When Lawrence Fisher lied to his wife, Suzie, about his plans that night, he had no idea just how deep his deception would go, or how big the consequence.
But Suzie is struggling to conceal a dark secret of her own ...
How will the actions of this lying lawyer and harried housewife impact the lives of others in the city?
Continue reading to find out ...
As rain cascades down Freddie Mercury’s giant gold statue, Lawrence Fisher ascends the steps leading out of Tottenham Court Road Tube Station. Looking across at the entrance to the Dominion Theatre, he shakes off the guilt from the lie he told his wife that morning ...
“I’ll be home late tonight, Suzie.” Lawrence stared at his plate of scrambled eggs, avoiding Suzie’s eyes.
“Late?” Suzie frowned.
“Yes. It’s work’s outing to the theatre, remember?”
“Dammit.” Suzie put her hands on her hips. “I totally forgot that was this Friday. I’m supposed to be going to Janie’s for a wine tasting night with the girls.”
Lawrence shrugged. “You’ll have to drop the kids at your mother’s on the way, that’ll be alright, won’t it?”
“It will have to be,” Suzie sighed. “I’m not missing out on all the gossip! You go, it’ll do you good to try something new, enjoy Queen.”
“Hmm. I’ll try … I really need to hurry up. I don’t want to miss the train.” Lawrence dashed for the door, leaving his eggs untouched.
“Say goodbye to Daddy you two …”
He had been meticulous in devising this plan for quite some time, having already done a recce trip a few weeks back. Now, he marches with an air of confidence through the murky city streets.
His bravado dissolves as rapidly as his increasing heart rate as he approaches his destination. Catching his reflection in one of the two giant glass doors that stands between him and his premeditated deception, he freezes.
The left door swings open. Loud music pours onto the pavement jolting Lawrence from his momentary paralysis. A young man who appears to be leaving holds the door ajar.
“You goin’ in, matey?”
Lawrence nods as his sweaty hand grips his briefcase and steps towards the open door. “Yes. Thank you.”
Sipping the last drops of her third glass of Rosé, Suzie Fisher wipes spaghetti hoops off her one-year-old son's cheeks. He gargles playfully as he squishes mushed up hoops into his highchair tray. As she turns her back to pour the last dregs from the bottle into her large crystal glass, he knocks his bowl onto the plush cream carpet below.
“Oh, come on, Oscar! Mummy’s going to be late, and that’s going to stain.”
“He did it on purpose, I saw him.”
“Yes, thank you, Charlotte, I’m well aware of that.”
Oscar sticks his tongue out at his older sister. Charlotte retaliates by sling-shotting a spoonful of mashed potato at his face. He cries.
“Charlotte! Go to your room and get ready for your Grandma’s, you’ve got five minutes.”
“But Mu -,”
“Just GO.”
Charlotte storms upstairs, emphasising her dramatic exit with a loud slam of the bedroom door. Suzie studies the mess on the floor, reaches for her glass and takes another long, hard gulp. Turning to grab a cloth from the kitchen worktop, she catches her dressing-gowned reflection in the window, and sighs.
Pulse racing to the rhythm of the booming bassline, Lawrence follows the long, narrow, sticky flooring towards the bar. He passes individual booths to his left and right. One table is empty, the other occupied. A young couple sit talking and touching each other as if in the privacy of their own home. He keeps moving, careful not to make eye contact.
The barman is a young, twenty-something, good-looking lad. Eyebrow and lip piercings dominate his otherwise fresh complexion. A tight white tank top shows off his bulging, tattooed biceps as he saunters towards Lawrence; the most magnificent dance of a peacock’s feather display. “What can I get you darlin’?”
“I’ll just have a beer, please.”
“Bottle, or draught?”
“Pint, please.” Lawrence coughs, trying to enhance the deepest tones of his voice.
Taking off his drenched, black, overcoat he hangs it over the back of the bar stool before checking his watch. 5:46pm - he is fourteen minutes early.
Transformed in a specially bought vintage red evening dress, Suzie stands at the end of the garden path. She twitches and glances at her watch. She shakes her head. Janie’s house is a twenty-minute drive away. The wine tasting begins at six. “Shit.”
