The Missing Wife

by Sam Carrington

  Louisa inched forwards but stopped short of the end of the wall. What if Tiff saw her now? She’d be caught sneaking, and she’d know Louisa had heard her bad-mouthing her. As much as that should make Tiff look bad, Louisa had the feeling she’d be the one who’d come off worse. It was an awkward, embarrassing situation that she’d rather avoid.

  But she desperately wanted to know who Tiff was talking to.

  Sod it, she should purposely stride around the back, the way she always went into Tiff’s so it wouldn’t look out of place. I want to see the look on her face when she sees me. Wriggle out of that one, Tiffany.

  Before Louisa could take a step in that direction, a whiny, nasal cry erupted to her right. Shit. Noah. Taking a few side steps, then turning and dashing to the front of the house, Louisa snatched him quickly from his pram and cuddled him, muffling the cries in her shirt.

  ‘Sshh-sshh,’ she soothed. Holding him tightly in one arm, she dragged the pram away from Tiff’s front door and pulled it behind her out of the driveway. She waited until she was out of earshot, then popped Noah back into his pram and began walking. Her mind went over what she’d just heard. She wondered who Tiff could’ve been talking to. There were the usual suspects: Oliver and Brian. But it could well have been anyone. Louisa may not even know them, or they her.

  In the last two weeks, Louisa had gone from having a great best friend, to having a friend she suspected of having an affair with her husband, to then having a fling with her ex-boyfriend. Was she going mad? Louisa had to admit, even if only to herself, she had been chaotic lately. The issues surrounding no sleep – the hallucinations, the forgetfulness – were bad, but if she was now becoming paranoid too, well that would add a whole new level of worry. And if it was paranoia, Tiff saying that her baby brain had reached a new level wasn’t necessarily wrong. It was hurtful – but actually, Tiff was right.

  But that didn’t explain why Tiff herself was acting strangely – she didn’t have baby brain. Louisa continued to pore over these thoughts as she pushed the pram towards home on automatic pilot.

  A dull headache filled her skull, and it wasn’t until she stumbled through her own front door that she realised she hadn’t eaten all day. Something else she was forgetting lately – she either seemed to miss meals without even realising, or was craving chocolate biscuits and stuffing her face with them at odd hours.

  ‘Hi, Mum.’ Emily rushed past her and up the stairs, her feet making hollow thuds on each tread. Louisa hadn’t even opened her mouth in greeting before she heard the bang of her bedroom door closing. She shook her head. At least she wasn’t giving her any attitude. Louisa looked to the wall clock as she walked into the kitchen. She frowned, and put her fingertips to her throbbing temples. Five-thirty. She hadn’t realised she’d left it so late to visit Tiff. She was sure she’d left the house at three, latest. She couldn’t have been over two hours.

  Lifting the clock from its hook on the wall, Louisa checked the battery. Then she took her mobile and checked that. The clock was right. She must’ve been mistaken. So that meant Brian should be home any minute too.

  Her breathing shallowed. If she’d been at Tiff’s later than she’d assumed, it really could have been Brian who Tiff had been talking to in the back garden.

  No. His car wasn’t there – she’d have seen it.

  Don’t go jumping to conclusions again.

  As if on cue, the door opened and Brian came in, his face grey, drained.

  ‘Hi, everyone! Where are my favourite girls?’

  Louisa heard him, but didn’t move. Was the timing just coincidental?

  ‘You’ve got a parcel,’ she called from her position leaning against the worktop.

  ‘Ah-ha! It’s here.’

  Louisa heard the tearing of tape and the box being ripped open. It wasn’t a present for her then otherwise he’d have taken it somewhere out of Louisa’s sight before opening it. She strolled out to the hallway. He didn’t shout to go away, not to look. It was clearly not for her.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, trying to keep the annoyance from her tone.

  Brian didn’t answer; he was too busy pulling out the internal packaging material. Then he stood back and held it up. ‘How cool is this?’ He sounded like a child who’d been given a new toy.

