The Bride: A twisty and completely gripping psychological thriller

by Wendy Clarke

  I look at Joanna and I know, with certainty, that something’s not right.

  ‘You used my words.’

  Joanna stops speaking. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Those things you said, the way you said what it was like… all of it. They were my words – the ones I used to describe how it was when I was locked in your parents’ garage that time when we were children. You’ve never been afraid of the dark, Joanna. Not in all the years I’ve known you. You might have been scared of what Mark might do – that he wouldn’t come back, leave you there with no food or water, or worse still, what he’d do if he did come back – but the dark is something you would never be scared of. That has always been my fear, not yours. You’ve stolen my memory.’

  Joanna’s face grows stony. ‘And you’ve never taken what wasn’t yours? Don’t pretend you didn’t ever wonder what it would be like to live here. In an apartment bought with money you’d never make in a lifetime.’

  How can she know? How can she read my mind? But of course, she would remember how I never invited her home, how I’d always made excuses: my mum was too tired and then, when we were older, too ill to have people to stay. It was always me who’d invite myself to Joanna’s. Every holiday. Pretending I lived there. Pretending it was my home. Wanting her life.

  And when I’d got her message, it hadn’t taken much to send me running back – just a lost job and a broken heart – the invisible cords of our friendship pulling me in. I’d basked in the idea that she wanted to help me again, that our friendship was as strong as it ever was, but my obsession with her had stopped me recognising that nothing would be different. Joanna would use me in the same way she’d always done.

  Nothing is real. It’s all a lie.

  Joanna is scratching at the welt on her arm, pinpricks of blood needling the surface. I grab her hand to stop her. ‘Don’t! Tell me the truth. You made this whole thing up, didn’t you?’

  Narrowing her eyes, Joanna pulls her hand away. ‘What if I did?’

  I stare at her. Gobsmacked.

  And then slowly it all comes to me – the rumours Joanna encouraged me to help spread about any girl at school she didn’t like. How when we fell out, it would be Joanna who would decide when the fight was over, but I’d never hear an apology. And when I was brave enough to question why she wanted to hurt people, she’d call me attention-seeking and needy.

  But that wasn’t all. Joanna had always played the victim. Nothing was ever her fault.

  ‘You’re sick, Joanna, do you know that? What made you do it?’

  Joanna brings her face close to mine, and I see now how the features, once so pretty, have hardened.

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ she says. ‘I wanted to see how much Mark cared. How much I was worth.’

  ‘How much you were worth?’

  Her lips stretch into a smile. ‘Everyone has a price. I needed to know what mine was.’

  Getting up, she paces in front of the settee like a restless animal. ‘Mark let me down. Just like you did. He couldn’t even be bothered to raise the money.’

  I don’t like the look in her eyes. The way she’s wringing her hands. A gut feeling makes me know I must appease her. ‘But he tried to get the money, Joanna. He did everything he could.’

  ‘Did he?’ She sneers. ‘Did he really?’

  ‘He borrowed some, I know that. Made up some story and got a loan from your father.’

  Joanna snorts in disgust. ‘So the money came from that tight arse after all. Ironic.’

  ‘Mark did his best. He was only a little short. He was on his way to deliver it when he had the accident. That was why he didn’t make the deadline.’

  ‘Maybe he did, but if he passed that test, he failed the other. Why are you still here, Alice? Why are you in my home?’

  ‘You invited me. You asked me to come… to meet Mark.’

  ‘And you didn’t think it strange I contacted you after ten years?’ She stops pacing and stands in front of me. ‘Oh, no. You were too busy thinking about yourself. Wondering how you could insinuate yourself into my world again when I’d made it clear I didn’t want anything more to do with you.’

  Her words sting, and I remember again how she’d dropped me. Told me we were no longer friends. We’d been standing outside the crematorium, the wind shivering the petals on the wreaths. The service and saying that final goodbye to my mum had brought back another loss. All I’d wanted to do was make Joanna understand what it had done to me. Understand her part in it. It was the first time I’d stood up to her. Raised my voice. Become stronger.

