The Fear

by C. L. Taylor

  He protested his innocence of course, in person at first, then in letters and prison visits. Wendy needed to believe in that innocence. Anger and bitterness had burrowed into her heart like termites and, whilst Mike’s desperate protestations couldn’t dig them back out again, they did ice the pain, ever so slightly. The thought that her kind-hearted (if stupid) husband had been deceived by a manipulative teenager who wanted to escape from her parents was much easier to live with than the idea that he’d been actively enjoying an illicit affair with the girl.

  Her friends told her she was a fool for refusing to divorce Mike. Several of them stopped speaking to her when she insisted on attending the trial. Those that did abandoned her after his conviction. They’d flinch if she spoke to their children in the street, almost as though she was the one who’d committed the offence. Guilty by association. Only a dark-hearted woman would stand by a man who did something so terrible to a child, they said. They didn’t understand. How could they? Wendy was forty-one years old, with a husband ten years her junior, when Louise Wandsworth had robbed her of her only chance of a child after four terrible, heart-breaking years of infertility. She’d stolen her friends, happiness and her peace of mind. If Wendy left Mike, she’d have nothing. She’d have to sell their beautiful house in Ledbury and that was her sanctuary from the world.

  For five long years whilst Mike was in jail, she endured sideways looks, barbed comments and cold shoulders. She gave up her job at an accountants and registered as a self-employed bookkeeper because she couldn’t stand the raised eyebrows when she was introduced to a new client. She spent all the free time she had either caring for her elderly mother or working in the garden. She avoided driving past the local primary school at drop-off and pick-up time because her heart tore whenever she saw a small child reach for its mother’s hand. And spotting a pregnant woman in the supermarket could make her cry for days.

  Mike was released from jail three weeks after her mother died. Wendy drove to the jail to collect him. For the next two months, they shared the house in Ledbury, barely speaking, never touching, orbiting each other, then one day Mike came back from the pub and told her he wanted a divorce. He’d keep the house, he said. And buy her out by selling the flat he’d bought before they were married and rented out. He knew full well that she had no savings of her own to buy him out, and that wound her up so much––

  The screen flashes. Ben’s written the same thing again.

  Why?

  Wendy stares at the word. Why indeed? It’s a question she’s been asking herself for a very long time. She’s pretty sure the only reason Mike didn’t divorce her sooner was because he needed her to pay in his commissary money. During one of her first prison visits he’d told her he loved her and wanted to rebuild their life together when he got out. His eyes shone with tears and his hands shook as they reached for hers. He repeated the same mantra over and over again for years. He even mentioned donor eggs and adoption, feeding her fantasy of becoming a mother. It wasn’t too late.

  But it was. And for the second time all her dreams were dashed.

  In that moment she hated him more than she’d ever hated anyone in her life.

  Why?

  She needs to ask Louise Wandsworth that question. Why did you do it? Why him? Why didn’t you think about me? How can you sleep at night knowing the damage you wreaked? How can you go on with your life when mine was put on pause? How can you be such a callous, conniving bitch?

  Because there’s something about her that you don’t know, Wendy types to Ben.

  Nothing happens for a couple of seconds then an ellipsis appears on the screen. Ben is replying.

  Like what?

  What do you know about her teenage years?

  Just that she moved from Malvern to London with her mum. Why?

  Wendy smiles. Lou hasn’t told him. This is even better than she hoped.

  When did you last see her?

  A while ago. What’s going on? This is all a bit weird and mysterious. Are you a friend of Lou’s?

  Yeah, I’ve known her for years, since we worked together at Knowledge Pool. Hasn’t she ever mentioned me?

  No

  Really? I’m going to have words with her about that! Me and Alice are her best friends. Anyway, when did you last speak to her?

  Why do you need to know that? What’s all this about?

  Strange, Wendy thinks. If she was in a long-distance relationship with a man as attractive as Ben she’d be on the phone to him all the time. To check up on him, if nothing else.

  Have you noticed that she hasn’t been on Facebook much recently?

