The Other Woman: A gripping debut psychological thriller that will keep you turning the pages

by Sandie Jones

  He edged his arms out of his navy wool overcoat, his elbow banging on the peeling dado rail that ran around the tight corner we were sitting in. He mouthed ‘Ow’, and I laughed, as he untied a tan scarf from his neck to reveal a smart blue shirt with the distinguishable polo player on a horse emblem on its top pocket. Adam favoured a certain Mr Lauren’s brand as well, but whereas his shirts were bursting at the seams, due to his broad shoulders and gym-honed upper arms, James looked comfortable in his, and the collar sat just as it should.

  ‘And work? Are you busy?’ I asked.

  He nodded as he took a sip of his cappuccino, leaving a white foam moustache above his top lip. I laughed and gestured to my own. His cheeks flushed a little.

  ‘Yeah, it’s going great. I’ve had to take two guys on to help me out, and I’m here in town for another meeting to hopefully secure some corporate work.’

  ‘Oh, great,’ I offered, already thinking of another question to ask.

  ‘A developer is looking for a local business to take care of some communal gardens, for a new residential site up by Knole Park.’

  I nodded. I’d heard Pammie talking about Knole Park, but I couldn’t recall ever going or its exact whereabouts.

  ‘I’ve got to go and pitch to them at the company headquarters in Euston but I was a tad early, so I thought I’d see if you were about. You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘Not at all. It’s worked out well, as I have an appointment in Aldgate. I’m just sorry that I wasn’t able to catch up last time you called. I’m often here, there and everywhere.’

  ‘No worries, it was just on the off chance. I know how busy you are. Still, you’re here now.’

  I looked at him and smiled.

  ‘And how’s your mum?’ I really didn’t care, but it felt rude not to ask.

  ‘She’s okay. She said you had a nice time at Loch Fyne.’

  I felt like I’d been punched in the chest. ‘Did she?’ I asked incredulously. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes.’ He laughed. ‘Why, didn’t you?’

  ‘Well, it was a little fraught . . .’

  ‘In what way?’ he asked, clearly confused.

  ‘We . . . had a bit of a disagreement.’

  He waited for me to go on.

  ‘I’d had too much to drink, your mum said one or two things that I didn’t like, and I’m ashamed to say, I retaliated.’

  ‘Oops!’ He laughed.

  I smiled. ‘Exactly!’

  ‘So how did it end? Are you friends again?’ He made it sound like we were two toddlers who had fallen out over a toy.

  I wrinkled my nose. ‘I hope so, though I don’t know how she feels. In hindsight, she was probably only trying to be helpful, but I gave her pretty short shrift.’

  ‘Well she certainly didn’t mention anything to me,’ he said. ‘Sometimes Mum can say the wrong thing at the wrong time, but once you get to know her better you’ll just learn to take it with a pinch of salt.’

  I felt oddly insulted that he thought I didn’t know her well enough by now, but had to remind myself that it had only been six months. How well can you know anyone in such a short space of time?

  ‘I hope so,’ I said honestly.

  ‘Trust me,’ he said, putting his hand over mine and looking at me intently.

  It felt like I’d been given an electric shock as his skin touched mine, but, although my instinct was to pull away, I didn’t want to make him feel awkward.

  ‘Excuse me, I ought to check my phone,’ I said, my voice slightly more high-pitched than normal. I hoped he couldn’t tell how nervous I was.

  I reached for my phone in my bag.

  ‘And how’s things going with Adam?’ he said, stopping me in my tracks.

  I looked at him, and his deep-blue eyes were staring back. I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to cry. Embarrassed, I reached for a serviette from the holder on the table and dabbed at my eyes.

  ‘You okay, Em?’ he asked, concern written all over his face.

  Hearing him call me that, like an old friend, made it even harder to hold back the deluge. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

  He reached across the table and pulled my hand away from my face, holding it still.

  ‘Do you want to tell me what’s going on?’

  I could. I so wanted to. But how would that be fair? I shook my head.

  ‘I need to go,’ I said, suddenly desperate to get out of there. I pushed my chair back from the table, but he still had hold of my hand, his gaze unwavering.

