Nicholas Searle - The Good Liar

‘How long will it take to get to me?’

‘It should reach you in a couple days, Roy.’

‘That’s no good. I need to do the transaction now. Today or

tomorrow. Is there any way I can do this over the phone?’

‘Of course, Roy. Just so long as you’ve set up the telephone bank-

ing facility and the transaction in advance.’

‘I haven’t.’

‘I see.’ It is apparent that Shayla has run out of ideas. ‘ We- ell, you see, Roy, we do go the extra mile to protect our clients’ security. So if you haven’t set everything up, I’m sorry . . .’

‘A branch, then? You have a London office?’

‘We do. But it’s a trading office, not a branch. And I see from your records that yours is an online account, Roy.’

‘I’m going to have to go home, aren’t I?’

‘It looks that way, Roy. Unless someone can bring the H&PPad to you. I’m sorry for your inconvenience, but I really don’t see any

other way. Do you live far from London?’

‘About ninety minutes.’

‘I guess it could be worse. Is there anything else I can help you

with today, Roy?’

‘No.’

‘Well, thank you kindly for calling Hayes and Paulsen Private

Bank.’

He puts the receiver down, furious. He tries Vincent once more

but there is still no answer. He leaves a message.

There is nothing else for it. He’ll have to return there. He needs

to think. Son missed flight. Delayed two days. It’ll have to do. He’ll go back first thing tomorrow.

He rings the number at the house. The answering machine clicks

in. Betty must be out drinking tea again. Or having a nap. Impa-

tiently, he says, ‘Pick up, Betty,’ but she does not. He leaves a message telling her that his son has been delayed and he needs to pick up a 249

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couple of things. He will return the next morning. It is thin but

needs must. She’ll never suss.

3

The key scratches on the lock. They look at each other for a moment as if to confirm what they have agreed. Andrew picks up the two tea mugs and goes into the kitchen, leaving the door ajar.

It has been a tiring day and night. They paused only briefly at her home, so that she could collect some clothes and apologize to her

children for her change of mind. They climbed into Andrew’s big

car and he drove down the A1 at some miles above the speed limit.

On the way he booked hotel rooms and she spoke briefly with Ste-

phen, who retrieved the key of the house from the letting agents.

They arrived at the hotel at ten in the evening. Stephen met them

in the lobby. ‘Didn’t reckon on seeing you quite so soon,’ he said.

‘It just didn’t feel right,’ she replied.

‘There’s no guarantee he’ll come back.’

‘There are few if any guarantees in this world. But I think he

won’t be able to stop himself. The thought of all that money dan-

gling there will torture him. And of course he won’t be able to

contact Vincent. He’ll risk it just this once, with some cock- and- bull story.’

‘But won’t he be suspicious at the disappearance of the keypad?’

‘I shouldn’t think so. He’ll simply think he’s left it here by accident. He’s becoming forgetful. It won’t have occurred to him that

you might have pinched it when you fetched his bag. On one level

he’s suspicious, on another he’s so utterly credulous.’

She was exhausted, her limbs ached and her head was throbbing.

The next morning she suspected she might have been slightly irrit-

able with Stephen. She slept well, however, and woke refreshed.

And now the key is slotted hesitantly into the lock.

‘Well then,’ she says when he enters. ‘I got your message.’

He stands in the middle of the room and looks around as if

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stunned. It is a few moments before he says, ‘Good Lord, what’s

happened here?’

He sees Andrew in the kitchen and glares balefully at him.

Andrew regards him mildly in return but says nothing.

‘Who’s he?’ he asks, placing his overnight bag on the floor.

‘Robert was delayed?’ she says.

‘Yes. His flight was cancelled. He flies in tomorrow morning. I’ll

meet him then.’ He speaks the words almost in an absent chant.

‘Yes, yes,’ she says. ‘Of course you will.’

‘I’ll book into some hotel . . . But what’s happened, Betty? What

on earth is going on?’ He stares at her.

‘I was rather hoping the penny might have dropped,’ she replies

calmly. ‘Or maybe it has. Whatever, as these young people say. It

makes little difference. We’ll get there in the end.’

‘What are you talking about, Betty? And who’s he?’ He jerks his

head in the direction of the kitchen.

‘Oh, that’s Andrew. Are you all right, dear?’

‘Yes. Fine,’ calls Andrew.

‘Andrew’s here just in case.’

‘In case of what?’

‘How is Robert, by the way? He must be annoyed to have been

delayed.’

‘He’s all right. He phoned from Sydney airport.’

‘Did he really? To your mobile? That must have been expensive.’

‘Yes. Well, he had to. Otherwise I wouldn’t have known.’

‘Strange,’ she says with a tone of inattention, yet still looking

him in the eye. ‘Hasn’t your mobile phone been cut off ?’

‘How do you know? Has a letter come?’

She says nothing.

‘Well, he may have left a message at reception in the hotel,’ he

says. ‘I get a bit forgetful these days.’

‘Yes, you do, don’t you? I rather thought you were meeting him

at the airport.’

‘Oh yes. Change of plan,’ he says with greater confidence.

‘Change of plan all round, it would seem.’

‘What do you mean?’

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‘Isn’t it sinking in? Just a little? It’s very disappointing. I always thought you were on the ball. Shall we sit?’

She sits on one of the chairs and he takes the other. He looks

around the bare room again and says, ‘What is this, Betty? What’s

going on?’

‘I’ll take it slowly, shall I?’ She looks at him with an expression of concern, as if his well- being is paramount. She holds up an envelope. ‘I’d written you a note. But I thought it wasn’t really adequate.

Or fair, come to that. So I decided it was best to do this face to face.

Besides, there’s been a change of plan on my side too. I’m so glad

you decided to come back.’

‘What makes you think I wasn’t coming back? After I’d met

Robert.’

She sighs and waits briefly.

‘Never mind. Let’s persevere, shall we? Now, where exactly to

begin? At the beginning or the end?’

‘I never did pretend to understand you, Betty. But you’ve really

got me this time. What’s happened? Talk to me, Betty.’

She simply smiles at him.

‘Don’t worry about it. We can sort it out. When I get back from

London. Meanwhile, I must get on. I just have to pick up a couple of things from upstairs. Then we’ll order a taxi and I’ll check you in at one of those motorway lodges for a couple of nights. When I’m

back we can sort it all out. Been in worse scrapes than this in my life, I can tell you.’ He grins reassuringly.

‘I’m sure,’ she says.

‘So I’ll just pop upstairs and then we’ll be off.’

She reaches into her handbag as slowly he levers himself up.

‘Would it be this that you forgot?’ She holds out the Hayes and