Twenty Years a Stranger (The Stranger Series Book 1)

by Deborah Twelves

  ‘Oh my God, that’s awful.’

  ‘Yes…When you and Daniel first got together, he told me the story he had given you about Julia dying in a car crash and I said he was asking for trouble. He said he found the truth too upsetting and didn’t want to have to relive all the pain. He begged me not to say anything and I agreed, against my better judgement. I think he was scared of how you would react. It was a terrible time for everyone who knew her. And such a violent, senseless death….’

  Frieda’s voice tailed off and I could see she was close to tears. I shivered slightly and realised I had never actually asked how Julia took her own life.

  ‘Frieda…how did Julia kill herself?’ I asked quietly, not entirely sure I wanted to hear the answer.

  Frieda looked at me strangely.

  ‘She hanged herself. With her own horse’s head collar. I assumed Daniel would have told you everything after Kieran’s outburst at the wedding.’

  I could not help a little gasp of shock. I had imagined her taking an overdose and somehow drifting away peacefully and painlessly into sleep. Not the brutal version of events I had just been given.

  ‘The thing is, Grace, they were really not in a good place when she did it. It was never the same after she lost the baby and she was living on a knife-edge, terrified he was going to leave her. She called the poor little thing Ava. I’ll never forget the sight of that tiny white coffin….’

  ‘Wait a minute, they had a baby?’

  ‘Yes, but she was stillborn. It was a terrible tragedy, with no real explanation. It destroyed Julia, but Daniel just seemed relieved if I’m honest. But there was more to it than that. He was cheating on her with at least two women I knew about and her sister was convinced he was knocking her around. I don’t know if that was true…she certainly never said anything to me, but I guess people don’t, do they? A lot of people blamed him for pushing her over the edge. He certainly didn’t treat her very well and I think he blamed himself too in the end for what she did.’

  I was lost for words. It wasn’t Frieda’s fault of course, but I felt foolish and betrayed by my husband. Trust was everything in a marriage and we had promised each other there would be no secrets between us. That didn’t last long - I thought furiously, as I began to wonder how much more he was hiding from me.

  Daniel did not react well when I confronted him about what Frieda had told me and predictably turned the tables on me about snooping behind his back.

  ‘Why the hell are you always trying to dig up dirt from the past?’ he shouted, clearly furious.

  ‘I’m not!’ I replied indignantly. ‘I just wanted to understand your family history a bit better, but I guess I found out more than I bargained for.’

  ‘Well, I hope you’re happy now. I had a shit childhood, end of story. But then to lose Julia like that…it was devastating. It was a fucking awful time in my life and I just wanted to forget about it, simple as that. Just because we’re married it doesn’t mean you have to know every detail about my past. I don’t ask you about yours, do I? That’s because the past belongs in the past, as I keep telling you. It has no relevance to our future together. I thought you finally got that, but apparently not.’

  He stormed out of the room and slammed the door hard, bringing the argument to an abrupt end.

  I was left consumed with guilt again for hounding him and dredging up secrets that were better left buried. And yet, I couldn’t help wondering about Julia. He had told me how much he loved her and how devastated he had been when she died, but Frieda said he had treated her badly and had been cheating on her. With at least two other women. It just didn’t add up to me, but I had a feeling I would never really know the truth and tried hard to push the thoughts of my husband’s dead wife to the back of my mind. I told myself firmly that there are two sides to every story and nobody really knows what goes on behind closed doors.

  Maybe he’s right - I thought to myself as I slipped into bed beside him later that night and snuggled close, not wanting to go to sleep on an argument. As he said, the past belonged in the past and no good could come from raking up such painful memories but, at the same time, I had no intention of allowing the memories and ghosts from Daniel’s past to destroy my happiness and crush my dreams.

  I hoped and prayed there were no more skeletons hidden in the closet but, as I lay there, turning things over in my head, a verse from a poem by Francis Duggan came into my head:

  One lie leads to another lie a wise one once did say, ‘And you must tell another lie tomorrow for the lie you told today’.

  Life after Brian

  Jane

  Jane stared blankly at the rows of sympathy cards cluttering up the windowsill and gathering dust. They had flooded in from well-meaning friends after the untimely death of her husband. A tragic car accident. Killed outright the police had told her, having encouraged her to sit down before delivering the shocking news.

  Naturally, she played the part expected of her, but if she was being brutally honest, it was no great loss as far as she was concerned. Brian didn’t have a shred of ambition and would have been content to live in a mediocre house in suburbia for the rest of his boring, little life. That was not how she saw her own future panning out and, if he thought she was going to settle for the occasional pub meal with a glass of cheap plonk as a treat, he had another think coming. Boring Brian had also been desperate to produce the standard quota of 2.4 children, but there was no way she was being lumbered with screaming brats and had taken the necessary precautions while lying to her overly trusting husband.

  Jane put on a good show when the police came to the door to deliver the news about the accident, with tears and just the right amount of hysteria, but the fact of the matter was that things had worked out perfectly for her. She had already been planning to leave Brian before the accident, but this way she got to play the grieving young widow and inherit the house without a fight. There was also the matter of the life insurance policy they’d taken out on each other at her insistence twelve months earlier.

