Page 5 of The Lies That Shatter
It’s a beautiful white stone building, with black iron detailing around the windows, and two large pillars that stand tall beside the entrance. It looks like a smaller version of Buckingham Palace, and I can’t help but roll my eyes as I think about how much money the Whitlocks have thrown at this building. All so they can stand out and be recognised within society.
As soon as an older man in a suit opens the front door, Mel wastes no time pulling me inside, turning into the perfect hostess. “Horris, this is my good friend, Finn. He’s joining me for a drink. If you could open our best bottle of red and deliver it to my quarters, please.” She doesn’t even look at him as she speaks. Instead, she removes her coat and hands it to him, before heading off towards the right of the grand staircase.
Horris doesn’t even have a chance to reply before she walks off, and I simply trail behind her, completely lost for words. I’m trying to take in all of the extravagant surroundings, but Mel is moving far too fast, her high heels clicking furiously on the glistening wooden floor.
Eventually, as we reach a locked wooden door, she turns to make sure that I’m following her. “I don’t think I mentioned much about this before, but the house is split up into sections. This side of the house is mine. My husband is on the opposite side. His rooms are off limits to me, the same way mine are to him. The ones in the middle, and on the upper floors, areopen to anyone. We often host parties, or have people stay over, and they’re the rooms that reflect the society image we need to portray. Mia’s rooms are on the upper floor, too,” she explains, and I’m a little shocked at the casual mention of my brother’s girlfriend.
Mel’s never hidden that she has a daughter. Though she’s seriously embellished the relationship she has with her, regularly telling me that they get on like best friends. As far as I’m aware, Mia hasn’t spoken to her mother since she was kidnapped by that lunatic, Kyle Fratacello. And even though Mia seems fairly certain her mother is as much a prisoner as she was, we need to be one hundred percent sure of that before we let her go.
“You never mentioned that your daughter still lives at home,” I reply, hoping to gather some more information from her. I’m not sure if Mel’s delusional, and really thinks she can salvage the relationship she has with her daughter, or if she’s just lying to me.
Mel lets out a long sigh, and as her shoulders sag, she suddenly looks a lot older. “She doesn’t live at home currently. She lives with her boyfriend, who we do not approve of. He’s a scumbag, who isn’t good enough for my daughter, and it won’t be long until she sees that and comes back home. When she eventually sees sense, she will always be welcome back here.”
The more she talks, the more my blood starts to boil. I’m fiercely protective of the people I love, and hearing her call Kellan a scumbag, who isn’t good enough for Mia, makes me so angry.
I take a few deep breaths to get on top of my growing irritation. If I were to lash out now, Mel would be suspicious, and I can’t have that. So, I quickly try to change the subject. “It’s good that she’s got such a kind and caring mum.”
The words feel like acid on my tongue, and the way she preens over the compliment pisses me off even further. Luckily, I make sure none of the emotions flash across my face, as she turns to open the door.
Mel leads me into her part of the house, giving me a little tour. We enter a large reception area first, and it’s set up like a sitting room, with large sofas that are all aimed towards a giant television. It’s perfectly decorated with a mixture of white walls and wooden features, whilst remaining minimalistic.
The array of family photographs you expect to see adorning the walls of any typical mum’s home are absent. There are a couple of pieces of abstract artwork that I’m sure cost more than my entire apartment, but there’s nothing that shows off Mel’s personality. Well… I guess it confirms she’s more bothered about looking perfect, having nothing out of place, than showing anything real. I think that says a lot about her.
There’s a few doors off the reception room, leading to a master bedroom with an ensuite, a second bedroom, a main bathroom, a mini kitchen and dining room area that are open plan with the sitting room, and some cupboard space. As Mel hovers in front of the final door, for the first time since I met her, she looks nervous, chewing on her bottom lip.
“Do you remember me telling you about my dad?” she asks, her voice low. I can’t work out if it’s nerves or sadness.
“I remember you telling me that he’s not been well.”
She lets out a sigh as she places her hand on the door handle. “He’s dying. He’s got severe Alzheimer’s and doesn’t remember where he is or who we are most of the time. He was in a care home, but I wasn’t happy with the level of treatment and support he was receiving. Even though they were the best money can buy, because it was a group home, there was simply not the staff to give him the full attention that he deserves.
“So, I made the very difficult decision to bring him here to live with me. I hired a main nurse, who is responsible for all his medical needs and care planning, and then I have a couple of care workers who come in to help with his personal needs and watch him when the nurse isn’t here. I need to check on him.”
She pauses and looks between me and the closed door, clearly unsure what to say next. “You’re welcome to come and say hello, though I suspect he will be asleep at this time, and he probably won’t know who I am.”
The melancholy expression that crosses her face suddenly makes me feel very sad. A pang in my chest takes me back to that time only a few weeks ago where I was faced with the news of my own father’s death. Even though it turned out to be fake, I didn’t know that at the time, and the pain I felt at losing him was worse than I expected. So, I can only imagine how she feels watching her father fade away slowly before her very eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Mel. I can only imagine how tough it is for you. I don’t want to do anything that you or your dad wouldn’t be comfortable with. If you’d like me to come in with you, then I will. But I won’t be offended if you ask me to wait out here.”
Clearly, I use the correct words once again as a small smile spreads across her face, before she stands on her tip-toes and leans in closer. Catching me completely off-guard, she presses her lips against my cheek, dangerously close to the edge of my mouth, before moving to whisper in my ear. “You’re a good man, Finn Langford. I have a feeling that whatever this is between us, it’s going to be something very real. I think I would like you to meet him, if you’re okay with that?”
My heart races and the nausea threatens to reappear as she talks about us having something real. It’s like there’s a million ants crawling around just under the surface of my skin, and they itch like crazy. I feel dirty, like I’ll never be clean.
It’s the same feeling I get every time we reach this part of a job. I’ve played my role to perfection, and the mark starts to believe that we can truly have something together, something real. But the reality is so far from that, it’s stupid. I’m so used to pretending, fabricating how I feel, I don’t think I would know real love if it slapped me across the face.
Bullshit, shouts my brain.You know exactly what it feels like to be in love, yet you pushed her away.
Urgh, there’s that niggly part of my brain that chirps up at the most inappropriate of times. No matter how much I try to bullshit my brain, or pretend that she doesn’t exist, it will never let me forget. And if I’m being honest, I don’t think I really do want to forget her. Quite the opposite. I still want her, but I can never have her.
I’m pulled back out of my own head when I feel Mel’s palm on my arm, and I realise she’s waiting for me to reply. I rack my brain, trying to remember what she asked me, but as usual, whenever I think ofher, all other thoughts slip away.
“You don’t have to meet him, if you don’t want to,” she prompts, and suddenly the conversation comes flowing back. Mel has clearly mistaken my silence as hesitancy.
“I would love to meet him.”
That’s not technically true, but it’s something I need to do as part of my analysis of the building. Whilst I’ve studied all the blueprints showing the general layout, I still have no idea what the inside is like. So, as I’m wandering around, I’m looking for all the doors and windows, but I’m also counting the security cameras, or making note of other things that may be important.
I noticed in Mel’s bedroom that her bedside table has a lock on it, as does one of her closet doors. Those are the sort of details that matter, as there may be important information hidden inside. I also note that during the entire time we have been in the building, I haven’t seen any security guards based inside. I didn’tsee any patrolling the fence either—though that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. They could just be very good at their job and can remain unseen.
