The Ex-Husband

by Hamilton, Karen

  Someone steps off the boat carrying a medical bag. The onboard medic rushes up to have a word and takes out a first-aid kit.

  ‘I really wish everyone would stop talking about me as if I can’t hear. I don’t need a doctor,’ I say. ‘I need someone to listen to me.’

  ‘She’s in shock,’ says Thomas. ‘She’s not making sense. She was attacked yesterday and then she received some bad news.’

  A light is shone in my eyes. I try to push the doctor away and stand up, but my bones feel weak. I am shivering and feel nauseous.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say.

  My standard response of late.

  ‘Let’s get her back to our cabin,’ says Lucy. ‘For a start, she should change out of those wet things.’

  I must get off the yacht. And away from Lucy and her fake concern. Yet I feel very tired and numb. All the faces around me start to slightly fade and blur. I know I mustn’t, but all I want to do is close my eyes.

  I am in bed, in my cabin. I look around. My dress is lying on the floor, crumpled and useless. There is no sign of my bag, my phone or anything of use. My plan to escape after the party was a true counting-chickens mistake. Seems I’ve made a lot of those. I look down at myself and realise I am wearing a pair of Lucy’s pyjamas.

  Outside the porthole, all I can see is sea. We are on the move. I am truly trapped.

  In front of the door, sitting in an armchair, is Lucy, holding her favourite, very sharp pair of scissors.

  ‘You’re awake, finally,’ she says. ‘The doctor and crew wanted to send you back to hospital, Charlotte, but I persuaded them not to. I told them how scary it would be for you to wake up, all alone, in a foreign country, with no one around. I promised everyone that I would keep an eye on you. I told them you’d been drinking a fair amount. So, really, it would be nice if you thanked me, hun. There are a lot of people who are going to have to go without facials and massages today because of you.’

  I feel like I might throw up. I take small sips of water until I feel better.

  ‘You drugged my brandy,’ I say.

  Lucy doesn’t deny it but we are interrupted by someone knocking on the cabin door.

  I leap off the bed and rush towards the door.

  ‘Help me!’

  ‘Sadly, she’s still not herself,’ Lucy says through the gap in the door. ‘Come back later. Or no, actually, don’t. I’ll let you know when she’s up for visitors.’

  Lucy clutches her scissors and raises her hand as though she has a knife.

  I step back. She looks as if she wouldn’t hesitate to use them.

  ‘Lucy, what on earth is all this about? You’re acting part nurse, part jailer.’

  ‘You know what you did. What you both did.’

  A pang of guilt swiftly replaced by fear. I don’t know what she’s referring to, specifically.

  ‘What did I do? I know all about you and Sam. Surely it’s me who should be waving scissors in your face? He was my husband.’

  ‘You used people,’ she says. ‘You both used me. Then, totally out of the blue one day, he told me it was over between us.’

  ‘I really don’t know what all this is about,’ I say.

  ‘You do,’ she says. ‘Go and sit on your bed.’

  I do as she demands. For now.

  ‘JJ is expecting me. He’ll be wondering what has gone on. He’ll be worried about me.’

  ‘Well, he hasn’t called you or messaged since last night, so he can’t be too worried.’ She looks pleased with herself. ‘In fact, your phone has been quiet.’

  ‘Can I have it back?’

  ‘No.’

  I can’t sit on the bed and do nothing. ‘I need to freshen up and get dressed,’ I say. ‘I need my bag. All my clothes are in it, along with my toothbrush.’

  She doesn’t react.

  In a calm voice, I point out, ‘You have my phone and there is no way of escaping from the bathroom.’

  ‘Five minutes,’ she says, standing up. ‘There’s a spare toothbrush in there. Use that. Don’t lock the door.’

  I ignore her, locking the door quietly behind me, and look around for something – anything – that might be of use as a weapon, but the bathroom has been cleared. Apart from the spare toothbrush and some travel size toothpaste, all that’s left is a clear, plastic shower cap and a half-empty bottle of body-wash lying on the shower floor. I brush my teeth, staring at myself in the mirror as I do so. I look dreadful. Dark rings circle my eyes and I’m deathly pale.

