The Bride: A twisty and completely gripping psychological thriller

by Wendy Clarke

  I try to grab the controller, but she jerks her hand away. ‘There’s nothing to be scared of. Face your fears, Alice. I dare you.’

  The blinds are almost down, just a thin strip of light showing under them. Every instinct tells me to get out, but I can’t as Joanna is in front of me now. In the gloom, I see the controller in her hand, but in the other is something that catches the last of the light. The glint of sharp metal before the light is extinguished.

  ‘Please, Joanna.’ Every nerve in my body is taut. Ready to respond to the fight or flight instinct.

  Joanna’s voice comes out of the deepening darkness. ‘I chose you that day in the classroom. It could have been one of the others, but the moment you looked at me with those nervous eyes, I knew you were special. That you’d make the perfect friend. And do you know why?’ I can no longer see her face, just hear her voice as the metal shutter clicks into place. Fighting my rising panic, I will my eyes to adjust to the lack of light. But there’s nothing but the pitch-blackness. ‘I asked if you know why?’

  I’m crying now. Fighting for breath between the sobs. ‘No, I don’t know.’

  ‘Because I knew that you needed me as much as I needed you. I could see it in your eyes. You want me to open the blinds, don’t you? You want me to save you.’

  My arms are hugged tight around me. ‘Yes. Yes, I do.’

  ‘Just like you wanted me to save you from the scary dark garage. Like you wanted me to save you from life as a single mother.’ Her voice is mocking. Hateful. ‘I knew you’d be grateful. It’s why I did it.’

  My fear is turning to anger. ‘You shut me in there, even though you knew I was terrified of the dark? How could you?’

  I can’t see her, but I take my chance. Raising my arm, I swing it out in front of me with as much force as I can muster. There’s a sharp pain as it makes contact, and I hear the clink of metal on wood. Joanna swears. I hear her drop to the floor, feel her hand as she sweeps the floor for the knife.

  I feel it by my foot and kick it away, hearing it skid across the floor. Then I’m on my feet, lurching across the room in the pitch-darkness. Praying I’m going in the right direction for the door.

  When my side makes contact with the corner of the kitchen island, I know I haven’t gone far enough. There’s a blue light from the kettle, digital numbers on the oven. These small beacons of light give me hope. Turning from them, I cross the empty space until I reach the wall, then feel my way along it until my fingers meet with the doorframe.

  There’s a noise behind me, the metallic rock of a standard lamp on the floor. Reaching up, I desperately feel for the handle, forgetting in my panic whether it’s set high or low. I look behind me. I can’t see anything. Just the solid darkness. But then there’s a sound. A small click and a whirr. The shutters are rising again, and my sight is returning.

  Joanna is staring at me from across the room. I don’t know if she found the knife, but I’ve no time to find out as she’s running towards me, a dreadful expression on her face.

  I turn back to the apartment door, fumbling with terrified fingers for the handle. ‘You’ll never get away with this.’

  I feel her hand slam into mine, prising my fingers away, but I jab my elbow back. Hear her groan as the wind’s forced out of her. Thanking God I didn’t lock the door, I push on the handle and yank it open. The corridor is empty as it always is, but I know Derek will be in his room. He’ll be watching the monitor, waiting for his crush to come out. Wanting to get his fix. I shout and scream. Wave my arms. He’ll see. He’ll phone the police.

  But Joanna has made it to the door and, with one hand holding her stomach, she runs towards me. Fighting against the pain in my ankle, I stumble down the corridor, past the open doors of the lift, past the doors of the empty apartments, in the direction of the stairs. When I get to the camera, I wave frantically again, my heart sinking when I see the woollen hat that’s been hooked over it. The window pole that’s been used to put it there, leaning against the wall.

  It’s Nathan’s hat; the one he was wearing when I last saw him. Did she go to his room to get it? Did she see him?

  I’m at the glass door now, pulling it open, but a force on my back sends me reeling, my weak ankle buckling under me, pain tearing through my knees as they hit the ground.

  She’s on me, her fingers gripping my hair, pulling my head backwards. Reaching behind me, I find her ankle and yank at it, bringing her down on top of me. The breath knocked out of me. I look to my right. We are at the edge of the stairs, the stone steps falling away to the landing below. Joanna is rolling over, pulling me with her. My hand reaches out, trying to grab hold of something that will anchor me… anything. But all I feel is the cold rough stone.

  The edge of the top step cuts into my cheek, and then I’m falling, falling.

  And the world goes black again.

  Epilogue

  I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep, but when I wake up, the room has grown darker. I lift my head and see that it’s a different nurse who sits at the desk behind the panel of windows.

  I want her to come in so I can speak to her, find out what’s going on, but my arm is too heavy to reach the call button. So, instead, I lay my head back down on the starched white pillow and think. Searching through my subconscious to find something, anything, that will help me remember what I did yesterday… the day before even. There’s nothing. Just a black void that makes my heart rate quicken.

  The nurse gets up. She walks around her desk, and I will her to come in, but she doesn’t. Instead, she disappears from my eyesight for a few minutes before returning with an armful of folders.