  She hadn’t liked it. It made me a different person.

  ‘It wasn’t like that,’ I whisper.

  Joanna gives a mirthless laugh. ‘No? Then why was it me the stewardess called when you had your pathetic little panic attack on the plane? Why not someone else?’ She sneers. ‘Because you can’t leave me alone. You want to be me.’

  I freeze. ‘The stewardess said she hadn’t rung you.’

  ‘Oh, she rang all right. Told me about your little turn… that it was me you wanted. When she phoned me back almost straight away and said you’d changed your mind, I didn’t believe her. You needed me, just like you did all those years ago. Only this time I needed you too.’

  So that’s why Joanna messaged me. It hadn’t been out of the blue after all.

  ‘And when you arrived and found out I wasn’t here,’ Joanna continues, ‘you thought it would be normal to stay a week. It’s what anyone would do, right?’

  ‘Yes… no.’ My eyes flick to the door wondering how quickly I can reach it. ‘I wanted to help find you. I didn’t want Mark to be on his own.’

  Reaching out a hand, Joanna takes my chin, turning my face from left to right, her nails digging into the flesh. ‘I thought it might work with Eloise, but she wasn’t interested in him. You though… you were another matter. You’ve always wanted what’s mine. I knew you would be the one to tempt him. The perfect honeytrap.’

  I push her hand away. ‘Mark and I… nothing happened.’

  She gives a hollow laugh. ‘Just like you and Jez never happened.’

  ‘That was different, Joanna. He wasn’t your fiancé… your husband. You weren’t even really going out.’

  ‘And that made it all right. Even though you knew I loved him.’

  ‘I loved him too.’

  ‘Of course you did.’ She jabs a finger into my stomach. ‘Enough to get knocked up.’

  Fifty-One

  Alice

  Ten long years and not a day goes by when I don’t think of my baby. So many things that make me remember: an infant’s cry in the street. A programme on the television about midwifery. The sight of a child’s toy dropped on the pavement.

  Worse, though, is when I see someone who is following that same precious path I should have taken all those years ago. Like the colleague who announced her pregnancy in the staffroom, holding out the scan photograph, not knowing how the sketchy white image on its black background tore at my heart. Not realising how deep I’d had to dig in order to paste that smile on my face and congratulate her. The woman who lives opposite me hadn’t known either what it took to ask if she’d thought of a name yet and how I’d had to force myself not to watch as her hand strayed to the swell of her belly as she answered that they were going to call him Alex.

  I never got the chance to give that baby a name. Couldn’t let myself think that way as it would only have made it harder. That’s what I was told anyway. And so I’d tried not to think of my baby at all, even when it broke my heart not to. I’d tried to think, instead, of how much easier my life would be without it. I could finish my studies. Get a job. Carry on as though it had never come into my life.

  Only it didn’t happen that way. Nobody had told me of the grief that would rise unexpectedly and threaten to swallow me. That what I’d done was something I’d have to live with every day of my life.

  If only I’d had the courage to tell Drew what had happened all those
years ago. If I had, things might have turned out differently. Instead, I’d kept my grief and guilt locked inside and pushed him away. Would I have done that if I’d known that he’d end up having the one thing I’ve ever truly wanted. A child.

  How I wish I could have been stronger.

  I think of that tiny, innocent baby inside me. My anxiety. My indecision. It was Joanna who’d said it would be all right. She’d go to the hospital with me, look after me when I came out. She said it would be for the best as it was clear Jez didn’t love me. I had a year left of my degree and I had to think of my future. Make my parents proud after all the sacrifices they’d made.

  I’d never told Jez about the baby or what I’d done. What was the point after what Joanna told me? I couldn’t face him so, instead, I’d left a message on his phone telling him I needed space and that it was best we didn’t see each other any more. When he’d rung me straight back and tried to change my mind, told me he loved me, I hadn’t believed him. Besides, it wasn’t about Jez, it never was.

  Knocked up. Such a blunt expression. So cruel.

