Oh, I had to hand it to him, he was really very good indeed.
Suzi
Upstairs, the light of the house hurt my eyes. I felt like some mole creature, pulled from the ground. The bathroom was so clean, with not a drop of water or a stray hair anywhere. Perhaps Nick wanted to show me how easy it was to house-keep.
‘Five minutes,’ he said, trying to sound tough. ‘Just a quick one.’
‘My hair takes longer,’ I pointed out. ‘Look how greasy it is.’
The thick red mop was already matted and dirty. I felt disgusting. Nick had marched me to the door of the bathroom, so there had been no time to grab anything, and anyway, there was nothing lying about. The hall table was empty, the vases and pots that normally sat there gone. Perhaps he knew what I’d been planning. Despair hit me – how could I out-think someone like this, who’d watched my every move for months now?
‘Alright, fine. Ten minutes.’ For a moment, I thought he was going to stand and watch while I changed, but I challenged his gaze, and he moved outside, leaving the door ajar. ‘Be quick.’
I turned on the shower and rapidly soaped myself and my hair, enjoying the feel of the hot water despite everything. It reminded me of being twenty and spending four dirty days at the Reading festival, except this time I was inside my own house. My mind ran through scenarios. Was there anything I could use to hurt him in here? The lid of the toilet lifted off, or I’d once read a book where someone was stabbed with a shank made from the ballcock. Or there was his dressing gown on the back of the door – could I make a garrotte from the belt? Keeping the water running, I stepped out of the shower – and immediately went skidding, bashing my tailbone into the side of the bath. ‘Oh!’ A loud cry of fear burst from me, and then Nick was in the room.
‘I slipped.’
I was crying, from pain and from the loss of my one chance. A jolt of pure fear had gone through me as I fell – the baby!
‘Oh, come on. You have to be careful.’ He was tender, even, helping me up – I was so vulnerable, naked and wet and pregnant. ‘Are you alright? The baby?’
‘I don’t know,’ I blubbered. ‘I’m sorry, Nick, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do it, any of it. Sean – him. The man I . . . Or Damian, I never meant – I think there’s something wrong with me. I’ll get help, I’ll change. Whatever you want. A therapist, hospital . . . I’ll do it.’
Gently, he pushed the sodden hair from my face. ‘I wish I could believe that, Suze.’
He was wavering, I could feel it. As if there was a way back from this, him locking me up, me plotting to hit him over the head with the toilet lid. But in that moment, I was so afraid, so beaten, that I would have agreed to anything. Perhaps I would even have persuaded him, if we hadn’t heard what was by that point an unfamiliar sound.
The doorbell.
Maddy
The man – Sean – didn’t come in the next day, or the next. She realised she was waiting for him, watching the doorway of the pub, her heart lifting and sinking a little each time it was some sunburnt tourist instead, like the boats in the harbour at high tide.
Then, on the third day, it really was him. He wore a navy polo shirt, tight over his lean body, and dark-rimmed glasses that made him look smart and sexy. Maddy turned away, wiping at the bar she’d already cleaned. She could tell he’d come up behind her. She could smell his aftershave, lemony and woody. She made herself not turn around.
‘Hello again.’
‘Oh! Hi there.’ She put on a practised vague smile. Welcoming but not too keen. She’d had to learn these games the hard way, on boys her age, and this was a man. She didn’t know what games he’d want to play. ‘Couldn’t stay away from the chicken korma?’
He laughed, a full, throaty sound. ‘No offence to your chef, but that’s not really the draw here.’ He didn’t say what was but she knew he meant you, I’ve come to see you, and she glowed. ‘Listen,’ he said, stepping closer, ‘do you mind if I put the UK news on? Know how it is, you come for a break then you can’t keep away!’
There was hardly anyone else in, just an elderly couple who couldn’t hear the TV anyway, and kept screeching at each other about the weather. ‘I said it’s NICE!’ ‘No I think it’s NICE outside!’ Maddy passed him the bar remote, their hands almost touching as she did. She felt giddy, high on the clean smell of his laundry detergent and aftershave. He turned on Sky News, and watched it intently, the pint she’d poured him unattended.
