My Perfect Wife: An absolutely unputdownable domestic suspense novel

by Clare Boyd

  He lay on the sunlounger next to mine and linked his hands behind his head. I noted the Rolex on his wrist.

  ‘Jude has a crush on you,’ he said.

  I kept staring at the sky. My heart was beating through my back and vibrating through the slats. The crack and whizz of fireworks began, obscuring the stars.

  ‘He’s a nice guy.’

  ‘I told him he was punching above his weight.’

  ‘That’s mean!’

  ‘I am mean.’ He shot up and leant forward on his elbows. ‘A swim? For old times’ sake?’

  ‘What about your party?’

  ‘To hell with it.’

  ‘You’re drunk. Elizabeth will miss you.’

  ‘She won’t. I haven’t seen her all evening. She’ll be with Bo for the fireworks.’

  He pulled me up by the arm. My towel slipped off my shoulders.

  I wrapped my arms around my waist. He kept his eyes fixed on me as he removed his trousers, leaving me breathless. The noise in the sky shouted louder than my doubts, egging me on, daring me to reject caution. To break his stare, I ran and jumped in; a bomb. He followed suit. Underneath the water, we turned to each other. He shouldn’t be here like this with me, I thought. He should be by his wife’s side, chatting to his guests.

  I swam away from him and ducked underwater. His hand ran up my back, tracing my spine to the nape of my neck. His touch left me powerless. He drew me towards him, cradling the back of my head, his body up against mine. When he kissed me, I took in a bubble of air from his mouth; fleetingly I imagined he was saving my life. He twirled me around and we spiralled upwards, dancing towards the surface. Under the water, the real world above us, of earth and air and wind and fire, vanished. Under the water, we were sirens and sea gods. Under the water, we were entwined and suspended in time, as if the past twelve years and all the what ifs didn’t matter.

  Above the surface, lying on the poolside tiles, the stainless steel of his wristwatch reflected the multicoloured explosions in the velvet sky.

  Eighteen

  Elizabeth watched the fireworks as she and Bo lay back on one of the oversized cushions near the fire.

  The spray of colour in the sky marked the finale of her night. The party could take care of itself now. She felt a wave of satisfaction and exhaustion, but she needed to find Lucas before she could relax fully. As soon as she knew he was happy, she could perhaps escape to join Jude and Heather, and maybe allow herself a swim with them, if they were still there.

  Bo nudged her and offered her a drag of the marijuana-stuffed roll-up she was smoking. Elizabeth turned it down.

  ‘You sure know how to throw a party, ’Liz’beth.’

  Elizabeth propped herself up on her elbows. ‘I’m glad you’re having a good time,’ she said absently, surveying a cluster of guests. She spotted Sarah, who was sitting on a beanbag around the fire pit, deep in conversation with Gabriel Asprey, the great-great-great-grandson of Charles Asprey’s brother, on the ‘poor’ side of the family. Gabriel used his name to garner business for his Jacuzzi bathroom business, and partied hard, possibly helping him to forget that he sold loos rather than high-end luxury goods like his forefathers.

  ‘I want another one of those macarons,’ Bo said.

  Elizabeth remembered how little time she had given to Sarah, who had delivered her macarons in the afternoon and arrived dressed up later, with her husband, as their guests.

  ‘I’ll get you some,’ she said, standing up, welcoming the excuse to find Lucas.

  ‘Find Benji Healing for me too,’ Bo said.

  ‘It’s Benji now, is it?’

  ‘I’m rather in love with him,’ she chuckled.

  ‘Jude’ll know where he is.’

  ‘Oh, your brother! I’d forgotten how damn cute he is.’

  Elizabeth smiled.

  Bo raised herself to sitting. Changing her mind, she said, ‘I’m coming with you. Fireworks displays are all the same. No offence, honey.’

  They moved through the crowd of people, whose necks were craned at the sky.

  The marquee was empty except for Benjamin Healing, Jude and Walt. Barefoot, Bo began an Indian dance in the middle of the dance floor, beguiling in her flowing floral dress, her hair loose with flowers, the roll-up in her right hand. She was performing. Performing for the men, who were deep in conversation.

