by Liz Lawler
Tess gazed at her confused. ‘Well, where is he?’
Vivien smiled. ‘If you don’t know then I’m sure I don’t. Look, let me quickly reply to Mark and then I’m going to make you a cup of tea.’
Vivien returned with a tray which she set on a table beside Tess. As well as the tea she’d made ham sandwiches cut into triangles and artfully arranged with cut-up cucumber and tomato for garnish.
‘You need to eat and not to worry. Your errant husband has at last sent word with an apology.’
Tess felt nauseous and didn’t want the sandwiches, but she’d try to eat them seeing the effort gone into making them.
‘Thank you, Vivien, and thank you for being so kind.’
Vivien sat down on the sofa. She moved a cushion onto her lap to get more comfortable and then sat back. ‘I can’t quite fathom you, Tess. I thought most nurses were chatty and confident and a bit bossy. You don’t seem any of those things.’
Tess wanted to answer that she was once all those things, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t be sure anymore of who she had been, or if she’d just been an imitation of how a person should seem.
‘How do I seem?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know, Tess. Like a guarded little secret, I think. Holding your true self hidden from all the world. You remind me of my daughter. She had pretty blue eyes like you and I could never fathom what she was thinking.’
Tess wanted to look away. Vivien’s eyes had changed. A buried sorrow was showing, and Tess wanted to let her be private, have a moment alone. It passed as Vivien sipped her tea, and then she seemed to shrug it away.
‘Come on, eat up. I want you to show me this lovely house of yours. I’m dying to see it properly.’
Tess could have had a friend in this woman, she realised. She sat curled in her armchair watching Vivien’s mouth move as she talked and cherished the moment, getting the same feeling of peace she’d had with Cameron. They spent an age in every room as Vivien was fascinated and wanted to ask where everything had come from. She loved the old headboards and abundance of white linen found in blanket boxes at the ends of beds. She was curious about Tess’s tastes and wanted to know if she had chosen it all. Tess told her Daniel had, and she hadn’t seemed surprised.
‘He’s a bit old-fashioned, isn’t he?’ she remarked. ‘Mark says he’s very conservative. Always sits proper in the dining hall at work.’ She wrinkled her nose impishly. ‘I think you’ve got yourself a Mark Darcy there, Tess. Or should I call you Bridget? Does he fold his underpants?’
Tess smiled amiably, but declined to answer. She was becoming fond of this woman and didn’t wish to disillusion her.
When the tour was over Vivien buttoned her pale blue jacket and inspected her face and hair in a compact mirror. ‘There. Not bad, if I say so myself. It’s been a pleasure spending time with you, Tess. Mind to take some more tablets in an hour.’ She was halfway out the door when she swung back. ‘Almost forgot, this was left on your doorstep while you were sleeping.’ She stepped over to a table and picked up a brown envelope to hand her. ‘Why they left it there and couldn’t post it, I don’t know.’
‘Did you see who left it?’ Tess asked.
‘I didn’t I’m afraid. I thought I heard a tap at the front door, but that was all that was there when I opened it. Now, I really must be off. So take care and make sure you rest.’
The silence was complete after Vivien closed the front door. Her noise and energy were gone from the room, leaving it suddenly quiet. Tess was holding her breath with fear of opening the envelope in her hand. The postcard sender had got another message to her while she was indoors unaware.
She carried her tray out to the kitchen and rinsed the dishes with her one good hand before placing them in the dishwasher. She checked around the kitchen for evidence of Vivien’s visit, then returned to her chair in the drawing room and opened it. Inside was another postcard.
I have learned a few things today that have increased my concern. I am giving this matter some consideration. In the meantime I would advise you to be careful.
Tess breathed out harshly. These messages felt so intrusive, and what did this last one mean? What had this person learned? She stared at the postcard with eyes filled with worry. Who was this person? Why didn’t they leave her alone? She had enough going on in her life without having some stranger think they could come and be part of it. Was she to have no control over it?