  ‘What on earth did you order that for?’ Louisa screwed her face up at the small, helicopter-like contraption Brian was proudly holding.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t order it. I’d never have thought of getting one …’

  ‘It had your name on the label – has there been a mix-up?’

  ‘Nope. No mix-up. It’s a gift.’

  ‘Riiiight. From who, exactly?’

  ‘From Oliver.’ And Brian brushed past her and walked through the kitchen to the back door. His new, shiny plaything in his hands. Louisa could think of no reason Oliver would give Brian a bloody gift at all. Let alone this.

  Louisa followed Brian outside.

  Five minutes later, the dark grey metal construction was airborne.

  The drone buzzed above Louisa’s head.

  ‘Don’t fly that thing near me, Brian. Or near the neighbours’ garden. They’ll be furious; it’ll set their bloody dogs off. What the hell is the point in having it? Why has Oliver given that to you?’

  ‘Calm down, love.’ Brian didn’t look at her while he spoke, his tongue poking out through his lips in concentration as he navigated the flying machine. ‘It was just something we got talking about when we were looking at the aerial photos of the village at the pub on Friday. I guess he wanted to thank me for being supportive, so got me one.’

  ‘I guess my present is still in the post then.’ She mumbled as she went back inside, leaving the man she was feeling less and less like she knew, playing with his new toy.

  33

  THE QUESTIONS

  Wednesday a.m. – Day 12 post-party

  The weirdness of the situation weighed heavily on Louisa’s mind. Sitting in the nursery chair she watched Noah as he drained the bottle of milk, but her head was swimming with questions and, she realised, worry. Oliver coming back into her life after twenty-two years was confusing enough – but to have somehow become best buds with her husband was bewildering. The fact that Brian was a willing party to this was even more concerning. He’d already suggested, albeit when he was drunk, that he was jealous of Oliver – of his good looks, charisma, confidence – and the fact he’d told Brian that Louisa had been a sex fanatic, which had been something that had clearly got his back up. Why then was he allowing Oliver to be a part of their lives like this?

  Oliver had something on Louisa – a shared past, their secret. That’s how he’d wormed his way into her life. But Oliver couldn’t have something on Brian – he’d never met him before the night of the party.

  Apart from his obvious jealousy, Brian hadn’t treated Oliver in a way that would suggest he’d felt manipulated into being his mate. Quite the opposite. It was almost like Brian had latched on to Oliver, wanting to be in with the popular crowd for once in his life.

  Poor Brian. His life would fall apart if he knew the truth.

  The church bell rang out twice.

  Two a.m. And even if Noah now settled well, Louisa knew sleep would not come for her.

  Tiff. Brian. Oliver. Melissa. The unknown woman she’d killed. All scrambling together in her head.

  She stretched her legs out, arching her back. Noah opened his eyes wide.

  ‘Just shifting position, baby, no need to panic,’ she whispered. Noah’s fingers curled around Louisa’s hand, then his eyes fell shut again.

  So trusting.

  ‘When is that innate sense of trust lost?’ Louisa asked aloud.

  She was certainly struggling with the concept right now. She couldn’t even trust herself. Having resisted the urge to text or message Oliver on Facebook, Louisa now knew she would have to see him again. Her earlier thought about backing off, not letting him in the house, had been premature. There were things she need
ed to know first – things only Oliver could tell her. If she got answers to her questions, then she could begin the cooling-off period. Then she would shut Oliver out of their lives entirely. He didn’t belong there.

  As Louisa let her head fall back, her own eyes closing, she mulled over the questions she wanted to ask Oliver:

  Why was he at Tiff’s?

  Why couldn’t she find any record of the missing woman she’d hit in the lanes?

  Why had he come back after all this time?

  Where was Melissa the night of the party?

  Louisa let her thoughts drift. If it wasn’t for the police involvement, she would be questioning whether Melissa Dunmore even existed, or whether she was merely a figment of Oliver’s imagination. Louisa wished she knew more: what the police had discovered, what Melissa’s family were saying about her disappearance, where they thought she might be. She was obviously a real person, and Oliver must have evidence of their marriage, but there were aspects of this whole thing that didn’t add up. Like it was all a carefully planned ruse.