  ‘I’m always here for you, Em,’ he said. And, as I looked into his eyes, I believed him.

  I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, thumping like a drum. A sudden whoosh made me feel as if I was underwater, drowning in my own thoughts.

  I grabbed my bag off the back of the chair and pulled away from him. ‘I have to go,’ I said, before turning in a daze and weaving though the confines of the eight-table cafe that should only have four. I banged into shoulders and knocked cups as I went, spilling tea into saucers, warranting the ‘oi, watch yourself!’ that I heard as I reached the door.

  My head filled with James’s words as I rushed up the incline towards the Strand. I’m always here for you. I wanted to run. I had to get as far away as possible. Otherwise I was in very real danger of going straight back to him.

  19

  ‘What the hell . . . ?’ said Seb.

  I had to tell somebody – somebody who wouldn’t judge me – and although I knew I could tell Pippa in confidence, we hadn’t seen so much of each other since I’d moved out, so Seb’s was the first pair of ears I could trust.

  ‘So, you just walked out of there?’

  ‘Please, you’ve got to help me,’ I implored. ‘You’ve got to make me see sense in all this.’

  I’d calmed down in the twenty-four hours since I’d met James, but my head was foggier than ever. What had happened there? And why was it affecting me so much? He hadn’t meant anything by what he said, I was sure of it, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling of unrest. It wasn’t what was said, it was more about the unsaid.

  ‘I mean, do you think he was coming on to you? Like, seriously?’ asked Seb.

  ‘Yes! No . . . I don’t know.’ I groaned, dropping my head back onto his sofa. ‘It was just, in that moment, I honestly felt like I was capable of anything. I wanted to talk to him, kiss him, run away with him . . .’

  ‘Well, the latter wouldn’t have been very wise, but you probably could have got away with a kiss!’

  ‘You’re not helping,’ I said, slapping him on the arm. ‘This is serious. What am I going to do?’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, his face suddenly stern. ‘What do you want to do? Let’s explore your options. The way I see it is this: you love Adam more than anything?’

  I nodded.

  ‘But you think his brother is hot?’

  ‘Seb!’

  ‘Sorry, okay, right back with you. You don’t think his brother is hot?’

  I remained expressionless.

  ‘Ooh, okay, so you do? Just a little bit? Am I getting warm?’

  ‘No, I don’t know. He’s just so different to Adam. He listens to me, offers advice, doesn’t think I’m being paranoid about Pammie. He really seems to understand where I’m coming from, and we have a genuine respect for each other.’

  ‘And he’s as hot as hell?’

  I threw a cushion at him. ‘Yes, he’s also as hot as hell!’

  ‘I knew it!’ said Seb.

  ‘But it’s more than that. He makes me feel valued in every respect. Honestly, Seb, you know what I’m like, I can’t see a ten-tonne truck until it’s on top of me, but I could see it in his eyes. He would have done anything to help me, and knowing that makes me feel wanted. And right now, that’s a dangerous place for me to be.’

  ‘So, have things not improved any with Adam?’ asked Seb, serious now.

  I shook my head. ‘No.’ I could feel a stinging at the back of my throat. ‘James has j
ust caught me at a low ebb, and I’m pathetically flattered by the attention. If it had happened at any other time, I would just bat it away and think nothing more of it.’ I didn’t know who I was trying to convince: Seb or myself.

  ‘Okay, so that leaves us with a man you love, who you’re not having sex with, and a man you don’t love, but who you’d kill to have sex with?’

  ‘Well, thanks, Sherlock, that seems to wrap things up pretty nicely. But it’s not just about sex, it’s more than that.’

  ‘So, you haven’t imagined, for one second, being in bed with James?’ asked Seb, his gaze unwavering.

  I shook my head vehemently, whilst feeling my cheeks going red.

  ‘You’re so shit at lying!’ He laughed.

  ‘But that’s really wrong, isn’t it? I mean, there’s seriously something badly wrong with that.’

