The Ex-Husband

by Hamilton, Karen

  Lucy shoots me a look of pure hatred. It’s odd, seeing her without her friendly, amenable air of happy-go-lucky friendliness. I catch her eye in the mirror and it is the wrong thing to do because she picks up her scissors and hacks off a chunk of my hair. She drops it onto the keyboard.

  ‘That’s enough!’ I grab the scissors from her and feel the sharp scratch as the blades slice through my right palm. Thomas pushes me back down.

  ‘We. Want. The. Money.’

  ‘Every time you get it wrong, you lose another piece,’ Lucy says.

  ‘You have a choice, Charlotte,’ says Thomas. ‘Either you gain access, or Lucy and I have to decide what exactly to do with all the incriminating information we have on you. Lucy says that another man named Colin died too after spending time with you and Sam. It doesn’t sound like a coincidence to me. Perhaps the local police would like to hear what we’ve got to add to the histories of the last people to see him alive?’

  At the thought of Colin, a new wave of fear rushes through me.

  I type the name of our house in Devon: SeaLaVie.

  Access not authorised.

  Lucy opens the blades and snips again, deliberately slicing the top of my ear. The burning pain is swiftly numbed by fear. Lucy’s anger is escalating, she is losing control.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Now

  I look down at my chunks of hair and touch the side of my cheek to feel the blood running down it. I reach for a tissue. Yet, in a strange way, the fear is somehow calming. This was never about Alexandra or any link to her. It was all about my own guilty conscience. I experience a curious mixture of relief, shame, anger and fear.

  Lucy’s expression is resolute but her eyes are glazed. She holds up yet another strand of my hair and slices. She deliberately lets the blades graze my neck and collarbone.

  I type in Sam’s birthday, his hometown, the names of all the ships we worked on. I’ve tried all of these before to gain access to his encrypted files but I try again, using different combinations of capital letters and numbers.

  Nothing.

  As Lucy tugs at my hair again, I cry out in pain.

  ‘For god’s sake, I’m trying! The more you threaten me, the more my brain freezes.’

  Lucy just stares at me in the mirror. We lock eyes. Thomas puts both of his hands on my shoulders and speaks in such a calm, measured way that it is almost more frightening than if he were shouting.

  ‘Try harder, Charlotte.’

  Lucy nods her agreement.

  Thomas continues. ‘Did you ever think about your victims, Charlotte? The shattered dreams, illness, shame, fear. The list goes on and on.’

  Thomas is wrong. I was careful. I chose targets wisely. Sam is the villain here, not me.

  ‘There are no victims. And I look forward to proving you both wrong.’

  I see Lucy and Thomas exchange a look in the mirror. Were they starting to doubt themselves?

  I type in the date Sam and I first met. Bequia. The island where we first met, the names of the people we befriended, the date we split up.

  Access still denied. Thomas slams down the lid, just like Lucy did, and Lucy picks up her scissors.

  I lock eyes again with Lucy’s reflection.

  ‘How did you get the watch that you left on my bed?’

  She ignores the question but not before I have caught sight of a slight smirk.

  I am tired. I really have exhausted all options when it comes to guessing Sam’s passwords. My neck aches. My eyes are scratchy. My mind is utterly shattered.

  An idea comes to me.

  ‘I need my bag,’ I say to Lucy. ‘I really do. I’ve something that could help.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like another memory stick that Sam gave me,’ I lie. ‘It may not work, so don’t get scissor-happy, but anything is worth a shot.’

  Thomas and Lucy exchange a look.

  ‘I’ll go and get it,’ says Thomas.

  Lucy pulls the armchair away from the door and Thomas leaves.

  My plan to get away from them may just work.

  For now, it’s just me and her.

  ‘Anything else you want to tell me?’ I say. ‘You and Thomas have been trying to frighten me since I stepped foot on board. You deceived my flatmate, Lewis, who is a lovely, kind man. He has never harmed anyone.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to upset Lewis. Thomas and I figured that if you were frightened enough while on board here, if you were isolated enough, that you would open up to me, pour your heart out. But, no. We figured that you would be too scared of getting caught to spend the money you stole too soon. We guessed that you would lie low by working for a few years then – poof – disappear like magic. I had to get to you before that happened. Thomas scared you at the horse-ride.’

