Chapters (60)
- Cover
- Copyright
- Praise for The Lie
- Dedication
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Keep Reading
- Acknowledgements
- Book Club Questions for The Lie by C.L. Taylor
- A Conversation With C.L. Taylor
- About the Author
- Also by C.L. Taylor
- About the Publisher
I reach into my back pocket, but the note’s not there. It’s still in my work trousers, lying in a crumpled heap on my bathroom floor after I took them off to have a shower after work. Did the same person who sent me the note contact Will to tell him I’m not who he thinks I am? That might explain the real reason he didn’t reply to my voicemail for a couple of hours – he wanted to check me out on the internet first.
A floorboard creaks above my head.
Unless he was the one who sent the note?
I reach for one of the school exercise books on the coffee table and flick through it. On one of the pages there’s an image of a plant, drawn in pencil, with the various parts labelled in school kids’ untidy handwriting – stem, stamen, petal, etc. Underneath, written in blue biro, are the words:
A great piece of work – well done.
The handwriting is small and neat.
The floorboard creaks again, louder this time and, panicking, I reach for my messenger bag, slip the book into it then walk into the hall.
“Sorry, Will,” I shout up the stairs. “I’ve got to go. There’s been an emergency at work.”
“Hang on, Jane,” he shouts back. “I won’t be a—”
The door clicks shut behind me before he can finish his sentence.
Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Five Years Earlier
“Help yourself to a beanbag and make yourselves comfortable,” Isaac says as he ushers us into a cool, dark room. His voice is deep and resonant with a soft Scottish burr. He rubs a hand over his stubbly jaw. “Just dump your backpacks wherever. I’ll just grab you some chai. You must be knackered after your trek.”
“You’re not kidding.” Daisy flashes him a smile as he slips back out of the room. She groans as she wriggles out of her backpack. It slips to the floor with a thump. Al, Leanne and I do the same and then grab a beanbag each from the pile in the corner of the room and collapse onto them.
“This is the meditation room,” Leanne says reverently. “It says on the website that they meditate three times a day. The first session is at five a.m.”
Al laughs. “Well, I won’t be spending much time here, then.”