The Millionaire's Wife

by Shalini Boland

  ‘The daughter of Martin Spencer, owner of local luxury yacht company, Blue Swift, was killed while holidaying with her husband in Barbados. Eye-witnesses say her death was caused by a reckless speedboat driver. The investigation by Barbadian and British police to find and bring the culprit to justice continues.’

  ‘Anna? What do you think? Should I cancel today?’

  ‘Hm?’ I ease myself out of his arms and turn to stare at the screen on the wall, at the image of a massive yacht moored at Poole Quay. Then at the image of the victim. It’s her. But in this photo, she’s smiling at the lens, not lying dead with half her face missing. The reporter is still talking, but my mind can’t latch onto the words, and now they’re onto a new story about how it’s set to be the coldest January on record.

  Will is talking to me. Asking a question. I need to focus. Breathe. Calm down. But the words from the text: Your turn next keep replaying over and over in my head, sending shards of ice down my spine.

  ‘Anna?’ His voice breaks through again.

  ‘Sorry. Sorry, Will. I got distracted by the TV.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s going to be the coldest January on record. They always say the same thing every year, and it never is. I just wondered if you wanted to cancel our brunch today. To be honest, you do look a bit pale.’

  My legs are jelly. I walk over to the navy, velvet sofa and sit, perched on the edge, gazing at the fog, its tendrils swirling, silently tapping at the window. Normally, I’d love this weather – the spookiness of it would thrill my Scandi heart. But not today. Today it unnerves me even more. An omen of ill-tidings.

  ‘No. No, don’t cancel,’ I reply, even though I honestly don’t feel like going. How will I manage to act normally? But what’s the alternative? To stay at home chewing my fingers wondering what to do? To reply to the text? To ditch my phone and run away?

  ‘You sure?’ Will comes over to the sofa to join me. ‘You really don’t look so good.’ He sets his tea down on the coffee table and puts a hand to my forehead. ‘Clammy. I’m going to cancel.’

  ‘No,’ I snap. ‘Please stop worrying.’

  He raises his hands in surrender. ‘Okay. I just―’

  ‘Sorry, Will. Sorry.’ My shoulders slump and I put a hand on his arm. ‘You’re just being sweet and lovely, and I’m being a grumpy cow.’ I force a smile onto my face and lean into him. ‘I really want to go.’

  ‘If you’re sure.’

  I nod. I’m sure I can pull myself together. I just need to put all this out of my head for a few hours. Be my usual self. I can’t give in to the fear. The news report only told me what I already knew from the text, so why is my heart hammering and my vision blurring? I take a breath, hold it, and slowly exhale. I have to keep calm. This is all fixable. Of course it is. The alternative is unthinkable.

  Had I really believed I could move on with my life and forget about the past? Back then, my mind was a jumble, a dark mess. Until last night, I’d pushed that period of my life aside. Hoping it would all simply go away. But it hadn’t. And now the background hum of fear has amplified. Has become a roaring monster that’s here to collect its dues. But I don’t want to pay. I don’t think I have enough strength to face it.

  Chapter Seven

  August 2010

  The butterflies in my stomach weren’t just to do with the fact I was collecting my A-level results today. The nerves were kicking in hard because if I got good grades, it meant I would be going back to Sweden. It meant I would be assured a place at Stockholm’s School of Sport and Health Science. It also meant I would have to leave Fin.

  Fin now worked part-time in a local surf shop, which he loved. So far, we’d had the perfect summer together. Lazy days on the beach, partying with his new friends, staying up until dawn. We were in love. Had been inseparable since we’d first got together three years ago. I still hadn’t told him I was leaving, but I couldn’t put it off for much longer.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want us to take you in to school?’ Mum asked as I nibbled on a piece of toast.

  ‘I’m walking in with Sian.’ I dropped the toast back onto my plate, too antsy to eat.

  ‘Okay. Well come straight home after, won’t you. Don’t keep us in suspense.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Dad added. ‘I’m sure you’ll do well enough to get into college.’

