The Next Wife: An absolutely gripping psychological thriller with a killer twist

by Liz Lawler

  ‘When do you need my statement by?’

  ‘Today, while it’s still fresh in your mind, if possible? I’ve given Mr Myers a few blank statement sheets for him to take home to you if you’re happy to handwrite it. Or you can email it to me and I’ll copy and paste it onto one.’

  ‘I’ll write it, Stella, it’s not a problem. You’ll have it back by tomorrow.’

  ‘Tess, I think if I were you, once that is done, contact the union rep. Get their help from the start.’

  ‘I will,’ Tess said.

  ‘Well, okay, Tess, that’s all I really needed to do today. Touch base. While this is under investigation, you’ll be stood down, so to speak. You know how it goes, Tess. You’ve been a band 6.’

  ‘I do, Stella.’

  ‘And don’t you be worrying about that husband of yours. We’ll be looking after him too. This has been a terrible shock for him as well. Understandably, he’ll be worrying about you. So, we’ll keep an eye on him. Tess, I’m going to go now, but please, in the meantime, take care of yourself.’

  After the call Tess stood still in the hallway to think about her husband. When they first arrived here, he had carried her into the house and set her down beside this table. She had been so full of hope and naivety then. It was shocking to realise how much blind faith she’d had, how willingly she let herself believe she had a happy future ahead.

  She mentally listed all the things she needed to do. Her statement for Stella was first priority. Get that out the way and then she could concentrate on other things. She would not wait until she got the statement sheets. She would write it now on some plain paper from his printer. She had plenty to keep her busy from now until he came home. She wanted to be ready by then.

  It was nearing four o’clock when she heard a knock on the front door. Looking out of the dining-room window she could not see his car and breathed more easily. Tess was surprised when she opened the door to see the old lady standing there, looking at Tess as if Tess was not who she was expecting to see. She’d put her hand to her mouth and just stood there considering Tess.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Tess asked, and then smiled kindly. ‘Have you come to the wrong house again?’

  The woman shook her head, taking her hand away from her mouth. ‘No, I’ve come to the right house, my dear. I came to the right house first time.’

  Tess stared at her and was now concerned. She’d had a gut feeling that something wasn’t quite right with her.

  ‘Is he home?’

  ‘Is who home?’ Tess asked.

  ‘Your husband.’

  Tess shook her head. ‘He’s at work.’

  The woman nodded, satisfied. ‘Then I have something to tell you,’ she said. ‘Your husband is not who you think he is.’

  Tess reared back slightly. Her eyes fixed on the woman’s face. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I know you don’t, my dear, which is why I’m here. You need to ask your husband a couple of questions, Mrs Myers. You need to ask him about his first wife and you need to ask him what happened to her.’

  Tess’s mouth was still hanging open as the woman scurried off up the driveway and away, catching a last glimpse of her fluffy white hair before it disappeared from her view. Was the woman mad? She was certainly eccentric. But was she mad? Was she wrong? She called Tess ‘Mrs Myers’. She had not got that wrong. Tess closed the front door and leaned back against it. Had he been married before? Had he a first wife? He surely would have told her this if it was true.

  Tess curled her hands and pressed her fingernails into her palms to get a hold of herself. Had he really kept this from her? After yesterday she didn’t know what was true anymore. Except for the fact that he could lie. That was true. And not little lies either. Monstrous lies at her expense. Nothing about him added up anymore. His odd behaviour and mood swings were part of a background that was blank to her. The call from the estate agent and now this old lady’s visit had blindsided her when she was already in the dark.

  Was her husband ill or just a liar? She had wanted to heal him, find the cause for his behaviour. She had wanted to uncover more layers to know him better. And now she had. Looking at his behaviour last night she would say he was a narcissist for doing what he did to her. Denying her the truth when she was already in agony.

  Had he a wife before?