  There’s a pause. The ellipsis remains on the screen for a long time then disappears. Wendy takes a sip of her gin. Has she gone too far? Has he logged off because she hasn’t got to the point yet? Her heart skips a beat as the ellipsis appears again and Ben replies.

  Not really.

  Wendy runs her thumb back and forth across her lower lip. The only thing better than telling Lou a few home truths would be doing it in front of an audience, especially if that audience was the man she loved. It would almost make Wendy’s years of suffering worthwhile. Ben’s presence might also stop Wendy from doing something stupid. Emotions are strange things, the way they can make a logical woman completely lose her cool. And Wendy’s not a violent woman. Well, she was thirteen years ago, but her actions were justified. Any sane woman would have done the same thing.

  But how can she orchestrate it so that all three of them are in the same place at the same time? Could she convince Ben to come to a meeting at Consol eLearning? It would be even better if the whole office witnessed Lou’s demise. But what reason could she give him for such a meeting? She shakes her head. Too complicated. At Lou’s home then? She’s been ill. Wendy could pretend to be a concerned friend and …

  Her stomach twists with excitement. She’s had an idea. It’s risky. Hugely risky. But it might just work.

  If I tell you, she types, you have to promise not to discuss it with anyone. Lou has only shared this news with her very closest friends.

  Ben responds immediately: Tell me what?

  She’s dying. She’s only got a few weeks to live.

  You’re shitting me.

  Wendy takes another sip of gin. She’s playing a very dangerous game here. One phone call or message from Ben to Lou and the game is up.

  I’m sorry to break it to you like this. It must be a terrible shock. It was for me when I found out.

  What’s wrong with her? She seemed okay the last time I saw her. Shit, I can’t believe this. I need to speak to her.

  Wendy’s heart quickens and her fingers dance over the keyboard.

  No, you mustn’t. Lou doesn’t want anyone to know how ill she is and she’d kill me if she knew I’ve told you but, whether she’ll admit it to herself or not, she needs to see you. She’ll forgive me eventually (I hope).

  I can’t believe this.

  Can you come up this weekend? I could pick you up from the train station?

  Oh god. You’re serious about this aren’t you? I was hoping it was a wind-up.

  Wendy pulls a sad face. She’s enjoying playing the part of Saskia the concerned friend almost too much.

  I wish it was, Ben. I really do.

  Her smile fades as Ben takes his time replying. Even if she’s managed to convince him not to ask Lou about her ‘illness’, what’s to stop him from driving up to see her?

  You mustn’t spring a surprise visit on her without me, she types. The shock would be too great. Meet me at the station and I’ll take you to her.

  You’ll have to, Ben replies, I don’t know where she lives.

  Wendy raises her eyebrows. It’s almost too easy.

  So, she types. This weekend then? Let me know what time your train gets in. Again, I’m so sorry I had to break the news like this. If I had your number I would have called.

  For several seconds Ben doesn’t say anything but then, I need to think about this. I’ll get ba
ck to you.

  Wendy grimaces. This isn’t a good sign. He’s seen through her story and he’s going to ring Lou to check on her. Any concerned boyfriend would do so immediately. Ah well. She reaches for her gin and drains the glass. It was worth a go. She’ll just have to go back to plan A and confront Lou alone.

  She jumps as she sets her glass back down on its coaster. Someone is repeatedly banging on her front door. Her annoying next-door neighbour no doubt. She sighs as she gets up from her chair and heads for the door.

  ‘Yes,’ she says wearily as she opens it. Her expression changes the second she sees the two uniformed police officers outside her house.

  ‘Mrs Harrison?’ says the one on the left.

  ‘Ms, but yes,’ Wendy says. She tries to swallow but her throat’s so dry nothing happens.

  ‘PC Bray from West Mercia police. This is PC Broome. Could we come in?’

  Wendy stares at him wide eyed. ‘What’s this about?’

  ‘Your ex-husband Michael Hughes,’ PC Bray says. ‘He’s gone missing. Do you have a minute?’

