The Good Liar Read Online Free PDF

entertaining over the years, as well as rewarding, to mask his true feelings with an indulgent smile and a kind word, for the greater good. But now he is short of time and, it has to be said, low on stamina. Yet he must make the effort.
    ‘So you worked in the City?’ asks Michael as, shuffling and edg-
    ing, they gain their appointed places at the table Betty has laid in the tiny kitchen.
    There is barely room for the six of them and with difficulty they
    extend their elbows behind them to place Betty’s carefully pressed, ancient linen napkins on their laps.
    Roy pauses for a beat to assure equanimity. He says cheerfully, ‘At one time. I was in property. Among other things. I’ve had a few jobs in my time. I can’t say that I was one of the big players. The City then wasn’t what it is today.’
    Stephen thinks: that smile, when he turns it on, is avuncular. Repulsive but avuncular. The ruddy cheeks, the shining eyes, the oozing
    confidence, it fits perfectly. The smile of the assassin, he thinks, and wonders whether others see it this way, unburdened by his preju-dices and the knowledge that he has recently acquired of this man
    at close quarters. Roy, even in old age, is a fairly impressive act.
    He observes Betty, bustling around so far as bustling is possible in such a small space. She is somewhat out of breath, from anxiety, he thinks, as she attends diligently to the needs of her guests, distribut-ing plates, pouring wine, passing bread. The candles are lit and her 22
    1ST_9780241206935_TheGoodLiar.indd 22
    05/05/15 5:32 PM
    unaccustomed disarray and nervousness confer a certain glowing
    radiance. There is a fixed smile on her lips and the soft light draws out the depth of her brown eyes. She has been to the salon and her
    hair shines and hangs straight and elegant. She is on stage. To him, her performance shines. At the end of the table Roy holds court
    with his smile. He neither helps Betty nor contributes much to the
    conversation yet is the conductor of proceedings. Everything refers back to Roy eventually. Which is only natural, since this occasion, postponed from the summer, is intended to introduce him, induct
    him indeed, into this peculiar family. It is only natural that they should show such interest in him and he deals with their inquisitive-ness with a rediscovered bonhomie and energy. He does not,
    however, display a corresponding curiosity about them.
    ‘Christmas,’ says Michael apropos of nothing, it seems. They all pay attention and it is implicit among them that the statement is directed at Roy.
    ‘Oh yes,’ Roy says in response, a wary curiosity infusing its rising pitch.
    ‘It’s only a month away. Are you one for Christmas, Roy?’
    ‘Well, put it like this, Michael,’ replies Roy. ‘Time was, I was as keen as the next man on Christmas. Those were times of austerity,
    mind you, when if you summoned up an orange for the boy’s stock-
    ing you were something of a magician. I used to make toys, you
    know, for my son, from odd bits of wood. Good with my hands, I
    was. But these days, with all the commercialism and what have
    you . . . And when you get older . . .’ He pauses for a moment of
    reflection. ‘I was on my own last Christmas. I had two pork sausages and a tin of beans for my dinner and I don’t mind telling you I shed a tear or two while I was watching the Queen’s Speech.’
    Stephen and Emma share a glance, and Roy senses the begin-
    ning, quickly quashed, of a smirk passing over her face.
    ‘Well, it doesn’t have to be like that this year,’ says Michael. ‘We were wondering whether the two of you might like to spend Christmas with us. I’m happy to come down on Christmas Eve to pick you
    up, so you don’t have to worry about the train.’
    23
    1ST_9780241206935_TheGoodLiar.indd 23
    05/05/15 5:32 PM
    ‘Well,’ begins Betty, smiling, but Roy talks across her.
    He says, ‘Too kind, too kind. We couldn’t possibly.’
    ‘No,’ says Michael quickly. ‘You