Not once!
Why? Flying to the front door, leaving bloody prints in her wake, she fumbled it open and headed back to her car, where she’d left her mobile. What good was it there? Useless. She was utterly useless: too weak to defend herself against a bullying monster; and now too weak to fight a different kind of monster, who hid her malevolence beneath a thin layer of beauty. Incapable of looking after her own mother. What was the matter with her?
She jabbed 999 into her phone, but the knot in her throat threatened to choke her as she struggled to relay what she’d found. Nicole stopped talking.
‘Hello, caller?’ a concerned voice said in her ear as her heart slowed to a dull thud.
Narrowing her eyes, Nicole tried to make out the indistinct shape darting across the drive towards the orangery at the back of the house. An animal? A trick of the light: branches swaying in the waxy light of the moon?
No. A figure, crouching low. Nicole’s heart stopped beating. She wasn’t mistaken. She watched it dodge and weave and disappear into the trees. Someone had been in the house. Had Lydia fallen, or had someone… pushed her?
THIRTY-THREE
REBECCA
PRESENT
Rebecca had relented. She’d had no choice but to. He’d asked her to marry him several times in France – the final time just before they’d departed. She hadn’t been quite sure what to think when he didn’t broach the subject again in the five weeks she’d been ‘living’ with him. She hadn’t been sure what she would do if he didn’t. Propose to him, possibly? If this was a game, she needed to stay one step ahead of them, even if she didn’t yet have all the facts. And if it wasn’t? She would cross that bridge when she got to it.
And then she’d come down to breakfast this morning to find a wonderfully romantic proposal. His expression had been nervous as she’d walked towards the table, seeing immediately the rose petals he’d scattered there. He’d written the words ‘I Love You’ on a white paper napkin, a solitaire diamond ring serving as the ‘o’ in the word love.
There was a part of her that wanted Richard to live up to his image. A parent’s love for a child, even an adult child, is unerring, Rebecca was aware of that. You feel their pain; you hurt when they hurt. Your mission in life is to protect them until they’re strong enough to carve a path through life on their own. Sometimes you overprotect, close your eyes to their flaws. Could Richard’s love for Olivia really have rendered him blind, though, to the hurt she’d caused Nicole?
Soon she would know. For now she was truly stepping into Nicole’s shoes and walking in her footsteps, which had brought her here: to the lock at the junction of the Worcestershire Canal and the River Severn, the precipice over which her dear friend had stepped from this life into oblivion.
Drawing in a breath, Rebecca looked down at the depths of muddy, dark water, deceitfully still and calm in the lock below her. It was a wide-beam lock, allowing boats access to the river. She’d checked the information board on her walk up. This was one of the deepest locks in the country, she’d learned: twenty feet wide, ninety feet long and at least eighteen feet deep. And the drop between gate and water contained any number of fall-breaking, bone-crushing obstructions before a body would land.
Beyond was the river: in flood – fast-flowing and deadly. Nicole hadn’t been a strong swimmer. If she’d stepped from the lock into the river’s swirling black waters, she would have known she was embracing death. And Rebecca was no closer to knowing why. What unbearable pain she must have been suffering on that bleak day that had brought her to this.
‘Afternoon,’ a man said, passing by behind her. ‘Someone looks deep in thought.’
Smiling distractedly, Rebecca glanced at him. ‘I am. Miles away,’ she said. Actually, she wasn’t. She was down there with Nicole, feeling her weightlessness, the tightness in her chest, the ebbing away of hope, of life.
‘Aye, it’s the place to come if you need time to reflect,’ he said companionably, pausing to amble across to her. ‘I often do the same. There’s something about the water that helps put things into perspective, I find.’
Rebecca smiled wryly at that.
‘My wife used to say the same,’ he went on nostalgically. ‘She’s gone now, bless her. There’s never a day goes by I don’t think of her.’
Rebecca looked more interestedly at him as he leaned an arm on the lock gates and gazed reflectively across the water. He was early seventies or thereabouts, with an open, ruddy face. She didn’t miss the sadness in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Her loss must have been difficult for you.’
