The Mute and the Liar (23 page)

I
was
wondering
what
he
was
going
to
introduce
me
as.
I
didn't
really think
's
he's
my
hostage
'
would
cut
it.
However,
introducing
me
as
his
friend
just
seems
a
little…
boring.
He
could
have
been
a
little
more
creative
:
she's
my personal assistant? My paparazzi? My biggest fan?

“
Aw,
there's
no
need
to
be
shy.
We're all friends
here!
”
Oh,
are we all friends
here?
Are
we
really?

She
looks
at
me
mischievously.
“
Jaycie,
you
didn't
tell
me
you
had
such
a
pretty
friend!
And
she's
a
girl!
This
is
wonderful!
”
Wow.
Someone
got
the
wrong
end
of
the
cactus.
Nevertheless,
the
softness
in
her
tone
almost
makes
me smile.
“
I
love
her
already!
”

She
hauls
me
into
a
hug,
and
suddenly
it
feels
as
though
I
am
wrapped
in
the
sleeves
of
a
knitted
jumper.
I
stand
frozen
-
a
worm
being
hacked
in
a
bird's
beak.
Her
strong,
orange-scented
perfume
hits
me,
and
suddenly
I'm
plummeting
into
a
field
of
orange
blossoms.
As
I
stand
there,
moulded
against
the
unfamiliar
short,
plump
figure
of
this
stranger,
all
I
can
think
about
is
home.
I
don't
know
why
she
reminds
me
of
home
-
Kit
is
a
warmth,
but my home is a coldness. It has been cold ever since Mum left.

Just
as
evil
is
an
absence
of
good,
now
I
define
my
home
as
an
absence
of
my
mother.
Maybe
Kit
reminds
me
of
her.
She
felt
warm
too.
She
smelt
of
orange-scented perfume too. And she hugged me just like this.

Kit
leads
us
inside
and
takes
my
coat
and
puts
it
on
a
white
coat
rack
nearby.
Jayce
unties
his
trainers,
and
places
them
in
a
cupboard
beside
the
door, and
I
hastily do the same.

I
turn
around
and
observe
my
surroundings,
and
I
nearly
stumble.
Everything
is
stunning.
Beneath
me
nests
a
blue
and
gold
patterned
carpet,
and
above
hangs
a
small
chandelier.
We
are
standing
in
a
wide,
long
rectangular
corridor,
with
glass
doors
all
around
the
perimeter
leading
into
very
spacious,
intricately
decorated
rooms
Different,
fancy
wallpaper
coats
every
room
-
in
this
corridor
exotic
blue
and
pink
birds
dance,
tumble
and
spiral
all
over
the
walls.
Plant
pots
cradling
huge,
colourful
flowers
I've
never seen
before
huddle
against
every
corner
in
the
house
and
a
large
staircase with
a
curling,
twisting
bannister
clambers
up
the
left-hand
side
of
the corridor.

We
follow
her
into
a
room
to
the
left,
which
turns
out
to
be
a
kitchen.
White
cabinets
line
one
wall,
with
a
silver
sink
and
huge
oven,
and
everywhere
I
look
I
see
white
and
red
from
the
tiles.
On
the
other
side,
there
is
a
flat-screen
television.
A
string
of
pots
every
colour
of
the
rainbow
stripe
the
shelf
under
the
arched
window,
which
reveals
a
huge,
beautiful
garden,
flecked
with
patches
of
flowers
and
bushes
in
the
shape of
a
peacock
tails.

“
You
should
have
called,
you
know.
What
if
I
had
been
asleep?
”

Nick
chuckles
at
this.
“
Because
it's
Monday
night.
And
every
Monday
night
is
opera
night,
right?
”

“
You
know
me
too
well,
Nicky.
”
She
smiles
and
she
busies
herself
in
the
kitchen
making
tea.
Nick
takes
a
seat
at
the
cream
table
in
the
corner.
As
the
kettle begins
to
hum,
she turns
to
me.
“
Yes,
I
had
a
bad batch of insomnia
a
few years ago, and one
Monday
I
thought
to
myself: 'why should
I
be lying
here, tossing and turning and overdosing on
sleeping
pills
and
just
plain
wasting
my
time,
when I could be doing something productive?
So
I
sat
down
with
my
piano
and
started
singing,
and
I
did
the
same
the
next
Monday,
and
I
suppose
it
just
became
a
routine.
”

“
Kit
is
an
opera
singer,
”
Jayce
explains,
and
takes
a
seat
opposite
Nick.
I
stand
awkwardly
shuffling
my
feet.
Nick
taps
the
seat
next
to
him
reassuringly,
and
after
a
few
seconds
deliberation,
I
decide
to
sit,
thinking
that
I
might
as
well
make
myself comfortable.

“
No,
she
is
the
world's
best
opera
singer.
”
Nick
corrects,
and
Kit
giggles
girlishly
and
insists
she
isn’t,
that
way
show-offs
do
when
you
compliment
them
and
they
act
all
humble-Mother-Theresa-y
when
really
they’re
loving
every minute of
it.
“
How did
the audition go?
”