  Result.

  Jane had respectfully waited three whole weeks after Brian’s funeral before she threw herself into the fray of internet dating. There was no time to waste, and it seemed as good a way as any to meet people in this day and age. This time, she was leaving nothing to chance and would make sure she picked a more suitable partner, one who, at the very least, had enough money to give her the lifestyle she craved and deserved. She enlisted the help of her best friend, Tracy, and together they concocted a dazzling, if not entirely accurate, profile aided and abetted by a couple of bottles of Cava and a large box of chocolates. Tracy had gotten it right; she had married a short, ugly but extremely rich, property tycoon a few years ago. She did not judge Jane about the Brian situation. Time to move on. No point in hanging around. Brutal but honest.

  Unfortunately, four months down the line and numerous monumental disappointments later, the internet had failed spectacularly to deliver up the man of her dreams, or even someone vaguely acceptable to be honest. Jane was getting a bit disheartened. She was sick of logging into the various sites she had joined, only to be confronted by the leering photos of men a good twenty years older than her. She had even seen one who called himself Bobby Ninetoes!

  Seriously? Did he actually expect to get a response from anything with a pulse using a profile name like that?

  True, she had a few body image issues of her own and could do with losing a couple of stone, but even so, she intended to keep some standards.

  She invariably deleted all new matches for the day in disgust, without even bothering to read the blurb they had cobbled together. There was no point, as none of them had any understanding of even the most basic concepts of English grammar.

  Where, oh where, were all the decent single men?

  And then, all of a sudden one evening, there was Matthew, delivered up from the gods and straight into her inbox. No wonder he stood out, with his easy natural pose for the camera and an engaging, mi
schievous smile that reached all the way to his eyes. The fact that the About Me section of his profile was grammatically accurate and he had actually managed to use capital letters and correct punctuation was another massive tick in his favour.

  Matthew was as different from Brian as was possible. He had his own business, flew a helicopter and, apparently had a collection of sports cars (if he was telling the truth of course). On this occasion, she decided not to allow her natural cynicism to spoil things and when he suggested they meet in person after a few flirty messaging sessions, she thought all her birthdays and Christmases had come at once, especially as he was keen enough to drive more than two hours from where he lived, somewhere near Sheffield.

  Their first date was dinner in a wine bar in her home town of Willowmede, near Birmingham and she approved wholeheartedly of his choice, knowing it to be expensive. He insisted that it would be his treat and she warmed to him even more. He was confident, tall and charismatic, although not exactly what you would call good looking. Jane decided quickly that she could overlook that, given all the other points in his favour.

  Two bottles of wine later, she found herself inviting him back to her house, where one thing inevitably led to another, just as she had intended it to. Jane loved sex and had never had any reservations about putting out on a first date. Sex with poor old Brian had been dull, to say the least, and she felt she was long overdue a bit more excitement in that department. Matthew was more than happy to oblige and she was delighted to report to Tracy the next day that they had gone at it like rabbits all over the house: on the kitchen worktop, up against the wall in the hallway, in the bath. She had seen the little pack of blue pills he was trying to keep hidden but, it made no odds to her, so long as it meant he could perform.

  When he suggested filming her after a couple of weeks of rampant sex hook-ups, she was flattered and keen to show him she was game for anything.

  ‘It’s just a little thing I like to do. It really turns me on, but we don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable about it,’ he said, almost apologetically.

  ‘Oh no, it’s fine,’ she assured him quickly. ‘It’s just that I’ve never been filmed before, but I’m more than happy to try new things with the right person.’

  Jane lowered her eyes in an attempt to look demure, then promptly stripped off, throwing inhibition to the wind and discarding her clothes on the floor.

  ‘Great. Let’s start with just a few poses of you, like a glamour model.’

  His tone was encouraging. No one had ever accused her of being ‘like a glamour model’ and she embraced her new persona with gusto, even when Matthew got her to kneel on all fours with her arse in the air and took her by surprise as he moved in behind for a close-up.

  Things began to progress after that night and she was delighted when Matthew agreed it would make sense if he moved some of his personal stuff to her house, given the strain of the whole long-distance relationship thing. He made it clear, however, that he would be there as often as possible, but not every night and certainly not every weekend, as his work involved a lot of travelling and he needed to keep his base near the factory. She was happy with that. She was reeling him in and that was all that mattered for the moment.

  Filming became a regular part of their sex life and soon there were spy cameras installed all over the house, the results of which were numerous home porn movies and thousands of stills stored on Matthew’s computer.

  Over time, she learned to contort herself into positions she would never previously have thought possible, none of them particularly flattering, but it certainly got him going. In fact, he almost liked to give explicit instructions and each session brought new surprises. She squirmed; feeling aroused as she remembered the charity fancy-dress party in a pub out of town, where they had both gone dressed as school kids. At his suggestion, she had not worn knickers and had shaved down there to please him. With the party in full swing, he had suddenly taken her by the hand and led her to a secluded room away from the main function and out of sight of prying eyes, but only just. As usual, she had not held back on the alcohol front and giggled drunkenly as Matthew pushed her down onto the banquette. He liked to be in charge and she obediently sat back and opened her legs wide for him, knowing the drill.

