I Never Lie Read online

  At Euston station, I manage to grab a small bottle of vodka while Audrey goes off to use the loo, which perks me up. We jump in a cab and head for the news centre.

  ‘Alex. Good to see you.’ The editor on shift, Marysia, has risen from her perch to greet us when we arrive. ‘How was it?’

  ‘Sad. Mrs Wilcox was a wreck. She didn’t know what to think, you know?’

  ‘I bet she still doesn’t. Poor woman. The police have handled this really badly. They should have, at the very least sent a family liaison officer with some compassion talk to her. Listen, we need you to be back at the scene for the ten o’clock bulletin. I know you’ve had a long day, but you did a really great job securing the interview with Mrs Wilcox and I think you should stay on the story. It won’t be forgotten.’ She winks. And there it is, the respect I deserve. I’m back in the game. A success story. That’s what I am.

  ‘Of course.’

  22

  August 2017

  Dear Diary,

  I was doing so well, two solid months off the drink and I felt like it was coming together, until my mum said yesterday that if I don’t get a job she is going to throw me out. I’ve thought about talking to my dad, asking for his support for me getting sober, but he’s never around. He’s always working, which helps him to avoid having to deal with what’s going on at home. The changing relationship between me and my mum. I’ve decided that I need to stand on my own two feet, and she doesn’t like that. She’s always goading me.

  The other mad thing that happened last night is that I saw Alex on the news and she looks amazing. She was reporting from Hull on a murder case. I didn’t know she was a journalist. It’s been ages since I thought about her, so it was quite a surprise. The story was grim. A toddler was found dead in the attic of his family home. They’ve arrested the mother’s boyfriend. That must have been a really difficult story for her to cover. I miss her. I miss our friendship. I want to know how she is and how her journey to sobriety is going. Mine is really rough, mostly because I find it difficult to be anywhere near a pub, which rules out any socialising with Amy because she works in a pub and hangs out in pubs. And to be around my mum, makes being at home tough too.

  I decided to revisit Greg and see if Alex has been in touch, but he was super-moody with me. He hasn’t heard from her. He actually blamed me for her leaving, which is really unfair. Going by his attitude, I’m not surprised she left. He was really rude and said that if I didn’t leave him alone he’d call the police and tell them I was stalking him, which was spiteful, so I decided never to go there again. I don’t need negativity in my life.

  23

  August 2017

  Dear Diary,

  Being blamed by Greg for Alex’s disappearance really got to me. More than it should have done. I don’t know why. She obviously had her own reasons for going. The fact that she is now on telly shows it was probably more a case of her ambition and a failed relationship, which has nothing to do with me. I really had no idea she was a journalist. I just thought she worked in an office somewhere. It’s very impressive what she does. He probably didn’t appreciate her, but what he said kept niggling at me, so I went back to see him. To my surprise, this time he let me in. He’d been drinking. He was in a right mess. The house was a state. Dirty clothes everywhere. Dirty plates. It looked like he hadn’t cleaned up in over a month. The place was disgusting, actually. He’d lost so much weight too because he hadn’t been eating properly, if at all.

  I’m not sure why he let me in. Perhaps it was because being near me made him feel he was close to Alex? We do look quite similar since I had a haircut like hers. I gave him a hug and he wept in my arms for a long time. After that, I went to the shop and bought some vegetables with money he gave me and made some soup. While that was on the stove I told him to have a shower and then I cleaned the place up.

  There were still reminders of Alex everywhere. The house was almost like a shrine to her. Books she used to read. Her hand cream. A pair of shoes, some clothes. Piles of post addressed to her. Electricity and gas bills. Everything here was in her name by the looks of it. I put it all together thinking that I might forward it to her when I figure out where she lives, which I plan to do. I’m not going to give up on finding her now I know who she works for. She has a problem and she needs help. I’m going to save her just like she did me. I owe her. She changed my life and I want her to know that she can change hers too.

