by Liz Lawler
Pushing her face into the wind she walked faster and took the path to the left. Further into the cemetery the grounds became utterly peaceful. The graves dotted on the sloping hills lay in dark grass and plenty of small trees guarded over them. Tess made her way down the westward incline and came to a halt as she saw the fluffy white hair.
She joined Martha at the grave and fixed her eyes on the name on the headstone. Rachel Simmonds. The surrounds would be put back when the mound of earth was settled, and eventually Daniel’s name would be added to the headstone below his mother’s.
Father John at the church had helped make this happen after Tess first made enquiries about a burial service. She sat with the priest and told him about her husband and he had then introduced her to someone she already knew. Martha. Her daughter Rachel was buried here, and Rachel’s father Edward King, ‘Ted’, was buried in the grave next to her.
Martha had shown her photographs of David Simmonds and Tess had been shaken by the striking likeness of father and son. Apart from a moustache, Daniel was the image of his father and poor Martha had thought Daniel was her dead daughter’s husband. Martha had not connected the dots yet and realised that Daniel had only recently died, she knew it was her grandson buried here and was just relieved he was now with his mother. She might question his age when the date of his death was inscribed on the headstone and that’s when Tess would help her understand. But that conversation was not for today. Not when Tess had a visitor coming to the house.
Martha inspected her quizzically. ‘That’s my scarf you’re wearing. He stole it from me from right here in this cemetery. He knew I knew his real name when he saw me as a patient. Shook him up it did. Caught him a few times staring out of the window looking for me.’
Tess felt a shiver run down her spine. She was remembering the times she caught him looking out of the window, and she now knew it wasn’t Anne’s scarf as she’d asked her. She hoped if he had done such a thing it was because he realised who Martha was and wanted to introduce himself. But if it was to do something bad…
‘Then God forgive you, Daniel,’ she whispered under her breath.
She squeezed Martha’s hand and suggested they go back for some tea as it was too cold to stand there. Martha picked up her large shopping bag, her tiny frame already moving past Tess to get back onto the path. Tess smiled. Martha loved having tea at the house.
Martha came down the stairs and Tess could see her brimming with happiness. She’d just been up to look at the cot. She was lost in the past but living it as if it was the present. A week after Daniel’s funeral Tess opened the front door to her. She’d come to offer her condolences. She entered the house cautiously and then a moment later it was as if she’d sensed the darkness was gone as she went and sat in the Queen Anne chair. From then onwards she’d been a daily visitor, happily following Tess around the rooms and Tess loved having her there. She knew sometimes Martha got muddled and regarded her as her lost daughter. Tess didn’t mind if it helped erase bad memories. After all, Martha was family. She was going to be her baby’s great-grandmother one day.
The Bradshaw’s book man smiled kindly at Martha as he poured her tea. They had been talking generally on topics Martha picked. Tess sensed he was a considerate man and was curious about him.
‘Is that how you met Martha? Did you find her watching the house?’ she asked him, quietly.
He glanced across and asked her to hold that thought. Then asked her if she was aware they’d never been formally introduced.
Mild surprise filled her eyes as she realised they hadn’t. ‘I only think of you as the Bradshaw’s book man.’
‘My favourite book,’ he said, deadpan. ‘Especially when I’m undercover.’
Tess appraised him more seriously, curious to get to know him. ‘Well, I’m pleased to meet you. Tess Myers,’ she said.
‘James King,’ he replied. ‘Though Martha prefers to call me Jim.’
‘That’s right,’ Martha said, coming back into the conversation. ‘He’s always been called Jim. Ted said it suited him better. James, he reckoned, was too big a name for a little boy.’
Tess stared at the two of them, her mind slowly adding it all up until her mouth dropped open. He was one of the people Martha lost sight of, one of the people who loved her who were lost from her mind.
‘But you call her Martha.’
Emotion briefly flickered in his eyes. ‘I think it made it easier for us both. When she lost Rachel that day I think the trauma made her think she lost me too, as she got confused about who Rachel’s little boy was. Martha had a breakdown and when she came out of hospital Daniel was already gone from our life. I was eighteen at the time and had just joined the police. When Martha came home and saw me in her house she smiled at me sweetly and told me her name was Martha.’
Martha took hold of his hand and traced his palm with her finger then she held it against her cheek. ‘I had to hide yours and Rachel’s handprints from your father.’
Jim had a glimmer of tears in his eyes, but no embarrassment on his face.