  ‘What else did you do?’ I demand. ‘I could have died.’

  ‘You’re not dead right now and we need you to do what’s right. When you mentioned a stalker, we thought you were going to open up. Yet again, no. We were forced into stronger action. Thomas didn’t want to follow you then mug you, but you were planning on jumping ship. Everything that happened, you brought it upon yourself. I had to kick your bag onto the rocks below at the waterfall. In fact, I had to work really hard because you stupidly and stubbornly refused to pay the money. You forced us to be a lot more inventive when all we wanted was for you to make amends with a decent and fair amount of compensation.’

  I keep her talking.

  ‘Who was looking for me that night when there was the power cut on the boat?’

  ‘Thomas came back early in a water taxi. It was his idea to cut the power. He said you had been messaging him, asking when they would all be back, he said you were already jittery.’

  ‘Did Sam ever buy you orchids?’ I ask.

  Suddenly, I need to know.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, Lucy,’ I say. ‘He bought them for me every single time he had to apologise for the latest shitty thing he did. When I saw the orchid on my pillow, it was those type of details that reinforced my belief that he was still alive. It was cruel of you. Was it Thomas who took the orchid to my sister’s?’

  ‘Oh, Lola,’ she says in a nasty voice. ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘It matters because I thought we were friends, Lucy. You fell for Sam, just like I did. That’s the only crime. There is nothing that you couldn’t have come and spoken to me about.’ Untrue. Nonetheless, it is mildly satisfying to scrape back some of the moral high ground.

  ‘However much you pretend otherwise, Charlotte, I see you. I know who and what you are. And by the way, your stolen purse had nothing to do with me. That was pure karma.’

  The door opens and Thomas carries in my bag. As he hands it to me, Lucy snatches it from him.

  ‘Where is the other USB?’

  ‘In the zip compartment,’ I lie.

  She searches and, of course, doesn’t find anything.

  ‘Give it to me,’ I say. ‘It will be quicker.’

  She relents.

  I pretend to rummage for a second or two.

  Passport: check. Phone: check.

  I make a dash for the bathroom and lock the door, dialling JJ’s number. It rings. The door handle rattles and shakes. Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Voicemail.

  Hands still shaking, I manage to send a message to the group chat.

  Lucy and Thomas are holding me against my will in our cabin. Please. Get me out.

  The door rattles a few more times, then stops. I hear voices, thank God. It goes quiet. The bathroom door opens. Thomas and Lucy are standing there with Bill, the medic, and one of the yacht crew clutching a master key.

  ‘Thank goodness you’re all right, Charlotte,’ Lucy says, flinging her arms around me while simultaneously pinching the back of my arm.

  ‘Let’s take a look at you,’ says Bill, ushering me towards my bed.

  ‘Charlotte’s not herself. She tried to kill me with my own scissors, didn’t she, Thomas?’ Lucy is a good acto
r; she sounds genuinely frightened.

  Thomas backs her up.

  ‘Yes, she’s out of control. We’re scared she might harm herself.’

  I look over at the desk. The scissors, wine and laptop have been removed.

  ‘Bill,’ I say. ‘I just need to get out of here. Can we talk in private?’

  ‘So you can jump overboard again?’ says Lucy. ‘Not on my watch. We’re here to look after you.’ To Bill she says, ‘I made a mistake by not letting her go to hospital. Please can you calm her down? I’ll never forgive myself if she does anything to harm herself.’

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ I say as Bill offers me a pill from his medical bag. ‘I’m not going to harm myself. I am perfectly fine.’

  There is another knock at the door.

  Thank god, help is here.

  A voice. It’s Harrison. ‘Everything all right in there? Charlotte sent a strange message on the group chat.’

  ‘Help me!’ I shout.

  ‘Everything is fine,’ Lucy calls out. ‘Bill’s here. Charlotte is a little upset.’

