Deadly Lies by Ann Girdharry (read me a book .TXT) 📕

The shop manager, Mrs Branson, didn’t let a day go by without reminding Maria she must never ever show herself on the shop floor. This was a quality fashion boutique and Maria’s place, Mrs Branson told her, was in the back room because customers didn’t want to see people like her. Having Mrs Branson shove her nose in it ate away at Maria’s wafer-thin self-confidence.

Mrs Branson suddenly arrived in the back room. It was amazing how the woman could move so stealthily, always trying to catch Maria out.

‘You got around to finishing at last?’

Mrs Branson had kept Maria beyond her going home time, which wasn’t unusual. Sometimes she forced Maria to miss half her lunch hour too.

Maria nodded.

‘See you tomorrow then,’ Mrs Branson said. ‘Unfortunately.’

Unfortunately for me too, you miserable bitch, Maria thought. Of course, she would never dare to say it out loud.

Stepping into the shopping centre, Maria breathed a sigh of relief. It was well past closing time and the mall was quiet. The metal shutter of the boutique came clattering down behind her.

Maria was dreaming of a hot bath and soaking away the aches and the bullying, when she saw him. He was slouched against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He had the same cocky expression he always had, though she could see the years in prison had given him a kick in the guts.

‘Aren’t you going to give me a kiss?’ he said.

‘When did you get out?’

‘A while ago. They let me out early for good behaviour.’

He fell into step beside her.

‘Long time no see,’ she said.

‘Yeah. Can I crash at yours? Only for a couple of nights. I’ve got cash and plenty of it.’

‘How come?’

‘It was owing to me,’ he said.

She knew there’d been a story behind how he got caught and she wondered how the money fitted in.

‘Come on, Maria, I can pay my way.’

She knew it wasn’t a good idea. When she’d first met him she’d been fourteen. He’d taken her in when her mother, and her mother’s new boyfriend, had booted her out.

Then he’d gone to prison and she’d spent the last six years trying to put together a life and battling to get clean of the cocaine he’d introduced her to.

When he was convicted she’d been totally reliant on him and had been living at his place, doing the cooking and the cleaning and the sexual favours he asked for, as well as hosting parties for his criminal buddies. It was amazing how, at one time, she’d found him attractive. Now she’d rather not look at his face. He was bad news.

Yet he wasn’t the sort of man it was wise to say no to.

When he was convicted, the flat the two of them lived in had been repossessed and Maria had been reduced to begging on the street, stealing and lying and almost ending up working for a pimp to fund her drug habit. Then came a string of arrests and an ongoing tussle with the criminal justice system. She finally accepted the long struggle to get, and stay, clean. Four years ago, and with the help of her probation officer, she landed her first job. It had got her back on the rails.

It had been a long haul. Now Maria had a place of her own – only two shitty rooms with a dirty kitchen but she could scrape together the rent. Every day of the last six years had been hard and she’d kept promising herself one day it would get easier. Unfortunately, the fashion boutique wasn’t turning out well thanks to the manager.

And then – bam—this guy from her past turned up again.

‘If you’ve got money then how come you’re here?’ she said.

‘I missed you and besides, I need your help. Won’t you do a favour for an old friend?’

He put his hand in his pocket and showed her a small packet of white powder. ‘I can make it worth your while.’

And that’s when Maria’s fight for a new life started draining away.

21

Six months ago – Maria’s story

Maria brushed her long dark hair and she stared at herself in the changing room mirror. She could hardly believe how her life had improved. He’d got them a lovely place in Brighton and he’d given her money to buy new clothes and shoes. They had a whole terraced house with three bedrooms and two floors. He certainly had cash and she didn’t want to ask how. The house was in a nice area of Brighton called Seven Dials and about thirty minutes’ walk from the sea.

He was spending a lot of time out and Maria didn’t care. Every day she strolled along the promenade with the wind in her hair. She ate ice cream and paddled in the freezing waves. She’d not bothered to call the boutique to lie about being sick. Likely she’d lost her job, Mrs Branson would have seen to it by now and Maria didn’t give a shit.

Besides, he’d told Maria he had big plans for them both, though he hadn’t yet told her what.

He’d set Maria a task. He wanted her to befriend a young woman called Sylvie Delacourt. When Maria asked why, he’d told her to wait and see. Sylvie worked as an au pair and she had a membership of a gym in Himlands Heath. For the last few days, Maria had been hanging out at the gym. She needed to bump into Sylvie and engineer a chance to strike up a friendship.

Tying back her hair, Maria shoved her clothes into a locker and slammed it shut. On her way in, she’d spotted Sylvie on the running machine. Now was her chance.

Sylvie was about the same age as Maria, mid-twenties. At the running machine, Maria chatted and made sure Sylvie liked her and the two of them became friends. With her easy-going Australian manner, Sylvie was fun to be around.

Four weeks later and Maria often had to remind herself they’d only met by design. Going out together