Sometimes I Lie

I close the door and turn on the shower. I’ll be quick. Just want to get the sand and cream off my body, wash my hair and change into something else. I take off my bikini and step inside, letting the jets of cool water slap my face. I hear the knock on the hotel room door and curse their timing.

‘Come in,’ says Paul. I can hear that he is still on the call to London but I’m relieved he is dealing with it, five minutes on my own has become a rare indulgence that I no longer take for granted. ‘That’s great, thank you, just leave it over there,’ he says. His words are muffled by the shower, but he sounds distracted, borderline rude and I hope he’s remembered to give them a tip.

I dress myself quickly, rushing a brush through my tangled hair and slapping some aftersun on my face and shoulders. Paul is already sitting on the decking just outside the room, facing out to a turquoise sea. He’s brought the children a little nearer to us so that they are sitting on a blanket in the shade and I love him for loving them the way I hoped he would.

‘Here you are, thought you might have drowned,’ he says as I step outside to join them. ‘Drink, madam?’ he then asks, taking a bottle of champagne from a silver bucket on a tray on the table.

‘Lovely, yes, please.’ I sit down next to him, feeling the heat from the wooden chair through my skirt. Katie turns as she hears me and smiles.

‘Mummy,’ she says, then carries on playing. She’s never called me that before and it makes me feel so happy. I was their godmother, after all; is it so wrong to want to be more than that? Paul uses the nail on his thumb to cut into the gold foil around the neck of the bottle. He tears it off before his fingers twist the metal holding the cork in place, then he removes it expertly. No pop, no fuss, no mess. He fills our glasses and I realise I am happy. Things are so much better between us now. Back to how they used to be. This is all I ever wanted. I am in paradise with my family and this is what happiness feels like. I’m not sure I have ever truly known it before.

He puts the bottle back on the round tray and I spot something next to it that catches the light.

‘What’s that?’ I say, looking down at the slither of gold on silver.

‘What’s what?’ he asks, following my gaze. I smile, thinking this is another surprise, a gift, a game.

It isn’t.

For a moment the words won’t form.

‘Did you see who delivered this to our room?’

‘I was still on Skype, they just came in and left it on the side. Why? What’s wrong?’

I don’t answer. I’m transfixed by the thin bracelet on the tray, small enough for a child’s wrist. It’s held together with an old, slightly rusty safety pin and my date of birth is engraved on the gold.

My name is Amber Taylor Reynolds. There are three things you should know about me:

1. I was in a coma.

2. My sister died in a tragic accident.

3. Sometimes I lie.