  Elizabeth was surprised that Lucas wasn’t with them.

  Did he think the party a success? Had he noticed that the pork was a fraction overdone? Or that the salad was late to the buffet? Or that the music had been too loud at the beginning? Was he pleased with her?

  Interrupting her flow of worries, Walt broke away from his conversation and stood on the dance floor, territorially. Lord William Cecil-Johnson appeared from outside and joined him.

  ‘Fireworks give me a headache,’ he bellowed.

  Neither of the men took their eyes off Bo. A sly grin formed on Walt’s lips. His tumbler of whisky hung limply and sloshed over William’s right arm. William didn’t notice. He spent most of his life drunk, hiding his quiet alcoholism behind his aristocratic bumbling. Walt might be distracted from Bo’s flirting by William’s stories of old money dysfunction, and Elizabeth left them to it, overhearing William explaining that his wife, Patricia, was at home, devastated after the death of one of her thoroughbreds, and that she loved her animals more than she loved her husband. Elizabeth knew this was true: Patricia allowed Shetland ponies and chickens to wonder through their vast Victorian kitchen.

  As she slipped out of the marquee, smiling to herself, Leonora, a neighbour from two houses down, arrived at her side.

  ‘Is that Lulu Guinness?’ she asked, as she grabbed a half-finished glass of someone else’s wine. ‘Talking to that model-looking guy?’

  ‘That’s the executive director of Christie’s Maritime,’ Elizabeth chuckled.

  Leonora flapped her hands, splashing red wine on the ground. ‘Oh, how disappointing.’

  She began to prattle on as they walked. Elizabeth nodded politely, wondering how she could lose her on the way to the house.

  ‘… but Edmund will have to adjust. Just like Tom and I did. We can’t take him out, can we?’ Leonora said.

  ‘No, of course not,’ Elizabeth said, unsure of what she was talking about.

  ‘His housemaster said he was having trouble making friends, but it takes time. I think I’m going to stop taking his calls. All he does is cry down the phone. I find it terribly wearing. And it can’t look good if his peers see him crying to Mummy all the time, can it?’

  ‘No, I suppose not,’ Elizabeth said.

  Boarding school, that was the topic. For only a moment, this punctured her happiness. The memory of her grovelling phone call to Mrs Hepburn at Channing House came back to her. She finished her champagne and looked around for another. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve got to see to the …’ she said, trailing off, knowing that Leonora was too drunk to care what Elizabeth might have to see to.

  Continuing her search for Lucas, she wandered around the fire, picking off a couple of grapes from the buffet table, swiping another glass of champagne from a passing waitress, saying hello to more guests she hadn’t yet had the chance to chat to, promising to come back to them when she had found her husband.

  Scenes from the party whirred around her head as the fireworks rocketed above her. Bo dancing. Walt drunk with William. She and Bo on the cushion watching the fireworks in the night sky. Jude and Heather laughing together with the children earlier. Lucas grinning with the pride of a man who owned it all. Drunk, happy people gasping at the display. Copper Lodge swirling with magic. It seemed she had pulled it off, but she wanted to hear it from Lucas himself.

  As she passed the pool, the water sounded choppy. Quietly she opened the little gate and peered around the hedge.

  They came up through the water, head to head, coiled together like one body. Heather’s auburn hair snaked down her back, lit up by the strobing pyrotechnics above them. There was a
splutter from the water, a burst of noise that hid Elizabeth’s small cry. The sky cracked above her like a lightning bolt, splitting her skull open, and everything became clear. For a startling moment, time stood still. Moving into the next minute, after what she had witnessed, would be like a person seeing after a lifetime of blindness. The familiarity of a lost sense seemed preferable.

  She backed away before she saw more, and ran, yanking her necklace from her neck, feeling revulsion for it, chucking it into a flower bed and vowing never to wear it again. It represented the show that she and Lucas put on for the public; as it glittered, it had throttled the life out of her.

  Nineteen

  The swim had been short-lived and thrilling and utterly wrong. The spell of his embrace, his kiss, had been broken as soon as I reached the surface, when I came to my senses. Fury replaced any pleasure that had passed through my body underwater.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ I said, unlocking myself from his limbs. We stood facing each other in the shallow end. My lungs heaved for air. The sky had returned to black.

