Beautiful Liar (34 page)

“It wasn't my secret to tell,” he said simply.

I didn't know what to say or think. I'd said all these awful things to him, and now they'd turned out not to be true. I remembered what my mother had said—that I shouldn't judge him when I didn't know the full story.

“Giles
was distraught about what happened—even before he realised how bad the accident was. He'd worked so hard for everything he'd achieved. And he thought he was going to lose it all because of one stupid stunt.

“I was just trying to help by saying it was me. Then, when we found out the driver had died—”

“My father had died,” I couldn't help pointing out.

Alex winced at my clarification. “Yes. That your father had died. It was impossible to go back and change our story.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “Giles refused to confess.”

Alex smiled a little, and then grew serious again. “Our father had done such a good job covering everything up. I was young, and I just went along with it. But as I got older, I regretted ever being a part of it. Someone should have paid for that night, even if it was an accident. But by then it was too late.

“And maybe part of me felt I might as well take the blame. My father seemed so quick to believe the worst of me—that I'd been drunk-driving and left the scene of an accident. I suppose I felt that if he thought so little of me, I might as well be the person he believed I was.”

I saw then that Alex was a lot like me—he'd been abandoned, first by his mother and then by his father, with his continued disappointment in him. The drinking, drugs, one-night stands and illegal gambling . . . It was all because he felt no one cared about him, so why should he care about himself?

We fell into silence, as though Alex sensed there was only so much I could discuss right then.

His hair and clothes were still damp. Moonlight filtered through the hospital window, catching his chiselled jaw.

He cleared his throat. “So what happened tonight? Why didn't you wait for me like you said you would?”

I shook my head. “Giles came up to me at the hotel. He told me that you'd gone off with Tori to take drugs—”

“And you believed him?” The hurt on Alex's face took me by surprise. I'd expected him to be annoyed at Giles for lying—but I had a feeling he was more disappointed in me for thinking that it was true.

“I'm sorry.” I wrinkled my forehead. “It just seemed so plausible . . .”

He nodded slowly, but not in a way that reassured me. Somehow this wasn't turning out to be the reunion I'd hoped for.

I cleared my throat. “So where does this leave us?”

The fact that he didn't answer straight away worried me.

“Look, Nina,” he said eventually. “I need to think about this for a while. I need some time to process what's gone on. Giles—my brother—he died tonight—”

I winced. “Oh God.” I buried my head in my hands. “You blame me, don't you?”

“No,” he said quietly. “Of course I don't. But I need to be
with my father for a while. He hasn't taken this well—”

“Of course. I understand.”

But still Alex didn't move.

“There's more to it, though,” I said. “Isn't there?”

He sighed. “I wanted us to be together, Nina. I really did. But considering how easily you believed Giles tonight about me going off the rails—do you honestly think that we have any chance of working?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but couldn't find the words.

He shook his head sadly. “I thought we could be together. I really did. But now—”

He didn't complete the sentence. He didn't need to.

“Your mum and sister should be here soon,” he said, getting to his feet. “I only stayed because I didn't want you to be alone.”

Alex was almost at the door, when I called his name. He turned back, and I could see the sorrow in his eyes.

“I still want this to work between us,” I said.

“I know.” He gave me a rueful smile. “I just don't know if it can.”

The next week was frantic. I had to give a statement to the police, explaining the events that had taken place on the Embankment, and how they had led to us plunging into the Thames. The detective in charge of the case said that, as Giles was the driver, and he hadn't been drinking, it was likely to be ruled a tragic accident.

The first moment that I had alone with my mother, I told her that it was Giles, not Alex, who'd caused the accident that killed Dad. We discussed what to do, but in the end there seemed to be nothing to be gained from revealing the truth. Giles was dead. And it wasn't as though Alex needed to be exonerated.

As for Alex, I didn't hear from him. I called and left a message every day, but none of them were returned. It seemed he'd made his mind up about us, and I feared there was nothing I could do to change it.

The following month, it was my father's birthday. It fell on a Sunday, and I went with my mother and April to lay flowers on his grave. It was our tradition every year.

Afterwards, the three of us had lunch. When April went off to look at the desserts, my mother turned to me.

“You're not happy.” She nodded down at my plate. I'd scarcely touched my food.

“That's hardly surprising,” I said, deliberately misinterpreting what she'd said. “We spent the morning at a cemetery.”

She shook her head. “I don't mean about today.” She waited a beat, and then said, “You still miss Alex, don't you?”

I studied the table. I didn't say anything, but I didn't need to.

Mum sighed. “Sweetheart, let me give you some advice. Making yourself miserable isn't helping your dad. I wasted years punishing myself. Don't do the same. He wouldn't have wanted that.”

“Yeah, but . . .” It was hard to put into words. Being with Alex would have made me feel guilty. Somehow it didn't feel right to be happy when my dad wasn't around.

“It's a cliché, but if there's one thing your dad's death taught me, it's that life's too short.” She reached out and grasped my hands in hers, so hard that it almost hurt. “Don't
waste even a second of it.”

April came back then, ending our discussion. But my mother's words continued to reverberate in my head for the rest of the day.

* * *

The next day, I went to see Duncan Noble—to set him straight about who had been driving the car that killed my father. I knew Alex would be too proud to tell him, and I thought it was important that he knew what had really happened—that while his youngest son had his faults, he at least hadn't killed an innocent man.

He agreed to see me early that evening, in his office in Canary Wharf, where I'd met him almost a year earlier. He'd aged exponentially in that time. I no longer looked at him as the man who'd conspired to keep the circumstances of my father's death a secret—all I could see was a parent broken by the death of his child.

Losing a parent was horrible, a terrible sadness, but at least it was the natural order of life. But losing a partner or a child—that was an unimaginable loss to me. And Duncan Noble had endured both.