  She needed to keep busy. She had computed this final information. She didn’t need to dwell on it now. It was there for her to think about when she was ready. She had to stay focused.

  A minute after six the clocks stopped chiming. The house was silent again. Tess sat on the bed waiting. He was late and delaying her now. She didn’t want to sit downstairs. She wanted to walk down them when she was ready. She was grateful for the bundle of notes she’d found in one of his drawers and had them stowed safely in her bag. It would be enough to allow her to walk out that door without resorting to sleeping on the streets. Though she would, if she had to.

  She looked around the bedroom making sure she had not left anything behind, but couldn’t see any of herself remaining there. She had cleared herself from every room. She wanted no part of herself left behind in this house. Everything not herself – the clothes and the perfumes he’d bought – could stay and were his for the keeping now.

  She sat up straight as she heard his car in the driveway. He was home at last. Getting up from the bed, she smoothed the covers where she’d sat. Then with head held high and shoulders back she put her bag over one shoulder, and picked up her suitcase. He was on the phone when he walked through the front door, and he hadn’t seen her or heard her yet. He was listening to whatever was being said to him and responding accordingly. A moment later she heard his goodbye.

  He sensed a presence and looked up the stairs at her. He showed no reaction at seeing her with a suitcase. She had her short speech rehearsed.

  ‘I’m leaving.’

  Tess ignored his mild tutting. The pauses in between the tuts sounding like he was giving her a slow handclap. She ignored the sad indulgent smile he gave her. She concentrated instead on reaching the front door. He halted her at the bottom of the stairs by stepping in her way.

  ‘I knew you’d want to run away from this, and I can’t say I blame you. It’s why I took your bank card.’

  ‘I don’t need your money, Daniel. I don’t need anything from you except for the truth.’

  ‘And what truth is that?’ he asked.

  She thought she detected a slight narrowing of his eyes. He was probably assuming she was referring to yesterday. ‘I had a visit from an old lady,’ she said. ‘And she said something very strange about you.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘And did this old lady have a name?’

  Tess shook her head, her eyes boring into him. ‘She said you’re not who I think you are.’

  ‘That’s what she said, is it?’

  Tess nodded.

  His expression showed concern. ‘Well, that’s all very interesting, but I hope you didn’t pander to this poor old lady. I hope you invited her in. She sounds like she needed some help.’

  Tess stared at him mutely. Was he stonewalling her? His reaction wasn’t giving her an answer. Was he married before? She wished that question didn’t hurt so much. It would be easier if she could just hate him and feel anger. Easier if her heart had not been so full of love for him. Because what did she now do with all these mixed-up emotions? How did they empty out of her? And where then did they go? There wasn’t a place to put them. Maybe it was better if she didn’t know. She was leaving with enough sorrow. She raised her chin determinedly. ‘Would you mind stepping out of my way? I’d like to leave, please.’

  ‘You may have to reconsider that after what I have to tell you, Tess,’ he said in a soft tone.

  She eased back from him, glancing apprehensively at the front door. Was this a trick to make her stay? ‘What are you talking about?’

  He looked briefly away, before his troubled gaze came back to hers. ‘I’m so sorry, Te
ss, but it’s not good news, I’m afraid. I think you’re going to need all my help to get you out of this mess. I’ve just had a call, you see. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’ve just been informed the patient is dead.’

  His voice was a little more impassioned than the one he used last night. The topic then had been about a live patient. Not doom, with no hope to come. She visibly shuddered.

  He drew his finger lightly down her cheek. ‘You poor thing,’ he said. Then he relieved her of the suitcase and put it down on the floor.

  ‘He’ll have a post-mortem,’ she said quietly. ‘It will prove I didn’t do it.’

  He pulled a sad face. Slowly shook his head at her. ‘It won’t. All that will be seen is the new suture I had to put in. That I cut. To replace the one cut too short. It’s a documented fact, Tess.’