  ‘It is if you do anything about it, but for now, it’s locked up in a lovely little fantasy room that we’re all allowed to have and like to look into, but never actually enter. That’s the difference.’

  ‘So, what do I say to Adam? Do I tell him I’ve seen James?’

  ‘You’ve already got a whole world of hurt going on with that family, so I strongly recommend you don’t make it any harder on yourself. I think you should have told Adam that you’d met, but if you were going to do that, you would have done it last night. And you didn’t?’

  I shook my head. I’d thought about it, all night. I was like a cat on a hot tin roof, running it over in my mind again and again, reaching a different outcome every time. I thought about telling him that James had needed some recruitment advice, but that would lead on to another lie, and I could see it all quickly unravelling.

  Hot tears sprang to my eyes. ‘What a bloody mess.’

  Seb shuffled up the sofa and put an arm round me. ‘Hey, come on, don’t get upset. You should think yourself lucky, having two men fighting over you. I can’t even get one to have a fight with himself!’

  I laughed tightly.

  ‘So, you think I’m doing the right thing? I’m playing it right?’

  ‘As I said, there should be no guilt associated with fantasizing, just be sure not to act on it.’

  I sniffed. ‘I never would, not in a million years.’

  So why, then, did I agree to meet James for a drink after work when he called again a week later?

  I don’t know, is all I can offer. It’s not a good enough answer, but it’s the only one I’ve got.

  I’d not stopped thinking about how he’d made me feel, and I naively believed that if I saw him again, I’d be able to rationalize it in my head and put it to bed. How stupid I am. I should know that life doesn’t work like that, so why am I prepared to put myself in an untenable situation, as if to prove to myself that I’m in control, that I’ve got this, when, deep within, I know that, all around me, the sky is falling down.

  I could blame Adam. I could say that I no longer felt attractive, or wanted; that my husband-to-be made me feel unloved. I could say that he didn’t understand me or support me. And perhaps that was all true, but none of those justified me being unfaithful.

  ‘I’m not going to sleep with him,’ I assured Seb, when I called to tell him I needed to see James one last time, ‘for closure.’

  ‘Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?’ He laughed wryly. ‘Because I have to say, I’m not on the same page as you on this one. Go have your ego stroked if that’s what you need, but you’re playing a dangerous game here and you need to wake up to the consequences. If Adam finds out about this, even if nothing happens between you, you’re going to be in a whole heap of trouble.’

  ‘I know what I’m doing.’ I sighed heavily.

  ‘Do what you want, but don’t come running to me when the shit hits the fan.’

  I felt a bolt across my chest at that. Seb was open-minded about anything and everything, so to be told in no uncertain terms where I stood, compounded the gravity of the situation.

  ‘Call me when you’ve got your sensible head back on,’ he said, before putting the phone down.

  There was a tiny part of me that wanted James to cancel. It would have made things easier, drawn a line under whatever this was. But he didn’t, so, with butterflies dancing in my stomach, I walked into the American Bar at the Savoy, and his eyes met mine as I walked towards him.

  ‘Good to see you,’ he said, holding my shoulders and kissing both cheeks. ‘You look incredible.’ The word resounded in my head. Incredible. That isn’t how your future brother-in-law should describe you. Lovely, yes. Well, yes. Even great, yes. But incredible? Absolutely not. My heart raced at the thought that I’d not imagined the look he’d given me in the cafe, nor the sentiment behind his words.

  ‘What can I get you?’ he said, whilst raising a hand to the barman.

  ‘A glass of prosecco, please.’

  ‘Two glasses of champagne, please,’ he said to the white-jacketed man behind the bar.

  ‘What are we celebrating?’ I asked.

  ‘You are looking at the official gardener for Lansdowne Place at Knole Park.’

  ‘Oh, fantastic,’ I cried, instinctively pulling him towards me for a congratulatory hug. ‘You got the job.’

  There was the briefest moment when our faces collided, unsure of whether this was just a hug, a kiss, or both. We awkwardly extricated ourselves, but the touchpaper had been lit.

  ‘So, does Adam know you’re here?’ James asked, his eyes not meeting mine.

