The Optician’s Wife: a compelling new psychological thriller

by Betsy Reavley

  But I didn’t care what they thought. Larry liked it and that was all that mattered.

  As I got dressed in my new clothes and did my best to make my hair look the way it had done when I left the hairdressers, Dawn was in our room also getting ready to go out. She was meeting up with some of her girlfriends and they were going to the cinema to watch Staying Alive. John Travolta was the main role. I hadn’t seen many of his films but I did enjoy Grease.

  In order to avoid having to talk to me Dawn turned her old Roberts radio on.

  After a song I didn’t know ended the voice of a newsreader filled the air.

  ‘After the shocking discovery of the body of Daphne Faulks, aged 58 from Cambridge, on Stourbridge Common, police are searching for the killer. A dog walker found Ms Faulks, who lived alone and worked at Freeman’s bookshop in the city centre, in the early hours of Monday morning. The inspector in charge of the investigation said that the brutal nature of the crime meant they were using all their resources to find the person responsible. As of yet no arrests have been made. In other news…’

  I sat down on my bed and looked down at my brand new sneakers. I couldn’t believe they had found her body. It seemed so unfair.

  Dawn turned and looked at me.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ She fluffed her hair with the palm of her hand.

  ‘It’s horrible about that woman.’

  ‘I guess.’ Dawn looked so uninterested.

  ‘Someone killed her.’

  ‘I know. But better her than me.’ Dawn shrugged and left the room.

  I sat there for a moment thinking about my experience with Ms Faulks. She was not a nice person. Maybe Dawn had a point.

  Larry met me at midday at the Drummer Street bus station and walked me to his house. The sun was shining and the streets were busy with weekend shoppers and people out enjoying the warmth.

  ‘Did you hear about Ms Faulks?’

  ‘Sure did. Pretty grim. Did you hear that the killer stabbed her eyes out?’ He seemed strangely aroused.

  ‘Really? That’s disgusting. I wonder why anyone would want to kill an old woman?’

  ‘She wasn’t that old,’ Larry laughed.

  ‘No, I suppose not.’

  ‘Probably had it coming after the way she treated you.’

  As we walked along the road past Parker’s Piece he spotted a bench and suggested we sat and basked in the warmth for a moment.

  The slats on the bench were warm against my pale bare legs. The shorts I’d got from Topshop were a little tight around my waist. I noticed my stomach bulge over the top of the denim and tugged on the white T-shirt to disguise it.

  Larry put his arm around my shoulder and slid closer to me.

  ‘I’ve been thinking Dee,’ he was looking out over the green, watching a group of young men kick a football, ‘I think we should get married.’

  A first I thought he was joking and laughed but when he turned to look at me I could see he was deadly serious.

  ‘I could tell you were a virgin when we met. I liked that about you. Not like the other girls, all putting it about and opening their legs for anyone.’

  ‘Was I bad?’

  ‘No. We need to keep practising, but that’s not what I meant. You haven’t been spoilt, tainted by anyone else. I don’t like the idea of you ever being with another man. You and me, we are good together. I think it makes sense to get married. What do you say?’

  I’d read about romantic proposals in books and always wondered what it would be like. Larry had not exactly swept me off my feet by suggesting it off the cuff, sitting on a bench. He didn’t even have a ring.

  ‘Well, either you want to be my wife or you don’t.’ He grinned at me and I melted.

  ‘OK.’ I couldn’t believe anyone wanted to marry me. Let alone someone as handsome and clever as Larry. I was in shock.

  ‘Is that a yes?’

  ‘Yes. It’s a yes.’ I wanted to cry.

  ‘Perfect. We’ll tell my mum and dad at lunch.’ Larry put his hand on my knee and gave it a squeeze.

  His family home was halfway down Mackenzie Road, off the top of Mill Road. Hollydene was a terraced brick Victorian house with a bay window and neat, tiled front garden. A large pot with a small pruned bay tree sat next to the mid-blue front door. There were no chips on the paint.