  After Greg was out of the shower we ate the soup and he thanked me for coming round. I explained properly how I knew Alex and how she had changed my life. I think he found it comforting. He opened up about her drinking and said he was pleased to hear I had decided to go dry. It made him feel hopeful that Alex could get to the same place too, but even though he still loves her, he said he needs to move on and that packing up her things would help, so we put all her stuff in bin bags and stacked them in the spare room.

  As I was leaving, Greg gave me a big hug and apologised for being such a dick on my previous visits. He was glad I’d come back, he said, because no one understood how he felt. He gave me a box of Milk Tray that was in the house to say thanks. Said he used to give them to Alex on her birthday as a joke. He asked me to come back and visit again. I don’t know if I will, but I’m glad we’ve been able to have a proper talk. He doesn’t seem that bad, actually. He just seems like a man who’s had his heart broken.

  After that, I went to a meeting because I was worried that something in the house might trigger a relapse. I told Clive, my sponsor in the group, about what had happened and he was very supportive. He thinks I should try rehab if I can afford it. He thinks I’m ready. He says it will help me find out what sets off my drinking, which could help me quit for good. He says I need to deconstruct who I think I am and find out who I really am. I’m going to seriously consider it because I want to get better, but it is expensive and I have no idea where I would get the money.

  It’s mental how expensive it is to get help when you’re an alcoholic. I can’t afford rehab on my own without my parents’ help, and I can see why many people wouldn’t be able to tell their parents. It hasn’t been easy.

  The only thing I do know is that I need to take my recovery to the next level because I like being sober and I want to keep it this way. I wish I could tell Alex about it all. I really wish I could.

  24

  We are still working out what to do on the ten o’clock news. We don’t have much to go on other than the victim’s name and nationality. Audrey has been stalking Alice’s online presence hoping to come up with something.

  ‘So what are you after? A straight-up live? An interview with a local? Or…’

  Marysia talks with her hands, as if words are not sufficient. ‘I think a straight-down-the-line. A couple of questions from the presenter. We could play a clip if you find a good interview, possibly with someone connected? Needs to be meaty, though. Emotional, you know.’ As she finishes her sentence, she pushes her trendy black-framed glasses back up her nose.

  Audrey looks like she has a plan already. I know that face. I saw it in the park when she’d hatched the idea to go to Manchester and interview Mrs Wilcox.

  ‘My sources tell me Alice Fessy worked at an advertising company in Brick Lane part-time, while looking for acting jobs. Maybe we can talk to her boss? They love the publicity, don’t they, ad agencies.’ She is looking down at her notepad as she says it.

  Audrey is good. She’s made for this job. Marysia looks impressed too. I can see it in her eyes. The way she’s watching her, silently admiring her commitment and determination.

  Marysia’s hands sink into her pockets and she visibly relaxes. ‘Alex, can you give your friends at the Met a call and follow up on the dating angle that seems to be gaining traction on social media? That’s a matter of public interest.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘I need to make a call too.’ Audrey doesn’t wait for a response. She leaves without looking up, focused on her phone.

  ‘
So, how was it? Going back to Manchester? Isn’t that where you’re from?’

  I nod. ‘Was nice to be back although it would have been better under different circumstances.’

  ‘I bet. Not sure how I would react if my daughter was wanted in connection to a murder. You have children?’

  ‘No.’

  There are twelve editors who run the news bulletin and I realise in this moment that I hardly know anything about their personal lives; about as much as they know about mine, which is a probably a good thing.

  ‘You want kids?’ she continues.

  ‘Yes. It just hasn’t happened yet.’

  ‘My friend missed the boat last year. Doctor told her she can’t now.’

  ‘Oh no.’

  ‘She’s thinking of adopting.’

  ‘Right.’ The thought of adoption hadn’t crossed my mind, but perhaps it should.