  But to what end?

  Usually, she considered, the people who duped others into thinking they’d disappeared and died were those trying to defraud their life insurance policies – like the man who’d staged his death during a canoeing trip, and despite his body not being found, his wife successfully claimed on his life insurance. He’d later turned up at a police station claiming memory loss, but it went on to be proven that he and his wife had obtained the pay-out by deception and they had both been jailed.

  Could that be Oliver’s plan? Melissa was actually safe and well somewhere awaiting her share of the insurance money? Louisa’s tired mind was running through ridiculous scenarios now, but they kept coming – she seemed powerless to stop them. But, in the end, none of them held water. Apart from one.

  The one where Oliver had killed Melissa, disposed of her body – possibly in the same place he’d got rid of the other woman’s – and then tried to give himself an alibi by being at Louisa’s party.

  ‘Hey, Mum.’

  Louisa’s eyes flew open and she jerked upright. ‘Oh, Emily. What time is it?’

  ‘Just after six, sorry to wake you, but you don’t look comfortable and Noah’s slipping off your lap.’

  She was astounded how she’d fallen asleep like that. Louisa watched, her eyes cloudy and unfocused, as Emily took Noah from her.

  ‘Sorry. Had been awake for hours, must’ve just drifted off.’

  ‘Go and get a coffee. I’ll play with Noah for a bit.’ Emily sank to her knees and placed Noah under the baby gym on his playmat and began swiping at the brightly coloured hanging animals and mirrors, encouraging Noah to copy her. Noah’s throaty giggle made Louisa smile. It was lovely to see her two children together. She hoped Emily wouldn’t come to resent her baby brother – for the distraction, the attention he had inevitably taken from her. Not having siblings herself, she had no idea how it felt to no longer be the sole focus for her parents. At any age that must be hard, let alone when you were a teenager with hormones raging through your body. The age gap wasn’t merely an issue for Louisa and Brian; it was for Emily too. And no doubt, as he grew up, it would be a problem for Noah as well, being the annoying younger brother whose sister would suddenly tire of him.

  Thinking about her mum and dad, Louisa realised she’d had zero contact with them for over two weeks. Not even a hysterical call from her mum to tell her that her dad had mistakenly pressed the wrong button on the TV remote and made the entire thing go blank. That was his favourite thing to do – and Louisa’s least favourite problem to sort. But nothing, no word from them.

  Although their relationship had never fully recovered from the argument they’d had, Louisa would still frequently be called upon for help. The fact she hadn’t heard anything meant they’d either been fine, or had asked their neighbours to assist them instead. If something serious had happened, one of the neighbours would’ve phoned her. Clearly, she just hadn’t been needed; her services not required. Her dad may have finally got used to the buttons, or, as was more likely, her mum had confiscated the controls from him. Louisa would give them a ring in a while anyway. It would be a waste of time, but her guilty conscience demanded it.

  As she got to the bottom of the stairs the smell of bacon wafted towards her, making her mouth water. Immediately her mind flashed back to Oliver, in her kitchen, cooking her and Emily breakfast. Louisa crept in, half afraid of finding him standing at the grill, apron on, grinning as he cooked. She let out her held breath as she set eyes on Brian.

  ‘What’s this in aid of?’ she asked.

  ‘Morning, oh gorgeous one, love of my life!’ He smiled broadly and, brandishing silver tongs, gave a small dance as she entered. ‘Just thought you deserved some breakfast in bed, or in the nursery at least, which is where you spent the night I assume.’

  ‘Yeah, not a great night’s sleep.’ Louisa slid onto the stool at the breakfast bar and held her head in her cupped hands. ‘But I’m not complaining about being cooked breakfast. This is a first. Have I missed our anniversary?’

  ‘Cheeky.’ Brian dangled the bacon up and away from the grill, fat globules dripping on the floor. Louisa closed her eyes, fearing words of criticism would fall out of her mouth if she continued to watch him. He was at least making an effort, which was more than she could say about herself. When she opened them again, Brian was directly in front of her, a solemn look on his face.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Nothing.’ He placed the sandwich on the breakfast bar and turned back to the grill to get his own.