She peeks to the left, then right before discarding the empty bottle of wine in the next-door neighbours wheelie bin. Checking her watch once more, she rushes down the garden and heads back inside.
“CHARLOTTE! Time's up.”
The kids in the car, Suzie wheel-spins off the drive, oblivious she’d left the pan of remaining spaghetti hoops burning away on the stove.
“There you go, honey.” Taking a swig of his pint, Lawrence holds his hand out for change. “It’ll get busier in an hour or two. You here alone?”
“I’m waiting for someone.” Lawrence says, staring into his lager.
“Well, let me know if you need anything. Shots are on offer every time we play a Kylie song tonight. I like Jägerbombs.” The barman winks.
“Thanks, I’ll bear that in mind.” After watching him toddle off to collect empty glasses, Lawrence checks his watch again. With ten minutes to kill, he pulls out his iPhone and swipes along to the fifth screen. The ‘Grindr app’ is hiding between the 'Dictionary app' and 'Word of the Day'. Flicking to his ‘Favourites’ he opens up the first profile.
‘Adam. 22. Islington. Occupation: Got one. Relationship Status: Young, free and single.’
The profile picture shows a posey blue-eyed young man gazing enticingly into the camera. He strikes a pose and eyes his audience, eager to be chosen. His head is tilted, resting on his right hand. He is wearing a blue shirt, top three buttons undone bearing his smooth, youthful chest.
‘About Adam: Basically here for fun, just so you know before you say hello.’
Lawrence takes another gulp of his beer as he flicks across to his own profile.
‘Lawrence. 38. Richmond. Occupation: Lawyer. Relationship Status: Single.’
***
Blotchy faced and watery-eyed, Beth Wilson storms out of the audition room. The heavy wooden door slams shut behind her. Alfie, her 6-year-old son, is sitting reading a ‘Brad Steel’ comic in the empty corridor.
“Did you get it Mummy?”
Catching the innocent expectancy in his emerald eyes, Beth’s shoulders soften. She takes a seat on the chair beside him, placing her arm around his tiny waist. “Look, Alfie … I tri-,”
Holding up the front cover of his comic, he frowns. “I’m never going to meet him, am I?”
The heartbreak of Alfie's dropped head kicks Beth hard in the gut. “I tried to tell you this morning Alfie - the conversation you overheard when mummy was on the phone - you got the wrong end of the stick. You were so excited you ran off into your classroom before I could correct you.”
“But, you sai-,”
“I said that my martial arts was bad - not that it was a martial arts part with Brad. I don’t even know any moves, my stupid agent always gets me auditions in things I have no experience in. Of course I didn’t get the damn part.”
“But, I told everyone at school and they didn’t believe me,” Alfie wiggles out of Beth’s grasp. “I hate you!” Eyes glassing over with tears, he struggles his focus back on the comic.
“I know you miss having your dad around, Alfie - but it’s not my fault he left and Brad bloody Steel isn’t going to replace him. He’s a comic book character! No real life man is gonna save us, we’re in this life on our own, kiddo.” Beth glances at the clock on the wall. 6:02pm. “Come on, if we leave now we can stop at McDonalds on the way, yes?”
Without uttering a word, Alfie wipes his eyes on his sleeve and slides down from the chair. Dragging his feet towards the exit, he clenches the comic book close to his chest, as if protecting his hero from the words his mother just said.
“You're late.”
“And you’re just as I expected.” Adam grins as he pulls out the stool next to Lawrence. “A beer, huh? How … ‘Macho’.”
Lawrence downs the last few gulps of his pint in one. “Well, what’ll you have?”
“Let’s start as we mean to go on, shall we … Jägerbomb?”
“Aha! The barman's favourite. Well, when in Rome.” Lawrence shrugs as he waves the barman back over.
“You’re late.” Janie stands in the doorway holding a large glass of red wine.
“Sorry, Janie darling. Kids, you know what they’re like.” Leaning in to receive an air-kiss on both cheeks, Suzie holds her breath.
“Come on sweetie, the party is already in full swing.”
“What’ll you have?”
