Tell Me No Lies. Lisa Hall

years later after I had Henry and the post-natal depression hit me hard. I dial the number for Dr Bradshaw’s office and make another appointment before I can change my mind – I owe it to Tessa, and to Mark, to try my hardest to make sure it doesn’t drag me down again this time.

      I notice a white envelope peeking out from underneath the front doormat as I am pushing my arms into the sleeves of my coat, ready to go and collect Henry from school. A shiver of alarm washes over me – I have been sitting at the kitchen table following my conversation with Tessa, trying to get my article finished before the deadline that is looming over me, and I never heard anybody approach the house. This is just like the posy again, I think, before shaking myself and giving myself a virtual slap on the cheek. Don’t be silly; it’s just an envelope, a note, that’s all it is. Taking a deep breath, I bend to pick it up, sliding my fingernail under the flap and easing out a piece of cream card. Casting my eyes quickly over the typewritten font, I breathe a shaky sigh of relief and give a small laugh.

       ‘Dear Mrs and Master Gordon,

      Mr Laurence Cole requests the pleasure of your company this afternoon (after the school run)’ [I laugh at this, a cheeky little aside into what is a very formal invitation] ‘for afternoon tea. There will be French fancies, and fizzy pop for those of us that do not wish to take tea. Please RSVP on your way past.’

      I splutter with laughter as I search for a pen to scrawl across the back of the invitation. Everything I said to Tessa is true – Laurence is a genuinely nice guy who’s just keeping an eye on things for us while Mark is away – but my heart does beat a little faster at the thought of seeing him later on today. I scribble a response on the back of the card, sliding it back into the envelope and writing ‘For the attention of Mr L. Cole’ on the front. I quickly run upstairs and smooth some product through my hair in an attempt to calm my wild curls, and slick a quick pout of pink lipstick across my mouth. Satisfied that this will do, and not wanting to look as though I have made too much of an effort, I rush out of the front door and up the garden path to Laurence’s. As I slide the envelope into his letterbox I see Lila watching from her front room window. She smiles and raises a single hand to me, as the shadowy form of a man appears behind her. I wave, trying to get a glimpse of who I can only assume is Joe, but she turns and walks away from the window, towards the shadowy figure, gesturing wildly. I shrug, thinking to myself that Joe must have been calling to her, and, checking my watch, realise I’m going to be late for Henry if I don’t get a move on.