‘That’s right, Martha,’ he said. ‘Rachel’s and mine. She painted our hands and we left prints on the wall. We helped you move the bed and the drawers to cover them.’ Then he looked at Tess. ‘Martha is my mother. My incredibly brave mother. And Rachel was my incredibly brave older sister.’
Tess stared at the two of them and felt quite stunned. All the time she’d been surrounded and watched over by Daniel’s grandmother and his uncle. She didn’t realise she was crying until Martha handed her a clean hankie.
‘It’s just hormones, dear. I was exactly the same when I was expecting.’
Jim patted his mother’s hand gently.
‘That’s right, Martha. She’ll be fine in a minute. It’s a lot to take in all in one day. A lot for anyone to take in,’ he said, looking at Martha and then at Tess. ‘But you’ll get there. You’ll see. You’re not alone. You have family now.’
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A Letter from Liz Lawler
Dear reader,
I want to say a huge thank you for choosing to read The Next Wife. If you did enjoy it, and want to keep up to date with all my latest releases, just sign up at the following link. Your email address will never be shared and you can unsubscribe at any time.
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I hope you loved The Next Wife and if you did I would be very grateful if you could write a review. I’d love to hear what you think. I was inspired to write this story from working in a railway station and seeing all the people taking the train. Going to work. Going on holiday. Or shopping or visiting family or friends. It’s incredibly sad sometimes to meet people who don’t know where they’re going. They’re not lost because they don’t know where they are. They’re lost because of unhappiness. When I wrote this story I found myself remembering them and hoping that they found a new journey. We never know who we will meet, but I’m always mindful of that person stood beside me on a platform, they may not always have a journey to make.
I love hearing from my readers – you can get in touch on my Facebook page, through Twitter, or Goodreads. If I’m late in responding please never think it’s because I don’t care or that I’ve ignored your name, it’s only because I’m absent for a little while writing.
Thanks,
Liz Lawler
Acknowledgements
So many amazing people have been with me on this journey who I wish to thank. So casting all barriers aside I’m just going jump right in and say this from the heart.
I’m indebted to my agent, Rory Scarfe, for being
by my side and believing in me. Only seventeen more books to go before we say goodbye.
I would like to thank my editor, Cara Chimirri, for her unwavering support and amazing insight at seeing a better way for me to tell this story. It has a been complete pleasure to work with you.
I’m extremely thankful to the brilliant Bookouture team for all their hard work and creativity that went into the making of this book and am thrilled it was given such a showstopping cover!
I would like to give a very special thank you to Miss Samantha Williams BSc MBBS FRCS (Gen Surg) Oncoplastic Breast Surgeon for sharing her awesome expertise and for showing these characters in this story how it’s really done! And for going to ingenious lengths to deliver me a perfect letter.
All mistakes are of course mine.
Thank you to Theatre Sister Alena Studentova and Registered General Nurse Mr Srinivas Bailoor Pai for letting me walk in your shoes and stand at the operating table. Your help was invaluable.
I wish to extend my sincere gratitude to Inspector Shawn Taylor for tirelessly answering all my questions in such a generous manner and for allowing me to shadow the officers. Thank you to PCSO James Turner for your kindness for explaining so many details I didn’t understand.
Closer to home, my husband Mike. Thank you for putting up with a pyjama-clad wife for half a year and for not minding too much that I thought we were in September when we were only in March. I couldn’t have done it without you!
My thanks to Martyn Folkes for keeping it honest. My brother-in-law Kevin Stephenson and sister Bee Mundy for reading all of first and second drafts! Bradley Gould for dropping everything and sorting out my lost files and for lending me his name also. Michael Knight, my son-in-law, for knowing about trains. Harriet, my daughter-in law, for forcing me to take breaks and watching out for me! To my brothers and sisters for being there when I finished.
To the loves of my life Lorcan, Katie, Alex. Thank you for letting me spend a crazy amount of time away from you without once asking if I’m nearly finished. Alex, thanks for sharing lockdown with me and putting up with my habit of mumbling to myself as I write.
To Darcie, Dolly and Arthur the lights of my life always.
To the incredible frontline workers. You inspire me every day.
To the amazing GWR team at Bath Spa railway station. This story started there. From wondering about all the people who start their journey by getting on a train. To wondering where their journeys end.
Finally, for Mum. Hope you like Martha…
Published by Bookouture in 2020
An imprint of Storyfire Ltd.
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
www.bookouture.com
Copyright © Liz Lawler, 2020
Liz Lawler has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.
eBook ISBN: 978-1-80019-142-6
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.