  The sports course had been my parents’ idea. Their work in the UK had come to an end, so they were moving home to Sweden next month, and they’d automatically assumed that I would be going with them. My older brothers, Theo and Elias, had already moved back a year ago, which meant I would have no place to stay in England.

  The doorbell rang. I scraped my chair back, stood up and wiped toast crumbs from my t-shirt. ‘That’ll be Sian.’

  ‘Good luck,’ my parents said, standing to give me kisses and hugs. I finally managed to shrug them off, grabbed my bag and made my escape.

  ‘Hey,’ Sian said as I pulled the front door closed behind me.

  ‘God,’ I said. ‘I’m not looking forward to this.’

  ‘You’ll be fine. You always do well in exams.’

  ‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ I replied.

  She gave me a puzzled look, but I just shook my head and smiled.

  The roads were quiet, the pavements empty, the mid-morning sun already hot on our arms and faces. But, despite the blue sky and the mounting heat, I had a creeping sense that summer was already over.

  ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, Anna.’ Sian stuck her bottom lip out and blinked. She’d already been given an unconditional place to study Beauty Therapy in Bournemouth, so today’s grades didn’t really matter too much to her. Whatever her results, it wouldn’t change her plans.

  ‘Promise you’ll come and visit me,’ I said as we sauntered across an empty road.

  ‘I’ll try. It won’t be the same without you here. I won’t have you. Or Marco. I’ll be a nobby-no-mates.’ Marco had been Sian’s boyfriend for the last two years, but they’d split up when he’d gone travelling.

  ‘Do you miss him?’ I asked.

  ‘A bit, I suppose.’ She hadn’t seemed too upset when it happened, but you couldn’t always tell with Sian – she didn’t open up about her feelings easily.

  ‘You’ll make loads of friends on your new course,’ I told her.

  ‘Yeah, just like the “loads of friends” I made at school.’ She rolled her eyes.

  ‘School’s different,’ I said. ‘On your course, you’ll meet people who are into the same stuff as you. It’ll be way better.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  As we neared school, we spotted other students heading in the same direction, some chattering non-stop, others silent and drawn. I felt like I was heading to the executioner’s block. If I failed my exams, my options would be zero, but if I passed, I’d still end up doing something I didn’t want to do. How could I stop this?

  ‘Anna? Anna!’ Sian’s voice startled me as I stood in the middle of the pavement lost in thought. ‘You okay?’

  ‘I don’t want to go back to Sweden,’ I said.

  ‘Do you have to go?’

  ‘What else can I do? It’s not that I don’t like it over there – I do – but I don’t want to leave you or Fin, or the beach . . . I love my life here.’

  ‘Come on,’ she said, pulling at my arm. ‘Let’s get this over with, then we can talk about it after.’

  We followed a set of printed signs which led us into the sports hall where a queue had already formed. It was strange to be at school, knowing this would be the last time I’d ever be here again. The once impossibly tall climbing wall at the far end already looked smaller, more childish. The familiar smell of bleach and old socks took on an alien, nostalgic quality.

  Sian and I stood together waiting our turn, the stale air chilly, making goose bumps prickle my arms.

  Fifteen minutes later, I finally had the white envelope in my hands, my name printed on a sticky label on the front. The answer to
my future. Most of my other classmates were tearing theirs open before they’d even left the hall, celebrating and laughing, or being comforted by friends. Sian and I were quieter, our heads bowed. We left the sports hall, nodding at a few familiar faces on our way out.

  ‘Shall we open them now?’ Sian asked.

  I nodded, my heart racing.

  ‘Let’s go in here.’ She jerked her head towards an empty classroom and we snuck in, balancing our backsides on the teacher’s empty desk, our legs swinging.

  ‘You first,’ I said.

  ‘Okay,’ she replied. ‘I don’t know why I’m so nervous, it doesn’t even matter what I get.’

  I gave her arm a comforting squeeze as she opened the envelope and pulled out the folded sheet of paper. She opened it out and cleared her throat: ‘C in English, B in Art and B in Design Tech,’ she read out her results in a soft voice. I couldn’t tell if she was pleased or not.

