The Lie of Love (2 page)

Darcy eased her car into what she
called her ‘secret space’ (on account of it being obscured by overhanging trees
from a nearby garden and therefore missed by the casual observer scanning the
streets for a free parking spot) and yanked on the handbrake. Killing the
engine, she pulled the rear-view mirror towards her and applied a thin pep coat
to her lipstick and smoothed her eyebrows. It wasn’t that she was particularly
vain, but Amanda’s critical eye picked up the slightest sign of lack of sleep,
not enough water, not enough fruit, too many take-away dinners in front of the
TV, like a seismograph picked up distant earth tremors. It was then the job of
her even more critical tongue to chastise Darcy at the earliest opportunity,
making her feel like a five year old again.  Today, Darcy just didn’t need
it and was determined not to afford her best friend the opportunity. Today, she
just needed to focus and gather as much help and support for her plans as she
could.  Amanda could be bossy and overbearing, but those were the
qualities that would make her an excellent campaign manager. Darcy knew that as
soon as she mentioned the very grand sounding title that she was offering in
exchange for her friend’s more OCD skills, Amanda would be clapping her hands
with glee. 

Early June still but the sun was
fierce, burning onto Darcy’s dark hair as she strode down to the newly
regenerated sea front where Amanda insisted on meeting, even though it would be
crowded with visitors and getting a seat in a decent café would be far easier
in one of the many quirky backstreet places around the town.  She was
dressed head to toe in black – skinny jeans and a slouch t-shirt with her
strappy
sandals – and she was beginning to regret her
reticence to wear more summery colours even in high season. But whenever she
bought anything remotely bright or pastel, it would quickly get resigned to the
back of the wardrobe no matter how
good
her intentions
to wear it and how much Amanda chided her. Darcy was slim and some would say
had a great figure, but somehow she was never happy with it. She preferred to
draw as little attention to her curves as possible and black always seemed to
be the solution to that problem. 

The Sugar Cube café was aptly
named. It was housed in a small, perfectly square prefabricated building;
brightly coloured walls and laminated wood-effect flooring made it a welcoming
space with primary coloured dining furniture completing the trendy look. 
From its huge windows, the resolute grey mass of The Cobb could be seen,
snaking out to sea. On a sunny day like today, its winding pathway would be crawling
with people, wandering the famous grey cobbles as so many generations had done
before them.  

Darcy pushed open the door of the
café, wiping a fine sheen of sweat from her brow and aware of the make up
sliding from her face even before she had taken a seat in front of her
judgmental friend.

As always, Amanda was already
seated, looking cool and immaculate. Her outfit appeared to be effortlessly
thrown together, giving the impression that she couldn’t care less and just happened
to look amazing by sheer happy accident. Darcy knew the truth –
that
she would have chosen it with great care for maximum
effect.  She gave Darcy a radiant smile, rising to plant an affectionate
kiss on her cheek.

‘It feels like an age since I’ve seen
you,’ she purred, her smile slipping into a pretend frown. ‘Has that great lump
of a husband been keeping you tied to the kitchen sink again?’

Darcy laughed as Amanda sat and
she took a seat across from her. ‘We’ve been a bit snowed under… you know, with
this and that.
Usual family stuff.’

‘So…’ Amanda caught the eye of
the waitress and nodded for her to come over before turning her attention to
Darcy again. ‘What’s this huge, grand plan you want to talk to me about? Do you
have any idea how jittery your cloak and dagger conversations make me? You
could have told me on the phone last night and saved me a lot of insomnia.’

‘I know,’ Darcy smiled. ‘It just
didn’t seem like the sort of thing to ask on the phone. And I wanted to explain
it to you properly, face to face, no distractions from the household. I hope
you didn’t lose too many hours.’

‘Enough to need an extra layer of
concealer
this morning…’ Amanda reached for the menu.
‘Are you eating? Shall we order before we begin this life-changing conversation?’

‘I think I’ll just grab a slice
of apple cake and a coffee. I’m not all that hungry.’

‘I’ll get the same.’ Amanda
looked up to find the waitress smiling down at them.
‘Morning
Rachel.
How’s your mum?’

‘She’s recovering well,’ the
waitress replied. ‘The doctors say she should be on her feet and running around
the soup kitchen again in no time.’

