‘I’d like that,’ Rebecca said. ‘I’m selling my house in France at the moment, and I still have some things to tie up, so I’m not sure quite when I’ll manage, but, yes, I’d love to come and visit. Thank you.’
‘I’ll look forward to it.’ Richard’s smile was warm. ‘It really would be great to have some company.’
‘Then I’ll definitely take you up on your offer. Meanwhile, you have my email address. Take care, Richard. Make sure to look after yourself as well as your daughter.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ Richard promised. ‘You take care too, Rebecca,’ he urged her. ‘Drive carefully.’
Rebecca started the engine and pulled away. An enigma, definitely, she thought, watching him through her rear-view mirror as he slid his hands into his pockets and watched her go. One she needed to fathom.
TEN
NICOLE
PREVIOUS YEAR – JULY
‘Richard? Richard!’ Apprehension knotting her stomach, Nicole raced for the stairs – and then froze halfway up as she saw Zachary being roughly manhandled from Olivia’s room by Richard.
‘You perverted little bastard!’ Richard seethed, his expression murderous, his face close to Zachary’s, who looked utterly petrified.
Locking his elbow tighter around the boy’s throat, with his other hand he wrenched Zachary’s arm high up his back and shoved him hard against balustrade. Oh dear God! Was he going to throw him over it?
‘Zach?’ Peter was close behind her. ‘What…? Christ almighty!’ Mounting the stairs, he pushed past her to get to his son. ‘Let him go,’ he warned Richard, who now had his hand gripped around the back of Zachary’s neck, forcing him further over the rail. The boy’s face was puce and he was gasping for breath.
‘Richard, please.’ Clutching the banister, Nicole hurried after Peter. ‘Stop!’ she begged. ‘Richard!’
Richard didn’t acknowledge her. His face twisted with rage, his focus all on Zachary, he didn’t even appear to hear her.
‘For God’s sake!’ Peter stepped further towards him, followed by another man striding urgently after him. ‘Let him go!’
Reaching to grab a fistful of Richard’s shirt, Peter attempted to drag him away. The other man flung an arm around Richard’s chest. Neither of them could budge him. Richard’s gaze was fixed on Zachary, his eyes as dark as thunder. It was as if something had snapped inside him.
Nicole’s blood ran cold.
‘Richard, let him go!’ she screamed. ‘Richard!’ She reached him just as the other man succeeded in pulling him backwards, both men colliding heavily into the wall behind them.
‘I’m going to kill you, you snivelling little son of a bitch,’ Richard snarled, jabbing a finger past the man who was now struggling to restrain him.
‘What happened?’ Nicole cried, moving in front of Richard as Peter grabbed hold of his terrified son.
Richard seemed to see her at last, the fury in his eyes abating for a second as he scanned her face.
‘Richard?’ Her heart banging against her ribcage, Nicole caught hold of his shoulders. ‘Talk to me. Tell me what he’s done. Richard, please…’ She trailed off as Olivia appeared on the landing, stepping tentatively from her room.
Clutching the front of her torn dress to her breasts, her hands shaking, mascara wending a watery black track down her face, she looked towards Richard. ‘Daddy,’ she said shakily, her voice that of a child’s.
‘Isn’t it perfectly fucking obvious what he’s done?’ Richard’s voice was hoarse. ‘Call the police, Nicole.’
Oh God, no. Surely he hadn’t…? Nicole’s gaze shot towards Peter.
His face draining of all colour, Peter met her eyes for a blood-freezing second. ‘Not Zach,’ he said, swallowing hard and looking back to Richard. ‘He couldn’t have.’
‘Couldn’t have?’ Dragging his forearm across his mouth, Richard stared at him incredulously. ‘He very nearly did!’ he bellowed. ‘For Christ’s sake, someone call the bloody police, or I swear to God, I won’t be responsible for my actions.’
‘Daddy, no! Leave him. Please!’ Olivia protested tearfully, as he attempted again to get to Zachary.
‘What?’ Richard turned disbelievingly towards her.
‘I don’t want the police involved. It’s your wedding day. I—’ Choking back a sob, Olivia stopped.