  Louisa rubbed her hands over her face. Did she look terrible? Is that why he’d stared at her in that way?

  ‘Do you have something you want to tell me, Brian?’ It came to her, like a lightning strike. This moment, him making her breakfast, meant he was trying to make up for something. He had a guilty conscience – and that’s why when he looked her in the eye his expression had altered, become serious. He couldn’t hide it from her.

  Oh God, what have you done?

  Louisa’s heart drummed against her ribs as Brian turned back to her and sighed.

  ‘I’m really sorry.’ His eyes slid away from hers.

  This was it. What she had been dreading. Her paranoid thoughts about him and Tiff were not paranoid at all. They were founded.

  ‘Is this about being with Tiff?’ The words shook, her anxiety exposed.

  ‘I have been spending some time with her, yes. Not in, you know, that way. She’s just, well – different to you … She hasn’t got any other things to worry about, so she can listen to me.’

  The urge to butt in, to counter his words immediately, burned in her throat. But she held her tongue because there was little point in denying what he was saying. Yet. She had to allow him to continue, explain himself without her interrupting him. Let him get it all out before she prematurely exploded with anger. She raised her eyebrows: a sign for him to continue.

  ‘She’s been so supportive, you know that. I – we, couldn’t have got through without her over the past few months. Don’t you agree?’

  Louisa, her lips tightly pursed, nodded slowly. She couldn’t trust herself to open her mouth without spilling venomous comments. Brian’s head dipped as he paced the small area between the kitchen sink and oven – one hand to his mouth, biting his thumb.

  She stared at him. Waiting for the next instalment. This tactic was making him sweat, small beads of moisture appearing on his brow and nose. He pushed his glasses back up and chanced a glance in her direction.

  ‘Nothing has happened between us, it never would. But I like being around her – she makes me feel, I don’t know – better, somehow. Her bubbliness is contagious, isn’t it?’

  Finally, Louisa could take no more. ‘What exactly are you telling me this for?’

  ‘Because, well, although I like being around her, it feels wrong. Like I’m cheating on you.’

  Louisa snorted. ‘Have you had sex with
her?’

  ‘God, no!’

  ‘Then why does it feel like cheating?’

  ‘Because of the things we talk about, I guess. And you were so upset when you thought we’d both conspired against you taking Noah to the clinic to be weighed …’

  ‘Yes, that hurt. It felt underhanded.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. Tiff thinks the world of you, you know that. And obviously I do. We wanted to do the best thing.’

  ‘Okay, well what’s done is done. But this doesn’t feel like you’ve told me the full story, Brian. You wouldn’t be feeling this guilty about talking to Tiff. You never have been before. What else is there?’

  ‘Nothing. There’s nothing more.’

  But, despite the fact Brian was looking her directly in the eye, Louisa did not believe those words.

  34

  THE MISTAKE

  Wednesday p.m.

  Following Brian’s strange confessional at breakfast, Louisa stabbed out a text message to Tiff – one demanding her attention this time.

  Either you come over here, or I’m coming to you in the next 30 mins. I’m not taking no for an answer.

  She had to confront the burning issues head-on, face-to-face. Whatever was going on with her and Brian, her and Oliver, their friendship – she had to know. Her phone pinged almost immediately.

  On my way.

  Louisa lay the mobile down on the coffee table. Clearly, she should’ve tried that approach before, though Tiff’s prompt response was more likely the result of Brian pre-warning her than Louisa’s ‘threat’ itself. She could almost hear Brian’s voice stating: ‘Louisa’s on the warpath, Tiff. Watch out,’ or something similar. She huffed and sank back into the leather sofa, waiting to hear the distinct roar of Tiff’s car engine.

  Less than five minutes later, the Audi’s deep grumble came closer and halted outside the house. Louisa watched Tiff emerge from the car. Given she must’ve left in a rush, Tiff looked like she’d just stepped out from a salon – not a hair out of place, the long blonde strands neatly twizzled around in a loose, elegant bun. Leopard-print shoes and matching handbag completed Tiff’s modelesque appearance.