  ‘There’s a path down there on the right that leads into the cemetery. I’ll take you there after lunch if you like,’ Larry signalled with his head while he slipped his key into the lock. ‘Ma, I’m back,’ he called out, ushering me in to the hallway.

  The first thing I noticed was the smell of home cooking. The waft of a chicken roasting in the oven filled the house.

  ‘Come in, come in.’ Larry’s mother appeared, wiping her hands on a tea-towel.

  She was a tall slim woman and I could see the family resemblance. Her hair was short and dark. She wore a patterned blue and green dress that swished whenever she moved.

  ‘Ma, this is Dee.’

  ‘Hello, Dee. I’m Mrs Miller, but please call me Linda. Well, it’s really lovely to meet you. Larry hasn’t stopped talking about you.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Mrs Miller.’ My throat felt unnaturally dry.

  ‘Linda, I insist.’ She gave a wide smile, showing all her large teeth. ‘Come on through and have a seat in the dining room.’

  As I followed Mrs Miller through the hallway, past the lounge and into the dining room it occurred to me that I was meeting my future mother-in-law. The idea scared me senseless. What if she didn’t approve?

  ‘Is Eric joining us?’

  ‘No. He’s not.’ Linda turned to her son and they shared a relieved look.

  Lunch was long. Mr and Mrs Miller sat at either end of the table with Larry and I sandwiched between them. She was warm, the perfect hostess. Mr Miller didn’t say much. He just chewed his food.

  The chicken was the size of a turkey. I’d never seen such a big one. Mrs Miller placed it proudly on the table and asked Larry to carve. She and Mr Miller could barely look at one another. You could have cut the tension with a knife. Thankfully, Mrs Miller wasn’t short of things to say and her idle chatter helped the time pass.

  I kept expecting Larry to announce our engagement but he didn’t. I put it down to the atmosphere between his parents.

  Linda Miller was very friendly but a bit overbearing. She talked with her mouth full, never pausing for breath. I watched the potatoes and broccoli journey around her mouth and tried to concentrate on what she was saying.

  It was nice sitting round with a proper family having a civilised meal even if the grown-ups weren’t talking to each other. I couldn’t remember doing anything like that with Dad and Dawn. Not since Mum died.

  When we’d all finished our food and Larry had stopped mopping up his gravy with a piece of sliced bread, I helped Mrs Miller tidy the plates away. She seemed grateful for my offer to help. Larry got up and left his father sitting there alone. He seemed unwilling to allow me to be alone with his mother.

  Once in the small kitchen, at the back of the house, I piled the crockery next to the sink while Mrs Miller ran the hot tap and put on an apron.

  ‘You dry.’ She smiled, handing me a tea-towel.

  Larry leant against one of the cupboards watching us both, nursing his beer. I didn’t know he drank. He looked so grown up holding a pint.

  When all the dishes were clean Larry kissed his mum on the cheek and told her we were going for a walk. I was disappointed I didn’t get to see his bedroom. I thought he’d be eager to show me. But he seemed distracted and we left the house, never saying goodbye to Mr Miller.

  ‘Sorry about that.’ Larry rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. ‘Let’s go to the cemetery.’

  I’d never really visited that part of the town before. There had never been any need. We followed the pavement until we came to a small path on the other side of the street.

  ‘Com
e on,’ Larry grabbed my hand and pulled me along.

  I was expecting a small churchyard but what I saw was something very different. It was a large open green space with long grass and a few wild flowers, interspersed with headstones. We walked for a while hand in hand silently looking at the names of people long gone.

  ‘I think we shouldn’t have a big wedding.’ Larry stopped by one of the graves and bent down on his heels so he could read the stone. ‘Look at this, Dee, a husband and wife buried together. That’s nice.’

  I stood awkwardly, my shorts feeling even tighter since consuming a large helping of roast dinner.

  ‘We won’t do it in a church. I’m not religious and you’re not either, are you?’

  ‘My mum was Catholic, but lapsed. So no, I’m not.’