I quickly outlined what had really happened the night of my father's crash. I didn't want to make things worse—but I felt Duncan Noble needed to know the truth.

He didn't look as surprised as I'd expected.

“You knew?” I said. “You knew all along that it was Giles?”

“I suspected. I overheard them talking a couple of years ago, put two and two together . . .”

“But why didn't you say anything?” I couldn't believe what I was hearing. “Do you really hate Alex so much that you were happy for him to take the blame?”

He frowned at me. “Of course not! But so much time had passed, and I couldn't see the point of opening old wounds. And I don't hate Alex. I never have. I love him. He's my son. It's just that we're very different people. Giles was an extension of me. I knew exactly how he thought, because it was how I did, too. Alex has always been harder for me to understand. But that doesn't mean I don't love him—just as much as I loved Giles.” His brow furrowed, as if he was running through the events of the past in his head. “Maybe I was harder on Alex, but it was because I cared. I didn't want him screwing up his life, the way his mother had—turning his back on responsibilities. And I think maybe I mistook his partying for being flighty, like she was.” He stopped then, to think the point through. Then his expression cleared, and he gazed directly at me, a softer look on his face. “But then, in recent months, I've seen the way he's changed, and I realise he's nothing like his mother. He'd do anything for you out of love. He's not the type to walk away; in fact, he's one of the most loyal people I know.” He gave a rueful smile. “He's
a fine young man. And so was Giles. He made a mistake, but it was one he always regretted . . .”

“You should tell him that,” I said. “You should tell Alex what you just said to me. He needs to hear that.”

Duncan seemed to think this over for a moment. “Yes,” he said finally. “He does need to hear that from me. But there's something else he needs more than that.”

“What's that?”

“You,” he said simply. “He needs you.”

I shook my head. “He made it plain in the hospital that he didn't want me. That he didn't believe it could work.”

“That's only because he feels that you don't trust him. He needs someone to believe in him. And I think you do. And if I'm right, then you need to let him know that.”

Did I trust Alex? I thought back to the night of Jas's wedding, before I'd found out that he'd been covering for Giles. I'd already made my decision then, hadn't I? I'd already chosen to trust him—to forgive him. And even with what Giles told me, I'd sensed that Alex wouldn't have slipped back into his old ways.

I got to my feet. “I have to go.”

Duncan smiled a little. I could tell he'd already guessed where.

As I reached the glass doors that led out to the lift, I gave one last look back to Duncan Noble. He was half-turned, so I could only see his profile as he stared out the window. But
I could see a look of contentment had settled over his features. He obviously still had a way to go grieving for Giles, but I think it had made him feel a little better to have helped Alex.

Now I just had to make sure his faith in me, and my ability to make Alex happy, hadn't been misplaced.

* * *

Half an hour later, I got off the Tube at Knightsbridge. I emerged from the station into the cool, crisp air. It was autumn now, and the evenings were drawing in.

I crossed the road to Alex's apartment building. Instead of going through reception, and asking to be buzzed up, I went to the underground car park. I wanted this to be a surprise. I got into the lift and put in the code for the top floor.

I drummed my hand against my side as the lift went up. My heart beat harder as I got closer to his floor. It was a risk, of course. He might not be in. Or he might even have another girl there. But there was no turning back now.

The lift pinged, announcing my arrival, and the doors slid open.

I heard rapid footsteps. As the sound grew closer part of me wanted to get back in the lift and disappear. But before I could do that, Alex, barefoot, his hair mussed up in that sexy way I adored, rounded the corner.

I'm not sure who he'd been expecting, but he did a double-take
when he saw me.

A look of happiness flitted briefly across his face—his initial, spontaneous reaction. Then he seemed to catch himself, remember how he was meant to act around me, and the smile was replaced with a frown.

“Why're you here, Nina?” His tone was guarded, but I didn't care. I was just happy to hear his voice again. I hadn't realised how much I'd missed that clipped, upper-class drawl.

“I'm here to tell you that you were wrong.”

“About what in particular?” A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “There's always so much to choose from.”

“About us.” I spoke firmly, refusing to let him put me off. “You were wrong about us.”

“Oh? I wasn't aware there was an ‘us' anymore.”

I followed him as he turned away and went into the living area. He took a bottle of whisky from the bar and poured himself a drink. I knew he was trying to pretend he didn't care—like he had so many times before. But this time I wasn't going to let him get away with it.

I took a step towards him, my eyes fixed on him, wanting him to know that I wasn't leaving without telling him how I felt.

“You don't believe I'll ever trust you. You said that's why we couldn't be together. But you're wrong.”

“Oh?”

“I did trust you. Even before I found out the truth about Giles.”

As I spoke those words, he went very still. “What do you mean?”

“At Jas and Hugh's wedding. Remember when you asked me to wait for you so we could talk?”

“Yes, I do remember that.” His voice carried more than a trace of bitterness. “And from what I recall, my brother told you that I'd gone off to get high, and you believed him.”

I dropped my eyes for a moment, feeling my cheeks flushing at the memory. But then I forced myself to focus on the reason I was there. “You're right,” I admitted. “At first I did believe him.” I took another step towards him. “But then, once we got into the car and he started driving, something kept nagging at me. I knew that something didn't feel right.”

“Oh?” His blues eyes stared at me intently.

“And I suddenly realised that I didn't believe Giles. Deep down, I knew that you would never have done anything like that—that you wouldn't have broken your promise to me. I knew that I could trust you.”

I edged closer until I was standing right in front of him, wanting him to see the sincerity in my eyes, to know that every word I'd spoken was the truth. It was the only way I could convince him to give me—give us—a chance to be together.