  I jump as the door handle rattles.

  ‘I told you not to lock it!’ yells Lucy.

  I psych myself up and open the door, full of fresh determination and strength to confront her.

  ‘You can’t keep me locked in our cabin.’

  ‘I won’t have to,’ says Lucy. ‘I’ll explain how I found my scissors – which you stole from me – under your pillow and that you’re a threat to yourself and others. To use Sam’s phraseology, I’ll flower it up. I imagine you will be whisked away. And who will everyone believe, do you think?’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘The money you stole. It’s not yours. It belongs to someone else.’

  ‘What are you talking about? And who do you think it belongs to?’

  ‘Just transfer the money over to me, like you’ve been asked to nicely many times, and I’ll take it from there.’

  ‘I can’t pay any blood money because for one, I haven’t done anything wrong, and two, Sam emptied our joint bank account when we split up. I certainly don’t have a million pounds. Why on earth would I be working as an assistant to Thomas if I had money? You haven’t thought this through, Lucy. And you still haven’t explained who I am supposed to pay this mythical money I haven’t stolen to? Or why you seem so convinced that I had anything to do with said fictional theft.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. Sam said . . .’

  ‘Sam said a lot of things. He lived by different rules from us lesser mortals.’

  ‘Nice try,’ says Lucy. She opens a bottle of white wine and pours herself a glass. ‘I haven’t slept, so it still feels like night to me. Cheers!’ she says as she raises her glass.

  I ignore her.

  She places the scissors down on the desk next to the bottle of wine. The wine and the scissors reflect in the mirror.

  Outside it is a beautiful, sunny, perfect Caribbean day.

  I think it all through. When Lucy found out about Sam and his sidelines maybe she blackmailed him? Perhaps, when that didn’t work, she then decided to focus her attention on me as some sort of twisted compensation for Sam’s treatment of her. Retributive justice. Having been on the receiving end of Sam’s cruelty, I can almost – only almost – sympathise with Lucy.

  ‘Sam owes me,’ Lucy says. ‘Owed. I guess I can use the past tense now.’

  ‘What exactly does he owe you?’

  ‘I met him before I met you. He didn’t tell me that he was married. In fact, funnily enough, he didn’t mention you at all. I was stupid enough to believe that all the secrecy was because we were work colleagues. When I found out about you, he asked me to be patient. Patience didn’t get me anywhere.’

  ‘Sam’s the person you’re angry with,’ I say. ‘He lied to me too.’

  ‘I believe you knew about me all along but you just didn’t care as long as you got what you wanted in the end. You’re a heartless bitch who uses people. You and Sam worked together, you dragged me into your games. You squeezed information out of me when I thought we were merely having friendly chats, you used that information to harm guests like Jake and Megs, to name some of your victims.’

  ‘No, that’s not how it was. And why are you bringing up Jake and Megs? You barely knew them.’

  ‘I got to know them well enough because they were such a lovely couple. And you’re lying! How I’ve just explained it is exactly how it was.’

  She holds out the USB stolen from my rucksack.

  ‘I took a look at this. Trouble is, I couldn’
t access anything useful or anything I hadn’t already found out. I know Sam kept his account details hidden on various memory sticks, like the one you had in your possession. But, the good news now is that I have you to help me out.’

  ‘They’re encrypted. I don’t have Sam’s passwords. I wish I did.’

  ‘Sit down,’ Lucy says to me, pointing at the desk chair in front of the mirror.

  ‘You attacked me,’ I said. ‘You stole my USB. Where’s my necklace?’

  ‘Your necklace. That’s a joke. Sit. Down.’ She picks up her scissors again and points at the chair.

  I do so. She places a laptop next to the wine bottle.

  ‘Get me into Sam’s bank accounts, either on his laptop or via the information hidden on his USB. Or transfer the money from yours. I’m prepared to be very flexible as long as I get my money.’ She takes a sip of wine before she continues. ‘Everyone saw your destructive behaviour last night. I confided in Josephine and the others – reluctantly, of course – that you were having suicidal thoughts because of Sam. Everyone knows how much I’ve tried to support you.’

