The Girl Who Lied: The bestselling psychological drama. Sue Fortin

looked up at her. ‘Good.’

      ‘It was too late, though,’ said Roisin, enjoying the doubt on Erin’s face. ‘Maybe we can catch up another time? There’s so much we need to talk about. Not least, why you did a disappearing act.’

      ‘It wasn’t a disappearing act.’ There was a snap in Erin’s voice and Roisin was rather pleased with herself. She had got the conversation to a place where she wanted it. A place Erin wasn’t happy to be: talking about her past. Erin turned her back on Roisin and picked up the last of the bistro tables. ‘I need to get finished here and go up to the hospital to see my dad.’

      Before Roisin could reply, Kerry spoke. ‘Sorry, we must be holding you up. We’ll let you get on. Come on, Roisin, let’s go for a drink at The Smugglers.’ He whistled for Skip to follow.

      Roisin went to protest, but Kerry took her elbow and whisked her away.

      ‘Sometimes, Kerry, you’re a proper gentleman,’ said Roisin, as she fell into step with him. ‘A drink is nice, although I’m not sure for whose benefit the offer is.’ She looked back over her shoulder and called out before Erin disappeared inside. ‘Don’t worry, Erin, there will be plenty of time for us to catch up. I’ll be in touch. Very soon.’

       Chapter 7

      Kerry always enjoyed spending time at Apple Tree Cottage. Joe and Bex always made him feel at home. No one stood on ceremony. Their home definitely had a lived-in feel, but one that was warm and welcoming; just as Kerry thought a home should be.

      Kerry was in the garden with Joe, watching him fiddle around with the lawn mower. Skip was laid flat out on the grass, basking in the warm May sunshine.

      ‘Aren’t you fed up that you keep having to fix that old thing?’ said Kerry as Joe made yet another attempt to start the petrol mower. ‘Why don’t you admit defeat and buy a new one?’

      ‘No, there’s plenty of life left in it yet,’ said Joe. He knelt down and took the cover off the engine.

      Kerry leaned against the shed and surveyed the garden at Apple Tree Cottage. Laid to lawn mostly, there were deep flowerbeds either side in which Bex, Joe’s wife, had randomly planted traditional cottage-garden plants. There was a semi wildness about it, much like Joe and Bex themselves, thought Kerry. The rear of the garden was fenced off, a small gate leading to the vegetable plot. Bex embraced the whole home-grown, organic ethos and could often be found tending to the many varieties of vegetables and fruits. Even with the recent birth of their second child, Bex was still a dedicated gardener.

      The other side of their garden was home to free-range hens, which Bex had rescued from a battery farm. Only last week, Kerry had helped Joe make another hen house to accommodate the recent additions to Bex’s poultry sanctuary.

      ‘You’re wasting your breath trying to persuade him to buy a new one,’ said Bex, coming out into the garden. ‘I’ve been telling him for the past two years, but he likes a challenge.’ She smiled as she spoke.

      ‘I was thinking maybe we should go for the meadow look,’ said Joe, as he picked up a spanner from the ground and began tightening a nut. ‘Is Breeze asleep?’

      ‘Yes, I’ve just fed her,’ said Bex. ‘She’s gone straight off. It’s hard to believe she’s only a month old, she’s such a dream.’

      At that moment, their three-year-old son came tearing out into the garden, dressed in a Superman outfit.

      ‘Watch out,’ said Kerry, sidestepping the youngster. ‘Superman Storm’s arrived. Hey, buddy, who are you saving the world from today?’

      ‘Marshmallow Man!’ called back Storm as he raced around the garden, stopping by the path to have an imaginary fight with his adversary. Skip raised his head to see what all the fuss was about, but the warmth of the sun was a more tempting option and he rested his head back down.

      Bex turned back to Joe. ‘Why don’t you borrow your dad’s mower?’ she said. ‘We can’t go for the meadow look, we’ve got the barbecue soon and then a couple of weeks after that it’s Breeze’s naming ceremony.’

      ‘I’m…not…giving up,’ muttered Joe and then cursed as the spanner slipped from the bolt and clattered to the floor.

      ‘Want me to take a look?’ said Kerry. He pushed himself away from the side of the shed.

      ‘Nope. It’s not going to win,’ said Joe. Picking up his spanner again and issuing a series of threats to the machine, he set back to work.

      ‘I’ll take that as my cue to leave,’ said Kerry. He turned to Bex. ‘Shall I take Superman out for an hour for you? I’ll get him an ice-cream or something.’

      ‘Oh, would you?’ said Bex. ‘That would be great. I’ve got a load of nappies to wash out.’

      ‘Definitely my cue to leave,’ said Kerry.

      ‘You can leave Skip here,’ said Bex. ‘He’s no trouble. Won’t be much fun for him sat outside the café.’

      ‘Okay, thanks,’ said Kerry. ‘Hey! Superman! Do you want to recharge your powers with a bowl of ice-cream?’

      ‘Ice-cream! Ice-cream! Yes. Ice-cream!’ Storm ran over to Kerry and danced around his feet.

      ‘That’s a yes, then.’ Kerry gave Bex a peck on the cheek and Joe a pat on the shoulder. ‘Catch you later, cuz.’ As he headed out of the garden, holding Storm’s hand, he called back over his shoulder. ‘You may want to turn the fuel supply on!’

      He laughed out loud as he heard Joe curse at him. By the time Kerry stepped out onto Corkscrew Lane, he heard the mower’s engine rumble into life.

      Erin placed the bowl of ice-cream, vanilla with strawberry sauce, on the table in front of Storm. ‘So, Storm and Breeze,’ she said. ‘They’re unusual names. A bit like yours and Joe’s.’

      ‘Blame our mums for that. They collaborated,’ said Kerry with a smile. ‘As for this generation of Wrights, Bex says she named them after her pregnancies. A difficult first pregnancy and an easy second one. Plus the fact Bex is into all that being-at-one-with-nature business.’

      ‘I remember she was a bit hippy looking when we were younger.’

      ‘She’s very environmentally friendly, loves nature, makes her own bread and keeps chickens. Very bohemian. You get the picture.’

      ‘Hugs trees? Protests against urban development and smokes roll-ups?’ suggested Erin.

      ‘Something like that,’ replied Kerry, smiling.

      ‘She was a year below me at school,’ said Erin. ‘She’s married to Joe? Neither of them left the village, then.’

      ‘There’s nothing wrong with that. I like living here, actually. There’s a real sense of community. Everyone’s really friendly.’

      ‘Hmm, nosey, you mean.’

      ‘You’re really not a fan of Rossway, are you?’ said Kerry, aiming a spoon of ice-cream in the direction of Storm’s open mouth. It reminded him of the wildlife programmes where the birds came back with little grubs to give to the eager, open-mouthed chicks. ‘Why don’t you like it?’

      Erin shrugged. ‘Just don’t. Anyway, I’d better get on. Do you want anything else?’

      ‘No, I’m good for now. I’ll have something later.’ He held her gaze for a moment, the little smile now a broad grin. He didn’t miss the small flush of colour to her cheeks before she turned away.

      ‘What you doing two weeks Sunday?’ The question brought Erin to a halt.

      She turned to face him. ‘Why?’

      ‘Bex