Back The Lie Save as PDF
Chapters (60)
  1. Cover
  2. Copyright
  3. Praise for The Lie
  4. Dedication
  5. Chapter 1
  6. Chapter 2
  7. Chapter 3
  8. Chapter 4
  9. Chapter 5
  10. Chapter 6
  11. Chapter 7
  12. Chapter 8
  13. Chapter 9
  14. Chapter 10
  15. Chapter 11
  16. Chapter 12
  17. Chapter 13
  18. Chapter 14
  19. Chapter 15
  20. Chapter 16
  21. Chapter 17
  22. Chapter 18
  23. Chapter 19
  24. Chapter 20
  25. Chapter 21
  26. Chapter 22
  27. Chapter 23
  28. Chapter 24
  29. Chapter 25
  30. Chapter 26
  31. Chapter 27
  32. Chapter 28
  33. Chapter 29
  34. Chapter 30
  35. Chapter 31
  36. Chapter 32
  37. Chapter 33
  38. Chapter 34
  39. Chapter 35
  40. Chapter 36
  41. Chapter 37
  42. Chapter 38
  43. Chapter 39
  44. Chapter 40
  45. Chapter 41
  46. Chapter 42
  47. Chapter 43
  48. Chapter 44
  49. Chapter 45
  50. Chapter 46
  51. Chapter 47
  52. Chapter 48
  53. Chapter 49
  54. Keep Reading
  55. Acknowledgements
  56. Book Club Questions for The Lie by C.L. Taylor
  57. A Conversation With C.L. Taylor
  58. About the Author
  59. Also by C.L. Taylor
  60. About the Publisher

We stand on the edge of the cliff for the longest time, staring into the dark drop beneath us. For the first hundred metres, spiky flowers and straggling plants cling to the mountain, but then they too are swallowed up by the inky blackness below.

“I thought she was going to stab you,” Al says, her voice no louder than a whisper. “I never meant … I can’t believe …”

“I know.” I should reach for her hand, I should put an arm around her, I should do something to comfort her, but I can’t shake the feeling that, if I did, I’d put my arm straight through her. She isn’t real; neither of us is real.

“What do we do?”

“I don’t know.”

“If we report it, I’ll go to jail. Have you got any idea what jail’s like over here?”

“It was an accident, Al.”

“No one’s going to believe that.” She looks at me. Her skin is pinched and ashen and her lips are chapped and blue, but it’s her dull, glassy eyes that worry me the most. They are as lifeless as a doll’s. “Gabe’s dead. Johan’s stabbed. Daisy and Isaac are gone. There will be an investigation. It’ll all come out. Someone at Ekanta Yatra will ask questions. And if they don’t, Leanne certainly will.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I say, but, even as the words leave my mouth, I know she’s right.

There’s no way of reporting Isaac and Daisy’s deaths without the truth coming out. Daisy didn’t deserve to die, but Al doesn’t deserve to go to jail. What’s going to happen if Leanne, or someone at Ekanta Yatra, gets in touch with the police?

“There’s no proof we did anything.” I lower my voice. “Johan killed Gabe, not us. We didn’t kill Isaac, either; and as for Daisy … there won’t be any evidence that you pushed her over the cliff.” I feel sick, even as I say it. “Al, you said it yourself. You thought Daisy was going to stab me.”

“We could try to make our way down there,” she says, but there’s no conviction in her voice, no feeling behind the sentiment. Daisy is dead but neither of us wants to be the one to say the words, because then they’re out there, they’re real, her death is real.