  ‘Oh yes, that’s lovely,’ he murmured as he settled himself on the bench opposite her with his camera and licked his lips lecherously. He proceeded to video her, muttering encouragingly as she used the fingers of both hands to pleasure herself. She uttered a low moan and writhed around on the rough material of the banquette, quickly warming to her task. An expert at doing the job herself, having been married to Brian for years, she brought herself noisily to orgasm, made all the more exciting by the fact that one of the other party-goers could have come around the corner at any moment and discovered them at it. When she had finished, Matthew unzipped his schoolboy shorts, signalling to her to kneel in front of him. Jane was only too happy for the opportunity to perform one of her favourite acts for a close-up action video and prided herself on her technique, perfected over the years. Not with Brian though. Not with that useless prick, who had been so woefully lacking in imagination and was quite content with the occasional shag in the good old missionary position. Brian had taken his marital duties seriously and was more than happy to perform around once a month on a special Saturday night. No wonder she was prepared to jump through all the hoops for Matthew, she thought to herself with a sneer.

  Jane had even taken to allowing Matthew to wear her underwear on occasions, which was always a sure way of getting him aroused without any need for pills. Admittedly, even she thought that kind of stuff was all a bit weird, but needs must. Sharing is caring. Wasn’t that the saying?

  In a nutshell, she was determined to deliver whatever Matthew required to satisfy his sexual appetite, however deviant. That way, she ensured he kept coming back for more and she remained in control of the situation.

  Or so she thought.

  The Camera Never Lies

  Jane

  Jane found out Matthew was married early on in their relationship. He was evasive from day one when questioned on pretty much any aspect of his life and gave very little away. She knew nothing about his family or friends and had no idea where he was or what he was up to when he wasn’t with her. She decided to opt for the direct approach one evening as they sat at the kitchen table sharing a bottle of red wine.

  ‘Are you married?’ The question hung menacingly in the air.

  He looked at her and sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. That was all the answer she needed.

  ‘You fucking bastard!’ she screamed and followed up immediately by spitting out all the insults she could think of, as she hurled her glass of red wine in his face.

  Tears of fury rolled down her cheeks as he walked behind her to get the kitchen towel. He said nothing and calmly began wiping his face and shirt front.

  Far too calmly - she thought.

  ‘How could you do this to me? I really believed you loved me,’ she snivelled pathetically, changing tack and going for the sympathy vote.

  Quite the actress when she put her mind to it.

  ‘Please calm down and let me explain.’

  He looked her straight in the eyes with a sincere and slightly hurt expression on his face.

  ‘I do love you,’ he wheedled. ‘Yes, it's true that I'm married, but please believe me, my marriage has been over for years and we live completely separate lives. She means nothing to me. We’re married in name only.’

  That old chestnut.

  ‘Fine, so why don’t you divorce her then? Now that you’re with me,’ she said petulantly, narrowing her eyes.

  ‘I suppose I should have done that a long time ago, but it really didn't seem necessary. We have just been drifting along for the last few years, each doing our own thing. I promise you there is nothing between us anymore, but I really can't divorce her at the moment. It’s partly because it doesn’t make any sense financially, but
also for the sake of her parents who are getting on a bit and not in very good health. I honestly think the shock of our divorce would kill them.’

  ‘So fucking what? I have to think about myself for once,’ she screamed, forgetting herself.

  ‘Don’t be like that, it doesn’t suit you. You always knew I wasn’t a 24/7 kind of guy. To be honest, I thought you’d guessed I was married and weren’t that bothered.’

  ‘Not bothered? Are you for fucking real? Why the hell would I not be bothered? I want a proper relationship and I want to be number one in your life. You moved in with me, for fuck’s sake. I don’t want you pissing about spending time and money on anyone else!’

  ‘That’s not very nice, is it? You need to calm down. And please stop swearing,’ he added sanctimoniously.

  Matthew had not raised his voice. Jane realised she was not helping her cause and decided to back off as he began again, in his annoyingly reasonable voice.

  ‘Look, my wife is actually pretty unstable, if you really want to know the truth. A bit of a bunny boiler. No telling what she'd do to herself if I left her. She’s tried to take her own life before now. Thank God I found her in time. I didn’t tell you about her, because she just isn’t important.’

  ‘All well and good, but where does that leave me?’

  She glared at him defiantly, having tried and failed to look sympathetic. She decided to lay her cards on the table and call a spade a spade.

  ‘Look, Matthew, to be honest, I don’t give a flying fuck about your nutcase wife or her parents.’

  Matthew sighed dramatically before resuming his efforts to manipulate her.

  ‘The thing is, I don’t think me being married needs to change anything as far as we are concerned and it certainly doesn't have to come between us. It’s just a bit of paper at the end of the day. We don't have to be conventional, do we?’