The Millionaire's Wife

by Shalini Boland

  ‘We’re okay, Steve,’ I say, kissing his cheek. ‘We parked close by.’

  ‘Well, come through and sit down. Sian and Remy are already here. We’ve all had bets on what time you’d get here. You’ve managed to surprise us – only ten minutes late. Is that a personal best, Anna?’

  ‘Cheeky,’ I say, poking his shoulder.

  He chuckles and leads us over to our favourite table near the back, on the small mezzanine area where our friends are already seated.

  After more teasing about our unusual punctuality, we sit – me next to Sian and Will next to Remy. Guilt instantly assails me. I promised Sian I would help her choose a wedding venue, but I haven’t been in contact with her since our girls’ night in together last month.

  ‘How are the plans going?’ I ask.

  She pulls a face. ‘I haven’t had time to look at anything yet. Too busy at work. And anyway, the weather’s been too crap to look at venues.’

  ‘Let me know when you’re ready to look,’ I say. ‘I can’t wait to have a nose around some posh country houses and hotels.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ She tilts her head. ‘I know you said you’d look with me, but if you’re too busy, I don’t want –’

  ‘I said I would, and I meant it. Call me with dates, okay?’

  She squeezes my arm.

  Will pours me a glass of the house white and I take a gulp, hoping more alcohol will ease the tension between my eyes and the racing of my heart. But instead, an acidic burn heats up my throat and dull dread beats a tattoo inside my chest, loosening my limbs and sharpening the sounds around me.

  ‘You look a bit peaky,’ Sian says. ‘Feeling alright?’

  ‘Just tired,’ I say, taking a slow breath, trying to quell the panic in my veins.

  Sian’s snaps her head up. ‘Is that . . . No, never mind.’

  ‘What?’ I follow her line of sight to the bistro window, but I don’t see anything.

  ‘Thought I saw someone,’ she says, smoothing an eyebrow with her forefinger.

  ‘Who?’ I cry. ‘Who did you see?’ An image of Fin flashes into my mind. The room slants for a moment and then rights itself.

  ‘Everything okay?’ Will asks. He and Remy are staring across the table at me like I’ve got two heads.

  I try to relax my shoulders and soften my facial expression. ‘Yeah, fine. Sorry. We were just chatting.’

  Will raises an eyebrow and I force out a smile. Thankfully, he and Remy go back to their conversation.

  ‘Who did you see?’ I hiss at Sian.

  ‘Probably no one,’ she says. ‘But it looked like . . . It looked like Fin.’

  As she says his name, my breath catches in my throat and I’m unable to swallow, unable to speak, unable to think, unable to stay seated here a second longer.

  I scrape my chair back, and everyone looks up in surprise.

  ‘Anna?’ Will says, rising to his feet.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say with a false laugh. ‘Bit forceful! Just going to the loo. Order for me, Will. Something fishy – sea bass or sole or something.’

  ‘Sure.’ He nods, sitting back down, a glimmer of concern crossing his face. I leave the table, making my way unsteadily to the door at the rear which leads down a narrow flight of stairs to the customer toilets. My heels echo down the stone steps and I press my right hand against the exposed brick wall to steady my descent. I have to pull myself together. I’ll splash my face with cold water, do some deep breathing. That should do the trick.

  Sian can’t really have seen Fin, can she? When I followed her gaze outside a moment ago, I saw nothing but the dark, rainy night. But why would she make something like that up? What if he’s lurking somewhere outside the restaurant?

  At the bottom of the stairs, I turn right and walk along the brightly lit corridor that’s lined with black and white prints of the ocean and other local beauty spots. As I push open the swing door that leads to the ladies’ loos, I feel hands snake around my waist from behind. I smile with relief and turn around, thinking my lovely husband must have followed me down here. Instead, I almost have a heart attack as I find myself staring into Fin’s hazel eyes.

  Before I can let out a scream, one of his hands leaves my waist and comes over my mouth.

  ‘Shh,’ he whispers, and releases his hand from my mouth.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I hiss, my heart still hammering. ‘You have to leave. Sian thinks she saw you! What if she comes down and finds you here?’

  ‘Don’t worry about Sian.’

  ‘This has got to stop,’ I reply. ‘Just leave me alone, Fin.’