He gave her an appreciative smile. ‘She’s at peace now. She was ill for quite a while. It was better she went when she did,’ he said, his voice catching despite his assurances. ‘I couldn’t bear to think of her suffering.’
Rebecca nodded, understanding more than he knew. ‘I was thinking about my friend,’ she confided, somehow feeling safe to. ‘She died here.’ Swallowing, she contemplated Nicole’s watery grave again, as if it would somehow yield the answers she sought. ‘I’m not sure I’ve managed to get any perspective on why, but I feel closer to her here.’
The man straightened up at that. ‘The red-haired lass?’ he asked, his wizened forehead knitting in concern.
‘Yes.’ Rebecca turned curiously back to him. ‘Did you see her?’ There had been witnesses – two, apparently – who arrived at the scene after Nicole had gone under. Was he one of them?
‘Heard it, more like. I live in the lock cottage just over the way.’ He nodded towards it. ‘Couldn’t help but hear the poor bloke screaming for help.’
Richard.
‘Frantic, he was.’ The man shook his head sombrely. ‘He’d already gone in after her by the time I reached him with my torch. Brave thing to do. I mean, I know he was acting on instinct, but there was a red danger alert that night. The river was treacherous.’
Rebecca stared at him, her heart rate spiking as she felt the fear Richard must have felt. That Nicole must have felt.
‘He dived four or five times. Down there a long time too, he was. Came up spluttering water and empty-handed each time. Poor bugger, he was bloody heartbroken when the police finally managed to haul him out.’
Rebecca felt her own heart twist inside her. She’d been looking for flaws – flaws she felt had to be there. A motive, even. The traits that might have driven a vulnerable woman to take her own life though, were they part of Richard’s make-up?
He could have died, too; that reality wasn’t lost on her. The water would have been freezing: cold enough to cause his body temperature to plummet in seconds. Yet he’d gone under, time and time again. Were those the actions of a manipulative, unfeeling man, the kind of man Nicole would have taken her own life to get away from? Perhaps it truly was her depressed state of mind that had driven her here. Olivia had contributed to the despair she must have felt, that was irrefutable, but had Richard? Rebecca might never know. No matter how hard she stared into the water, she might never find answers.
Was it time to let it go, she wondered? To let Nicole go?
THIRTY-FOUR
NICOLE
PREVIOUS YEAR – DECEMBER
‘Where is she?’ Nicole demanded, sliding off her hospital trolley as soon as Richard walked into the cubicle.
‘Mrs Gray, you need to stay still,’ a nurse tried to encourage her back. ‘We haven’t finished stitching—’
‘Where is she?’ Pushing past her, Nicole screamed it.
Richard stepped back as she advanced on him, his expression bewildered. ‘Nicole…’ He took a second to recover himself and then moved towards her, gently taking hold of her arms. ‘Where is who? You’re distraught. You need to do as the nurse says, and then we’ll—’
‘Who?’ Nicole laughed bitterly, struggling to break free of him. ‘Your bitch daughter! Who do you think I mean?’
Richard said nothing. Dropping his hands away, his face chalk white, his eyes dark, he simply stared at her.
&nbs
p; ‘She’s not here. I’ve asked.’ Nicole waved an arm vaguely around. Olivia had been admitted to hospital earlier, but apparently she had since been discharged. ‘Is she at home?’
His expression stony, Richard didn’t answer.
‘Well?’ Nicole glared at him.
Richard’s eyes grew a shade darker. ‘Yes,’ he said tightly. ‘She’s at home. Where else would you expect her to be?’
Nicole matched his hostile gaze with one of her own. ‘Nowhere but there, plotting and scheming,’ she retorted.
A small tic spasmed in Richard’s cheek; his eyes were dangerous. Nicole didn’t care. Whatever he thought of her, she couldn’t care. She could no longer say nothing for fear of angering or upsetting him. Her mother was dead! He couldn’t bury his head in the sand and ignore this.
‘Has she been there all the while?’ she asked him, her gaze hard on his.
Richard narrowed his eyes, looking at her as if maybe she had taken leave of her senses. She hadn’t! She was not imagining any of this.
