And it had nothing to do with guilt, with the fact that she’d almost had sex with another man two nights ago.
“I really need a shower,” she repeated, this time wriggling out of his grip entirely.
When was the last time they had done it, anyway? Three weeks ago? Four? She couldn’t remember anymore.
What’s the matter, Cassie, a little voice mocked in her head. Are things getting a little hazy?
She jumped up to silence that horrid voice and staggered naked over towards the en-suite bathroom. The sound of the bed creaking caused her to spin around on the spot when she reached the bathroom door.
Hugh was sitting on the edge, pulling on a pair of underpants with angry, jerky movements. That done, he jumped to his feet and strode over to the wardrobe.
“Thought you were taking a shower?” he said as he pulled a white shirt off a hanger and shrugged it on, not bothering to do it up or look at her.
“What, so you’re going to act like a caveman now because you didn’t get sex?”
He turned around to face her and she positioned herself slightly behind the opened bathroom door to hide her nudity. Usually, she had no problem being naked around him, but when the threat of an argument hung heavy in the air like the threat of an impending thunderstorm, it made her feel vulnerable.
Even dressed in just grey underpants and an unbuttoned shirt, he cut an imposing figure. His black chest hair was in stark contrast the white of the shirt, the stubble dense on his jawline. His dark eyes appeared black and shiny, like wet blood in moonlight.
Soulless, she thought, not knowing why she would draw such a dark analogy. This was Hugh, her loving husband, the man who had always looked after her, not the enemy.
“I’m used to it. It’s not like you want to have sex anymore. I can’t remember the last time you even touched me.”
“You’re never here, Hugh. If you’re not away at work, you are at work, and if you’re not at work, then you’re working at home.”
“So now I work too much? Might I remind you that it is my work that pays for all of this. All your fancy furniture, and polished oak floors, and the poncey bloody kitchen.”
He waved his arms expansively, presenting their immaculate bedroom to her. Her hands curled around the door, refusing to look at the beautifully restored, Victorian, four-poster bed that she had paid a small fortune for, nor the sleek, built-in, mirror-lined wardrobe that lined the entirety of one wall.
“The kitchen is poncey now?”
“It’s expensive.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not like I’ve brought nothing to the table.”
“Yeah. Your blood money.”
She looked at him in shock, not believing that he had just said that.
“You bastard.”
“I’m sorry,” he said without hesitation. “That was out of order.”
“You’re damn right it was.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“I can’t believe you said that.”
“I didn’t mean it.”
Cassie took a deep breath, discovering that her heart was slamming uncomfortably hard in her chest.
“I’m going to take a shower.”
She went to shut the door, scared of this continuing. Scared of what she might say.
Blood money. I can’t believe he said that…
The door was mere inches from closing when he called out to her:
“Do I need to take you shopping for tonight?”
“No, I did everything yesterday.”
“Fine. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
She shut the door, leaning against it and closing her eyes.
“Now there’s a surprise.”
But she spoke softly enough for him not to hear. She didn’t want to argue – all she wanted was a peaceful life. Yes, she would show Hugh. She would show him that she was a capable, together person. That she was so over her troubled past. That she didn’t have a drinking problem. That she didn’t very nearly have an affair with The Disappearing Man.
Yes, tonight she would make this dinner party a success if it killed her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“That sauce smells amazing.”
She jumped slightly at the sound of Hugh’s voice as she stirred the mushroom sauce, concentrating as she was on the job at hand. Hugh came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling the back of her neck as he did so.
She stiffened slightly in his grip, still not entirely okay with him, but she forced herself to not flinch away from him. Tonight had taken on great importance in her mind. Tonight, she felt like she had so much to prove.
“I’ve made the salad, and the parma mash is done. Obviously, I won’t do the steaks until everyone has arrived, and this sauce can just be microwaved along with the mash.”
Discreetly, she shrugged out of his grip, under the pretence of having to put the little jars of herbs and spices back in the spice-rack.
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help? You look lovely by the way.”
“I’m pretty much organised. Thanks.”
Whether she was saying thanks to his offer of help, or his compliment on her appearance, she wasn’t sure. Things may have been smoothed over between them, but they were still far from perfect. By and large, she had ignored him all day, concentrating on the housework and preparing for the meal that night. Hugh had spent the bulk of the day squirreled away in his office, as per usual.
“You really do look beautiful. Will you please just stop?”
She was wiping down the marble countertop, sponging up the spilled flour when he gently gripped her shoulders and spun her around to face him. It was with great reluctance that she looked up into his eyes; she really didn’t want to do this now.
“I’m sorry that I’ve been working so hard, lately. But that’s going to change, I promise. I’m going to make more time for us. In fact, that’s what this meal is about. I need to soften up Bob. I’m selling my part of the practice.”
“What?”
She stared up at him, her mind positively reeling.
“Eventually, I’ll take on the odd, freelance advisory gig, but beyond that, I want out. I need a break. I want to spend more time with you.”
“And you’re only just telling me this now?”
