Here We Lie by Sophie McKenzie Page B

raises his eyebrows, a smile curling around his lips.
    ‘Not so pleased to see me, Emily Sarah?’ he asks. Sarah was my mother’s name as well as my middle name; and as only my parents ever used the two names together it’s
disconcerting to hear them coming out of Dan’s mouth.
    Disconcerting, yet not unpleasant.
    ‘No, I am, it’s fine.’ I’m still flustered but my body has, at least, calmed down. I don’t know what that initial reaction was about, just shock I guess. ‘How
did you find me?’
    ‘It wasn’t that hard,’ Dan says. ‘I asked around. It’s cool you’ve made it as a teacher.’
    ‘Thanks.’ How surreal is this? A group of other teachers cross the car park. They look over and wave. I can see them checking Dan out, wondering who he is. I say nothing, just wave
back.
    Dan clears his throat. ‘Look, Em, I’m really sorry just to show up out of the blue.’ He frowns, his forehead wrinkling, and I’m struck again by how he looks the same and
yet different. The eight years that have passed have been good to him. I suddenly wonder how I look in his eyes. I stop leaning against the car roof, straighten my jacket and shake back my hair.
Dan watches, still smiling. I have the uncanny sense that he can see exactly what I’m thinking.
    ‘What is it?’ I ask. ‘What did you want to tell me?’
    Dan’s eyes flicker to my left hand. ‘Nice ring,’ he says. ‘Er, congratulations.’
    ‘You heard about that too?’
    ‘About Jed?’ He says the name as if it’s italicized. ‘I already knew. That’s . . . look, can we go somewhere? Get a coffee? There’s a café over the
road. I was waiting there earlier.’
    I hesitate. Truth is, I’m equal parts intrigued and annoyed with him. Which is, I reflect, how it always used to be with Dan. I give myself a mental kick. Dan is old news, no longer part
of my life. Still, Jed won’t be back from his conference for hours and I have no plans. Plus, it will be interesting to catch up, to find out what he wants to tell me so badly that he’s
sought me out after eight years of silence.
    ‘Fine.’ I lock my car and we walk side by side to the café. Dan takes off his coat. He’s wearing a navy suit, expensively cut. He shrugs off the jacket as we sit down.
His pale blue shirt brings out the hint of blue in his grey eyes. I can see now that his new physique – that filled-out body – is partly muscle. I can just make out the cut of his
biceps under the fine cotton of his shirt, though his height stops him from looking bulky or overdeveloped. Everything about him seems so much more manly than I remember. There is a faint rash of
stubble on his chin which I’m certain he never had when he was younger. I check his hands. No rings, no jewellery of any kind. I wonder if he still has the swallow tattoo on his upper right
arm. We were supposed to get them together, but I chickened out at the last moment.
    I remove my jacket as the waitress comes over. We order coffees then I sit back. I gaze out of the window. I can almost see my car from here just beyond the edge of the school fence.
    I can feel Dan’s gaze lingering on my face.
    ‘It’s really good to see you, Em,’ he says. ‘It’s been, what, eight years?’
    ‘That’s right.’ I meet his eyes.
    ‘Okay, I’ll get to the point. Firstly, I’m still a journalist. After my job in the States I did a short stint in South Africa, then back to the States for the past six years.
Now I’ve moved home and I’m freelancing. There’s a story I started following a couple of weeks ago when I saw your . . . when I saw about your stepdaughter, about what happened in
Corsica.’
    ‘You read about that?’
    Dan nods. ‘I’m so sorry, it must have been awful. You were there, weren’t you?’
    ‘Yes, but I don’t understand, what’s that—?’
    ‘I noticed the article because Jed Kennedy was named in it.’ He pauses. ‘As you know, he was in the news back in the summer because he’d