  Chapter 26

  Ben

  Ben Feltham stares at his phone in disbelief. If it weren’t for the string of messages on the screen in front of him he’d swear he was dreaming. When Saskia Kennedy’s message had appeared in his Facebook messages folder on Wednesday morning he’d ignored it. It wasn’t the first time he’d been contacted by an ex’s friend after the relationship had ended and he was pretty certain it wouldn’t be the last.

  How much did he know about Lou Wandsworth? Sod all apparently. She’d seemed so cool when they’d got talking in the pub – properly laid-back and up for a laugh. It was almost inevitable that they’d end up in bed together, the chemistry between them was so strong, but he’d been surprised by the way he felt the next morning. He wasn’t a love ’em and leave ’em type of guy but he disliked the weird vibe after a night of frantic shagging and, if the woman seemed to feel it too, he’d make the move home as soon as he could. It hadn’t been like that with Lou. He’d woken up feeling as comfortable with Lou as he had the night before. She’d seemed pretty chilled too.

  Lou was great, he really liked her but, more than that, she intrigued him. Despite initially seeming like an open person she was actually quite guarded, especially about her childhood There was something she was repressing, that was for sure. He often woke in the night to find Lou’s side of the bed empty. Sometimes he’d find her sitting in a chair in another room, staring out of the window. Once he heard her crying in the bathroom. Nightmares, she said, but she wouldn’t go into any detail. Then there was the freak-out in Dover. He had no fucking idea what that was about. She’d seemed so agitated when she’d ended things and he had no clue why. He does now though.

  He reads through the message exchange again and shakes his head. It wouldn’t be out of character for Lou to keep something so serious to herself, but dying? How long had she known? After she’d met him? Before? It might explain the move back to Malvern.

  As a child he’d had a cat called Murphy who’d disappeared after he got ill and was found, dead, in a neighbour’s shed. Ben was distraught. He felt as though he’d let Murphy down by not being there when he took his final breath. His mother comforted him, telling him that sometimes animals just want to be alone when they die. Not that Lou could be compared to a cat, but it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that she’d want to get away from the noise and bustle of London and return to her childhood home.

  He clicks onto Lou’s page and scans it for updates and messages. After what happened in Dover he’d combed it for clues to explain her strange behaviour. Was there someone else? Had she lost interest? He couldn’t find anything to explain her odd change of heart. He checked her page the next day too. And the day after that. Nothing. A few weeks later there was an update saying she was moving to Malvern. After that he stopped checking.

  There’s nothing on her page now – other than a few messages from friends asking how she’s doing. Oh no, wait, there’s an interesting message from her friend Alice. Lou talked about her a lot but he’d never met her. He hadn’t met any of her friends. She’d laughed when he’d joked that she was ashamed of him, but she didn’t explain why she kept the two parts of her life so separate. Maybe she just wanted to take things slowly. He was okay with that. He frowns as he reads Alice’s message.

  I hope you took my advice. It’s better to regret the things you do than things you don’t (if you know what I mean). Love you xx

  If Saskia hadn’t contacted him he wouldn’t have given Alice’s message a second thought, but there’s a weight behind the words, knowing what he does about Lou’s health. Does a dying person think about regrets? Of course they do. He clicks away from the page and looks at his messages. The most recent one is from Lou:

  Hello! I don’t suppose you sent me a bouquet of flowers yesterday? The florist included a ‘In Deepest Sympathy’ card which was unsettling. Anyway, I hope you’re ok. Take care. X

  Ben runs his hands over his bare forearms. That’s seriously creepy. What kind of idiot would send a deepest sympathy to someone who wasn’t dead yet? Poor Lou, how horrible. And to think he’d actually laughed when he first read the message. It sounded like she was playing games with him, hinting that some other bloke was interested in her. God, what a dick. If he misinterpreted that message what else has passed him by? He clicks out of Facebook and opens his text messages. He has to scroll down a couple of pages to find the last one Lou sent him. Thank god he didn’t delete it.