  ‘Don’t leave me here with them,’ I say to Bill. ‘Please. Just let me explain everything to you. I am not going to harm myself.’

  Bill’s phone rings. He answers it.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he says. ‘Hello?’ A pause. ‘Yes, I see.’

  He disconnects.

  ‘That was Josephine. I understand you’re upset,’ he says, ‘but everyone believes it’s best that you rest. I do too. As soon as we reach the next island, we can get you properly checked over once more and then you’ll be free to go as you please.’

  Behind Bill’s back, Lucy mouths ‘Colin’. Thomas folds his arms and stares at me.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ I say.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want anything to help you sleep?’ Bill asks.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Well, I’m only a call away if you change your mind, or Lucy can come and get me.’

  Bill says something quietly to Lucy on his way out.

  ‘Thanks, Bill,’ Lucy says, showing him to the door and shutting it behind him.

  ‘I’m not very impressed at all,’ she says. ‘Are you, Thomas?’

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘I don’t think Charlotte is taking us seriously enough. In fact, I’m extremely pissed off.’

  Gone is the prim and proper Thomas. He has my phone in his hand. He grabs me by the wrist and forces my index finger down on my phone to unlock it.

  ‘I’ll just type a message on the group chat apologising for your outburst and explain that you feel fine,’ he says.

  Lucy opens the desk drawer and I assume that the scissors are going to put in a reappearance. But no, she takes out a syringe and a vial. I see her push the needle in and withdraw the plunger. Thomas pins down my arms as she approaches. ‘No!’ I shout, twisting and kicking. ‘Don’t do this, Lucy!’ I shout.

  And in the seconds before she does exactly that, I have a moment of horrible clarity. Lucy killed Sam.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Now

  Oh, God. I am still on the yacht. But I’m not in my cabin. I am lying on a double bed in Mariella’s vacated suite. It’s dark but the moon is full; silver light spreads across the room, outlining Thomas sitting on the sofa. He is staring over at me as if he can tell that I have opened my eyes. I remain rigid and shut my eyes again while I assess and think. My mouth and throat feel dry. I listen. There is no sign that Lucy is here. I hear the clink of ice cubes against a glass and I smell whisky.

  ‘Thomas,’ I say, sitting up. ‘I need water.’

  I switch on the bedside lamp.

  He looks alarmed. I must look a right sight, but he gets up and pulls out a plastic bottle from the minibar, walks over and hands it to me.

  ‘Who brought me here?’

  ‘We both did. We thought you could do with lots of fresh air.’

  He walks over and slides open the doors. The guardrails have never looked so flimsy and insignificant. I sit, observing and thinking.

  Dawn is still a way off. A welcome, cool breeze brushes my face. I get off the bed and put my feet on the floor, ready to make a run for the door, but my legs are too weak.

  Thomas seems to sense what I’m planning because he comes over and sits beside me. His face is flushed, his eyes look bloodshot and haunted.

  ‘There’s nowhere to go, Charlotte. Nowhere to hide. It’s time to stop and face up to what you did. You have blood on your hands.’ He pauses. ‘Spending time with you, re-telling the story now, it brings it all back. It makes it clearer in my mind that you need to pay for what you did.’

  ‘Not me. Lucy’s the murderer, Thomas. She killed Sam. You don’t want any part of this, you really don’t. She will drag you down. I am sorry for what Sam may or may not have done to Jake. But really – this isn’t a good thing to do. You’re an intelligent person. Don’t go along with her schemes.’

  ‘You’re trying to shift the blame onto Lucy now? I don’t believe you. I’m not listening to your excuses and stories, Charlotte. Give us what you owe.’

  I persevere.

  ‘Where did she get his laptop from? And the engraved watch she left on my bed? It was mine, but then Sam took it away from me when he was angry and hurt.’

  Doubt flickers in his eyes.

  ‘Where is Lucy?’ I ask.

  He picks up his phone and minutes later, Lucy reappears. Sam’s laptop is under her arm and she is carrying a large make-up bag.

  ‘Ready to try again?’ she says.

  Thomas takes out his laptop and places it on the desk. I ignore it.

