The Darkest Lies

Glenn shrugged and grinned. ‘Yeah, poaching. Always had a machete, too – for chopping the thick stalks of cauliflowers. He’d often come home with a haul, having raided the farmer’s field at night. Now I’m back, I do it myself. Always have a machete in the van, just in case.’

‘Flipping heck, Glenn, you want to watch you don’t get pulled over by the police. They might wonder why you’ve got a lethal weapon squirrelled away.’

‘Yeah, you’ve probably got a point.’

Glenn looked at me directly. There was no pity or sorrow or embarrassment in his expression; he simply looked at me with deep interest. Each word I said fascinated him, and he wanted to be there for me every step of this awful journey. He had even lied about having a daughter to make me feel better. I was both annoyed and touched.

For a second I found myself harbouring ideas about running away, Beth. A fresh start, somewhere new with someone new, where my history could be rewritten and people wouldn’t know everything about me.

Where I could escape the guilt I felt looking at you.

The idea flared faster than a struck match, then disappeared. I would never, ever leave you. I deserved my guilt over not being there for you. And while a wedge had been driven between Jacob and me, your dad was still my one and only.

I laughed nervously and let my hand drop. ‘I’d better go.’

‘Do you want a drink?’

‘Why not?’

The words popped out before I could think.

And yeah, why not? I could do with a drink right now. Maybe I’d even find the courage to tackle Glenn about his heartache at not having children. Maybe not.



Okay, so I drank a little more than I thought I would. I’d only wanted one, but it hadn’t taken much arm-twisting on Glenn’s part for me to get a second round in. Dale had bought in a new red, a Malbec, and it was really moreish. Two large glasses later, my cheeks were flaming and I felt the tiniest touch giddy.

Well, I needed something to cheer me up. I’d be seeing you that night and had no good news to share with you, Beth. I’d have to face long hours with only beeping machinery to talk to. Hoping and praying you would wake, when in reality my well of hope had run dry.

I missed you so much it hurt. It hurt to be away from you. It hurt even more to be with you and see the shell of you, without the spirit. No laughter. No stupid jokes. No jumping out at me and yelling ‘surprise’, even though it never was. No lectures on how you would only eat free range eggs, or why you were considering going vegetarian. Discussing the latest book you had read, or listening to you singing Justin Bieber at the top of your voice, or watching you dance around to the latest music videos, or, or, or…

The doctors were starting to make noises about test results not being as good as they had hoped. About you not responding to treatment. About running more tests, and then ‘thinking about our options’.

I took a slug of wine, finishing the glass. Felt the alcohol’s warmth slide down my body, but it never hit my soul.

‘I better get home,’ I said, reluctantly. Wiggins’s ears flickered and he stood, stretching. Glenn raised a hand in farewell as I walked out, Wiggins at my heel.

It was 4.30 p.m., and Jacob should be home any minute. It was lighter than expected; already the days were getting demonstrably longer as winter loosened its grip and spring approached. Everything changing, my old life with a happy family being left behind, frozen in winter’s grip forever.



As I headed over the crossroads, Jill was locking up a few doors down. Fridays and Mondays were her early-closing days. She always seemed to be around, every time I looked up. Yet the woman who generally knew everything that happened in this village apparently knew nothing about what had happened to you. It infuriated me.

‘Pretty pathetic to lie to the police and give false alibis,’ I catcalled.

It was the alcohol. If I were sober, I’d have said nothing. But frustration and booze were a terrible mixture, making me take my mood out on someone else.

Jill put down the A3 sign with the latest newspaper headline on it which she had been carrying inside.

‘If you have something to say, say it.’

‘Just what I said.’ I smiled sweetly. ‘It’s pretty pathetic to lie to the police and give false alibis.’

Yeah, yeah, I had done the same myself for Jacob, Beth, but that wasn’t the point.

Jill said nothing. Simply looked at me. Folded arms, straight mouth, frown. Her characteristic lack of response irritated me further.

‘Davy told me the truth. Him having it away with Ursula. Only getting to yours after the time Beth was attacked. And you covering for him, Jill.’

‘He had nothing to do with what happened to Beth.’

Her low voice gave a warning I chose to ignore. Nothing scared me in those days. Nothing could, when pretty much the worst thing imaginable had already happened.

‘Yeah? Well, if you and he can lie to the police about that, what else are you covering up? We both know the answer to that,’ I teased, just for a reaction. Just because I felt bolshie. But Jill’s eyes widened, her postbox mouth sagging open, perpetually folded arms hanging loosely at her sides.

‘Davy told you about the lookout?’ she gasped.

‘Lookout for what?’ The words were out of my mouth before my drink-addled brain could tell it to shut up. Stupid, stupid, stupid mistake.

At my words, Jill’s self-control returned.

‘Mel, I’ll tell you one thing, and that in’t two – you better leave before you hurt people with your accusations. We all feel for you… but enough is enough. Get control over yourself.’

I reeled. ‘“Enough is enough”? I’m supposed to pull myself together when my daughter lies in hospital?’

‘That’s enough, lady. Go home and pull yourself together. You can’t keep acting like this. You’re running around playing at detective so you can avoid being at the hospital. Don’t blame others for your shortcomings as a mother.’

The air was knocked out of me.

‘I’m… I’m not! I’m…’ The protestations were too embarrassed to come out of my mouth, knowing they were lies.

‘Come on, Mel. I’m not as green as I am cabbage-looking, and I’ve seen how you’re never there. If you’re going to have a go at people, you need to look in the mirror first. Get your priorities straight. Be there for Beth.’

She turned her back on me and picked up the sign again. I wanted to run at her. Pelt her back with blows. Scream at the injustice of her words. Instead I stood there, fish-mouthed.

I was furious, too furious to go home. Stalked back across to the pub, ignoring the confused looks Wiggins threw my way as we retraced our steps.



A dribble of wine trickled down my chin. I wiped at it, hoping Glenn wouldn’t notice.

‘Old cow.’

He nodded sagely.

‘But, right, I keep think… thinking about when Jill got narky with me,’ I slurred. ‘It was when I implied she was covering something else up. Something besides, besides… her son’s affair with a married woman.’

Glenn raised his eyebrows quizzically.

‘It was when I’d asked her who the lookout was.’

‘Lookout for what?’

‘That’s the million-dollar question.’

Barbara Copperthwaite's books