  ‘Is this Sam’s laptop?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes. He gave it to me but without the password to get in. But I want you to search it. As you rightly say, Sam said a lot of things.’

  I hesitate. I genuinely don’t know where to start. I have spent hours going through Sam’s files and documents to no avail.

  I open the laptop lid. First, I attempt our wedding date, but of course that’s not right. I try the names of the various ships we worked on, the first hotel we ever stayed in. I am locked out after too many attempts.

  Lucy slams the laptop lid down so hard that it stings my knuckles.

  ‘You’re not trying hard enough.’

  ‘I can’t make myself know what I don’t know.’ True. ‘Lucy,’ I say. ‘Sam was a master manipulator. I get it. If he persuaded you to do things you didn’t want to, don’t blame yourself. But . . . don’t be like him. He’s gone. We can both move on. I don’t understand why this has to be so complicated.’

  A lot still doesn’t make sense to me.

  ‘How did you know I would be on this yacht?’ I ask her.

  And then, as I slowly piece it all together, it does make sense.

  ‘You’re working with Thomas? You had him hire me. You used a bona fide client name from the list you stole from Lewis’s to make me believe that I had genuinely been recommended. What’s in it for him?’

  ‘It’s him you owe the money to,’ she says. ‘Do you honestly expect me to believe after all that you and Sam stole that you can’t access any of the cash? Call yourself a master criminal?’

  ‘And Thomas?’ I prompt. ‘Why the hell would I owe him money?’

  Lucy still ignores me, typing something on her phone. Minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. She gets up and in walks Thomas himself.

  ‘Are you going to make Lucy see sense?’ I say. ‘Or at least explain to me, please, what’s going on?’

  Thomas stands beside Lucy.

  ‘I recruited Lucy for Josephine’s last few work trips abroad on the recommendation of my father and stepmother,’ he says. ‘We got chatting, as you do, when we were in Lake Como, and a very interesting story emerged.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘That you and Sam were responsible for the death of my father.’

  I am not responsible for the death of anyone. Although . . . please don’t let all this be about Colin. I have learned to bury the guilt of my inaction, hard as it was. I don’t want it all raked up again.

  ‘You’ve lost me, really lost me. Am I supposed to know who your father is?’

  Thomas looks at me as if assessing whether or not to impart this piece of information or whether I am bluffing.

  ‘Do you remember that lovely couple I mentioned earlier? Jake and Megs?’ says Lucy.

  I do. But I stay silent.

  So, not Colin. Thank God. Still, my heart keeps thudding because although my aiding and abetting was mostly unintentional when it came to them, I feel renewed rage at Sam for having taken things too far.

  ‘You came to the spa and read their medical history before you took them on a hike in Alaska to siphon even more information out of them.’

  Still, I don’t say anything. But I remember the walk we went on and I remember Megs’s sorrow at not becoming a mother and I remember that Jake had a child, the product of an affair. I remember other random things too, like the smell of freshness in the air, the coolness of the forest, the view from near the top of the mountain.

  ‘Jake was my father,’ says Thomas.

  I marry up the picture I have of Jake in my head and study Thomas with fresh eyes, looking for the resemblance, all the while wishing that Sam were here to face his own bloody music.

  ‘Oh, please, Charlotte,’ says Lucy. ‘There’s no point in remaining silent; this is all going to come out. I knew Sam was up to something. I found thousands of dollars, euros, pounds, all sorts of currencies hidden in his cabin. I found lots of different account details too. I kept a close eye on him.’

  She pauses for breath.

  ‘I confronted him and he told me that it was all because of you. That you were so greedy, needy and demanding and that he wanted to divorce you, but you wouldn’t let him go.’

  She pours another glass of wine and offers Thomas and me one as if we are in a bar. Thomas accepts.

  I shake my head.

  ‘And you believed him?’

  ‘No, of course not. Not at first. But then you kept popping into the spa, asking for information and you wore expensive-looking jewellery that you tried to hide beneath your tops and long sleeves, but I was watching how you were with people.’

  ‘And how was I, exactly?’