  In the years after we last saw each other, I’d presumed that Joanna had done it out of jealousy, but now I wonder if I was right. I’d never have started seeing him if it hadn’t been for the fact that I knew Joanna hadn’t even liked Jez that much. It was something she’d told me over a vodka and Coke in the student union bar one evening. As she’d downed her drink and listed his faults, she’d already been planning how to get the attention of the guy behind the bar.

  No, it wasn’t jealousy; it was something else. Something more unsettling than that.

  ‘I know why you did it. Why you persuaded me to terminate the pregnancy. It wasn’t about Jez, it was because you wanted to keep me to yourself. Couldn’t bear the thought of me sharing my love with someone else. Not even a baby.’

  Her lips twitch. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, Alice. You’re living in cloud cuckoo land. You always did have a vivid imagination.’

  Just as they always used to, her words seep into my pores, filling my being until I wonder if she’s right. But I won’t let her win. Can’t let her see how her throwaway description of what happened has crushed me. Not now the truth is crystal clear.

  Outside the window, the sky has lightened further, and I’m glad. It makes me stronger.

  Without realising it, my hand has strayed to my belly. ‘That little life would have been completely dependent on me. I’d have become the giver instead of the taker and that would have been more than you could stand. I should never have listened to you. I should never have let you persuade me to ring the clinic.’

  Joanna puts her head on one side, amused. ‘You didn’t have to do everything I said.’

  I know that now, but it’s how I was then, and there’s nothing I can do to change the past. I shouldn’t have let her persuade me, but I did. The irony was, two months later, I left anyway. Left the flat. Left university. My mother was dying, and I came home to be with her. Locked in grief at the prospect of losing her and the baby I’d never had, it had been my chance to break away from Joanna. Yet, still I’d thought about her. Obsessed over what she was doing and what her life was like without me. She was like a drug and even when I finally settled down with Drew, there was a Joanna-shaped hole he couldn’t fill.

  Joanna places her hands on her hips. ‘You know something, Alice?’

  ‘What?’ I’m scared of what else she’s going to tell me.

  ‘Mark is the first man I’ve been with who’s strong. I don’t mean physically, I mean mentally. He’s no lame duck – doesn’t rely on me the way the other men have. Waiting for me to praise them for selling a shit painting of Tower Bridge or making enough from their busking to buy dinner. Wanting me to massage their egos. He’s not interested in my money or who my parents are. He doesn’t need me. And do you know what, Alice? I liked it.’

  Disbelief is written across her face as though she can’t believe what she’s just said. I can’t either.

  ‘Mark’s a good man.’ I know it now. Think, deep down, I knew it all along. ‘How could you do that to him?’

  Joanna frowns at me as though I’m stupid. ‘I needed to know that Mark was different. That he wouldn’t be like the other men I’ve been with, but I had to be sure. Would it be money that would be his weakness or sex?’ She jabs a finger into my chest. ‘Now I know.’

  ‘We didn’t do anything.’ Anxiety is making my voice rise. ‘It’s you he loves.’

  ‘That’s not what it looked like from where I was standing. Did you know that the only camera that’s turned on in the corridors is the one on our floor? That creep Derek’s got an obsession with me, likes to watch me come and go.’ She shakes her head sadly. ‘But what can you do?’

  So that’s why he never knew about Nathan. How he had managed to stay hidden from prying eyes. There were no working cameras on his floor. The one time he’d visited this one, he must have been lucky. Picked a time when the security guard was doing something else.

  ‘I know Derek’s routine… when he patrols the corridors, when he does his maintenance. And, of course, even he needs the toilet sometimes.’ Joanna looks amused. ‘It’s surprising what those monitors of his will pick up – especially the one in the car park. Sorry if I gave you a fright with the doors. I couldn’t help myself – it was just too tempting.’

  ‘It was you who stopped them from working? Even though you knew how much I hate the dark… being trapped.’

  ‘Like I said, I’m sorry, Alice. You’ll get over it.’ She cups her chin in her hand, tapping her cheek with her fingertips. ‘Yes, those monitors… quite the soap opera. Take that kiss. It would have been rather moving if it hadn’t been with my husband.’