  ‘Well done!’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I guess two Bs and a C is okay, isn’t it?’

  ‘You got three really good A-levels,’ I said. ‘I think you’ve done brilliantly. Loads of people would kill to get those results.’

  She flushed. ‘Thanks, Anna. Okay. Your turn.’

  I slotted my finger into the gap at the top of the envelope and tore along the crease. Now the moment had arrived, I felt strangely calm and unconcerned. I looked at my results without reading them aloud:

  A* for Maths, A* for Biology, A* for Sport and A for Physics.

  I had exceeded my own expectations, but I didn’t want to rub Sian’s nose in it.

  ‘Well?’ she asked.

  ‘I did okay.’

  ‘Let’s see.’ She took the sheet of paper from my hand and read out my results. ‘Wow, Anna. You aced them. Three A stars and an A. You could probably get into somewhere like Oxford or Cambridge with those results.’

  ‘Shall we go?’ I said, sliding down off the desk.

  ‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’ Sian raised an eyebrow. ‘You must be pleased, right?’

  ‘I suppose so. It feels a bit weird, to be honest.’

  ‘Your parents are going to be over the moon.’

  ‘And yours.’

  ‘Yeah, well, they’ll be happy I guess.’ She curled her lip.

  ‘Come on,’ I said, taking my results sheet back as she got to her feet.

  ‘We should celebrate,’ Sian said with a grin. ‘Do something crazy.’

  I couldn’t tell her that all I wanted to do was climb into my bed, curl up and go to sleep. I didn’t want to think about a new college and a new country. I envied Sian, staying here.

  We left the classroom and stepped out of the school building into a completely different day. Black clouds had gathered in our absence and I felt a dusty raindrop on my cheek, sensed the static electricity of lightning in the air just before it forked across the sky. A deep rumble followed.

  ‘It’s going to pour,’ Sian said. ‘Let’s go back to mine.’

  I shoved my results into my bag and we ran along the pavement arm-in-arm as plump raindrops splattered us, and puddles formed at our feet. Pretty soon, the drops became sheets which soaked us right through to our skin. As our feet skimmed the ground and droplets of water flew around us, I came to a sudden decision – one which made my shoulders lighten and my mind clear. A laugh bubbled up from my chest to my throat, escaping into the sodden atmosphere. Sian caught my altered mood and turned to me, an eyebrow raised.

  I slowed to a walk and Sian fell into step with me. ‘What’s funny?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m not going!’ I yelled above the drumming rain.

  ‘What? Not going where?’

  ‘To Sweden. I’ve decided – I’m going to stay here.’

  ‘Really?’

  I nodded, grinning so widely my cheeks hurt. I realised that the results in that envelope shouldn’t determine my happiness – I was in charge of my own future. I didn’t know where I would stay or exactly how I would manage it, but those were just minor details. I’d figure something out. Within seconds we were both laughing hysterically and jumping up and down together. I knew without a doubt that I was making the right decision.

  Now . . . I just had to tell my parents.

  ~

  ‘What do you mean, you’re not coming with us?’ My mum’s smile froze on her face before melting into disappointment, then progressing to something approaching anger.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, facing them over the kitchen table as the rain lashed down outside. It was early afternoon and I’d just got back from Sian’s. I hadn’t wanted to keep my parents waiting, but I’d been too nervous to come home straightaway. I’d known I was in for an almighty row. After their initial jubilation at my outstanding grades, this was a slap in the face for them.

  ‘You’re sorry?’ Dad said, running his hand over his almost-bald head.

  ‘Is this because of Fin?’ Mum asked. ‘Because it’s not fair of him to put pressure on you like that.’

  ‘Fin doesn’t even know,’ I said, pushing the tips of my fingers against the white melamine table and taking a deep breath.

  ‘Okay,’ Dad said. ‘So if you’re serious about staying here, we need to sort you out a university place, quickly.’

  ‘She’s not staying here,’ Mum cried.

  Dad shushed her. ‘They’ll all be falling over themselves to accept you with your grades.’

  ‘I’m not going to uni, Pappa. Anyway, all the places will have been allocated for the year.’