‘Since she was discharged?’ she clarified. ‘Has she been at the house the whole—’
‘Yes!’ Richard snapped. ‘She’d not capable of going out! For Christ’s sake, what the hell is this all about, Nicole?’
‘Mrs Gray… Nicole,’ the nurse said kindly, attempting to intervene, ‘you really do need to let us attend to that wound, lovely. You’re bleeding—’
‘I’m not lovely!’ Nicole turned on her tearfully. ‘I’m horrible! Or at least his daughter is convincing him I am.’ She swept her gaze back to Richard. ‘Isn’t she?’
Shaking his head, Richard glanced warily at the nurse and then back to her. ‘Nicole, I have no idea what’s going on in your mind, but will you please allow the medical staff to attend to you? You’re clearly extremely distressed. We’ll talk as soon as we get home. Calmly. Okay? Just—’
‘Yes, right,’ Nicole sneered. ‘Where no doubt Olivia will have an asthma attack at the crucial moment.’
‘Jesus!’ Sucking in a sharp breath, Richard eyed the ceiling. ‘Nicole, you need to stop this. Now,’ he said, stepping quickly towards her.
Nicole took a hasty step back. She’d had to hone her skills when it came to dodging out of a man’s way. He might not want to hit her, but he wanted to catch her, to make her do what he wanted her to do: go home. Accept that Olivia had nothing to do with this? She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. ‘How did she try to take her own life?’ she asked, notching her chin up defiantly.
His look now one of open disgust, Richard laughed scornfully. ‘This is unbelievable. You’re ill, Nicole, clearly. You need help. Please let me—’
‘How?’ Nicole yelled.
‘Sleeping tablets!’ Richard yelled back. ‘Prescribed when her mother died. Are you happier now for knowing? Are you getting some kind of kick out of crucifying me here, Nicole? Because you bloody well are.’
Nicole ignored that. ‘No visible signs she attempted suicide then?’ she said, her voice loaded with contempt. ‘Did they take blood tests?’
‘What?’ Richard stared at her in astonishment.
‘She was at the house,’ Nicole informed him icily. It was her. She knew it was. No matter what kind of alibi Olivia had, Nicole was unshakeable in her belief that it had been her. ‘My mother’s house. When she died, your daughter was there.’
‘This is utterly insane.’ Richard looked at her as if she’d just punched him.
‘I saw her!’
‘She was with me, Nicole. She was with me the whole time.’ There was no anger in Richard’s tone now. Instead it was flat, emotionless. ‘Whatever ludicrous imaginings you’re having here, you’ve got it wrong.’
‘She hates me!’ Nicole cried as he turned his back on her. He couldn’t walk away. He couldn’t! Not this time.
‘Right.’ Turning slowly to face her, Richard sighed heavily. ‘And presumably you also think she hates your mother, who she’s never even met.’ He scanned her face, his eyes deeply troubled. ‘I seem to recall it was you who actually hated Lydia, Nicole.’
‘I did not,’ Nicole refuted, panic clenching her stomach. She needed him to believe her. She needed him to see. ‘I didn’t get on with her, but that didn’t mean I—’
‘Enough!’ Richard interjected forcefully. ‘You need help, Nicole.’ He fixed her with a steely gaze. ‘I’ll be in the waiting room. Please let me know when you’re ready to talk sense.’
THIRTY-FIVE
REBECCA
PRESENT
Letting herself in through the front door, Rebecca found Richard halfway down the stairs, hastily tugging on his shirt.
‘Hi,’ she said, arching an eyebrow as she noted his flustered expression. ‘Are we getting dressed or undressed?’
‘Dressed, unfortunately. I have to go back to work.’ Looking her over regretfully, Richard hurried down. ‘Liv’s had me heaving furniture about.’ He rolled his eyes good-naturedly towards the ceiling. ‘Thus the hot and sweaty mess.’
‘Hmm,’ said Rebecca, her eyes full of deliberate suggestion. ‘I’m thinking I could quite go for hot and sweaty.’
Richard’s mouth curved into a mischievous smile. ‘Later,’ he growled huskily, snaking an arm around her waist and anchoring her to his hips.