  ‘No,’ I said honestly. ‘I haven’t told him.’

  He tilted his head to one side, his hair flopping with it. ‘Why not?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to make things difficult for you,’ he said softly.

  If he could just stop staring at me like that. Stop brushing my leg every time he moved.

  ‘You haven’t. It’s worked out perfectly, actually. I was just around the corner at a meeting and with the Tube strike, it makes sense to wait a while before attempting to get home.’ That was all true. It was a normal day, just like any other. The part he didn’t need to know was how I’d spent it trying to convince myself that my French Connection miniskirt and silk blouse were my normal work attire, even though I’d worn nothing but trousers for over a month.

  ‘Are you bloody mad?’ Adam had asked, as he watched me dress that morning, tying his tie into a thick knot. ‘It’s going to be freezing today.’

  I mumbled acknowledgement.

  ‘And there’s a Tube strike, so none of us know where we might end up. You’d be better off in boots today rather than those heels.’

  ‘I’m all right,’ I’d said, ‘stop fussing.’ But the shards of guilt cut through my chest.

  The barman placed a glass of champagne in front of me, its tall stem resting on the double-layered coaster beneath it.

  ‘Cheers,’ chimed James, raising his glass. ‘It’s really good to see you.’

  We locked eyes as we took our first sips. I looked away first.

  ‘So, how have you been?’ he asked, setting his glass back down on the bar.

  ‘Mmm, fine,’ I said casually. ‘Really good.’

  ‘Strange . . . Your eyes are telling a different story.’

  I blinked and looked away.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s complicated,’ I said. ‘We’ll work it out.’

  ‘Are you happy?’

  What a loaded question. Was I? I honestly didn’t know.

  ‘I’m not unhappy,’ was all I could offer.

  ‘Don’t you think you deserve more than that? Don’t you think that someone else might be out there who could truly make you happy?’

  The air in my body felt like it had been sucked out of me. Tiny pinpricks of heat emitted from every pore, and my mouth felt like it was full of polystyrene, rendering me speechless.

  He looked at me, his eyes desperately searching mine for a response.

  ‘James, I . . .’
was all I could manage.

  He reached for my hand and held it. A frisson of electricity travelled along my arm, literally standing the hairs on end.

  Images flashed behind my eyes like an old-fashioned cinematic film, shuttering madly. I could picture us, making our way to a room on one of the floors above. I imagined us kissing in the lift, unable to contain ourselves for a second longer than it took for the doors to close. The urgency as we’d make our way along the carpeted corridor, my shoes being kicked off as we’d hang the Do Not Disturb sign on the door.

  We’d ignore the chilled bottle of champagne standing on the dressing table, and I’d picture the anonymous faces scurrying along the bustling street below, none the wiser to the deceit and betrayal that was unfolding just a few metres away.

  I’d wrap my legs around him as he pushes me up against the wall, our kisses intensifying as the heat in our bodies rises. We’d be clawing at each other, pulling our clothes off as he carries me over to the bed. We’d sink into the luxurious white sheets and his eyes would never leave mine as—

  Enough!

  I stopped my mind from racing on, knowing that it would only end with us lying there, lamenting what we’d done, and wishing we could undo it.

  ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have . . .’ he said, releasing my hand.

  I willed him to touch me again, so I could feel that bolt rush through me one more time.

  ‘I love Adam,’ I said. ‘We’re getting married. We’ve got our problems, but we’ll work them out.’

  ‘You deserve better,’ he said. ‘Adam—’

  ‘Don’t,’ I said, cutting across him. ‘This isn’t right.’

  I lifted myself off the stool. ‘I’m sorry, James. I just can’t do this. This is all wrong.’

  I thought of how carefully I’d selected my underwear that morning. What the hell had I been thinking? Had I really intended to go that far?

  ‘I need to go,’ I said, grabbing my coat and throwing it over my arm. ‘I’m really sorry.’

  The cold air hit me as I pushed through the revolving doors onto the street, the wind whipping up from the Thames making a buffeting sound as I exited.

  ‘Have a good evening,’ said the doorman, smiling and tipping his hat to me.