‘It doesn’t matter what day it is, Liv,’ Richard said, his voice catching. ‘The bastard tried to—’
‘I don’t want them here. I just want him to go.’ Olivia backed away, slipping back to her room, as Richard attempted to move towards her.
‘For fu…’ Dragging in a tight breath, Richard turned his gaze to the ceiling. ‘Get the bastard out of here,’ he growled. ‘Now!’ And you.’ He spoke angrily to the man who was still holding him back. ‘Get out of my way. I need to go to my daughter.’
Shocked to the core, Nicole stood rooted to the spot, torn between following Richard and Olivia or going to Peter, who looked as if his whole world had come crashing down. He’d had full custody of Zachary since he was three. He lived for his son.
‘You should go,’ she said gently, stepping towards him.
Tightening his grip around Zachary’s shoulders, clearly too dazed to speak, Peter simply nodded.
Nicole looked to the young man who was visibly trembling beside his father. His face was as white as chalk, his eyes wide and terrified. ‘I didn’t…’ he stammered. ‘She asked me to help her with her zip. I didn’t…’
‘How is she?’ Nicole asked, when Richard finally came down to the kitchen.
‘Traumatised,’ Richard said, his expression taut, his voice tight. ‘Have they gone?’
Feeling responsible, Nicole nodded sadly. ‘Everyone has. They thought it might be prudent. I’m so sorry, Richard.’
Richard didn’t say anything immediately, drawing in a breath instead and going to flick the kettle on. ‘Not your fault.’ His back still towards her, he shrugged after a second. ‘I hope you’ll understand, though, that I’d rather Peter didn’t come here again, with or without his son.’
Swallowing hard, Nicole nodded again. That was another friend she’d lost. She could hardly blame her husband, though – not this time. ‘Did he…? Did Zachary actually…?’ She hesitated, uncertain how to ask how far things had gone. She still didn’t know. When she’d tapped on the door earlier, Richard had said that Olivia needed some time.
‘What, hold her down and rape her?’ Richard finished angrily. ‘No, not actually. Undoubtedly, if they’d been anywhere remote…’
‘And Olivia’s sure he didn’t think…?’ she continued awkwardly. And then immediately wished she hadn’t, as Richard turned to face her.
‘Are you serious?’ He studied her, astounded. ‘Did you see her? Did you not hear her, Nicole?’
‘Yes. I mean, no. I… That’s not what I meant, Richard,’ she said falteringly. She hadn’t meant anything. She was simply trying to understand what had happened. ‘I just wondered whether he—’
‘Misread the signals?’ Olivia interjected, from where she was standing behind them, her face bereft of make-up and looking so young and vulnerable that suddenly Nicole’s heart broke for her. ‘Not unless he’s deaf, Nicole,’ she said, her eyes filling up. ‘Even then, I imagine me trying to fight him off might have been a subtle indication, don’t you?’ Her expression disappointed, she swiped away the tears now cascading down her cheeks and turned to fly back to the stairs.
‘Liv!’ Giving Nicole a despairing glance, Richard went after her. ‘Liv, wait.’
‘I’m all right!’ Olivia called back, her voice full of emotion. ‘I’m going to take a bath.’
Dragging in a terse breath, Richard stopped.
‘I’m sorry,’ Nicole blurted. ‘Truly, I am, Richard. I didn’t mean to sound as if I was doubting her. I was just trying to understand what happened. You never said, and I… I just wanted to understand, that’s all. I hoped she might feel able to confide in me. I want to be her
friend, not her enemy.’
Richard didn’t answer. Dragging a hand agitatedly over the back of his neck, he seemed reluctant even to look at her.
And Nicole cursed her stupid mouth. Why hadn’t she thought before opening it? What was the matter with her? ‘Richard? She stepped towards him.
Still, Richard didn’t answer, and Nicole turned away, not sure what to do other than to give him the space he clearly needed.
Standing alone on the patio a minute later, she looked up to the sky, where dark clouds were now ominously gathering, and blinked hard against her own tears. The misogynist had enjoyed making her cry, calling her weak and pathetic, even when she had lost her beautiful, innocent baby. Her hand went involuntarily to the empty, soft round of her tummy. She didn’t think Richard ever would, but she didn’t want him to think she was feeling sorry for herself.