“Large McChicken Sandwich meal with coke, and a Hamburger. And a Cheeseburger Happy Meal with Fruit Shoot … and then we’ll have two Smarties McFlurry’s, two cookies and extra fries.” The server raises one eyebrow. “It’s been a tough day!” Beth snaps as she struggles to scrape together the total from a purse full of small change. She looks across to the window seat in the corner where Alfie is sitting quiet and still. His bottom lip is almost touching the table where his comic book now rests.
The server’s eyebrow relaxes. “Oh dear. Maybe this’ll cheer him up.” She hands Beth a red balloon on a stick and smiles.
“Here you go.” Janie hands Suzie a large glass of Moët & Chandon Grand Vintage.
“I thought this was a wine tasting evening, not champagne gulping.” An elegant woman comments.
“Yes, but I make the rules.” Janie giggles, instigating a wind-chime of laughter from the other guest. Suzie takes a long, welcome guzzle, allowing the fizzy bubbles to calm each one of her nerves, which are still on end from the rush. “Suzie, have you met Anna before? She was just telling me her brother-in-law, Simon works at the same law firm as your husband.”
“Oh? The name doesn’t ring a bell. Mind you, Lawrence doesn’t talk much about work - he knows how it bores me.” Suzie snorts.
“He was telling me all about their outing to the theatre the other week. You wouldn’t catch me waving my arms in the air, hooting a homosexual impersonator. The real thing was bad enough, they didn’t ought to reproduce such nonsense … and they call that music?”
“Excuse me, what did you say?” Suzie interrupted.
“The theatre. What’s the name of that horrid show?”
“We Will Rock You.”
“What? And she bought it?” Adam Grins.
“Yeah - I mean, she knows it’s not my usual type of thing, but she seemed to think it was a good idea for me to get out and socialise. So, yeah - she bought it.”
“I don’t buy into all that rubbish. No, a good old fashioned opera suits me …”
“That’s this evening. I’ve just had to drop the kids off at my mother’s so we could both venture out.”
“No, darling, it was definitely the other week. We had Simon and my sister over for dinner just the other night and he was telling us all about it. Almost put me off my porcinis!”
Suzie snatches the half-empty bottle from Janie’s hand and tops up her glass. Glugging down the contents she casts her thoughts back to the breakfast table that morning … the way he left so quickly after their conversation … how nervous he seemed now that she thought about it … the way he held his phone, tilted with the screen just out of sight … how odd it was that he dashed for the train, with plenty of time to spare.
“Oh, my silly husband! I swear that man needs a secretary, he’s always mixing up his dates. Excuse me a moment, ladies.”
“Shit, she’s calling.”
“Just ignore it.”
“But what if there’s a problem with the kids?”
Adam takes Lawrence’s phone out of his hand, placing it face down on the bar. “They can wait,” he says, moving his hand to Lawrence’s lap.
Lured by the new, gentle motion of Adam’s wandering palm, Lawrence reaches for his phone and switches it off. Using his free hand to slide a freshly topped shot glass along the bar, Adam winks.
“Here, take this. It’s your favourite colour.” Beth smiles. Alfie looks up, shrugs and accepts the balloon before returning his focus to ‘Brad Steel’. Beth tuts.
“Here, take this.” Adam shouts over the noise of the now bustling bar, handing Lawrence a small bottle wrapped in gold.
“What is it?”
Adam grins, tempting Lawrence with the same alluring eyes his profile promised to deliver. “Look, just neck this last shot, have a sniff and we’ll go back to yours, yeah?”
Lawrence obeys. With a pint of lager, five Jägers, and a sniff of poppers now in his system, he merrily agrees to take Adam home.
Dumping the empty bottle of wine she'd snatched from the kitchen in the bathroom bin, Suzie sits back on the toilet. She tries Lawrence one more time. It goes straight to voicemail. “Christ’s sake.”
She makes her way out into the hallway, failing to notice the pair of sharp eyes watching her every move from the front doorway.
“Whoa, you alright there, Suze? You’re wobbling a bit.”
“Fine, darling. Listen, my mother just called, problem with the kids. I’m sorry, I need to leave.”
Janie frowns. “Have you been drinking today, before you got here?”
“I had one little tipple whilst getting ready, yes … a tiny glass.”
