Liar This is it; I'm going to tell the truth: the whole truth and nothing but the truth. No more lies. I'm not stupid. I know that people tell lies: I know that they tell lies all the time. Sometimes because they have to, sometimes because they want to and sometimes just because it seems the easiest way out. People have lied to me all my life. "It'll be okay Holly."  It will not be okay. It will be painful and scar you for the rest of your life. "Of course I wasn't spreading rumours about you, Holly." They spread every rumour that is circulating, and more. "No, I didn't kiss your boyfriend." I slept with him. "The cat's just gone on a short holiday." The cat's dead. We will later replace him and hope you don't notice. "The stork brings babies." The stork does not bring babies. I think it started with Father Christmas and then they just got a taste of lying to me. When I was young it was hard to accept that people would lie to me, especially my parents. But as I grew up I accepted it. Then my friends lied to me: that hurt. These people I trusted betrayed me, but I got over it. In the end. I'm a doctor. I know that doctors tell lies: professionally and personally. Some lies are good and the ones that doctors tell to help relatives are often good ones. But they are still lies. "She didn't suffer." It was long and painful. "You'll have to ask the surgeon about that." Please don't ask me, I don't want to tell you the bad news. "About a fifty/fifty chance." I haven't got a clue; I'm covering my back either way. And men tell lies. I haven't yet met a man who doesn't tell lies. I don't think they have a reason, I think they are just enable of telling the truth. You may think I am bitter and twisted but I am just telling the truth. You may not be used to this. "I'll call you." I've already lost the number. "I really want us to be friends." I'm shagging someone else but want you as a reserve. "It's not you, it's me." It's not me: it's you. "Yeah, marriage and kids. That sounds like a good idea." Get me out of here, now! You are a person (as far as I know), you are a doctor and you are a man. But yet I never doubted a word you said. Why was that? You are a liar, Patrick Spiller, a twisted, good-for-nothing liar. And I love you. I have to tell the truth. You broke my heart, you lied to me and then you forgot about me. And I love you. I remember the first time. The first time you told me a lie that would shatter my world. Of course you'd told me lies before, but never as big as this one. You told a lie because you didn't think you could tell me the truth. It was the night Tom died. The night I will never forget: the one that haunts me to this day. You may have saved my life but that didn't give you the right to build up my hopes only to dash them months later. "I love you." I told you, and I did- I do. This was something I'd never said to anyone since I was a child. "I love you too." You said. LIAR. If you love someone you don't let them leave you, you don't move on as if it was nothing and get on with your life. You don't get engaged to someone else and you certainly don't die. Those next few weeks with you were as close to happiness as I'll ever get. And then you let me go. I may have been unhappy but I would have stayed, for you I would have done anything. When I suggested it I was testing you. Trying to see how much you loved me. I found out and I wished that I didn't know. You didn't love me at all. All those weeks, years of pretending had amounted to nothing. But it was too late to go back on it then: I'd suggested leaving so I'd have to go through with it. "Goodbye Patrick, I'll miss you." "I'll miss you." Yes, you missed me so much that you jumped into bed with another woman. Then another. "I will see you again wont I?" "Of course you will. This isn't the end." More lies. I've never seen you again. I'm staring at you're gravestone but the only place I'll see your face is from my photos. "Stay in touch." I shouted as the train left the station. "I will." You shouted, but I never heard from you again. All those post cards, all those letters: all clearly marked with my address but not one of them answered. I finally phoned, hoping I'd got the wrong address. A woman picked up. "Patrick Spiller's phone." She giggled. No lies there. I slammed the phone down, I didn't want to hear her voice, and I felt so betrayed. I didn't send any more letters after that; I didn't even call you anymore. But I still did 1471 every time I got home. Still rushed to get the post in the morning. But nothing came: nothing until 3 weeks ago. "Hi Holly?" "Yes?" "It's me, Duffy." "Hi Duffy, what do you want?" "It's bad news." There was no bad news anymore, the one man I loved had been lying to me and was now engaged to another woman. This is the information I got from Anna's letters. So I didn't think things could get much worse, how wrong I was. "What is it?" "It's Patrick… he's dead." "Liar!" I screamed and put the phone down. Then I tore every phone out of its socket in the house and lay down on my bed. Numb. I stayed there for days, in that house. Not even daring to go out to the shops or to work. I didn't want to be faced with the world that lied to me. You weren't dead. You couldn't be. Then Anna's letter came, explaining that you really were dead and that the funeral was in two days time. I couldn't believe, no matter how much I tried, that Anna would make all this up. So I got the first flight I could and went to confront them all, to see that you were still alive and to prove them wrong. I missed the funeral by a day but when I got here I saw the freshly turned earth and the flowers. They had your names on the cards. I couldn't deny it any longer. So here I am. Stuck in a churchyard in the freezing cold wondering why you never called and why it had to end like this. I want to drive to my parents house and scream at them for reading me stories that ended 'and they all lived happily ever after' when they well know that the world isn't like that. You may have lied to me about everything, got engaged, never called but now you're dead. And I love you. And it hurts more than anything else I've ever felt. But Lara's coming now so I'll join the rest of the world and start lying, lets pretend everything's okay. And then I sat bolt up right in bed. Grateful to for the baby whose screams woke me from that terrible nightmare. The one where images flashed through my head but all the time my own voice talked over the top, narrating it for me. It was so scary to think how easily my life could have turned out like that. If only Patrick had let me go to Germany like I suggested, would things really have turned out like that? What a terrifying thought. I go and pick up my baby from the next room, feed him to stop him crying and waking up Patrick. I hold him gently in my arms and Carry him through to my bed; I can't bare the thought of leaving all on his own in a cot. He snuggles gently in between Patrick and me and I fall back to sleep but into nicer dreams. Or do I? We all tell lies.