  ‘You thought you were charming and witty, but you were obsequious and clearly envious of the wealthy guests.’

  Ouch.

  Lucy continues. ‘Seeing as we are getting everything out in the open, I let Sam buy me off. Five thousand dollars. It was given as a gift, of course, but I knew it was to shut me up. And I took it because I needed it and I also believed that I deserved something after all he had put me through. And it all worked out well because Megs recommended me to Thomas. I told her how unhappy I was with my life. How I needed a new direction. The lovely Thomas gave me the kind of jobs I used to dream of. I no longer had to work back-breaking hours.’

  ‘What happened to your father?’ I ask Thomas, although I have a feeling that I don’t want to know.

  ‘He died,’ Thomas says, ‘because of your and Sam’s greed. Jake’s identity was stolen, his bank accounts raided and he lost nearly everything he had worked for. It took over a year to sort out the mess. The money had been stolen so expertly, that he felt helpless. Megs tried to help him. My own mother tried to help. Megs contacted everyone they had travelled with and spoke to anyone she could, but in vain. The money was gone, and no one could help.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, genuinely I am.’

  I feel like shit.

  Sam always swore that he never took more than anyone could afford. He promised me that. I never agreed to him selling details of people. I never obtained information for that purpose. But I do remember Megs mailing me. I would hate the same kind of thing to happen to such a nice person as you. I also remember sending her sorrow-filled words to Junk. For that, I am ashamed.

  Memories come flooding back because I also remember Sam and George burning papers in his garden. That’s where the information must have gone, to George. I have been a part of something bigger and more insidious than I ever dared to admit or was too blind to see.

  ‘What do you mean you’re genuinely sorry? It’s exactly what you set out to do!’ says Thomas. He drains his glass of wine. ‘Here’s the worst part. My father was driving to the pharmacy to pick up his latest prescription for his anxiety and depression. He was distressed. He received a call that morning that meant that he and Megs were going to lose their house as a result o
f all the thefts – a direct result of what you and Sam did – because they could no longer afford the repayments. He took a bend too fast. And now he’s not here and Megs and her entire family are broken and utterly devastated.’

  I feel sick.

  ‘It’s awful,’ I say, ‘truly dreadful. But there’s no proof that Sam was involved. Sadly, it’s such a common thing to happen.’

  I can’t implicate Sam, despite his death, because the links to me are too strong.

  ‘I am sorry,’ I continue. ‘It is tragic. But why all this?’ I wave my hand around the cabin. ‘What does Josephine have to do with it?’

  ‘Josephine didn’t have anything to do with it. She trusts me. Lucy and I just had to be patient and pick the right time,’ says Thomas. ‘You were easy enough to find. You went back to your hometown, tail between your legs. We waited until the right trip came up to offer you the opportunity. We were going to invite you to Mustique initially, but that trip fell through. I must admit, I was keen to meet you in person after all Lucy had told me about you. She told me that she perceived you and Sam as this golden couple, the kind that have millions of followers or have their own reality shows. Only you two weren’t famous. In the end, it turns out you were both nothing.’

  I don’t react to his goading.

  ‘This still doesn’t make any sense,’ I say. ‘Sam and I had split up. If he did something to your father after we were planning to divorce, that has nothing to do with me.’

  ‘Of course you’d say that. Do you expect me to believe you? Sam told me that you were clever. Let’s see if he was right.’ Lucy looks at her watch. ‘Time’s up.’

  ‘Yes, let’s try again,’ says Thomas. ‘We want the money back for Megs, plus compensation.’

  I try again with the laptop but it’s no use. My head feels woolly and achy.

  ‘I need my own laptop to try the USB,’ I say.

  ‘You can use my spare one,’ says Thomas. ‘But remember, I’m watching over your shoulder the whole time. I will see everything you do. Just like when you couldn’t resist taking a peek when I left you alone in the conference room.’

  I plug in the USB but the files and documents blur on the screen. I’ve been through all of this so many times. His financial details are not accessible, or they are just not there. ‘This is madness,’ I say. ‘You are trying to hold me accountable for something I didn’t do.’