  ‘We’ll go to the registry office and do it there. I’ll go in the week and see when they can fit us in.’

  ‘I think we need to tell our parents first before we make any plans.’ The reality of telling my dad was dawning on me and I was wondering what had stopped Larry mentioning it at lunch, like he’d said he would.

  ‘I’ll tell Mum tomorrow before I go to work. I think she’s had an argument with dad and I don’t want to get in the middle of it.’ He stood up and kissed me on the nose. ‘You can tell your dad when you get home.’

  ‘You’re not going to be there with me when I tell him?’ I was horrified.

  ‘I don’t think it would be a good idea if the first time I meet him is when we announce our engagement,’ he laughed. ‘Much better if you tell him first and then introduce us.’

  ‘OK,’ I agreed meekly.

  ‘Oh, and next week speak to your manager and see if you can get more shifts. We need to start saving.’

  ‘I suppose we do. Weddings are probably expensive.’

  ‘Not for the wedding.’ Larry was laughing at me and I felt foolish. ‘We need to save for somewhere to live. We can’t stay living with our parents.’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’ I hadn’t made that leap yet. It hadn’t occurred to me. Everything was happening so quickly.

  January 7th 1984

  She was pretty, that was for sure. I’d seen her about. Flirting with all the men, like she didn’t have a care in the world. It made me sick. She would be my second. I knew that the minute I laid eyes on her. This time I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I had a plan. She was going to be punished. I would see to that.

  The afternoon I’d spotted her I’d followed her home. She worked in the centre but lived off Barton Road to the southwest of the city, in a little place on Hardwick Street. She wasn’t very old, probably in her early twenties, and lived in what appeared to be a shared house.

  On that day I finished work and walked straight through the town. It was dark so early and that gave me an advantage. I knew the way she went home on her bike. She cycled through the town and cut across Lammas Land, that large grassy area where homosexuals meet in the bushes at night to do their filthy acts.

  That evening I found myself lingering behind a large shrub waiting for my opportunity. I didn’t have to wait long before I saw her tootling along the path on her bike. I stepped out from the bushes and waited for her to get closer. I began to walk so that we were both heading in the same direction. In my right hand I gripped a thick stick I’d found beneath a bush. The path was nice and narrow and so the moment I heard her approaching me from behind I readied myself. From my peripheral vision I caught a glimpse of her passing and just at the right moment I swung the stick with all my might sending it crashing into her skull. She went flying off her bike and ended up in a heap on the ground a few feet away.

  It was dark but it was still early evening so I had to act quickly. She groaned on the grass, trying to sit up. I sat on top of her and punched her repeatedly until she wasn’t moving. Despite the fact is was freezing cold she’d chosen to wear a short denim skirt. Slut. Quickly I pulled if off of her and wrapped it tightly around her neck and twisted the fabric. Eventually I heard a pop in her spine and she was gone.

  I removed the penknife I’d brought with me from my trouser pocket and set to work on her eyes. I had to work fast. There was no time to prolong things with her. After her eyes were removed, I dragged her half-naked body to the edge of the river and pushed her in.

  Then I calmly returned to her buckled bike and wheeled it into the bushes. It was like she was never there. I straightened my clothes and casually made my way home.

  January 9th 1984

  We were married in August 1983. It was a low-key affair. From my side Dad, Dawn, Aunt Mary, her husband and kids came. When I told Trisha, at work, she was so excited I ended up inviting her. Her brown eyes shone with excitement and her bosom jiggled up and down as she hopped on the spot with delight. She appointed herself my maid of honour and insisted on coming dress shopping with me.

  Dad’s reaction took me by surprise. He was normally so damning but in that instance he said it was time I grew up and moved out. I realised he was pleased that I was no longer his responsibility. It freed up more money for beer.

  Dawn has been shocked. The look of her face was priceless. When it sank in she, too, was pleased. It meant she would have our bedroom all to herself.

  Larry’s parents and brother were at the ceremony along with his boss from work and an old school friend who I’d never met before.