“I thought you’d be pleased. You’re always complaining that I work too much. And you’re right. I do.”
“When did you decide this?”
“In Scotland. I’ve had enough, Cassie. I love you, and I can feel us drifting apart. I’ve been neglecting you but that’s about to change.”
Cassie continued to stare up at him in confusion. The truth was, she didn’t know what to feel. A small part of her – a deeply weird part of her – felt betrayed.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m telling you now.”
“But you can’t retire.”
Hugh’s soft expression was hardening somewhat.
“I don’t understand you, Cassie, I thought you’d be happy at this decision.”
“I am,” she said quickly. “It’s just…”
Just what? she thought. She wasn’t sure. He was right; she should be happy, but somehow, she wasn’t.
“It’s just, aren’t you a bit young to retire?”
“I’m not retiring. I just need a breather. Money’s no problem, we can afford for me to do this. And it won’t be forever. We can actually do things together. We can go on holiday. We can go on an endless bloody holiday. How about a few months in Oz? Hire a campervan, travel around the coast. We’ve always talked about that, haven’t we? Well, this our chance, Cassie.”
For some reason, his words made her heart break, because as much as she wanted to believe him, as much as she wanted what he was saying, she understood that it could never be.
She choked back the tears, not wanting to ruin her makeup before the guests arrived. She glanced at the kitchen clock; it was twenty-five past, and their guests
were due at half seven.
“Can we talk about this later?”
“I thought you’d be happy,” he said again, his voice now more than a little stony.
She had upset him, she knew she had, but she couldn’t lie to him and pretend to be happy about this. It was all too complicated to get into now.
“I am, it’s just a bit of a bombshell, you know?”
“I had intended to broach the subject with Bob tonight, if things go well. I don’t think I’ll bother now.”
Suddenly, Cassie was angry.
“You’ve had all day to tell me this, why are you springing it on me now, two seconds before they arrive? Why didn’t you tell me this morning?”
“I thought you’d be happy,” he simply repeated.
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
The doorbell sounded, making them both jump.
“I’m sorry, okay? Maybe I should’ve told you earlier. I’ll get the door.”
And with that, he left her standing in the kitchen, staring stupidly after him.
Why am I being so negative?
The kitchen tilted slightly around her and she spun around to grip the countertop.
No, God no, don’t have a panic attack now.
Voices drifted towards her from down the hallway. She had only met his partner Robert Logan and his wife Amanda a handful of times, but there was no mistaking her horse-like bray and his upper-class rumble. She sucked down a deep breath, forcing herself back under control.
The voices grew closer and she closed her eyes for a moment as the panic threatened to engulf her.
You can’t do this now.
Her eyes snapped open. Tonight was important, she reminded herself. Tonight, she was going to show Hugh how capable she was. Tonight was the beginning of the new and improved Cassie.
Smoothing down her knee-length, blue and green floral dress with the cute, short puff sleeves, she reminded herself of this. By the time Hugh, Bob and Mandy had entered the kitchen, she was sufficiently under control. She had on her gloves – a thin blue pair this time to match her dress – and her face was a carefully composed mask of pleasant indifference. Or at least, she was no longer visibly rattled.
“Darling, it’s fabulous to see you again,” Mandy gushed, swanning over to her in cloud of a mature, floral perfume, and what was obviously a designer, little black dress.
She kissed her on each cheek in the French fashion, her bony fingers gripping her bare upper arms as she did so. The woman was only her age, but she exuded a grace and maturity that far belied her young years. In many ways, and perhaps partly because of her severe black bob, she reminded Cassie of Coco Chanel. All she needed was a 1920’s, long cigarette holder and she would be set.
“Hello, Cassie, you’re looking well,” Bob said, he too kissing her on each cheek.
He too, seemed to come from another time, another place. His grey suit was severe and of the finest material, making his lean figure look even leaner. He even had a pencil-thin moustache and slicked-back, dark hair, like a screen idol from the 1950s. He was a few years younger than Hugh, but like his wife, he seemed so much more mature.
Hugh, dressed as he was in his customary white shirt and a pair of black jeans, looked positively shabby in comparison. And she didn’t even want to compare herself to Mandy.
For a second, that wave of panic was back, but thankfully it didn’t hang around and she was able to function as normal again.
“We brought the champers,” Mandy said, thrusting a bottle at her. “It could probably do with a few minutes in the freezer.”
“Thanks,” Cassie said, taking the bottle and walking over towards the other end of the big kitchen where the free-standing freezer lived.
“Why don’t we go into the living room for drinks?” Hugh said, all smiles. “There’s no rush to eat, is there?”
“Heavens, no,” Mandy laughed. “I can’t remember the last time I ate before eight.”
Cassie laughed politely, thinking how much she didn’t like this woman. Sure, she and Hugh didn’t have children either, but that hadn’t turned them into selfish, self-important arseholes like Bob and Mandy.
Hugh laughed as if Mandy had just told a hilarious joke, and Cassie grimaced.