  My mouth is dry. My throat parched. On the table beside me is a plastic beaker with a straw, but I can’t reach it. Soon someone will come. At regular intervals since I’ve been here, I’ve been aware of people coming in to take my vital signs. Check my drip. Surely, I won’t have to wait much longer.

  But then, through the gloom, I see a movement. It’s from the chair by the window. Someone is sitting there, a blanket draped over them. Through heavy eyelids, I watch them yawn and stretch. See the blanket drop to the floor.

  They’re coming towards me, and my fingers tighten around the sheet at my neck.

  ‘Who is it?’

  The figure hovers over me. ‘How are you feeling?’

  A hand slides under my head, and I feel the poke of a straw as it’s guided to my lips. Then the blessed relief as the cool water slips down my dry throat.

  ‘Joanna? Have you been here all night?’

  In the dimly lit room, I see her nod. ‘Yes.’ Her brow furrows as she pauses. ‘You asked me to stay.’

  I smile, though the simple movement hurts my head. ‘Thank you.’

  Joanna lowers my head gently back onto the pillow and smooths my sheets. Behind her, there’s a gentle click as the door of my room opens. A nurse comes in – one I haven’t seen before. She clips the heart rate monitor to my finger and tightens a cuff around my arm. As the cuff compresses, I feel a corresponding tightening across my chest.

  ‘Please tell me what happened.’

  She smiles. ‘You were very lucky, Alice. If you hadn’t been found, who knows how long you would have been lying there in that empty building.’

  ‘Found?’

  ‘Yes, you fell down the stairs at your friend’s apartment. It was the security guard who found you and called the ambulance.’

  ‘Derek?’ I have a vague memory of him. A man in a black bomber jacket. White freckled hands.

  ‘Yes. He was very worried about you. Has been up to the hospital twice already, but we couldn’t let him see you until you were feeling a bit better.’

  ‘But I don’t remember anything.’ My head hurts from trying. ‘Why can’t I?’

  The nurse writes something on my chart. ‘After a traumatic brain injury, short-term memory loss is common, and some patients have no memory of the injury or the events leading up to it.’

  ‘Will it come back?
My memory?’

  ‘Let’s hope so. But, in a few cases the memories never return.’

  I press my fingertips to my forehead as though it will help me remember, then turn to Joanna, my cheeks wet with tears. ‘All I know is you were missing, and I thought you were dead. What happened?’

  A vast room with bare brick walls comes to my mind, the sluggish brown Thames moving beneath a window, a tall man with a neatly trimmed beard.

  I clutch at Joanna’s arm, knowing who he is. His face comes to me. Swollen. Bloodied. He’s lying in a hospital bed like this one. ‘Your husband had an accident, Joanna. He’s in hospital. Maybe even this one. Does he know you’re safe? Has anyone told him?’

  The nurse and Joanna glance at each other, and I see the look that passes between them.

  ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

  The nurse straightens up. ‘Now’s not the time to be worrying about anything except getting better. When you’re feeling stronger, the consultant will come and talk to you about your treatment and you can ask all the questions you want. But for now, what you need is rest.’

  Joanna smiles at her. ‘Can I stay with Alice? Just for a while.’

  Loosening the cuff, the nurse takes it off my arm. ‘Just for a short while but don’t tire her.’

  She goes out and closes the door. It’s just the two of us now, and I’m glad.

  I try to pull myself up the bed, the sheet twisting around me. ‘How is your husband? I don’t care what they’ve said – you must tell me.’

  ‘You don’t remember, do you?’

  ‘Not much. I know he was nice to me. Made me feel welcome. He was worried sick about you. We both were.’

  Joanna looks away. ‘There’s a lot you don’t know.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  It’s then she tells me. Everything. What Mark did.

  ‘After the accident, the police found a holdall of money in Mark’s car.’ Joanna’s fingers hover over the faint pink circles on her wrist. ‘I’d managed to get away, and when he knew his plan had failed, he emptied our savings account and was leaving.’

  I can hardly believe it. ‘How did he think he’d ever get away with it?’

  ‘He was desperate, Alice. You’d be surprised what people will do when they feel there’s no way out.’

  I feel dizzy. Unable to comprehend. ‘But I remember Mark seemed so upset when he thought you were missing.’ I sink my head into my hands.

  Joanna reaches out a hand. Places it over mine. ‘You might be remembering that correctly, but you were simply taken in by him… just like the rest of us.’

  How could Mark do such a terrible thing? I shiver, thinking of the nights I spent in the warehouse apartment alone with him. The danger I’d inadvertently put myself in.

  ‘There’s something else, Alice.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Mark regained consciousness briefly. He told the police that someone had stepped out in front of him on the road. It was what made him lose control of the car. They’ve searched the area and arrested his stepson, Nathan, this morning. His woollen hat was found near the scene of the crash. I can’t believe it. He used to be such a sweet boy, but it’s impossible to know what someone will do when they’re off their head.’

  Nathan. I remember him now. His sunken eyes. The track marks on the pallid skin of his arm. His obvious dislike of his stepfather.