“Suzie, you’re frazzled. You can’t drive like this.”
Suzie pats herself down. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m fine, I just need to find my …”
“Keys?” Janie says, holding them up in her hand.
Looking down at the half-eaten Happy Meal, and melted McFlurry, Beth sighs. “How long are you going to keep up this silent treatment?” Alfie peers over the top of the comic book now held up in front of his face. “You haven’t even touched your ice-cream.”
“I’m full.”
Beth tuts. “Come on then, kiddo, let’s go home.”
Sitting side-by-side, Adam and Lawrence cosy up against their gloomy train carriage window. With flushed cheeks, Lawrence places his palm on top of Adams wandering hand, stopping it dead. “Wait!”
“No-one can see.”
“Just wait until we get back to mine. We should have at least a couple of hours before you’ll need to disappear.”
“Wait!”
Suzie snatches the keys from Janie’s hand. Pushing past her friend, she darts for the exit, leaving Janie ruffled and dumbfounded. Speeding off, she tries Lawrence once more.
“You’ve reached the voicemail of Lawrence Fisher …”
“Wait!” As the train starts to pull into their station, Alfie squeezes past the hoard of busy commuters blocking the carriage exit. “Alfie, wait for me.”
“He is real!” Alfie shouts, as he ducks under a pair of tall, suited legs and jumps onto the platform.
“Whoa, that kid’s in a hurry.” Lawrence looks down, steadying himself on Adam’s shoulder as they stand waiting to disembark.
Beth struggles past grumbling passengers as she tries to keep up. Stepping out onto the platform, she panics as the top of Alfie’s red balloon disappears with the current of the fast-flowing crowd. “Get out of my way!”
“Get out of my way!” Suzie presses hard on the horn as she negotiates the evening traffic. Her car sways from side to side, causing other cars to swerve as she crosses into the next lane, and back again.
Lawrence and Adam pass through the ticket barrier and head out onto the side street. “It’s only a five-minute walk.”
Adam looks around. “Bloody hell, it’s a bit posh around here, innit?”
As a gentle sprinkle turns to a shower, they pick up the pace.
Beth drops her ticket at the barrier, causing a disgruntled halt to the steady trickle of commuters. Her shaky hand grapples with the ticket as her eyes dart around the faces in the crowd. “Shit.”
Stepping out onto the street, Alfie starts the familiar route home. Still clutching his balloon and holding up his comic, his eyes study each picture as he walks, blinking through drops of rain.
Turning a corner, Suzie ignores the sound of her screeching tyres.
Beth runs out onto the side street, heart pounding as her eyes scan her surroundings.
“I’ll just check my messages before we get there, to be on the safe side.” Lawrence says, pulling out his phone. “Nine missed called from Suzie and a voicemail.”
“Lawrence, it’s Janie. Listen, Suzie’s left the party, acting strange, I think she’s been drinking …”
The sound of Janie’s voice fades to silence as Lawrence turns the final corner and steps onto his street. He freezes. Straight ahead, a fire engine sits stationary across his driveway. Black smoke merges into the grey skyline above. Contrasting fluorescent flames rage out of each smashed window. Lawrence’s phone drops to his feet, his hands throw themselves upwards.
‘My house!’
Turning the final corner, Suzie fixes her gaze on two men stood in the distance. One man has his hands on his head. The other is grabbing at him.
“Lawrence!” She struggles to find the button to open the window. She takes her eyes off the road, looks down, the windscreen wiper blades speed up. Her foot plunges harder on the accelerator. The car window comes down. Suzie looks up. There’s a child in the middle of the road. Her feet struggle to find the brake pedal …
Following the loud screech, Adam turns and darts for the boy.
Beth’s walk turns to a sprint.
Lawrence's eyes are still transfixed on the flames. “My fucking house.”
Beth screams as Alfie’s body tumbles to the ground. His red balloon pops with a loud bang under scorched tyres.
Lawrence turns to see a woman running towards a young boy who’s sprawled across the pavement. Adam’s twisted body lies limp in the middle of the road. Rushing over, Lawrence falls to his knees. Scooping up Adam’s lifeless body and cradling his head in his lap, he looks up towards the shaken, bloodied driver.
“Suzie?”