Cover

Tell Me Your Lies

Kate Ruby

You think she wants to help.

You’re wrong.

‘I couldn’t bear it to end’ Louise Candlish

‘A deliciosly twisted psychological thriller’ JP Delaney

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Title Page

Dedication

For Anne, with love

LILY

I know what you’re thinking. You’ve read about us in the papers, haven’t you? Something scurrilous in the Mail with a picture of our perfect family, our perfect daughter, before she burnt it to the ground, or an ‘opinion piece’ in a broadsheet masquerading as a treatise on modern life. You’ve probably seen that terrible picture of Nick and I coming down the stone steps of our house – correction, my house – his arm lassoed around my shoulder, looking more like a harness than an expression of love. You thought how much older I looked than in the previous shots, how unkempt. It’s ironic: I used to think nothing of a blow-dry or a manicure for some pointless drinks party in Shepherd’s Bush on a Thursday night, and now I’m so far divorced from my old life that I’m prepared to be googled into perpetuity looking like some kind of crazed bag lady.

It pains me to admit it, but Nick was probably right to hold me back. He knew how much I wanted to scream at the huddle of journalists – bedraggled and desperate in the grey drizzle, like foxes skulking around the bins – to tell them that it was her who needed restraining, not me.

I won’t say her name. Whatever she says, whatever Rachel’s behaviour implies, it’s a lie. They’ve re-cut the truth, stitched a false flag from the scraps. I loved Rachel with all my heart – with a mother’s heart – even when she was at her very worst. All I wanted to do was protect her, from herself most of all.

What I know now is this: you don’t know what rock bottom feels like until you’re face down on the ground.

ONE YEAR EARLIER

RACHEL

He was coming into focus for me now, as if my head was pushing up from underwater. My eyes were clearing, the sickness lessening. He was handsome.

‘Can you follow my finger?’