  ‘God, I’d forgotten how good you look,’ he says. ‘How good you feel.’ His left hand sinks from my lower back to my backside, pulling me closer. ‘You smell like –’

  I wrench myself away, twisting out of his embrace, trying not to visibly shudder. How could this man – this murderer – once have been the boyfriend I adored?

  ‘I haven’t heard from you, Anna,’ he murmurs. ‘You only have one more day until your deadline, and I can see that Mr Blackwell is still very much alive and kicking. So when are you going to do it? Do you have a plan yet?’

  ‘Stop this, Fin. It was a stupid, juvenile fantasy.’ I clench my fists. ‘I didn’t for one moment ever think you were actually going to go through with it. So, no, I’m not going to kill my husband. And neither are you.’

  His lips tighten. ‘Sorry, that doesn’t work for me. I told you, I already carried out my side of the deal, so now it’s your turn. It’s too late to wriggle out of it.’

  ‘Fin, you’re a murderer. Do you understand? You’ve killed someone.’ I swallow down bile.

  ‘Yes.’ He raises his eyebrows and mimics my tone. ‘Yes, Anna. I understand.’

  I shake my head. ‘You’ve got your wife’s inheritance. You have more money than you could ever spend in one lifetime. You don’t need Will’s money, too. Just please . . . go and live your life. Leave me alone to enjoy mine. If you ever felt anything for me, then let me go. Just . . . God, just try and be happy.’ Although I wonder how happy he could ever be, knowing he murdered the person who loved him most.

  ‘Tell me, Anna, why did you marry Will? I’m sure it can’t have been for his looks and winning personality. He’s not exactly handsome and he looks boring as fuck.’

  I push my shoulders back. Will may not be traditionally good-looking, but he’s funny and kind, and to me, he’s the sexiest man alive. It sets my teeth on edge to hear Fin talk this way about the man I love. ‘Will being rich – it’s just a coincidence. Despite what you might think, I never married him for his money. I didn’t even know how rich he was when we met. He didn’t flaunt it. He’s not like that.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. He’s absolutely loaded. As soon as I saw you were marrying him, I knew you must have come fully on board with the plan. Becoming the wife of a multi-millionaire was like sending me a declaration of your love.’

  ‘Just listen to me,’ I hiss through my teeth. ‘Like I’ve told you a hundred times before, I need you to forget your “plan” – I make air quotes – ‘and get on with the rest of your life . . . without me. I’m not doing it.’ I glare at him.

  He looks as though he’s about to argue, but then he snaps his mouth shut, spins on his heel and leaves, his footsteps echoing along the corridor. I watch as he leaves, as he turns to go up the stairs. My heart is pounding, my palms clammy and I feel as though I’m about to throw up. I can’t let Will and my friends see me like this. I need to pull myself together before I go back.

  The distant sounds of the restaurant above swell and recede like waves rolling in and out. I push open the bathroom door and head unsteadily towards one of the two cubicles, locking the door and sitting on the toilet seat. Does Fin leaving mean he’s accepted my decision? God, I hope so. But I can’t believe it will be that easy. I know Fin. He’s stubborn and determined. And now he’s also a murderer. Saliva floods my mouth. I stand, lift the toilet seat and throw up my two glasses
of wine into the bowl. Shit, shit, shit. What the hell am I going to do?

  Chapter Seventeen

  I peer out through the casement doors to the back garden, but the rain lashes down making it difficult to see through the glass.

  ‘Anna!’

  There it is again. I’m sure that’s Will calling my name. He volunteered to take Bo outside for a pee, but it’s blowing a hoolie out there. I wish he’d put Bo on the lead, the little guy is in danger of being blown away.

  ‘Anna!’

  Okay, it’s definitely him. As I open the door, the wind catches it, flinging it back against the outside wall. I’m lucky the glass didn’t break. Panic grips me. Is Will okay? I can’t see him from here. Without pausing for shoes or a coat, I rush outside onto the vast, stone patio which wraps itself around the rear of the house, one-third of it taken up by the swimming pool that’s covered over for the winter. The wind snatches my breath away, and I peer down the garden trying to catch a glimpse of my husband, my ears straining to hear his voice.

  I move as fast as I can, pushing against the wind, down the sweeping, circular steps onto the emerald lawn, a decent sized garden by Bournemouth standards. The end of the lawn has been sectioned off with a wooden fence, low enough not to obscure the sea view, but secure enough to stop people venturing beyond as the ground isn’t stable near the cliff edge, especially after prolonged bouts of wet weather, like now.