  ‘What happened to Sam?’ I say.

  She looks momentarily taken aback.

  ‘He had an accident.’

  Thomas’s eyes widen. I like watching him digest the unpleasant news that after all his subterfuge, he is siding with a potential murderer.

  ‘What happened?’ I say. ‘I think I have a right to know how my husband died.’

  ‘We want the money first, don’t we, Thomas?’

  ‘Yes,’ he says.

  But there is less conviction in his voice.

  Lucy swings round and points the scissors in his face.

  ‘Charlotte is bluffing about not knowing how to gain access to the money. How careless would she have to be to let Sam take it all? She’s playing stupid, acting like she’s penniless. They were married, it should be a fifty–fifty split, at least. We can make her pay us. We’ve gone to all this trouble, set up special accounts. I need this money. Megs needs the money. We agreed that it was the right thing to do. It belongs to you, Tom.’

  She opens the laptop lid.

  ‘Come on, Charlotte.’

  I try again.

  As I do so, Lucy takes out my emerald necklace from her bag and drapes it around her neck, admiring herself in the mirror.

  ‘I can see what you find so appealing about jewels, Charlotte,’ she says. ‘Is this the one you stole from the poor old lady? The one that made an entire cruise ship get searched? It must be worth a fortune.’

  I don’t like her referring to Alexandra as the ‘poor old lady’ and I also don’t like seeing the necklace on her. It’s mine.

  Desperate as I am to put an end to this, I can’t know what I don’t know.

  ‘How about we go to a bank in port?’ I say. ‘I’ll take ID, of course. Explain that I’m Sam’s wife. That he has tragically passed away and I will ask them to access his accounts – transfer whatever I can.’

  ‘A bank?’ says Lucy. ‘For god’s sake. What era do you live in?’

  She and Thomas exchange a look.

  ‘We’ve had enough,’ she says. ‘You’re messing us around. Clearly you need some help to jog your memory.’

  She opens her large make-up bag and removes another syringe and a vial.

  ‘I made sure I took enough from Bill’s bag when he came to our cabin to deal with you, however the story will be that you stole it during the big fuss you created earlier.’

  Oh
, God.

  ‘Only this time you won’t wake up. Then . . .’ she points to the balcony railings, ‘it will be goodbye, Charlotte. This time you won’t pop back up, you’ll be weighted down with a personal anchor. I reckon a couple of bottles of champagne in your rucksack on your back should do it. What do you reckon, Thomas?’

  ‘No, it would take more than that.’

  As if to prove a point, he opens the fridge and starts removing bottles of wine and champagne.

  Now I know why they risked dragging me – unconscious – to this suite instead.

  Lucy slides three bottles of champagne into my rucksack. She lifts it up with one arm.

  ‘No, not heavy enough.’

  She doesn’t seem to realise that there isn’t room for another.

  ‘You want to murder me?’ I say. ‘Like you murdered Sam?’

  Lucy’s expression is pure hate.

  ‘You’ve got another twenty minutes,’ she says.

  I don’t doubt that she means it. Her breath reeks of wine and she hasn’t slept for god knows how long.

  ‘And then what?’ I say. ‘I’m your only shot at trying to get what you want.’

  ‘I’ll find someone who can break the codes eventually,’ she says. ‘You’re not useful at all. In fact, you’re becoming a liability. It’s very disappointing, after all our efforts.’

  I give it another shot.

  ‘Stop staring at the screen,’ I say. ‘It’s putting me off.’

  I scan, desperately. A file name catches my eye. Vacations. Sam would have used: Holidays.

  I click.

  Encrypted.

  Of course.

  I type our shit hit the fan code: BonVoyage.

  I am in.

  Thank God.

  Details of trips Sam and I took together are listed benignly, but the fact that he used our code gives me the motivation to think harder. The dates! The dates of our trips are all incorrect.

  ‘I need a pen and paper,’ I say.

  They both look at me.

  Lucy seems to pick up on the relief in my voice because she opens her own bag and hands me a notepad decorated with cats and dogs, along with a pen.