After five minutes, she had to interrupt. She couldn’t bear the way he was watching the screen, transfixed by a story about a death back home, some ancient alco suffocated by an even more ancient gas fire. He should have been watching her.
‘Is it not OK?’ Meaning his drink.
‘Oh! Course it is.’ He sipped his pint.
‘So what’s really brought you here?’ She leaned on the bar, coquettish. ‘It’s not the sort of place people travel to alone, is it? No backpacker hostels or that sort of thing.’
‘So, why am I here then, Detective Barmaid?’
‘Well, I have a few guesses.’
‘Go on.’
‘Number one, you’re a cop. Casing out a criminal somewhere here on the Costa del Dodgy.’ He laughed again. Her heart swelled. ‘Number two, you’re on the lam.’
‘On the what?’
‘On the lam.’ She blushed. ‘It’s like, old-time talk for being a crim. Running off so you don’t get caught. Costa del Crime, isn’t that what they call it here? Because we have no, like, extradition treaty or something.’
He looked at her over his pint. ‘You’re a smart young woman. Except for that law changed in 1985.’
‘Oh.’
‘What was your name again?’
She told him.
‘Very pretty.’ And from the way he smiled at her, she knew he didn’t just mean her name. ‘So, Maddy, if I really was on the lam, would you keep my secret? Or would you betray me?’
She leaned further over the bar. She knew it made her cheap T-shirt, bought in the local market, stretch over her breasts. Her mother had told her this, not disapprovingly.
‘I’d never betray you,’ she said.
Eleanor
All day I had watched Suzi and Nick’s house, through the dark of the falling snow. Poppet snoozed by the fire, providing some comfort with his smelly breath and warm fur. I hadn’t put on the lights in my own house – I wanted Nick to think I’d gone out. My car was hidden further down the lane, at the passing place. But what could I do? I wouldn’t be able to get into their cottage, not with all the alarms and sensors and their sturdy doors and windows. I couldn’t call the police, since they wouldn’t believe me, and surely they would take a look into my past and realise there was no such person as Nora Halscombe. Not to mention the fact I’d never see that baby. I couldn’t try Suzi’s mother, since I’d no idea where she even was or on what cruise line. Nick’s mother, who sounded dreadful, would do anything to protect her son, I was sure of it. Who did it leave? I could only think of one person, and even then it was a long shot. Could I trust that person, though? Something about their behaviour had made me uneasy – too much interest, perhaps. But on the other hand, I didn’t have much choice.
First, I spent some more time on my new best friend, Google, searching until I had an explanation and my mind was at ease. Then I opened my front door, stepping lightly in case I saw movement across the road. Nothing. A flurry of ice in my face, I shut the house up behind me, leaving myself in the deep winter dark of falling snow.
Suzi
Nick’s tender manner vanished at the sound of the doorbell.
‘Stay in here,’ he hissed. ‘Don’t make a fucking sound.’ He never swore. Then he seized a small hand towel from the rack, and shoved it roughly into my mouth. I choked on cotton and disbelief – Nick! Nick was doing this! ‘Shit, shit.’ He looked around for something else – what, I didn’t know – and then he saw his dressing gown on the back of the door, and whipped out the belt, and I und
erstood. He was going to tie me up. And he did, to the towel rack, my arms pulled up at an awkward angle. I was naked and dripping and terrified.
‘Uhhh. Uhhh!’
‘Shut up, Suzi! I mean it.’ His voice rose and fell.
Through my shock, I had questions. Who was at the door? Nora? If it was her, could I risk calling out? Would she even want to help me? I shuddered at the thought of the two of them in league against me. It wasn’t fair. You should have been here to help me with this, the fallout from the fire we’d so carelessly lit, danced around, oblivious to everything it was burning away. But you were dead, and I was on my own.