  As I slip and skid across the grass, all I can think about is Fin’s visit to the restaurant last night. And how Will could be in trouble. In danger. Has Fin engineered something already? I still have a day left to act. Surely, Fin isn’t here. My heart hammers and I choke back a panicked sob. It’s my fault. I should have said something. Warned my husband. Please, God, let him be okay, and I promise I’ll tell him everything.

  Then I see him, a dark shape at the end of the garden. It looks like he’s lying by the fence. ‘Will!’ I scream. ‘Will, are you okay?’ No, no, no.

  To my absolute relief, he turns his head and waves at me. ‘Get Bo’s lead!’ he yells. ‘And treats!’

  Breathless, I dash towards the house, up the steps and into the kitchen where I almost slip onto my arse across the polished limestone floor. I snatch up Bo’s lead from the window sill, but I can’t spot his box of treats. My mind is whirling. Bo must have slipped through the fence. God, I hope he’s okay. At least Will is fine, I tell myself. That’s the main thing. I need the treats to coax Bo back, but I can’t think where to find them, so instead, I lurch over to the fridge, open the door and scan its contents, tearing off a chunk of chicken breast from a whole, ready-cooked chicken. Then I dash back outside and half run, half fall down the steps. I squelch across the sodden lawn, in my socks, towards my husband who’s now on his feet, calling over the fence to Bo.

  ‘Little monkey got through!’ Will cries out to me. ‘There’s a hole in the fence. I can’t believe I never noticed it before.’

  I look down to where Will is pointing and see that two of the wooden slats are missing from the bottom, making a gap just large enough for a small dog to wriggle through.

  ‘Bo! Bo!’ Will and I call his name, at first in the high-pitched voice our dog trainer uses, but then our voices change to a sterner tone. Nothing works. Bo isn’t heeding our cries.

  I lean over the fence next to my husband and scan the wild area of lawn.

  ‘There!’ I thrust out a finger as I spot a tiny, dark shape in the distance, a subtle movement beneath one of the holly bushes. ‘I’ll nip through and get him. Hopefully, this bit of chicken will lure him back.’

  ‘No, it’s not safe.’ Will pulls me back. ‘The ground’s really unstable out there. I’ll go. Give me Bo’s lead.’

  ‘No way,’ I reply, my mind filling with awful scenarios. I realise this has to be something to do with Fin. Fences don’t make holes in themselves. I can’t let Will go through there. What if Fin’s hiding in the undergrowth or behind a tree? What if he’s planning to . . .

  But Will has already forced the rusted bolt back on the gate and pushed it open. He snatches the lead from my hand and strides through.

  ‘Stay here,’ he orders.

  I ignore him, following behind, alert for any other sound or movement – any signs that someone is out here. It’s almost impossible to tell, though, as the wind howls and the trees and bushes sway and groan, branches creaking, the surf beyond crashing against the shore.

  Will says something, but the wind whips his voice away.

  ‘Can’t hear you!’ I yell.

  ‘The chicken!’ He holds out his hand and I place half of the squashed piece of chicken breast in his palm.

  ‘Bo!’ I call ‘Here, boy! Treat!’ As we draw closer to him, we can see he’s chewing and tugging at something gross, ignoring me and Will completely.

  ‘Tread carefully,’ Will says. ‘I don’t know how safe we are here.’

  Together, we gingerly step across grass and weeds towards our puppy, calling to him as we go. I wince as something sharp digs into the sole of my foot, but I ignore the pain for now. As we finally reach Bo, I catch sight of the jagged cliff edge ahead and I inhale sharply at the exposed earth and tree roots, at the almost vertical drop. A couple more steps and we would tumble down onto the concrete promenade below. No one could survive a fall like that. I hadn’t realised quite how close we’ve come to the edge.

  Now we’re near him, I can see what Bo is chewing on – a huge great slab of raw meat. How the hell did that get there? My blood turns to ice. I think I probably know. I whip my head around, trying to see if I can spot Fin. He could be hidden behind a tree or in the undergrowth waiting to charge us, to knock Will or me over the edge.

  ‘Bo!’ Will calls. ‘Here boy!’