‘That’s good,’ Amanda said in her
most sincere tone. ‘Do give her my love, won’t you?
So…
Darcy and I will both have an Americano and a slice of apple cake.’ Rachel
bobbed her head in acknowledgement and left them. ‘She is such a pretty girl,’
Amanda said, watching her go. ‘Almost makes me wish fairy tales were real so I
could steal her youth for myself.’

‘She is,’ Darcy agreed with a
chuckle. As well as being a femme fatale her friend was also slightly barking
mad. Darcy often thought that was the reason she liked her so much. 
‘Though I’m not sure I’d go all that far. I didn’t realise her mum was in
hospital. What’s she
had
done?’

‘Hysterectomy…’ Amanda smoothed
back a perfect blonde wave.
‘Poor thing – only forty-five.’

‘Poor thing
indeed.
Was it cancer?’

‘Oh no, I don’t think so. I think
she was having problems… you know, with her monthlies. And I think they all
came to the conclusion that there was nothing else for it but to get rid.’

Darcy raised her eyebrows. She
was used to her friend’s blunt statements but sometimes they still made her
want to laugh at things she wasn’t supposed to laugh at.

‘Whatever doctor she saw, remind
me never to see them if the same thing happens to me.’

‘Oh I think you’ll be perfectly
healthy and lovely forever. I mean, who decided it was fair to give you the
ten-years-younger genes and not me? Five years between us and yet I could pass
as your mother.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Darcy
giggled. ‘I’ve spent half the morning plucking out new greys.’

‘Greys?
At thirty-six?’

‘Thirty-seven, actually...’

‘Oh! I forgot your birthday
again?’ Amanda squeaked, looking mortified. ‘Every year, you must hate me!’

‘I could never hate you. In fact,
I will always forgive you, right now, in advance, for every year that you will
miss until we’re both dead,’ Darcy smiled.

‘I suppose it means that whatever
favour you’re going to ask me this morning I will have to say yes to.’

Darcy looked up as Rachel
returned with their order. She gave her a smile as the girl placed coffee and
cake in front of them. ‘I never thought of it like that. ‘I suppose it does.’

‘Thank you, Rachel, darling,’
Amanda said as she reached for the sugar bowl.

‘No problem, Mrs Gale.’

‘Oh, dear God, don’t call me Mrs
Gale – it’s simply hideous. Amanda will do just fine.’

Rachel blushed, but far from
looking like a vein-ridden tomato as Darcy always felt she did when she
blushed, she did almost look like a very pretty, real-life version of Disney’s
Snow White. Darcy felt herself struck by an emotion she had never experienced
in quite that way before, and it had come from out of the blue. And no matter
how she might want to, she could not deny what that emotion was: it was envy. Perhaps
Amanda’s comment about wicked fairytale queens was just what Darcy herself was
really thinking but would never dare admit.  Amanda might joke that Darcy
looked young for her age, and indeed, many had said it, but that wasn’t how
Darcy felt when she woke every morning to find a new wrinkle that hadn’t been
there the previous day. Every day she seemed to be choked by a new awareness of
the passing of time, of how the days of her life now seemed to fall away like
autumn leaves, and in many ways she knew that the time she spent devoted to her
family was a way to deny herself those creeping fears, to focus on something
else other than the recognition of her own mortality.

‘Sorry,’ Rachel said. ‘I’m so
used to it now.’

‘Well, I think eighteen is a good
a time as any to start seeing yourself as an equal to other women and not as a
girl anymore…’ Amanda turned to Darcy. ‘Don’t you agree?’

‘Sorry?’ Darcy shook her head to
clear the sudden melancholy thoughts that muddled it.

‘I was saying that eighteen is
old enough to see yourself as an equal to other women.’

‘You’re eighteen now?’ Darcy
asked.
‘Wow, that
went fast. I can still remember when
you were playing down on that beach with your water wings on and it feels like
last year.’

‘I’m twenty in two months,
actually,’ Rachel said.

‘Oh hell, more birthdays I’ve
missed!’ Amanda rolled her eyes heavenwards theatrically.

Darcy laughed, her friend’s
infectious humour lifting her from her own sombre introspection.  ‘I think
if we give Rachel an extra big tip we can make up for it.’

‘Oh, don’t worry about that.’
Rachel blushed again. ‘Enjoy your cake,’ she added, before scurrying off to
avoid any further embarrassment. 