  ‘I’d better get on, Alex. Make sure you’re cued up in good time for the live.’ She doesn’t even ask about my frozen moment on air yesterday, which is a relief. But then such is the nature of the newsroom and shift work. People move on. The pressure to deliver today is what consumes us. It was a technical fault in her mind and it will stay that way.

  I smile. ‘Will do.’

  ‘Good. Talk later.’

  Looking around the newsroom for someone familiar, I spot Ayla, one of the output producers. We became quite close for a while until she got a four-month attachment to Jerusalem. She’s already up from her seat and striding towards me, her long curls tumbling around her shoulders.

  ‘Alex! How the hell are you?’ She leans forward to kiss me on both cheeks.

  ‘You’re back! When did that happen?’ It’s genuinely lovely to see her.

  ‘Last weekend. Just getting into the swing of things, you know. Bloody cold here in London.’

  ‘Tell me about it. Was even colder up north!’

  ‘Oh shit, yeah. What happened yesterday with the live?’

  ‘Lost the connection, couldn’t hear a thing.’

  ‘Christ. You’d think we could get a line to Manchester sorted, wouldn’t ya? Still, amazing work with the interview. Really well done. What a scoop.’

  Her hand reaches for my shoulder affectionately. People want to touch success. It makes them feel important. It reaffirms their own sense of professional progress. I don’t tell her it was Audrey who secured the interview.

  ‘So how was it? Jerusalem?’

  ‘It was great. I’ll have to tell you about it some time. So what are you up to today?’ she asks.

  ‘We’re doing the ten o’clock bulletin tonight on Alice Fessy.’

  ‘Oh Christ, yeah. What a fuck-up by the police. It’s a horrible story. Reminds me of one in Ireland a few years back. The girl met her killer online. In fact, he groomed her before he killed her. Tell you what, I feel like I’ve seen Sarah Wilcox before, you know. Didn’t she go to that yoga class you took me to in London Fields, the one under the arches?’

  ‘The hot yoga class?’

  ‘Yeah. I’m pretty sure I spoke to her there. Jesus, the thought of it gives me the shivers.’

  ‘I know. Well, if she does live in London Fields, I suppose you could have met her.’

  ‘You know this drug they reckon was used, GHB? It’s used by the gay community all the time, known as “G” on the scene.’

  ‘Are you saying you think these women were gay?’

  ‘It’s a possibility.’ Ayla thinks every woman she encounters has the potential to be attracted to her.

  ‘Well, we don’t know how relevant that is yet, do we?’

  ‘I guess not.’

  ‘Have you told the editors your thoughts on the gay angle?’

  ‘No, and I’m not going to. I’m just sharing it with you because I trust you and your journalism.’

  Audrey is back and ready to roll.

  ‘I’ve secured an interview with Alice’s boss, but we need to leave now.’

  ‘Look. I’ll let you get on.’ Ayla smiles at Audrey. I know that look. It’s the one I got when we first met. The pair introduce themselves to each other before Audrey hustles me out the door.

  * * *

  Jack greets us polishing his lens outside the building on Brick Lane. Audrey takes the lead and with her short legs strides through the giant sliding door that seems to extend to the heavens.

  ‘This way Jack.’

  He puckers his lips behind her back. He doesn’t like being told what to do by women, especially those younger than him. I ignore him. I am on her side. It makes my life easier not having to worry about the production part of what we’re doing. Ambition can be a beautiful thing when harnessed for the right purpose.

  In reception, every available surface is bright white, which doesn’t help my state of mind. I need a darkened room where no one can see how absolutely fucked I am. I feel the urge to put my sunglasses on. Jack looks at me in sheer panic. I know what he’s thinking: this is a terrible space to conduct an interview in. Moments later, however, we are ushered through another sliding door into a large open-plan office where the materials aren’t quite so abrasive. There are at least twelve workstations that are vacant. Everyone must have already left for the day.

  From the back of the room a painfully handsome man glides towards us. I almost missed him because his grey shirt matches the walls. His jet-black hair is swept up in a quiff and his glasses remind me of Marysia’s.

