Husband and I were invited to Sunday dinner, to the house Laura shared with Mr Big I Am.
Laura had just got out of bed at four in the afternoon. Mr Big I Am had a broad smile on his face.
We all sat around the table, dined on lamb and spooned on mint sauce. Laura and her beau sat facing Husband and me. Beads of sweat appeared on Mr Big I Am’s brow. Laura complained of being hot. They shared a look that excluded Husband and me.
Table chit chat. Mr Big I Am had a tale: Laura had been sick in the garden in the early hours of that morning, she recovered, then shared vodka until the sun peeped over the horizon.
Husband looked at me, I shared with him a look of concern.
Mr Big I Am aired a second tale: Laura was spending her investment, what was left of the money gifted by Husband and me for the deposit of a house. Her bank balance had dwindled.
Husband and I shared our look of concern with Laura.
I made a mental note to ring the builders, and chase the completion of her new house.
We chastised Laura, reminded her the money was for property, not frippery. She denied spending, said Mr Big I Am was exaggerating.
We believed her. We thought him odd, telling tales to cause unrest.
We did not consider Laura had become adept at telling her lies.