I worked my tongue against the rough towel, hearing a series of beeps as Nick disabled the alarm on the door. His voice was public, showy. ‘Hello, can I help you?’
An unfamiliar voice, a woman’s, said, ‘Yes, hi, we’re looking for a Suzanne Matthews? I’m DC Catherine da Souza, with the Surrey police?’
I began to pant very hard, unable to stop it. A mistake, because my mouth was filled with fabric and now I couldn’t breathe. All I could do was grunt. Would they believe me, even if they heard me? Or would Nick, with his patient rationality, make them think I was crazy, a naked soaking-wet pregnant woman? I thought of the records they had on me, the trip to the doctor Nick had forced on me. I thought how this situation could get worse – my baby taken away, me in some psychiatric hospital, or worse, stuck living with Nick for ever, only a Nick who was even more angry with me. Peering out the gap in the door, I saw the shapes of two people. Not uniformed – not the same police as before. What was this about? I could not spit the gag out. I had only forced it deeper into my mouth, and I was very close to choking. I took small breaths through my nose, which was also blocked with tears. I had never been brave, as I’d thought. Just reckless. Not brave enough to walk away from a disastrous marriage, before it was too late. Reckless enough to have an affair, and start this chain of events that had spiralled so far out of control.
‘Is something wrong? I’m afraid she’s at her mother’s. A pre-Christmas visit, you know.’ Nick sounded so plausible. I thought I was the liar in our marriage.
A man’s voice said, ‘We found your wife’s details at a possible crime scene. Her name, her address.’
A short silence. Oh God. Oh God, what would Nick do? What were they even talking about?
‘That’s strange. What crime scene?’
‘A man was found dead in Guildford yesterday – asphyxiation due to a gas fire. At the moment we’re not sure if there was any foul play, but we can’t rule it out.’
Nick said, ‘What was his name?’
I had no idea who they were talking about. Who was dead now?
‘A Dr Conway, James Conway. He worked at Surrey General Hospital.’
I could almost hear Nick’s wheels turning. He knew I’d gone there that time, supposedly to check out the facilities. But why would Conway have my name and address?
‘That’s weird, I’m sure she doesn’t know anyone by that name. We looked at the hospital as a possible birthing location – we’re pregnant, you see.’
We! What the hell did he have to do with it! For a moment, rage replaced fear as my dominant emotion.
‘Strange that he had her details in his home, though.’ The police were being very forthcoming. I wondered if they had a plan – if they thought Nick was involved in this death somehow.
‘That’s so odd. If I had to guess, maybe he saw her at the hospital and took a liking to her. My wife is . . . well, she’s beautiful.’ He almost sounded proud, when he said it. A good actor too. Why had I underestimated him so much?
The police didn’t stay long – it was freezing, I could feel the cold air from the open door, and Nick hadn’t invited them to sit down or offered them tea.
‘Thank you for your help, sir. Can you ask your wife to call us when you speak to her?’
‘I will. It’s really coming down out there. Be careful on the lane, it’s not gritted.’
‘Don’t we know it,’ said the male voice. ‘Almost went into a tree on the bend. It’s meant to get worse tonight. Your missus might not make it back.’
‘As long as she’s safe,’ said Nick tenderly. ‘I’ll get her to contact you.’
‘Please do.’ And they left, and the soft electronic click of the door was like a prison gate slamming shut. Why hadn’t I tried harder to get free, struggled, shouted? I was pathetic. And who had killed Conway? It seemed too much of a coincidence to be an accident, you and then him, your confidant, both dying within months of each other. I heard the soft fall of Nick’s feet coming back to the bathroom. When he took out the gag, I gasped in air. My mouth was dry with threads of cotton.
‘I was good,’ I said, almost shouting in fear. ‘I didn’t say anything!’
He stared at me, still naked, still tied to the rack.
‘Who’s this Conway?’
I knew that look in his eyes, the dangerous quietness. I had to talk my way out of this, and fast.
‘I’ll tell you everything,’ I said, my voice shaking. ‘It’s not what you think. I’ll be honest with you, I swear. Just let me get dressed. Please?’