She needed to resolve the mystery of the journal writer before she was free to leave. She would have to find the courage to stay in order to do that. She’d learned nothing useful from his parents. They hadn’t seen him in nearly fifteen years. Hadn’t a clue about what he’d been up to during all of that time. He could have been married ten times over and had a dozen kids during that period for all they knew.
She got up out of the chair and went and fetched the black book. She owed it to this woman to at least read it all.
Tess read a dozen or more pages, and the more she read the more the woman’s narrative sounded like her own thoughts, how she would write if this were her account. Tess could feel the woman’s hope slipping, her panic rising the more she was controlled. What would the police think of this book if they were to read it, Tess wondered? Would they regard it as proof of a first wife or only the words of an unknown author?
She turned another page.
He looks at me as if I’m invisible and yet I know he is watching me more closely than ever. He has locked the garage door so that I can’t take the car. Robert has not turned up this week and I am worried as to why. If he gets rid of Mrs Bowden then I will know for sure he is planning something.
If it was not just myself I had to fear for I would run right now with only the clothes on my back, but I can’t run with a child. I need somewhere secure to keep us safe and I am hoping this place I have found will be mine in the next week. I have sold my jewellery apart from my wedding ring, which he would notice if gone, and have enough to pay for a month. It will buy me time to think of our future.
Tess sat back in surprise. The woman was a mother. Was Daniel a father? She had not thought to discover this. It made sense of why she would stay. She had put up with it because of her child. The red wooden trike in the garage had probably belonged to the child. She needed the woman’s name. It couldn’t be that difficult to find out. She could ask the people next door or just ask her husband outright. He must know who he bought this property from. Unless that was a fabrication as she suspected, and already his to own. He would know the name of the woman then as she would have been his wife. She would pick the right moment and ask him. But that might not be this evening after what Vivien had said. It was probably best to wait until tomorrow.
Chapter Forty
Tess jolted awake to the sound of breaking glass. She shot up in the bed and listened intently. It sounded like little explosions of glass and she wondered for a moment if it was the glass shower door smashing to the floor. But that would have been one big noise. The noises continued with one sharp sound after another, and she was sure it was coming from the bathroom. Was he in there wrecking it? She got out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown and slippers. Quietly easing open the bedroom door, the stench of perfume pervading the landing caught the back of her throat. She took one step out of the room and froze. He was holding something large in one hand.
‘Where is it?’ he asked in a voice that sounded desperate.
‘Where’s what?’ she replied, feeling alarmed at seeing him like this and at a loss to know what he was talking about.
‘You know what,’ he growled softly. Then he held up something in his hand and sniffed it deeply and Tess saw it was a cushion from off the sofa downstairs. ‘You found it, didn’t you? You were keeping it from me. Show it to me!’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Daniel!’ She gazed at him stupefied, needing some enlightenment.
‘Her perfume, damn you! You found it, didn’t you?’
Tess’s eyes
darted from the cushion to his face and it dawned on her he could be smelling Vivien’s perfume. Though why that should disturb him to this state she didn’t know. He was standing there looking at her with crazed eyes like a rabid dog. Vivien had sat with a cushion on her lap and her scent must have transferred to it.
‘It’s Vivien’s perfume you can smell,’ she quickly said. ‘She came here to see me. It’s hers.’
‘Hers? Why would she have it?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘I don’t know, Daniel,’ she said, using his name again to get through to him. ‘I don’t know, but I’ll ask her for it. I’ll get it for you, I promise. Tomorrow, I’ll get it for you.’
He held the cushion to his chest and bowed his head. Then without another word he walked towards their bedroom, and leaving her out in the corridor quietly shut the door. Tess trembled with shock and relief. She waited for more than an hour until she was sure he was asleep, and then carefully and slowly so as not to make a sound, she made her way to the bathroom. Broken glass was everywhere and the room reeked from the wet spillages.
