The Housewife: A completely addictive and gripping psychological thriller
Page 26
Abroad. With a gasp, she dropped the phone and flew up the stairs, almost falling over her feet in haste. The office door was ajar. Inside, it looked as tidy as usual. She dashed to the desk and yanked out the top drawer. Their passports. They were gone. All three of them. He wasn’t going to risk her following. She stood a moment, wide-eyed, and then ran back downstairs, grabbing her phone and dialling.
It was answered immediately. ‘Emily!’ she said, trying to control the panic in her voice. ‘Paul has taken Emma’s passport. I think he’s going to take her and run.’
‘He rang a few minutes ago, Diane. He’s coming to pick her up in twenty minutes. I wanted him to wait until the morning, but he insisted that the best place for her was with her parents.’
The bastard. ‘I’m on my way. Will you have her ready to go? I’ll need to get away quickly.’ There was a heavy silence. ‘Please, Emily, I can’t lose her.’
‘Get here as fast as you can.’
Diane hung up and redialled. It wasn’t answered for a few tense minutes and then a sleepy voice, ‘Hello?’
‘It’s me. Everything has come to a head. I need your help; can you get here as soon as you can?’ Her grip on the phone eased when Anne responded immediately.
‘On my way.’
Waiting out on the road, she bit her lip as the minutes passed, breathing a sigh of gratitude when Anne’s car careened around the corner and screeched to a halt just inches away. ‘Quick!’ she said, jumping inside. ‘Just drive, I’ll give you directions.’
She checked the time as Anne shot through a junction against the lights, a flash telling them they’d have to answer for it later. Without wasting words, she filled her in. ‘Emma is staying with her teacher, Paul has taken her passport. He’s heading there. We have to get there first.’
With a nod, Anne increased speed. Diane checked the time again. Another minute and they’d be there.
As they approached the teacher’s house, Diane looked behind them. They needed to have left the cul-de-sac before Paul arrived. If he saw them, he could block the car. Heart beating, she jumped out of the car as it was still moving, stumbling before righting herself and dashing up the pathway to the front door.
It was opened before she got there, a grim-faced Ross standing sentinel. ‘You sure we shouldn’t just ring the police?’ he asked. Emily appeared with a sleeping Emma in her arms. She offered Diane a shaky smile before handing her over, her eyes glistening.
Diane took her daughter gently, pressing her face into her curly hair for just a moment. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said and, without another word, turned and ran back to the car. She climbed into the back seat with Emma still in her arms.
With a screech of tyres, Anne did a three-point turn and headed back out onto the main road. Diane looked back as they sped away, breathing raggedly and clutching Emma to her. They’d made it.
Once they were a reasonable distance away, Anne slowed to a normal speed. ‘You’ll be safe in Parkside Gardens,’ she said.
They would be. Paul didn’t know where Anne lived. She doubted if he even remembered her name. Tomorrow, she’d employ a solicitor and start divorce proceedings. If he agreed to let her have full custody of Emma, to keep the house until she decided what she wanted to do and, of course, maintenance, she’d keep quiet about those dodgy accounts.
She looked down at Emma, still asleep in her arms, felt her warmth and, at the same time, the deep, enduring, sorrowful memory of the other daughter she’d held; her darling, precious Jane. There had been so much pain, so much sorrow. Lifting her head, she met Anne’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. So much kindness too. ‘I owe you so much,’ she said quietly, ‘thank you.’
Anne nodded but said nothing.
Diane reached forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘You were right, you know, something terrible did happen in that room. When we get home, I’ll tell you all about it.’
Epilogue
It was a cold night. Diane had wrapped up well, a scarf around her head providing warmth and disguise. She’d found a good place to stand unobserved and she watched as Pam strode along the path to her house, looking as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
Sometimes, like tonight, when she went inside, she didn’t pull the curtains for a long time. Diane crossed the street to stand in the shadow of a tree and watch as Pam moved across the room to switch on a lamp. Her gut twisted as Paul entered the room, twisted tighter when she saw them kiss. She clutched a branch of the tree for support as she saw Pam throw back her head and laugh, her hand caressing his cheek. That woman and her husband.
Paul had said he could never forgive her for what happened to Jane, and it seemed they shared the same unforgiving streak. Because Diane would never forgive the woman who had stolen her husband and whose phone call had resulted in the death of her precious baby.
Her grip on the branch tightened as she saw her move to the curtains and stand staring out for a moment before slowly shutting them. She wouldn’t have seen her, Diane had become very good at hiding in the shadows.
‘Don’t worry, Jane,’ she whispered into the night. ‘I’ll make sure she pays for what she’s done.’ She listened for a moment and a strange smile flickered as, drifting on the slight breeze, she heard the soft gurgle of a child’s laughter.
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A Letter from Valerie
Dear Reader,
I’m so pleased you chose to read The Housewife and hope you enjoyed how the story unfurled. If you’d like to be among the first to know about future novels, please sign up here:
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The Housewife was a challenging, and at times, difficult book to write. I cannot begin to understand what it must be like to lose a child, so I hope I managed to convey the intense sorrow that Diane felt, a sorrow so deep and devastating as to rob her of her memory for a while.
If you enjoyed The Housewife, it would be much appreciated if you could write an online review. I also love to hear from readers, as it is one of the most enjoyable parts of being a writer, and feedback – both positive and negative – guides my writing. You can join me on Facebook or Twitter – the details are below.
Love,
Valerie
Acknowledgements
There are many people to whom I owe a debt of gratitude, so I’d like to take the opportunity to thank the following:
My readers, for reading, reviewing and commenting. It makes it all worthwhile.
The wonderful Bookouture team who produce my great covers and the amazing marketing graphics. My amazing and always-enthusiastic editor, Jessie Botterill, who makes me a better writer, and the dynamic duo of publicity, Kim Nash and Noelle Holton.
The support and encouragement of my writing friends has, as usual, been constant. I’d especially like to thank Leslie Bratspis for keeping me sane, and Jenny O’Brien whose novel, The Stepsister, kept me hugely entertained while I battled with edits.
My family, to whom this book is dedicated.
Published by Bookouture in 2019
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An imprint of StoryFire Ltd.
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
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www.bookouture.com
Copyright © Valerie Keogh, 2019
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Valerie Keogh has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.
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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.
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eBook ISBN: 978-1-78681-688-7
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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.