Staying like that for a second, she didn’t realise Richard had followed her until he slid an arm around her. ‘I’m sorry, Nicole,’ he said. ‘I realise this has been an ordeal for you, too. I shouldn’t have raised my voice. Please accept my apology.’
Nicole almost wilted with relief – that he didn’t hate her, that he didn’t blame her. She hadn’t expected him to, but… old ghosts would always haunt her. ‘You were angry. You’d every right to be,’ she assured him, relaxing a little with his comforting arm around her.
‘Not with you.’ Richard eased her closer. ‘I don’t know what to do.’ He tugged in a tight breath. ‘I can’t leave her here on her own. Not now. Not like this.’
He was talking about the honeymoon, Nicole guessed. They were due to leave later that night. ‘I know.’ Composing herself, she turned towards him. ‘It’s just a thought,’ she said tentatively, ‘and you might think it’s a mad one, but could she come with us? We’d have to change our flights and the hotel booking, but it might do her good to get away from things for a while.’
Looking up at him, Nicole waited, not sure what Richard’s reaction would be.
Her heavy heart lifted when Richard, after studying her curiously for a second, leaned in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. ‘I think she would love the idea,’ he said, looking immensely relieved. ‘And it would be a load off my mind. You’re a special person, Nicole. Do you know that?’
‘If a little clumsy.’ Nicole smiled weakly. ‘I really am so sorry about what I said. I honestly didn’t mean it to sound the way it did.’
Richard smiled reassuringly. ‘I’ll go and ask her,’ he said.
Reaching to squeeze her hand, he turned back to the house, leaving Nicole surveying the remnants of her wedding day.
They never had had their first dance.
ELEVEN
REBECCA
PRESENT
Relaxing outside the Café de la Ville, Rebecca was indulging in her favourite pastime – sampling the excellent tarte tatin washed down with Aperol lemonade – whilst people-watching. Seeing a young couple, obviously in love, stroll by hand in hand, she smiled nostalgically and savoured the last mouthful.
Realising it was time to go back to work, she sighed regretfully. It was a beautiful day – they were heading for a heatwave. Calling reluctantly for the bill, she checked her phone while she waited. She felt it every single time she did: a stab of intense sadness, knowing there would never be another email or text from Nicole. She hadn’t deleted her details from her phone. She didn’t think she could bear to do that.
Two new messages, she noted, both from Sam regarding the upcoming holidays. Sam had decided to stay in the UK this year, to spend more time with Laura. He’d suggested that Rebecca might like to book a hotel in Warwickshire – if she was at a loose end, he’d said diplomatically – and they could spend some time together. It was a nice idea. Laura and she got on, but Rebecca suspected that more than a few days might be overstaying her welcome. With the house sold, she’d decided to contact Richard Gray instead and take up his offer of a holiday. She’d explain that she would be looking for somewhere to rent in the UK whilst house-hunting, thereby informing him that she would be moving back to the UK. Richard didn’t know it yet, but Rebecca intended to see much more of him. The lark in the cage had haunted her dreams every night since she’d arrived home. She knew she wouldn’t sleep soundly until she’d unravelled what had happened to her dear friend. It had been almost three months since the funeral and still she felt the loss inside her like a tangible weight; still she couldn’t believe Nicole was gone.
Rebecca checked her emails and blinked in surprise. Had the man been reading her mind? ‘Just a thought’, the subject line of Richard Gray’s email read. Feeling a prickle of something – nervousness? – wash over her, Rebecca opened it.
Dear Rebecca
I hope you won’t mind me contacting you. Sadly, with the house now up for sale, I find that it’s time to start thinking about Nicole’s belongings. Her art meant so much to her, and I can’t bring myself to simply dispose of her materials. There are also her canvases (there are more stored in the loft – I’m not sure you saw those), along with the watercolour paintings. The exhibition was left up out of respect for a while, which was kind, since the villagers didn’t know Nicole that well, but it seems the space is now needed for a new exhibition. I was wondering, therefore – and please do say so if you’d rather not; I’m not easily offended – whether you might like to spend some time here at the house and help me go through them, selecting anything you might like to keep for yourself. The weather is glorious – and will be for a while, so we’re told – and the swimming pool sits unused. Your son would be welcome, too, of course. As I say, it was just a thought, as you mentioned you might like to stay, so please feel free to say no. To be honest, I’m feeling the loneliness of being alone and would welcome the opportunity to talk about Nicole with someone who knew her, possibly better than I did.
