The Last Lie: The must-read new thriller from the Sunday Times bestselling author. Alex Lake

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       Alfie

      Alfie sat on the stone bench and sucked on his cigarette. The house was at least fifty yards away and he was hidden from view by a pergola. He looked back at the house, watching for anyone coming towards him. He could easily put out his cigarette and vanish into the bushes, if he needed to.

      It was ridiculous, hiding out to smoke a cigarette. He was a grown man. But it was typical of his wife: she had gone on and on at him about quitting since what felt like the day they’d married.

       I know I’m nagging, Alfie, but it’s only because I love you. I can’t bear to see you harming yourself. And what about our kids? I don’t want them to be deprived of their father.

      Over and over and over again, until in the end he’d given in and promised to stop, a promise he had no intention of keeping, so now he had to do it in secret.

      It was the perfect symbol of how trapped he was by his stupid bitch of a wife.

      They had met at a house like this, at the ostentatious wedding of some school friend of Claire’s. It was quite a party – magicians working the crowd, a mini-fairground, all the booze you could drink. The champagne fountain alone probably cost more than Alfie earned a month. Three months.

      Not that he was drinking from it. Claire was there as a guest. Alfie was the help.

      Specifically, he was in the band, playing bass. Alfie was a recent, part-time member. The band had been mildly successful – a few top twenty hits – in the early 2000s, but had been playing smaller and smaller venues as their popularity dwindled, until they ended up doing cover versions of bigger hits than theirs at expensive weddings. Over time the line-up had changed until only the singer and drummer remained. To fill the gaps they brought in jobbing musicians and Alfie was merely the latest.

      He noticed Claire early on. At first he wasn’t sure why, but something set her apart. It wasn’t the way she looked – she didn’t particularly stand out from the other expensively dressed, tanned, yoga-bodied mid-twenties women. It was amazing what expensive clothes, professional make-up and a flattering haircut could do. All of them, whether naturally pretty or not, looked like models. The kind of models you’d see in a Land Rover advert at any rate.

      Alfie found them both fascinating and repellent. He hated the way they took all this for granted, as though this kind of party, this kind of wealth, was simply how the world was. They had no idea how other people – people like him – lived, and they didn’t want to know. They kept to their own set, gave their kids names that marked them out as belonging, as being ‘one of us’.

      Yet at the same time he couldn’t keep his eyes off them. He was jealous, and hated that too.

      But more than anything he hated the fact these people would never accept him.

      Strangely, though, it was that which drew him to Claire. She seemed vulnerable, a little apart from her friends. Watchful. Later he’d find out it was because her mum had died when she was young and she had lost the ability to trust – other people, her future, the world in general, or so her therapist had told her – but looking at her from the stage at that moment he didn’t care why it was.

      He cared that she turned away from the braying City boys who grabbed at her hand in an attempt to get her to dance, and then watched them, almost wistfully, as they turned their attention to someone else. He could see she was glad they had left her alone, but also disappointed. All she needed was the right one, one who understood her insecurity, who knew how fragile she was.

      He could see she needed someone who wasn’t threatening. Well, he could be that. He could be whatever she wanted, if it meant he got to come to these weddings as a guest.

      Not to mention all the other benefits that went with life as someone like Claire’s boyfriend. Smart address, smarter holidays, no money worries ever again. So, yes, whatever she wanted, he would be.

      Midway through their set, the band took a break. He declined their offer of a joint behind the stage, and walked to the bar, where Claire was getting a drink.

      Water please, he said, then nodded at Claire. Hi.

      Hi, she said. Are you in the band?

       Yep. Hope you’re enjoying it.

      Up close she was very pretty. Unlike most of the other guests she didn’t need the expensive grooming.

      You guys are great! I loved your song. You know – the one – she blushed as she realized she didn’t remember the name of the band’s hit. СКАЧАТЬ