  ‘What do you mean you’re not going to uni?’ My dad never got angry, but in that moment I could tell he was trying hard not to lose it, his jaw tensing, his face turning a deep shade of red.

  Mum, on the other hand, was freaking out big time, wagging her finger at me and yelling. ‘You are coming with us, Anna, and that’s that. I’m not leaving you here on your own.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I’m staying,’ I snapped. ‘I’m eighteen. An adult.’ Desperate to stay calm, I took a breath and clenched my fists. I didn’t want to argue. They were in shock, that was all.

  ‘Anna,’ Dad said. ‘You have four As, you can’t throw away this opportunity. Let your mother and me help you get a university place in England, if you won’t come with us. You can see Fin at the weekends and come home in the holidays.’

  But my plans didn’t involve universities and weekend visits. They involved me and Fin being together, every day.

  ‘And where do you plan to live?’ Mum asked. ‘You have no money. No job.’

  ‘I can get a job. And I’m sure I’ll be able to stay with Fin.’

  ‘Does his father know?’ My mum got to her feet and started pacing around the table. ‘That man is a drug addict and he has all kinds of people at his house. You can’t stay there. It’s not safe.’

  ‘It’ll be fine. They have a garden shed that’s weather proof. It’s almost like a little Swedish cabin. We can make it homely.’

  ‘You’re giving up a place at a prestigious school, to live in a shed with a shop assistant?’ My mum threw up her hands in anger. ‘Anna Karlsson, you may have got outstanding A-level results, but you have no brains! No brains at all!’

  ‘Britt, calm down.’ My father placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘We all need to calm down and talk this through rationally.’

  ‘She’s throwing away her future for a boy.’ She turned to me, reached for my hands across the table. ‘Don’t you understand, you can do anything. Be anyone.’

  ‘Mamma, I’m already exactly who I want to be.’

  She let go of my hands and banged both fists on the table. Then she stood and left the room. I heard her march upstairs. Heard her bedroom door close with a loud click.

  ‘Give her time,’ Dad said. ‘She’s disappointed.’

  Thankfully he didn’t say he was, too. But he didn’t have to – I could see it in his eyes.

  They both blamed Fin, thinking he had persuaded me to stay. He hadn’t. It was my choice. But part
of me knew that if I’d told Fin about returning to Sweden, he wouldn’t have wanted me to go. He would have tried to keep me here. Maybe that was why I’d delayed telling him. I’d had to make the decision for myself.

  ~

  Granted, it wasn’t the most beautiful studio flat in the world, nor was it in the nicest location. But it was the only place in our price range that didn’t smell of cat pee or have mould growing up the walls.

  ‘What do you think?’ Fin asked as we stood on Florence Road outside a former Victorian hotel that had recently been converted into flats. The developer had squeezed as many units as he could into the building, without too much thought for its potential residents. But the smell of fresh paint had seduced us. As we’d looked around the tiny bedsitting lounge/kitchen with its separate shower room, I’d squeezed Fin’s hand, knowing this flat was definitely the one, picturing us ensconced within its walls.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said with a skip of excitement. ‘I think we should go for it.’

  ‘Me too. Shall we tell him?’

  I nodded. Fin kissed me, his fingers creeping up my bare thigh beneath my dress. I laughed and pushed his hand away. ‘Not here,’ I whispered.

  The agent was yammering away on the phone, but as soon as he’d finished talking, we’d tell him we wanted to sign the six-month lease.

  After trying everything they could think of to change my mind – bribery, reverse psychology, threats – my parents had finally accepted that I wasn’t going back to Sweden with them, and neither was I going to university. At least they were going to help us out with the deposit and two months’ rent up front. Otherwise, we’d be sleeping in Fin’s garden shed.

  It would be a struggle to afford the rent and bills, but Fin had managed to get a full-time contract working at the surf shop, and I had just passed my life-guarding course and been offered a job at a local leisure centre, starting the following week.

  As Fin and I stood waiting for the estate agent to finish his call, I took a breath, excited about all that lay ahead. It felt as though we were embarking on an adventure. Just the two of us.