  Joanna gives my hand a short squeeze. ‘They’ve charged him with manslaughter.’

  I struggle to sit up. ‘Manslaughter? What do you mean? Mark’s going to be all right. He’s…’

  Joanna looks at me sadly. ‘I’m afraid not. I know they didn’t want to tell you until you were well enough, but it’s only fair you know.’ Her eyes fill with tears. ‘He died, Alice. My husband died last night.’

  The room spins, and my head pounds. I have the sensation that I might float away. But Joanna is there, holding my hand. Pulling me gently back to earth.

  ‘I know it’s a shock after what happened to you. Would you like me to sit on the bed with you?’

  I nod, dumbly, and she climbs next to me. I feel the weight of her arm around my shoulders, and a memory stirs. Joanna and I are teenagers. We’re sitting outside the art room, and her arm is around me like it is now. We’re laughing at something to do with Charlotte, a girl in our class. I think it was when we prank called her one day when Joanna’s mother was out with the horses. We’d pretended to be from a local radio station and said she’d won tickets. She’d been so excited, told all her friends at school. I’d seen her crying in the toilets when she found out it wasn’t true, and I’d felt bad. It had been Joanna’s idea, but I could have said no.

  We were only kids then, barely fourteen. I’m glad we’ve left our younger selves behind, but what we have instead is pain and uncertainty.

  I rest my head on Joanna’s shoulder, my tears wetting the material of her blouse. ‘I’m so sorry you’ve lost your husband, Joanna. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘It’s all right, Alice.’ Joanna smooths my hair back from my face, just like Mum used to, just like she used to, and smiles down at me. ‘It won’t be long before you can go home.’

  Home. There’s nothing waiting for me there except a broken heart.

  It’s like Joanna’s read my mind. ‘Or if you prefer, you don’t have to go straight back. You can stay with me. I can look after you. We’ll get through this together, and things will be just like they used to be. We’re all each other needs. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

  I watch the sun flicker through the metal blinds at the windows. Something’s hovering at the edge of my memory, but I can’t grasp hold of it. I know it’s important. Know it could ruin this moment.

  I nudge it to the back of my mind; it can’t be important.

  ‘Yes,’ I say, feeling my anxiety lift. ‘I’d like that.’

  Want to read another twisty psychological thriller from Wendy Clarke? Get What She Saw, her first unputdownable novel about how far one woman will go to keep her daughter safe.

  Get it here!

  What She Saw

  ‘The twists in this were U-N-B-E-L-I-E-V-A-B-L-E! I've read many thrillers, in fact that's my main genre, and this one blew them all out of the water… so suspenseful, action packed, dynamic that I stayed up till almost 3am to finish it.’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars

  How far would you go to keep your daughter safe?

  Everyone knows Leona would do anything for her daughter, Beth: she moved to Church Langdon to send Beth to the best school, built a business to support them and found the perfect little cottage to call home. They hike together, shop together, share their hopes and fears. It’s the relationship every mother dreams of.

  But Leona never talks about why they moved to the Lake District.

  She’s never told Beth anything about her father.

  She says Beth should never speak to strangers. She says Beth doesn’t need friends.

  She’s only trying to protect her daughter.

  When Leona answers the phone one morning, her heart stops as she hears a voice from her past.

  She’s given her daughter everything, but now she must tell her the truth. And once it’s out, can she keep her little girl safe?

  What She Saw is a gripping psychological thriller with an incredible twist that will make your jaw drop. If you love The Girl on the Train, Gone Girl or Behind Closed Doors you’ll be consumed by this.

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  Books by Wendy Clarke

  What She Saw

  We Were Sisters

  The Bride

  Available in audio

  What She Saw (Available in the UK and the US)

  We Were Sisters (Available in the UK and the US)


  A Letter from Wendy

  I want to say a huge thank you for choosing to read The Bride. If you did enjoy it, and want to keep up to date with all my latest releases, just sign up at the following link. Your email address will never be shared, and you can unsubscribe at any time.

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  The setting of a novel is very important to me and the idea for the setting of The Bride came to me after seeing a black and white photograph of an old dockland warehouse in a coffee shop. I loved the small-paned windows with their arched brickwork, the heavy wooden doors that opened onto iron railings, the rope and pully system used to haul goods to the upper floors, still bolted to its wall. I know a lot of these buildings have been converted into up-market apartments, and it was this marriage of old and new that attracted me.

  I’d already decided that I wanted The Bride to be set in one place… in one building. I wanted it to be a place of contrast. On the one hand, an open, modern living space that would showcase Joanna’s lifestyle but, on the other, a place with an industrial heritage: bare-bricked corridors with functional lifts that could highlight Alice’s claustrophobia.

  An old tobacco warehouse would be perfect. I’d been on a walking tour of the old East End docks and had seen such a building, but I didn’t want my warehouse to be in a place bustling with life. I wanted it to be alone in a sea of derelict buildings and half-finished apartments – a London that no longer exists. But this is the beauty of fiction – the author can create their own worlds to suit the needs of the plot. In this way, my fictitious Black Water Dock was designed and came to fruition.