  He sighed as he reached down to take hold of her hand. He raised it to his lips and kissed it lightly. ‘We have something to do now, though. I have your statement ready for you to sign. It’s already typed so you don’t need to worry about it. It just needs a signature.’

  Tess allowed herself to steal a look at his face. Seeing his beautiful eyes so matter-of-fact. He was asking her to sign away her life as if it were dispensable. How could he be so unmoved by what he was doing? Was he so desperate to save his own career? Or were layers hiding another reason? Something worse than that?

  She needed to be away from him. She needed to breathe a different air. But only a miracle could grant that. With this lie hanging over her head she was trapped.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tess listened to the silence. The ticks of the clock in the hallway seemed interminably slow in coming, as if deliberately delaying to make the day seem longer. Her suitcase was still in the hallway. It seemed so long ago that she had walked down the stairs carrying it, but it was just last night. She would unpack it and put away her old self again.

  She would have to stay now this patient was dead. She had signed a statement admitting to something she had done wrong. It was pointless to say her husband had written a lie, because he hadn’t. She had cut the suture.

  Under the explicit roles and responsibilities of a scrub nurse she had no permission to do that. She could assist with superficial wound closure. She could cut superficial skin sutures. These were ticked boxes in the list of permissions. Unticked: cutting deep sutures and ligatures under direct supervision of the operating surgeon.

  The Royal College of Surgeons had introduced the qualification of a surgical first assistant to safeguard both patients and professionals. It took the pressure off the nurse to surgically assist when tasked with the role of being a scrub nurse. Tess had yet to do the course, even though she could have, as the more experienced she got the more she forgot about what she was legally allowed to do. As a qualified SFA she would have had permission to cut deep sutures. This box was ticked.

  The responsibility lies with the surgeon doing the case to supervise. But how could he be held responsible if he didn’t know what she was about to do? She had caused this death, according to her husband, and would be blamed and the outcome decided by others. She was not expecting any decisions to be made soon, as it would be a protracted process. When you were going to take someone’s job away from them you had to make sure it was done by the book, that everything was done fairly. When you were going to stop a person from ever working in their chosen career again, well, then it had to be watertight.

  Tess would be struck off the register. Her licence to practise as a nurse would be taken from her. She had not just caused a mishap, she had caused a death. If her act was judged to be negligence, she could even face a criminal charge.

  Stella had advised her to contact her union representative, but with her husband as the surgeon saying she cut a suture of her own volition and then cut too short she had no defence. He would not admit to any nod he gave. That truth had been omitted from her statement.

  In the rooms on the first floor she put back things she would need to use again. Toiletries to the bathroom, hairbrush to the dressing table, books to bedside drawers, photos of her and Sara to windowsills in other rooms so that she could see her around the place.

  In the bedroom she pulled back the curtains and stared at the outside world. She was going to have to accept that her life was now different. She must make this her new normal, with her freedom to do and say what she wanted closed down. She turned away from the window. She had to live inside this house or find a miracle to clear her name. In the meantime she was dependent on the goodwill of her husband and all this help he was going to give. It would help if he gave back her bank card, but somehow she couldn’t see that happening. He had taken it to keep her penniless.

  When her husband arrived home Tess willed herself to stand still as his arms went around her to hug her hello. ‘How has your day been?’

  ‘Fine,’ she replied.

  He kissed the top of her head. ‘I’ve been thinking about you all day, wondering how you’re coping. I never asked how your talk went with Stella yesterday.’

  ‘It was fine,’ she replied. ‘Stella was very kind.’

  ‘She is, isn’t she?’ he said, setting her free so that he could make himself a drink. ‘She’s been very kind to me at work too. Well, everyone has really. Suzanne and Cameron send you their regards.’ He placed a cup in the coffee machine, pressed the button then gazed at her concerned. ‘That poor man, I think he’s more upset than anyone. I saw Stella giving him a hug.’