  I feel the colour drain from my face. With certainty, I now know it was Joanna who came into the apartment. She who scribbled over my face with the black marker until I was obliterated.

  ‘It wasn’t anything. I was scared for him, that’s all. Please, Joanna. You have to believe me.’

  I stand and, without any concrete plan, begin to move away from her. It’s an effort to keep my voice steady, but I know I have to if I have any chance of getting away from Joanna. I’d come here imagining the friend I’d had when I was younger needed me, and, in a way, I was right. But it wasn’t my friendship she’d craved, it was my weakness. I’d known it that day at Mum’s funeral. Why had I let myself forget?

  ‘I’ll make us a drink, and then we can talk properly. Soon, we’ll be laughing about it, just like we used to.’

  The shove she gives me sends me reeling back onto the settee. Joanna stands above me, her dark hair swinging as she lowers her face to mine. ‘Do you know where my husband put the ransom note… what he did with it?’

  ‘No. He didn’t tell me.’

  ‘Stay where you are. Don’t even think about leaving that chair.’

  As I look on, Joanna moves through the apartment, pulling out drawers, rifling through cupboards, lifting cushions. I know I have to get out of here. If Joanna’s mad enough to do what she did, who knows what else she’s capable of. In the kitchen, on the shiny steel counter, I can see my mobile, but it’s too far away.

  All I can do is wait.

  ‘Where the hell did he put it?’

  Finishing in the living area, Joanna goes into the bedroom she shares with Mark, and I hear the bang of the wardrobe doors being flung open. The sound of drawers sliding and furniture being moved. When she finally comes out, her face is triumphant. She waves the ransom note above her head like a prize.

  ‘There we go.’

  Going into the kitchen, she rummages in one of the drawers and pulls out a box of matches. Then, taking the note to the sink, she strikes one and touches the end to the paper. I watch as the flame creeps up, blackening it. When it licks at her fingers, she drops it into the sink and smiles.

  ‘That’s the end of that. We wouldn’t want the police to trace the ink and think I had anything to do with this, would w
e?’

  I stand up, willing myself to stay strong. ‘I’ll tell them anyway, and, if I don’t, Mark will when he wakes up. We’ll tell them everything.’

  Turning on the tap, Joanna washes away the burnt remnants of the note, then carefully wipes her hands on the towel. She comes back to me and places her hands on my shoulders.

  ‘Oh, did I forget to say?’ When I don’t reply, she carries on. ‘That phone call… it was from the police.’

  I stare at her, the hairs raised on the back of my arms. I know what she’s going to say even before she’s said it.

  ‘I’m sorry, Alice.’ She shakes her head sadly. ‘But Mark died two hours ago.’

  Fifty-Two

  Alice

  Joanna holds out her arms. Her tone has changed. It’s no longer vindictive but motherly. ‘You poor thing, this has all been a huge shock for you. Come here.’

  I stare at her in horror. This is exactly how she used to behave when we were younger, saying things to shock, then consoling me. Can she really expect me to forget everything she’s told me? Batting away her hands, I step back.

  ‘Leave me alone, Joanna. I’m not thirteen any more. I don’t need you to be my saviour.’

  Joanna is taller than me, and there’s a pent-up energy about her that makes her strong. Fearless. I watch her walk over to the sleek wooden sideboard under the wall-mounted TV. She picks up a controller and, for one idiotic moment, I think she’s going to suggest we watch a film like we used to when we shared a flat at uni.

  Then, with horror, I see that it’s not the TV controller she’s picked up.

  I feel the first cold lick of fear. My voice comes out as a whisper. ‘No, please don’t.’

  She looks at me and smiles. Points the controller at the window. ‘Don’t be such a baby, Alice.’

  With a soft whirring sound, the hideous blinds at the windows begin to lower. The room that was flooded in daylight is growing darker, the sky and the tops of the buildings on the other side of the river disappearing behind the metal slats.