  I’m sorry for what happened in Dover. There are reasons why I reacted the way I did that I can’t explain right now. You didn’t deserve the way I spoke to you afterwards. I hope you’re okay.

  Fuck! He slaps a hand against his forehead. It’s all there in black and white – Lou hinting that something was wrong – and he’d completely ignored it, too pissed off to reply.

  He slumps forward over his desk and presses his hands over his ears. All around him his colleagues are tapping away at their computers and drawing on tablets with styluses. They’re focussed in on their work, probably thinking about what they’ll have for dinner or how many hours there are until they can escape to the pub. But his world is crashing around him. The girl he was falling in love with is dying and he’s been ignoring her, too wrapped up in his own misery to reach out to her. Too proud to try and put things right.

  He sits back up and reaches for his phone. He should send a Facebook message to Alice to ask her what she knows. But what if she’s one of the friends that Lou hasn’t told? Saskia said Lou had only shared her news with a select handful of people. If he contacts the wrong person he could be opening a whole can of horrible worms.

  He could contact Lou though? Saskia said not to but an innocuous text wouldn’t hurt. Yeah, that’s what he’ll do. He’ll try and get a dialogue going. She might open up about what’s going on with her. That’s if she’s well enough to even use her phone. Jesus. He runs his hands through his hair. For the first time in his life he has no idea what to do.

  Chapter 27

  Lou

  ‘I never meant to hurt you. You know that, don’t you?’

  I jump as Mike appears at the bathroom door. The pink stripe that bloomed on my cheekbone last night after he shoved me away to get at Jean-Pierre is now a vivid bruise and my eyes are red and puffy from crying. I sobbed all the way from Rouen to Bordeaux last night. Noisily at first, then silently after Mike shouted at me to be quiet. I couldn’t stop thinking about that poor man, Jean-Pierre. All he’d done was try and help me and Mike had beaten the shit out of him. I just hope the woman who peered out from behind her apartment door as Mike dragged me down the stairs called an ambulance.

  After we left the apartment Mike drove like a maniac to our hotel, hauled me up the stairs to our room, threw all our stuff in a bag and then ordered me out again. The receptionist gawped at us as we barrelled out the door but she didn’t shout for us to come back and I was too scared to cry for h
elp.

  ‘Lou,’ Mike says. ‘You should answer me when I talk to you.’

  ‘Sorry.’ I lower my eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to—’

  ‘Hey …’ I flinch as he puts an arm around my shoulders. If he notices he doesn’t comment. Instead he puts a finger under my chin and lifts it so I’ve got no choice but to look at him. ‘I love you.’

  He waits, expectantly for a reply.

  I force the words out of my mouth. ‘I love you too.’

  ‘Do you?’ He searches my eyes. ‘Do you really?’

  I nod, dumbly. I just want him to stop looking at me, stop touching me, to just … stop.

  ‘I’m sorry that you had to see that yesterday. I thought he was going to hurt you and I’d never let anyone harm you, Lou, never.’

  ‘He wasn’t trying to hurt me, Mike. We were just talking about—’

  ‘Ssh, ssh, ssh.’ He presses a finger to my mouth. ‘I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I want to talk about how I’m going to go out and buy you some treats. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you happy and I want to put a smile on that beautiful face.’

  My heart leaps. He’s going out. I’ve been praying that he would. When we got in last night the first thing I noticed was the window next to the bed. It doesn’t open all the way but I think I could get through it. There’s a flat roof about six or seven feet below. I could make it. I could drop down and run away.

  ‘You won’t get bored this time,’ Mike says as he leads me by the hand to the bed. ‘You can watch TV.’

  He gestures for me to sit down, then turns on the TV on the other side of the room. I fake a smile. Go, I say in my head. Just go.

  ‘Now, the thing is,’ Mike says as he crouches down and rummages through his rucksack, ‘we’re staying in quite a built-up area and it’s really important that we’re quiet. We wouldn’t want anyone to stop us from finding a lovely place together, would we, Lou?’