Be nice, she reminded herself. It won’t be long before Hugh leaves this part of his life behind him.
Yet still that thought filled her with a sense of foreboding rather than happiness.
She frowned. She couldn’t analyse this now – she had guests to tend to – guests who were already being escorted down the hallway by Hugh.
Guess I’ll bring the drinks through, then, like the good little woman, she thought. She didn’t even know what everyone wanted, but she assumed that she was supposed to bring on through the over-priced bottle of champagne that Hugh had brought back from Scotland. Mandy’s contributory bottle would have to wait.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
In the living room, Cassie perched on the end of the sofa nearest the door, and Mandy sat on the other end. The men took a leather, Chesterfield armchair each.
All they need is a pipe each, she thought.
Hugh raised his champagne flute.
“To good company, and a good night,” he said.
The three of them echoed the sentiment, and they drank. The wine was good. Heavenly, in fact. It was all she could do not to neck the glass in one gulp. Today’s hangover was a rapidly fading memory, the weakest deterrent to the need to get thoroughly, utterly pissed.
No, you can’t tonight. It’s Hugh’s night. Don’t fuck this up for him.
“I love what you’ve done with this room, it’s so rustic,” Mandy was saying.
Cassie regarded her through narrowed eyes, reminding herself to smile.
“Thanks.”
You bitch, she silently added.
“I mean, this shabby-chic thing you’re doing, it’s really eye-catching, such a striking choice.”
She looked over at Hugh for moral support, but he was engrossed in conversation with Bob. They were discussing the ins and outs of the judicial courts of Scotland, the conversation boring to Cassie and completely over her head.
The bell sounded, and Cassie inwardly breathed a sigh of relief – she didn’t know what she was supposed to talk to Mandy about for the remainder of the evening. Getting blind drunk was beginning to look more and more like a good idea.
“Excuse me,” Hugh said, getting to his feet. “That’ll be Fred.”
“Have you met Fred?” Bob asked on Hugh’s departure.
“No, I can’t say that I have.”
“Oh, he’s an absolute doll,” Mandy said with a saccharine sweet smile. “You will love him.”
Bob vigorously nodded his head in agreement.
“Yes, he’s one on his own, is Fred. Sharp as a tac. Yes, a fierce mind, that one.”
Hugh came back into the room first, all smiles. Cassie got to her feet, not immediately focussing on the older man behind him. When he stepped into view, her heart stopped pumping, before resuming at an alarming speed. The blood whooshed around her body, turning her lightheaded and making her ears ring.
She blinked, but the older man standing before her didn’t magically morph into someone else.
“Cassie, this is Fred. Dr Fred Thornton. He’s been my psychological advisor on the past few cases. I’ll be honest, I would’ve been lost without him.”
“Hello Cassie, I’ve heard so much about you, it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you. I feel like I know you already.”
Dr Thornton extended his hand towards her and all she could do was look stupidly down at it, unable to move, to even so much as breathe.
“Cassie?” Hugh said. “Are you okay?”
His voice seemed to drift to her from very far away and it was all she could do to stay upright.
“Cassie?” he said again.
The room swam around her, but she fought it. She would not lose it. There had to be a logical explanation. And if it the explanation
wasn’t logical, then Dr Thornton was playing some horrific mind game with her. If that were the case, then it was vital that she didn’t freak out right this second and make herself look like a crazy person.
She thought all of this in a matter of seconds, coming to a decision; the decision to act like everything was fine until she worked out what to do.
She stuck out his hand, and he re-raised his to shake it.
“Hello, Fred, it’s nice to meet you.”
“You too, Cassie. You too.”
He was a few inches shorter than her, and smiled up at her with his customary, banal smile. His brown eyes radiated kindness and intelligence behind his glasses, just as they always had.
She had to look away because the sight of him was causing panic to claw at her skull, making her want to scream, and that simply wouldn’t do at all.
“Well, I should get Fred here a glass of champagne. And I need to check on dinner,” she quickly added in case Hugh jumped in and offered to fetch Fred a drink.
She desperately needed a few minutes alone.
“Can I lend a hand?” Dr Thornton asked, smiling benignly at her.
No, was on the tip of her tongue, before impulsively deciding the opposite.
“You know what, Fred, that’s a lovely idea.”
Ignoring Hugh gazing at her with some confusion, she walked from the living room with what she hoped was grace and dignity, aware of Dr Thornton directly behind her.
As soon as they entered the kitchen at the end of the hallway, she shut the door and spun around to face him.
“What the bloody hell is going on?” she hissed.
Dr Thornton continued to act remarkably unruffled, like this situation was the most natural thing in the world.
“Not much. I have been invited to a dinner party by your husband. And here I am.”
She looked at him in utter disbelief.
“Why are you playing games with me? What’s going on? Why are you here?”
Her voice rose at that last sentence, and she fought to keep herself under control. Despite everything, she understood that it was vital she remain calm. It was something that she understood on the most fundamental, instinctive level.
After She Died Page 13