  I wore a beige crêpe crochet lace maxi dress Trisha picked out at the charity shop. To begin with she was horrified I wasn’t going to buy a new dress. But I explained we needed to save money to afford a home. I told her I didn’t want to wear white. Larry said it was wrong since I wasn’t a virgin. I didn’t tell her that.

  Trisha insisted we went into a florist to order a bouquet. I told her that it seemed like a waste of money but she said I’d already cut too many corners.

  ‘You only get married once,’ she said. She helped me to choose some pink roses. I was carried away by her enthusiasm.

  Larry looked so handsome that day. He wore a dark blue pinstripe suit he bought from Debenhams, with a white shirt and black tie.

  We were married in the morning at the Shire Hall register office and went to a pub down the road from the council offices for lunch. Dad got drunk and offended Larry’s mum and Dawn flirted outrageously with Larry’s brother. He lapped it up and that annoyed me.

  We didn’t really have a honeymoon. Larry’s mum was very kind: she insisted we should spend our first night as a married couple together and booked us into a smart hotel in the city centre. Clearly she was desperate for a grandchild.

  A week after the wedding we moved into a two-bed, on Gunhild Way in the south of the city. I couldn’t believe it when Dad offered to help us with the rental deposit. I was grateful even though he couldn’t disguise his pleasure at getting rid of me.

  The house was sparsely furnished with old cheap furniture but I didn’t care. It was home. Over the months I did my best to make it look nice and welcoming. I bought knick-knacks and furniture from junk shops and Larry would restore them. I discovered he was good with tools and a paintbrush.

  Larry was still a trainee optometrist and would take his final exam in the autumn. I was so impressed and proud of him. He was happy working at Rook’s. Mr Rook was a great mentor, Larry said.

  Another body was found in the river. I heard about it from Trisha at work.

  ‘You know they dragged another body from the river yesterday?’ She was loving the drama.

  ‘No I didn’t know. What happened?’

  ‘A young woman apparently. Found in Grantchester Meadows by some kids bunking off school. One of them was my friend’s friend’s little sister and apparently the body was really beaten up.’ She moved closer and whispered. ‘The eyes were missing.’

  ‘How horrible.’

  ‘It’s like something out of a film, isn’t it,’ she mused. ‘I’m going there after work.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘To the site of course
. Apparently there’s loads of police and it’s all taped off, but I’d like to see the action. It’s quite exciting really.’

  I didn’t share her enjoyment.

  ‘Do they know who she is?’

  ‘Apparently but they haven’t come out and said yet. I suppose they need to tell the family and stuff first.’ She picked at her chipped purple nail varnish. ‘Do you want to come with me?’

  ‘No thanks. I’ve got to get home to make Larry’s dinner. He loves it when I cook for him. Says my food is almost as good as his mum’s.’

  ‘Proper little wife, aren’t you.’

  January 10th 1984

  The next day it was all over the news. Journalists were speculating that there was a serial killer on the prowl. The police refused to comment on the possibility. All over the city people were talking about it. There was fear in the air and people were being cautious with strangers.

  The victim was a woman called Jane Shanks, aged twenty-two. She had worked in a record shop. Her parents had reported her missing two days earlier when she didn’t come home. The officer on the case said women should remain vigilant and not to walk alone after dark.

  That evening Larry told me he knew Jane. ‘Yeah, I knew her. She worked in the record place on Bridge Street. I go in there to browse albums sometimes. She was really nice. Friendly girl, always happy to stop and talk.’

  ‘When did you last see her?’

  ‘A few weeks ago, I think. Popped in one day after work.’

  ‘I didn’t know you liked music that much.’

  ‘As much as the next person.’ He chewed his dinner. ‘How come you are so interested all of a sudden?’ Larry pushed the peas around his plate with his fork.

  ‘Just sad what happened to her.’ I didn’t have much of an appetite and slid my plate away.

  ‘Something wrong?’ he stopped eating and put his fork down. ‘You don’t seem yourself.’