She spent the rest of the night clearing up all the broken bottles of perfume that had been smashed on the bathroom floor. The task was time-consuming as she was doing it all one-handed. She removed towels and flannels and bathroom mats, and repeatedly washed every inch of the bathroom: the walls, the floor, every surface. As if it was a crime scene, she washed away all evidence. Lastly, removing her night clothes and the leather slippers, she put them and the other items on a hot wash. In the downstairs bathroom she showered without soap, removing the bandage from her hand, letting the dressing soak off and fall in the shower tray. She didn’t want any scent to linger on her. She didn’t want him reminded of it in the morning. The only thing left to wash was the cushion he’d taken to bed.
Tess could not believe the scene she’d witnessed, his frantic behaviour caused by a perfume. She recalled his reaction over the bedroom curtains and her mind couldn’t switch off her suspicions. Was it his first wife’s perfume he was talking about? He’d called it her perfume. Had he been being buying Tess perfume and all the while searching for her scent? Was this why he’d married her? Had he been trying to recreate his first wife all along? Had he picked someone like her because he knew she was vulnerable, that she wanted to belong and therefore seen her as malleable? Someone he could train into shape? She needed to find the old lady to get to the truth. She felt sick at the thought of him buying her these perfumes just so he could remember his first wife. She wanted to leave this house today and forever.
In the morning her eyes were gritty and she was careful to stay alert. She was cautious in everything she did or said. She prepared his breakfast and served him carefully. She took care that she was dressed in a skirt and blouse and flat shoes. He was silent and sat at the kitchen table, still and staring at nothing but the wall in front of him, and only the careful sounds Tess made were heard. She wiped and cleared away the used dishes and pans, swept and washed the floor of any crumbs and stickiness, opened and shut cupboard doors, and all with necessary quietness. She was the mouse and he was the cat and she’d rather not let her presence disturb him.
Quietly she opened the ‘Improvements’ book and took a pen to tick off the shower chore. Remembering the doorstep she ticked that job too. When she stepped back and found him right behind her she couldn’t help but breathe fast, and before she knew it she was hyperventilating, unable to get any breath. Her fingers were tingling and dots floated before her eyes. He spoke calmly and told her to take deep breaths, to slow her breathing down, to drop her shoulders and let her arms hang loose, calmly talking to her all the time until her hands un-clenched and she was able to take a breath again properly. Then he kneaded her shoulders lightly and spoke to her in a quiet voice.
‘You know you make me not like myself sometimes. You make me do things that I’m not comfortable with. This panic attack made me very uncomfortable. I’m going to work now. I’ll see you later.’
After he left she sagged with relief. She needed to be careful every moment now. When she was settled she fetched the cushion from the bed, and then gathered the linen as well, shoving the dark cushion cover in with the whites to wash out the last of the scent. She put the tumble dryer on for the load she washed in the night, throwing the ruined red leather slippers into the bin.
At ten o’clock she went to check for any post and saw two letters for her – one from the hospital and one from the postcard messenger. She ripped open the brown envelope first and had to stem the rise of a second panic attack.
I have a plan to make him stop. I shall be contacting your husband soon.
She fast paced the kitchen floor, fear growing with every thought. Everything was out of control. She felt threatened by the tone of the message. Should she tell her husband about the postcards? She leaned over a kitchen chair and gulped air.
The sound of trains pounded in her head. In her dreams she had seen herself standing at the very edge of a platform right over the yellow line, like an athlete, preparing to run. She’d heard the starter pistol fire and felt herself running through air, taking leaps from soft clouds. On the ground she saw runners passing her, but she didn’t mind. She was smiling with arms flung open wide, ready to embrace the smooth green-and-yellow bird flying fast towards her to carry her away.
She was tempted to leave right now and find somewhere. She wanted to… yet she couldn’t while there were things left unanswered. She had to finish what she’d started and uncover all his lies. She would not give up and be beaten by this weakness.