  I join in, calling to our puppy. But he’s intent on his find, ignoring us completely.

  ‘Do as I say this time and stay here,’ Will says. ‘I don’t think the ground is strong enough to hold both of us.’

  ‘Don’t go,’ I say. ‘It’s too dangerous. Bo’s lighter than you. He’ll be fine. He’ll come back to us in a minute.’

  ‘But what if he runs the wrong way and goes over the edge?’ Will runs a hand through his soaking hair. ‘I’ll tread carefully.’

  ‘Will, no. Please.’ But it’s too late. He’s already walking over to the edge, and all I can do is watch.

  ‘Be careful!’ I cry out, my knuckles in my mouth.

  Will wafts the chicken over Bo’s nose and our disobedient puppy instantly drops the hunk of bloody meat, snapping at the chicken and wolfing it down in one greedy gulp. Will scoops him up, but as he steps away from the holly bush, I see the bush tilt over.

  ‘Look out!’ I scream. ‘Run this way!’

  Will freezes for a second and then does as I say, sprinting towards me with long strides, Bo in his arms. To my horror, the piece of land where he was standing only seconds ago has crumbled away, sliding down the cliff face. With a roiling stomach, I grab Will’s free hand, trying to pull him away, through the gate to safety. But he stops for a moment and turns back to watch as another metre of land crumbles away.

  ‘Come on,’ I yell. ‘It’s not safe.’

  He nods, and we run together through the gate, across the lawn, up the stone steps and finally into the warmth and safety of the kitchen where I slam the door closed behind us. My heart batters my ribcage, and the sound of our ragged breathing fills the room.

  ‘Wow,’ Will says with a strangled laugh. ‘Did I almost die back there?’

  I shake my head. ‘That was the stupidest thing, Will.’ I hit him gently on the shoulder. ‘You could’ve gone over. I could’ve lost you.’

  He breathes out heavily. ‘I think I need to sit down.’

  ‘Shall I make you some sweet tea? For the shock.’

  ‘Whisky,’ Will says.

  I wipe my face, tears mixing with rainwater. ‘I thought . . . I thought I was going to lose you . . .’

  ‘Shh, shh.’ Will pulls me into a bear hug. �
�I’m fine. We’re fine. Nothing happened, okay?’

  I sniff and nod, hugging him, mindful of Bo in between us.

  ‘Is he okay?’ I ask, stepping back and examining the shivering little bundle in Will’s arms.

  Will places Bo down on the kitchen floor whereby he promptly shakes himself spraying yet more water over us. We can’t help it, we both laugh, a kind of manic, hysterical, laugh of relief.

  ‘I think he’s fine,’ Will says, rolling his eyes. ‘You’re soaked through to your skin, though.’

  ‘So are you.’

  ‘At least I’m wearing a coat. And where are your shoes? Anna, you’re bleeding!’ His face creases in concern.

  ‘What? Where?’ I follow Will’s line of sight to the floor where I’m standing in a puddle of rainwater and blood. As I gaze at the red pooling liquid, the pain in my foot returns with a vengeance. ‘Ow!’ I gasp.

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I think I trod on something.’ I grit my teeth as pain pulses on the sole of my foot. ‘I remember a sharp pain, but then I forgot about it, what with you nearly plunging a hundred foot to your death.’

  ‘Let’s have a look.’

  I hobble over to the kitchen island, walking on my heel so I don’t bleed all over the floor again. Then I hop up onto one of the stools and let Will peel off my sock.

  ‘Looks like you might have trodden on a nail or a sharp stone or something. It’s not too deep, just a lot of blood. Is your tetanus jab up to date?’

  ‘How long do they last?’

  ‘Ten years.’

  I count backwards on my fingers. ‘Yeah, I had a shot about seven or eight years ago, when I was in sixth form.’

  ‘Okay. Let me grab some antiseptic and clean it up. I can’t believe you went out with no shoes on.’

  ‘And I can’t believe you walked over to the edge of a crumbling cliff in a rainstorm.’

  ‘Yeah, well, let’s promise each other to be more sensible in future.’

  I smile. But then I remember. None of this can have been an accident. This whole thing was engineered. A hole in the fence? A slab of meat left at the cliff edge? This was Fin’s doing. Suddenly anger churns in my stomach, hot as lava, turning just as quickly to ice-cold terror.