‘I hope that’s a promise,’ Rebecca breathed, the hardness of his body igniting the same primal desire she’d felt that first time on the patio. The man oozed a sexual allure that was fatal. That had, in fact, been ultimately fatal for Nicole. Rebecca felt her heart dip inside her.
‘Most definitely,’ Richard assured her, closing his mouth over hers. Then, ‘Damn,’ he murmured, pulling away as Olivia padded barefoot down the stairs behind him – humming, Rebecca noticed, as if to announce her presence.
‘Don’t mind me,’ Olivia said brightly, making insinuating eyes at her as she squeezed by, heading for the kitchen. ‘Just carry on as if I’m not here… though preferably not in the hall.’
‘Sorry,’ Richard mouthed to Rebecca, shaking his head and reaching to fasten his shirt buttons. ‘So,’ he said, smiling despairingly as Olivia commenced clanging kettles and cups, making it obvious she was around, ‘been anywhere interesting?’
‘Just walking.’ Rebecca shrugged evasively. ‘Taking in the sights.’
‘I was getting worried.’ Richard glanced at his watch as he straightened his collar. ‘Wondering whether I should send out a search party.’
‘Sorry,’ she apologised in turn, realising she had actually been gone for some while. ‘I needed to do some thinking and I lost track of the time.’
‘Not thinking about changing your mind, I hope?’ Richard’s gaze shot apprehensively to hers.
Rebecca noted the immediate nervousness in his eyes. For an assured businessman, he did vulnerable little schoolboy very well. ‘No,’ she assured him. ‘To be honest, I was thinking about Nicole.’
Richard dropped his gaze. ‘Oh,’ he said, his eyes now troubled as they came back to hers.
‘I was wondering how she would feel. About us, I mean,’ Rebecca went on, watching him with interest and wondering how he would react to mention of the wife he’d so recently lost now that he was about to marry again.
Emitting a sigh, Richard nodded understandingly. ‘Of course. Your emotions will be in turmoil, I imagine. You knew her though, Becky.’ Smiling sadly, he reached to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘I doubt she would have begrudged you your happiness, if she was sure it was what you wanted.’
His eyes held a question as they searched hers, as if it were him who needed the reassurance. ‘It is. It’s just…’ Rebecca faltered.
‘Just?’ Richard urged her, his eyes clouding with concern.
Rebecca hesitated. ‘If you were thinking of a church wedding, then…’ She paused, looking uncertain. She was going to go through with this. She’d made her decision. She couldn’t walk away, nor did she want to. But there was no way she could stand in the same place Nicole had taken her wedding vows believing she
would live happily ever after.
‘God, no.’ Richard wrapped his arms around her, drawing her to him. ‘That would be far too painful, for both of us. You choose.’ He brushed her cheek with his lips. ‘Wherever. A hotel. The top deck of a bus. I don’t care, as long as you’re there.’
Rebecca laughed. I’m not so sure the minister would be happy about the top deck of a bus, but I’ll check out some venues,’ she said.
She would, she decided. She would go into the village. There was a little hotel there that might cater for small weddings. She could also pay a visit to the art shop, which she’d been meaning to check out. After noting some of Nicole’s work on display in the window when she’d last been here, she’d wanted to go in, but the owners had been away on holiday. She supposed Nicole’s works might have been taken down by now, but it would be an opportunity to introduce herself and talk to people who’d known Nicole. It was the owner of the art shop who’d encouraged her to take the evening art class, she recalled. She would certainly be worth speaking to.
THIRTY-SIX
NICOLE
PREVIOUS YEAR – DECEMBER
Watching Richard, who was agitatedly pacing in reception while on his phone – no doubt to the daughter he thought could do no wrong – Nicole chose her moment when his back was turned to slip out of the hospital.
Limping to her car, she found Bouncer curled up fast asleep on the back seat. Thanking God that she’d remembered to leave the window open a fraction – even though, in Richard’s estimation, she’d lost her mind – she slipped into the driver’s seat, at which Bouncer howled ecstatically and proceeded to bounce joyously around.
The Second Wife Page 17