  ‘Thanks for agreeing to talk to us, Mr O’Riley.’

  ‘Cathal, please.’ He extends his hand to greet me. ‘Alice was a gentle soul. We are all absolutely devastated.’ He has obviously spoken to the media before, judging by his composure.

  ‘How long had she worked for you?’ Audrey starts with the questions.

  ‘A few months.’

  ‘Did you ever see a boyfriend pick her up from work?’ She says it so casually that it doesn’t sound intrusive.

  ‘I don’t know much about her personal life. She only worked here one day a week. I was doing a friend a favour really.’

  Jack is struggling with where to set up, so Audrey goes to his aid.

  ‘A friend, you say?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes. Well, my wife’s friend actually. She goes to a local writing group and I think they met there. Alice wanted to be an actor but was finding it difficult in London, so I gave her a job to help her pay the rent really.’

  ‘Would it be possible to get the address of this friend?’

  He looks uncomfortable with this question. I have already spotted a bottle of Jack Daniel’s on a desk at the back of the room. The voice in my head is telling me to go get it, but I know I can’t. I need something, though, so I find a piece of gum in my bag and shove it in my mouth, hoping that it’ll create the kind of distraction my mind needs.

  ‘To be honest, I…’

  ‘I know what you’re thinking, but it’ll only be a matter of time before the media find her, and UKBC will treat the story with dignity. We are much better placed to take the lead on this story.’

  He nods in a serious manner. ‘Yes, I see what you mean.’

  ‘Shall we?’ Audrey is back, ushering him towards the camera, where she and Jack do a sound check.

  ‘If you could first state your name and your relationship to Alice Fessy, that would be really helpful. Then tell us what kind of person she was and how you felt on hearing the news of her death.’

  He clears his throat and starts to talk.

  ‘My name is Cathal O’Riley, Alice was my employee. She worked on reception and was always very polite to people. It’s a tragic loss. None of us could believe it when we heard the news. She will be missed terribly. I hope the police catch whoever did this.’

  ‘Perfect! Thank you very much.’ Audrey expresses her gratitude with a beaming smile, which feels slightly inappropriate.

  ‘Thank you.’

  We shake hands and say our goodbyes. As we leave the building, Audrey gets busy on her phone. Jack suggests grabbing a bagel fr
om the Brick Lane Bakery, so we head north on foot. It gives me time to gather my thoughts and check my messages. There’s a new one from Nigel asking if I’m okay. I reply to say I’m fine but busy with work and that I’ll be in touch later. There’s also a message from Mrs Wilcox. She sounds distraught, and desperate to talk to me. I press delete and hang up on my voicemail service.

  When we reach the Shoreditch end of Brick Lane, Jack goes to get the food while Audrey and I hang about outside surfing on our phones. She’s rambling on about whether she should delete the Tinder app or not. Not that I have an opinion. I’m tired physically and emotionally, drained on both fronts, but we’ve still got work to do. The voice in my head is back, telling me to find a bar as soon as possible.

  As Jacks exits the bakery laden with food and Audrey announces that she is going to delete the app, I spot my neighbour Charlie further along Bethnal Green Road, walking away from us with a woman. They look like they are definitely more than friends. Jack is pointing out that the bag has broken, but all I can do is focus on Charlie holding hands with someone new. I’ve never seen him display such affection in public. He’s generally so opposed to it. I surmise that he must really like her, and while I’m happy for him, I feel a pang of jealousy.

  ‘Come on, Alex. We’ve got to get going!’ Audrey shouts at me from a taxi they have summoned. Moments later, we’re driving along Bethnal Green Road past Charlie and the woman he looks so smitten with. I feel betrayed, yet I don’t know why. My hand finds a half-bottle of wine in my bag. I must have picked it up when I went into the small Turkish shop to buy some water. My mind is playing tricks on me, as are my emotions.