She read the postcard again. How did this person even know what was going on? And what did they plan to do? Maim her husband? Warn him? The offer was tempting. She should let someone stop him. To make him aware someone knew what he was doing to her. He should be told about his behaviour. Regardless of her own destiny her husband ought to be stopped before he targeted some other woman.
She sat down at the table to read her other mail. The letter from the hospital was what she’d expected. She was invited to a hearing on Friday November 6 at one o’clock and encouraged to bring a representative with her, where she would be given the opportunity to give her account of what happened that day. A week today, or as good as, her career as a nurse would be over. She shook her head, feeling surprisingly calm, thinking life just didn’t get any better.
Or any more strange either, as her eyes followed the fluffy white head passing by the kitchen window. Tess jumped up from her chair, going quickly to the back door and yanking it open. The old lady jumped back in alarm and let go of a cat. Tess regretted frightening her as she saw her inhale sharply and grab onto the wall. What on earth was she doing bringing Tess a cat?
‘I’ve startled you again,’ Tess said. ‘I’m so sorry. Will you come in and sit down?’
The woman stayed where she was, slowing her breathing, and shook her head.
‘I can’t step inside this house. Too many memories,’ she said breathlessly. ‘And I have to get back. Jim thinks I’m having a lie down.’ She stared around her at the ground. ‘What happened to the little cat? I was bringing it into your garden before it got run over.’
Tess realised the woman, although wearing a coat, had slippers on her feet, and wondered how far she’d walked in them.
‘Can I walk you home?’ she offered.
‘No, Jim will see you and then I’ll be in trouble for bothering you.’ She pointed at the bandage on Tess’s hand. ‘Did he do that?’
Tess went to shake her head, but found she couldn’t. ‘Yes, he burned me.’
The old lady nodded. ‘He did that to his first wife. Burned her leg with a poker, accidently on purpose, of course. Why are you still here? You haven’t got a bairn to worry about. You should be gone. You’re in danger living here.’
The woman turned to leave and Tess stopped her. She had to ask if it was true. If she was absolutely sure Daniel was married before?
‘What happened to his first wife and child? Wh
ere is she now?’
The woman’s tiny form seemed to shrink smaller as she gazed back at Tess. ‘They’re dead. That’s what happened to them, and your husband is free. He murdered them.’
Tess gasped. ‘That’s not possible. How can that possibly be true? He’s a doctor. They wouldn’t let him work if what you say is true.’
‘I told you,’ she said. ‘He’s not who you think he is. He was a doctor before, but he’s changed his name. He wasn’t called Daniel Myers then. He was called David Simmonds. Your husband is a murderer, Mrs Myers. Make no mistake about that.’
Chapter Forty-One
The front door banged shut and she jumped from her seat. His footsteps tapped hard and quick on the stone tiles in the hallway. He came straight into the drawing room and walked past her fast to get to the drinks cabinet, without acknowledging her. He poured half a tumbler of neat whisky and knocked it straight back and then followed it with another before slamming the glass down and breathing out harshly.
‘Bastards! Absolute bastards,’ he shouted as he grabbed the glass back up and flung it across the room.
Tess watched it land without breaking and skid along the thin carpet to the wall. She gaped at her husband, alarmed at hearing him shout so loud.
‘What’s happened?’
‘My patient’s dead. That’s what’s happened. And the bastards are holding me accountable!’
He was unravelling, she realised. Something in him was out of control. Last night he’d behaved like a madman over a perfume. Something happened yesterday to make him go AWOL. Something from his past to cause this downward spiral. He wouldn’t have forgotten about a serious operation. So why was he not there to do it? ‘Why?’ she dared to ask.
‘Because I delayed his operation by a day. A fucking day and they’re blaming the delay for his death. They all have their glass balls out as if they can tell the fucking future. Like a bunch of witches trying to tell me, tell me, about my own patient!’