‘I’m sure we will,’ Amanda said,
turning her attention to the polka-dot plate in front of her, upon which sat a
sumptuous looking slice of iced sponge. ‘The apple cake in here is heavenly,’
she added, picking up her fork and shearing a huge chunk off, which went
directly into her mouth. ‘So,’ she said, looking up at Darcy as she chewed.
‘What’s this big secret?’

‘It’s no secret.’ Darcy took a
sip of her coffee. It was freshly brewed and had a bitter kick to it that she
liked. She had to admit that she couldn’t fault Amanda’s choice of café when it
came down their goods, even if it did get ridiculously busy.

‘It’s just a huge favour I need
to ask of you, and I realise it will be huge and you can obviously say no if
you want to.’

Amanda’s next piece of cake
stopped midway to her mouth. ‘Good grief, this sounds serious. You don’t want a
kidney, do you? I can’t deny you much but a kidney is taking our friendship too
far.’

‘Not a kidney,’ Darcy smiled.
‘Just a great deal of enthusiasm and commitment and probably a lot
of your time too.’

‘Enthusiasm is my middle name.
Commitment not so much but we can work around that. And time I have in spades.
Ask away, darling.’

‘There’s an operation that Sophie
can have. It may help her to walk, but more importantly, it will almost
certainly ease the constant spasms in her legs –’

‘Really?
Well that’s marvellous news! I assume you’ve put her name down for this?’

‘I would but it’s not quite that
simple. The only surgeon qualified to do this procedure, or rather, the best
qualified to do this procedure, is in Florida.
So it means we have to find the money for not only the operation itself, but
all the aftercare and the three weeks we’d have to stay in Florida
for.’

‘I see your problem. Do you want
to borrow some?’

‘Oh, God, no!’
Darcy squeaked. ‘I couldn’t ask you to lend me that kind of money. I could
never ask anyone to lend that kind of money. But I thought that you would be
the perfect person to help me raise it. You’re smart, organised, persuasive,
connected…’

Amanda held up her hand with an
obviously pleased and very musical laugh. ‘There’s no need to flatter me…
although I do rather like it… on second thoughts, carry on.’

‘I’d be useless doing this by
myself,’ Darcy continued, getting into her stride and gripped by a new
enthusiasm as she saw that the eventual outcome of this conversation might just
get her first and most precious recruit, ‘and
Ged
has
made it quite clear that he doesn’t have time to do much of it.’

‘He does work long hours,’ Amanda
agreed.

‘Exactly.
So will you do it, will you be my campaign manager?’

‘It does sound like a hoot. And
already I have tons of ideas…
Oh, why not!’
Amanda
took a sip of her coffee, and then looked over the rim of her cup at Darcy with
a huge grin. ‘We’ll have your money in no time at all.’

Darcy leapt from her seat and
reached across the table to pull Amanda into a hug. ‘Thank you!’

‘Steady on!’ Amanda laughed as
she swerved the coffee cup out of the way. ‘I haven’t done anything yet.’

‘But it means so much to me that
you said you would help.’ Darcy returned to her seat, eyes shining with new
vigour and purpose. ‘I’ve spent so much of the last couple of days obsessing
over this plan, in my darker moments convinced that I’m being an idiot for even
thinking it could work, and now that you’re on board I just know that we have a
chance of success.’

‘I’m glad you have such faith in
me, darling, but faith alone won’t bring in the pennies.’ Amanda dug into a
huge leather handbag and pulled out a notebook. She opened it up to a crisp
first page and clicked a pen on. ‘Always be ready for anything,’ she smiled as
she saw Darcy raise her eyebrows at the brand new book.

‘And you always are,’ Darcy
laughed.

‘Of course.
Now, I need all the information you can give me about this procedure and what
you need from the fundraising campaign, a bit of background for me to work
with, and then we need to brainstorm some ideas.’

‘I’ve got so many I don’t know
where to begin. I thought about raffles, bake sales, tin shaking at
supermarkets...’

‘And that’s exactly why you need me.
You know you can’t just go around
willy
nilly
asking people for money, you need to make them
feel as though they’re part of something. So first of all you need a name for
your campaign, something catchy,
something
that will
fire the imaginations of your contributors, something that makes them feel part
of a crusade that matters. And you need to have all the legalities sorted right
away too – a bank account set up specifically for that cause which you or
Ged
cannot access unless it is for the cause, contracts
drawn up between you and the organisations who get involved  – everything
has to be transparent and above board, you see?’