Beautiful Liar by Tara Bond Read Free Book Online Page A

hospital. My mother was due to be discharged that day, and I’d arranged for her to be admitted into rehab. I took her straight there. It was a half-hour Tube ride away, in a leafy suburb in North London. She spent the whole journey talking about how the fire had been her wake-up call, and she was going to change her ways.
    I listened with half an ear, and nodded along as I was expected to. But frankly I’d heard it all before, and had very little faith that anything would change. She’d let me down too many times in the past.
    However, even at my most cynical, I couldn’t help being impressed as we arrived. The entrance was tucked discreetly away on a wide tree-lined road. The long gravel driveway was heavily guarded with security cameras. At the end, there was a stunning honey-coloured mansion. It was like one of those rehab centres that celebrities went to.
    We were given a quick tour of the facilities, which camecomplete with indoor pool and well-equipped gymnasium. The restaurant looked like it had received Michelin stars. I settled my mother into her room—beautifully decked out, if austere. It was then, just as I was preparing to leave, that she dropped the bombshell.
    â€œNina?” I was putting on my jacket, but the nervous tone in her voice made me turn. My heart sank when I saw the way she was perched on the bed, nibbling at her lower lip. I knew the look well—it meant she’d done something I wasn’t going to be happy about.
    â€œWhat is it now?”
    She avoided my eyes. “There’s just one thing I need you to do for me . . .” I folded my arms and waited. “I was running short a few weeks ago, so I borrowed a bit of money—”
    â€œHow much?” I knew my mother well enough to guess that it was more than “a bit.” In addition to drinking, she was a dab hand at spending beyond her means.
    â€œNine grand,” she said sheepishly. “Eleven with the interest.”
    â€œJesus, Mum.”
    â€œSome of it was for Dave—some business venture or other. He promised to pay me back, but . . .”
    But my mum’s boyfriends were notoriously unreliable, and Dave had disappeared from the picture several weeks ago, triggering this current drinking binge. That meant the full debt was going to fall on us—or, more specifically, me.
    â€œAnd who’s the lender?”
    â€œSergei.”
    I closed my eyes. This just got better and better. I knew exactly who she meant—Sergei Grekov, a Russian emigrant and leader of a band of thugs, who counted money-lending at extortionate interest rates as one of his many less than legal activities.
    We’d been forced to borrow from him before on occasion—Mum wasn’t the best at keeping a handle on finances. But it had always been small sums on a short-term basis—just to cover us for bills until I got my wages. This was more serious.
    â€œAnd when are you due to pay?”
    â€œThis week.” Hearing that, I swore loudly again. “I thought maybe if you could talk to him,” she went on hurriedly. “Explain the situation . . .”
    Yeah, because he was such a reasonable person.
    â€œDon’t worry,” I said tightly. “I’ll deal with it.” Like I had to deal with everything else.
    On the way out, I was handed a leaflet reminding me that she wouldn’t be allowed visitors for at least thirty days. It was the best news I’d had for some time. It would be a relief not to have to worry about her for a while.
    * * *
    The information about the debt weighed heavily on me asI got ready for work that evening. My plan was to contact Sergei and ask for additional time to pay off the money. But it had made me realise I needed this job at Destination now more than ever, and I was afraid I was going to lose it by having wrongly accused the owner’s son of trying to maul me.
    Fortunately the evening