my left hand. A heart monitor was beeping steadily—which seemed like a good thing.

I must have been in a side ward, because I had the room to myself. I looked round, and saw Alex sitting in the armchair across from me. He got to his feet and moved towards my bed.

“How are you feeling?” He looked concerned, and reached for the call button. “I'll get someone in here—”

“No.” My voice was weak, and my throat hurt. I guessed they must have pumped my stomach. “We need to talk first.”

I patted my bed, so he would sit down near me. I didn't want to strain my voice, given that I could barely speak above a whisper.

“Why didn't you tell me?” I said. “About Giles.” That's what I hadn't been able to figure out—he would have made his life so much easier if he'd just let everyone know he hadn't done anything wrong.