  ‘A kiss?’ he answered, as though it was that simple.

  I hissed at him under my breath, ‘For God’s sake! Are you mad? You’re married! Anyone could have seen us!’

  ‘But they didn’t.’

  ‘Even if they didn’t, it’s still totally messed up!’

  He swept his wet hair back, blinking too fast. ‘I’m sorry! Okay? For wanting to feel good for one damned second of my life!’

  ‘Oh yeah, your life’s so awful,’ I said.

  ‘It’s an illusion, Heather! Don’t you get it? Look at me! All this bullshit. This party. This house. This deal. My marriage? Look at Walt. He’s so rich and so mean. And he has all the money in the world. I’ve been working every hour God sends, for what? To be just as rich and mean? But when I look at you, I don’t give a shit about any of it. Not one shit.’ He slapped the water with the palm of his hands, splashing me.

  I wiped my face. ‘You’re scared,’ I said quietly. ‘That’s all. You’re sabotaging it so that—’

  ‘Shush a minute, I think I heard someone,’ Lucas whispered, leaning in towards me.

  The guests continued to party in the marquee, innocent of our betrayal. The music still pumped in the background and the smell of barbecue smoke lingered on the breeze.

  Then an unfamiliar male voice from the other side of the hedge called out, ‘Elizabeth! There you are!’

  Lucas pressed his forefinger to his lips. Stay quiet, he was saying. Don’t move a muscle.

  The voice continued. ‘Leonora and I are off! Marvellous party, thanks ever so much.’

  ‘I’m so glad you could make it, Tom,’ Elizabeth replied.

  There was the sound of footsteps, away, off up the path.

  Behind me, one of the baby monitors crackled. It was lying on the grass between our two sunloungers. I threw my towel on top of it to muffle the sound.

  Lucas pointed to the shed. I got out and ran inside, lurking there like a criminal. I heard the gate opening.

  ‘Hello there,’ Lucas said.

  ‘I’ve been looking for you,’ Elizabeth said.

  I held my breath.

  It sounded as though Lucas was getting out of the pool. His wet footsteps slapped on the stone. ‘Want to come in for a dip?’ he asked.

  ‘People are starting to leave,’ she said.

  ‘Thank God. Let’s go and say goodbye to them.’

  ‘Get dressed, Lucas,’ she said.

  A few minutes later, the gate opened and closed. Then there was silence.

  I stayed inside the shed for five, maybe ten minutes. It seemed like days. I deserved the discomfort, and much more, for being so stupid. What had happened in the pool went against everything I believed in. I would have done anything to rewind time.

  When I thought it was safe, I crept outside. My clothes were damp. As I collected the baby monitors and my champagne glass, I heard Lucas’s voice again, through the hedge. I froze.

  ‘Where are you going?’ he said. To whom, I didn’t know, but I could hear the panic in his voice.

  ‘I might have left it by the pool.’ It was Elizabeth.

  ‘Why would it be there? You haven’t been by the pool.’

  ‘Yes I have.’

  More voices and footsteps. One woman was singing along to the music from the marquee.

  ‘Hi, guys! Having a good time?’ Lucas called out.

  ‘I want to go back to the dance floor!’ the woman’s voice replied. ‘But Rupert won’t—’

  A man’s voice cut in, presumably Rupert’s. ‘Bye, Lucas, I’ll be in touch about Spain. Great party!’

  ‘Prick,’ Lucas said when their footsteps had died away. ‘I wouldn’t buy a fucking condo off him, let alone a resort.’

  If Elizabeth replied, I couldn’t hear it.

  Lucas returned to the lost thing, whatever it was. ‘I want you to find it and put it back on.’

  ‘It might have been stolen,’ Elizabeth said.

  ‘From around your neck?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘What’s got into you?’ Lucas asked her.

  I considered running back into the shed. The wetness from the towel was soaking into my front. Before I could make a decision, the gate squeaked open and Elizabeth appeared.

  Her hand was around her bare throat, her yellow dress twisted a little, her hair damp on her forehead. She walked up to me, so close I could smell her perfume. I wanted to die of shame. Red scratches, like fingernail marks, made lines down her neck where her necklace had been.