Eleanor
There was no possibility of getting my car out. Even if it hadn’t been stuck in five-feet drifts of snow, I didn’t want Nick seeing the lights. I didn’t want him to know I was about, not until I figured out what to do. Instead I hiked down the icy, pitch-dark road, wearing my stoutest walking boots. Even then I was scared with every step. A car coming round the bend would have no chance of seeing me in time; I could be thrown off the road into the ditch, dying there in the snow, without anyone realising. Because no one would come to look for me. I had no one left.
I had gone about three yards when I saw the vehicle. It swept past me, skidding slightly, and instinctively I jumped on to the verge to avoid it. A man and a woman, both in suits. I knew immediately it was the police. Coming about what? For me, about Conway? It could have been my chance to get help for Suzi, but what would I say to make them believe me? And I couldn’t risk being arrested, not when she needed help. I crouched down, my dark coat hiding me against the bushes, and after they passed I staggered on in the snow.
Eventually, ice flakes whirling in my eyes and freezing my face numb, I made it on to the slip road, saw signs for the M25 ahead. And there it was – the tree you had supposedly died at. If it hadn’t been so dark, I would have been able to see the marks your car had left, the damage to the bark. What a risk to take. What a stupid, audacious thing to do.
As another car came past, driving very slowly, I stuck out my thumb. Hitch-hiking – what would Mother have said? Unladylike, not to mention dangerous. But I hadn’t seen Mother for over twenty years, and really, I didn’t give a fuck what she thought.
I was in luck. The driver was an elderly man, bewildered himself by the snow – glad, I think, of company to help navigate it.
‘Hell of a night to be out, love.’ He had a local accent.
‘I know. I just need to get to Guildford. It’s urgent, and my car’s stuck. Going anywhere near?’
He looked at me curiously. ‘Just off to the shops, love. What takes you there on a night like this?’
‘I have to get to the hospital – it’s my mother, she had a fall last week. The ice, you know.’
‘Treacherous it is. I’ll take you there, don’t you worry.’
‘Oh, you are kind. Thank you.’
He told me his name was Bill and we chatted for a while about the snowfall, how this was the worst he’d seen since the 1950s, and about his wife, Hetty, who’d always loved the snow, but who had died five years before. I sensed he was lonely, like me. Visibility was terrible, but the road had been gritted and traffic was at least moving. After an hour or so, we reached the lights of Guildford.
‘I’ll drop you direct. Can’t have you walking in this weather.’
I was almost sad to see him drive off as he dropped me in the car park. The hospital blazed with light,
with humanity, a well of brightness against the dark. I knew I would find help here, or nowhere.
Suzi
An hour later, I sat at the kitchen table. I was dry, dressed warmly in jeans and a polo-neck jumper. Nick had served me up some stew he’d made.
‘Good?’
‘Lovely.’ It needed more salt for my taste, but of course that was ‘bad for the baby’.
‘I forgot the veg box was coming, so we had all this stuff left over. I’ll have to cancel it for next week.’
This was surreal. We were chatting about veg boxes, when just hours before I’d been locked up in the cellar. I had told Nick everything – almost everything. About meeting you, our affair, your death, going to the hospital, meeting Conway there. My guess that Conway was planning to blackmail me, maybe, and that’s why he’d had my details. I remembered his down-at-heel clothes, his alcohol breath – I could well believe he needed money.
It hadn’t been easy, telling Nick these things, but he’d nodded, as if he knew most of it already. I didn’t mention my meetings with Dr Holt, or the fact I’d seen Damian again. I could still rescue this situation. Get on cordial terms with Nick, then as soon as the snow melted I could run away, far away, to my mother’s perhaps, or to Claudia. She would help me, I thought, even if we’d grown apart. I’d stay in a hotel if I had to. I hadn’t quite realised that the law was there to help me, to make sure I had access to the money, and above all, to let me keep my baby. I just had to avoid going back in the cellar, and after that everything could be sorted out.
The Other Wife Page 24