The Liar Next Door by Nicola Marsh

Forty-Five

Frankie

NOW

A lot can happen in a week.

Following my chat with Celeste the day after I’d made a fool of myself at Saylor’s dinner party, I let go of my reservations and we’ve grown closer. I should’ve recognized she’s an introvert like me rather than wrongly assuming her diffidence means she has something to hide. I should’ve known better. I’m not one to share secrets with virtual strangers or invite them into my home, but Luna and Violette have become inseparable and that means I’m spending more time with Celeste.

We’ve had several play dates in the park and we chatted at ballet class yesterday. She’s just a mom who wants to give her child everything, like I do, and I feel bad for misjudging her. Not that I’ve opened up to her entirely. It will take time for our friendship to grow but the way she listened to me when I told her about my exhaustion with appearing perfect all the time… she understood and I value being heard.

Andre doesn’t get it and I sometimes wonder if he’d love me if I revealed my true self, the one who’d rather lounge around in yoga pants and old T-shirts with no make-up. He’s never seen me at my worst. Ever since we met I’ve put on a front for him to try and slide into his perfect Manhattan world, to hide my insecurities that an inexperienced girl from Gledhill could ever be good enough for a rich boy from New York City. Sometimes, in the dead of night, when he’s snoring softly beside me, I can’t quell the doubts.

I’ve just finished filming a segment on bullet journals and am keen to get some fresh air and join the girls in the park. Celeste has been watching them all morning and I spy Luna and Violette sitting at her feet playing with some spinning ball thing while she reads. It’s a peaceful scene and I’m grateful to her for giving me time to work in peace. Andre has been away on an assignment in Connecticut all week, doing graphics for some big tourism company, so it’s nice to have someone share the child-minding duties. Though I’m glad I can see them from the window. Celeste hasn’t mentioned her ex over the last week and I’ve quashed my concerns, but I can’t forget all that she’s told me and I’m still a tad on guard.

I pull the front door closed behind me but before I join them I have to make a call.

I do a quick online search for the number of the bank Walter works at and when I find it I tap the call button from the website. He’s going to hate this but my threat to call him at the bank hasn’t worked and he still hasn’t returned my call seven days later.

Someone picks up on the second ring. “Regional Bank, how may we help you?”

“May I speak with Walter, please?”

“I’m sorry, our manager is on vacation at the moment. Can I redirect your call to someone else?”

“No, thanks. Do you know when he’s back?”

“Tomorrow.” There’s an impatient clacking on a keyboard in the background. “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“Have a nice day.”

The dial tone hums in my ear and I feel foolish. If he’s on vacation maybe he doesn’t want to be bothered by his ex-wife or reminded of a past he’d rather forget. But we talk on our anniversary every year, and he always seems fine.

Maybe this is a sign I should forget this annual phone call? We don’t say much beyond making small talk anyway. I know why I do it. Sentimentality. I owe Walter. He saved me at a time I needed him most and got me out of Gledhill. He was a good husband and looked after me. And when I turned to him for comfort after Andre cheated, he gave it freely without expecting anything in return. He’s a good man. Besides, I wouldn’t bother following up if it wasn’t for those unexpected calls of his lately, calls that have broken our “once a year rule”; and I want to make sure he got my letter and the paternity test results. It’s way past time that chapter in my life is closed.

I’ll wait a few days and try one last time. If he doesn’t respond, I’ve got the message loud and clear. Seeing factual proof of Luna’s paternity might have shown him it’s time to move on and let go.

I walk down the steps and cross the road to enter the park. Celeste spots me and waves, her smile reserved yet genuine as I approach.

“Hey, girls, having fun?”

“Yeah,” Luna and Violette answer in unison, without looking up from their spinning ball device.

“How’s it going?” I sit next to Celeste and point at her book. “Getting much reading done?”

“You know how it is when you’re keeping half an eye on kids. I’ve read the same paragraph six times.”

We laugh and I lean back, resting my elbows on the back of the bench and tilting my face to the sun. “It’s lovely out here.”

“Beats poring over accounts.”

“Is work keeping you busy at the moment?” We haven’t spoken much about her job before.

“Yeah, I’ve been looking after several small companies for a while so I always have work to do.”

“Having that ongoing security must be a relief,” I say and she nods.

“As a single parent, absolutely.”

I hear raised voices and straighten, to see Saylor gesticulating wildly at Ruston on his doorstep.

“What do you think that’s about?”

“No idea,” Celeste says, watching the interaction too. “Though she’s not happy about something.”

Saylor yells again though at this distance we can’t hear what she’s saying.

“That night you chatted with him at her dinner party, did he mention them being friends or anything?”

I shake my head. “We made small talk mostly. I wonder what their story is?” I jerk my head in the direction of Saylor and Ruston.

“In a neighborhood this small we’ll probably find out eventually. Besides, I’ve learned not to delve too deep into other people’s business. You might not like what you find.”

It’s sound advice, but as I glance down I see Celeste has mangled the corners of her book, creasing and folding with nervous fingers, and I wonder if she’s thinking of others beyond our new neighbor.