  There was a hiss from one of the monitors.

  ‘You can go home now, Heather,’ she said in a breathy whisper, pushing her platinum hair back.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, darting away, avoiding eye contact with Lucas.

  As soon as I was clear of the gate, I ran up to the house, dumped the towel, the glass and the baby monitors onto the breakfast bar, then continued running, out onto the dark lane and back home.

  * * *

  I sat down on my parents’ doorstep, dismayed and guilt-ridden, my knees up to my chin, gathering myself, just in case anyone was awake inside.

  I heard breathing. I looked up and Lucas was right there. His approach through the dark had been silent. He still wore no shoes.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I whispered, shocked, mindful of my parents’ bedroom window a few feet away, dropping my keys as though my fingers had lost their strength.

  ‘I’m sorry. For … before. I’m so sorry,’ he said.

  ‘Shh, keep your voice down.’ I pointed at the window.

  A thought fluttered through my mind like a banner: I’m still in love with this man. It ran in tandem with the knowledge that I could not allow it to be true.

  ‘You have to go home,’ I insisted.

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said, rubbing his face.

  ‘You can’t be here.’

  He brought his hands to my face. ‘You. Turning up after all these years. It’s been hell.’

  ‘Charming,’ I said.

  His lips met mine briefly, gently, lifting me off my feet. I jerked away.

  He grabbed my upper arms. ‘It’s been over between Elizabeth and me for years. Surely you know that. Surely everyone knows that.’

  I choked, incredulous. ‘No. Nobody knows that.’

  ‘She’s mad, Heather. Totally and utterly mad. I’m only there because of the kids. I can’t leave them with her.’

  ‘I can’t get involved,’ I said, desperate for him to make it easier for me.

  ‘I made a mistake back then. When I left for London.’

  ‘This is a mistake.’ I wanted to sound convincing. My words articulated what I knew I should say rather than what I felt. And he knew it.

  ‘Please, Heather. When can I see you again? To talk. Just to talk.’

  ‘I’m in your grounds every day if you need me,’ I said.

  I unlocked the front door and shut myself in, panting
on the other side. Turning my back on him tore at my heart.

  There was someone in the hallway. A shadow, tall and menacing, moved towards me. The light was switched on. I squinted and covered my eyes.

  ‘What time do you call this?’ my father said.

  My heart thumped. I looked at my watch. It was 1.42 a.m. ‘Sorry I woke you.’

  ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘Elizabeth wanted me to stay, just in case the kids woke up.’

  ‘I saw you two.’

  ‘Saw who?’ I asked, cold with dread.

  ‘That was Lucas,’ my father said.

  ‘No.’

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  I tied up my hair. ‘Nothing.’

  When I tried to walk past him, he blocked my path. ‘Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you.’

  ‘I’m really tired. I want to go to bed.’

  ‘It can’t happen. Ever. You understand me?’

  ‘Nothing happened, Dad.’

  ‘Listen to me, young lady!’ he yelled, gripping my shoulders, pressing his thumbs under the bones. ‘You can’t see him again!’

  ‘I’m not seeing anyone!’

  ‘Don’t lie to me!’

  He shook me back and forth until my head was banging against the plastered wall behind me, until my hair had slipped out of its band, until I thought my neck would break and my head explode.

  ‘We do everything for you and still you throw it back in our faces!’

  Through the chaos of pain and panic, I tried to think. A headache detonated inside my skull. Breathlessly, I tried to talk, ‘You’ve got the wrong idea. Nothing is going on. I swear it. He kissed me once. It will never happen again.’

  But he didn’t stop until my body became limp and I lost my ability to stand up.

  Then he let me go and I crumpled to the floor. I scrabbled into a crouching position, with my head between my knees, waiting for another attack.

  ‘Don’t you understand how much we love you?’ I heard tears in his voice but I couldn’t look up at him. I was too ashamed, of myself and of him. ‘All our lives we’ve tried to teach you the right values and give you a good work ethic, and look at you! You’re a clever, kind girl! We love you so much. I just don’t understand why it’s not enough for you.’