  Tess didn’t comment. She let him carry on making his coffee and settle the cup into a saucer. She had been reminded of another phone call.

  ‘I meant to tell you, yesterday the estate agent in London called to say they’ve sold your flat. They want to know when you’ll be able to clear the contents. I said you’d get back to them.’

  ‘I see,’ he said, moving to the table to sit down. ‘That is good news. I’ll have to give it some thought.’

  ‘I could sort it out,’ she quickly offered. ‘Being off work I could go and sort everything out so that you don’t have to worry.’

  He was shaking his head at her before she’d even finished. ‘No, it would be far too much for you when you have so much to do.’

  Her eyebrows rose in response to this and he smiled happily. ‘Go and have a look in my briefcase. I got you another present.’

  Tess set his briefcase on the kitchen table to open it. Her eyes noticed the new perfume first, then a Waterstones bag.

  ‘You can try the perfume later,’ he said. ‘It’s the books I want you to see.’

  She picked up the bag and eased the books out onto the table. One was a red hardback notebook. The other had a pale pink cover and was something to read. She kept her eyes lowered at the bold black words jumping out at her. Ladies. Etiquette. Politeness.

  ‘I thought it would be something fun for you to read. To give you some helpful tips.’

  ‘And the other one?’ she asked, keeping her eyes glued to the pink cover.

  ‘Ah yes, the other one, well, that’s for me really. To help you. I thought we could call it “Improvements”. What do you think of that title? I can write a to-do list each day with suggestions and ideas. Plan some weekly routines to help you with the chores and menus. A tidy house is a tidy mind, Tess, and with you not working you mustn’t idle your days away and get all depressed. You need something to keep you occupied. Without some structure this house would be very difficult to manage.’

  She raised her head and made her mouth form a smile. ‘Yes, good idea. Thank you for thinking of it.’

  He beamed. ‘That’s what I’m here for. Righty-ho, shall we say dinner for seven? Would that suit? I’m cooking you something nice.’

  She nodded approvingly, hoping she could now leave the kitchen, but he kept her there a few seconds longer by handing her the perfume box.

  ‘Don’t forget this,’ he said. ‘Put some on. This one might be better.’

  In the bedroom, Tess took a steadying
breath. She was suffocating in a life that was unreal. The book on how to behave, dress, speak was written for the Victorian age and probably was a fun read if not for the fact he meant for it to be taken seriously, to improve her and make her into the person he’d like her to be. He’d already corrected her dress sense, her manners, use of Facebook. What more did he want to change? For her to sit straighter, stand taller? Who was this change for? Was it just so he could control her? He was wasting his energy if so. He already controlled her. Or didn’t he know that?

  Had he let her take the fall to keep her at home? That would be for a worse reason than saving his career.

  When she presented herself back in the kitchen he was wiping the counter. He smiled at her pleasantly, making her wish she could read his mind, but he gave nothing away. She knew very little about any of his life. He had skipped through his childhood, giving just scant details. Two parents. No siblings. University. Then a doctor.

  When she’d met his parents at the wedding they’d seemed like ordinary people. During the briefest of chats his father said he’d been a plumber, his mother a sales assistant for British Home Stores. Both retired. Tess had only been with them a few minutes and it had seemed rude to have only said hello and goodbye. No wonder his mother hadn’t engaged with her more when she’d telephoned. Her daughter-in-law was a stranger to her.

  Tess remembered something odd about the seating arrangement for the top table, that she hadn’t given much thought to at the time. His parents were not seated beside him, but at another table. At the time he’d said it was because he didn’t want her to feel the absence of her own parents. She wondered now if it was for a more personal reason. Perhaps he was ashamed of them, with his father in an ill-fitting suit off the peg, his mother in an everyday floral dress. When his mother came to say goodbye she said it was nice to meet her as if Tess were a stranger, and had not just become part of her family. But maybe Mrs Myers senior had felt it the right way to say goodbye because her son was a stranger to her.