I hope you are well and had a safe journey home.
Kindest regards,
Richard.
PS Whenever suits you would be fine.
Well, that was a guaranteed incentive. He would know she wouldn’t want Nicole’s things – her canvases, treasured paints and brushes being disposed of. Checking her watch, Rebecca responded immediately.
Dear Richard,
Thanks for your email. I’ve just been idling outside a café in my lunch hour and now find myself in danger of running late. Please excuse the short reply. Yes, I would love to visit and would welcome the chance to go through Nicole’s art things – they were very dear to her. My own house has recently sold so I’m flexible re timings. I’m not sure what Sam’s movements are, however, so will get back soonest.
Hope you are as well as you can be.
Best,
Becky
With a combination of relief and apprehension running through her, Rebecca pressed send. Finally, here it was: her chance to step into Nicole’s world, to view her friend’s life from the inside. What might she find behind the unblemished white walls?
TWELVE
NICOLE
PREVIOUS YEAR – JULY
Shielding her eyes against the scorching Balinese sun, Nicole watched as Richard and Olivia made their way to the pool bar after a lengthy swim in the pool. They had asked her to join them, but Nicole hadn’t realised how athletic they both were, leaving her struggling to keep up. They were also competitive with each other, which she found a touch exclusive, which was silly. They had a whole history together that didn’t include her. And in any case, exposure to the sun while in the water would do her pale complexion no favours. In her teenage years, she’d learned the painful way that she would never achieve the sort of all-over golden glow that Olivia effortlessly seemed to.
Pulling her knees up so that her vulnerable toes were adequately shaded, Nicole sighed, despairing of herself. As if she was competing with Olivia physically. Richard loved her the way she was; she didn’t doubt that. Still though, lying alongside Olivia’s lithe tanned body, every bare inch of her own milk-white skin slathered in sunscre
en, lest she end up looking like a boiled lobster, Nicole couldn’t help feeling the tiniest bit… Well, she definitely didn’t feel like a bronzed goddess.
Deciding to console herself with another moreish cocktail, she caught the pool attendant’s eye and ordered a Bali Bali, which had a dash of everything in it: cognac, dark rum, gin, citrus fruits and passion fruit syrup. It was probably hugely fattening, but also scrumptiously delicious. Returning the waiter’s beaming smile, she settled down to enjoy her book, glancing occasionally towards Richard and Olivia. As she watched, Olivia slipped from her stool at the pool bar back into the water with the agility of a well-oiled sea lion. Seconds later, she bobbed up, smoothed back her blonde braids and then scooped up armfuls of water with which she proceeded to drench Richard.
Richard was after her in a flash, sliding slickly into the water as Olivia squealed and splashed around to swim away. With Richard in close pursuit, she headed to the far side of the tree-fringed pool. Nicole was glad that Olivia was enjoying herself after everything that had happened, but she hoped they didn’t disappear for too long, as they’d done yesterday. She understood that Olivia needed time with her father, but she had felt a bit lonely, left on her own for so long.
Feeling a tug on her toe a while later, Nicole stirred woozily. ‘You’re exposed,’ Richard said, looking very much like a bronzed god, silhouetted hazily against the sky and smiling down at her.
‘Oh hell.’ Realising she was indeed exposing large expanses of herself to the merciless sun, Nicole jumped up and dashed for the cover of the nearest shaded lounger. ‘I must have dozed off,’ she said, blinking, feeling disorientated. ‘What time is it?’
‘Around three,’ Richard said, collecting up her towel and sunscreen and carrying them over to her.
‘Three o’clock.’ Nicole boggled. She’d been asleep for over an hour?
The Second Wife Page 6