Czytaj książkę: «The Missing Wife»
THE MISSING WIFE
Sam Carrington

Copyright
Published by AVON
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Copyright © Sam Carrington 2019
Cover design © www.blacksheep-uk.com 2019
Cover photographs: Face © Marta Bevacqua / Trevillion Images; Candle © Shutterstock
Sam Carrington asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008312954
Ebook Edition © June 2019 ISBN: 9780008259839
Version: 2019-06-14
PRAISE FOR SAM CARRINGTON
‘Expertly written … with plentiful twists and unforgettable characters. An insightful and unnerving read.’
Caroline Mitchell, no.1 bestselling author of Silent Victim
‘A kick-ass page turner … I was knocked senseless by the awesome twist.’
John Marrs, no.1 bestselling author of The One
‘Psychologist Connie Summers is a fascinatingly flesh-and-blood guide through this twisty thriller.’
Louise Candlish, Sunday Times bestselling author of Our House
‘Keeps you guessing right to the end.’
Sue Fortin, no.1 bestselling author of Sister Sister
‘This book is not only gripping, but it explores the mother/daughter relationship perfectly, and ends with a gasp-out-loud twist.’
Closer
‘I devoured this story in one sitting!’
Louise Jensen, no.1 bestselling author of The Sister
‘Sam Carrington has done it again. One Little Lie is a twisty, gripping read. I loved it.’
Cass Green, bestselling author of In a Cottage In a Wood
‘I LOVED Bad Sister. Tense, convincing and complex, it kept me guessing (wrongly!)’
Caz Frear, bestselling author of Sweet Little Lies
‘I read One Little Lie in one greedy gulp. A compelling thriller about the dark side of maternal instinct and love.’
Isabel Ashdown, bestselling author of Beautiful Liars
‘A gripping read which moved at a head-spinning pace … I simply couldn’t put this book down until I reached the dramatic and devastating conclusion.’
Claire Allan, USA Today bestselling author of Her Name Was Rose
‘Utterly original and thought provoking … This cries out to be made into a TV series.’
Amanda Robson, Sunday Times bestselling author of Guilt
‘Engrossing psychological suspense about the effect of a murder on the mother of a teenage killer. Sam Carrington had me hooked!’
Emma Curtis, bestselling author of One Little Mistake
Dedication
For Danika – my daughter, my friend, my inspiration.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Praise for Sam Carrington
Dedication
Chapter 1: The Burial
Chapter 2: The Signs
Chapter 3: The Text
Chapter 4: The Friend
Chapter 5: The Request
Chapter 6: The Offer
Chapter 7: The Decoy
Chapter 8: The Guest
Chapter 9: The Party
Chapter 10: The Hangover
Chapter 11: The Return
Chapter 12: The Message
Chapter 13: The Shock
Chapter 14: The Disappearance
Chapter 15: The Chat
Chapter 16: The Past
Chapter 17: The Visit
Chapter 18: The Favour
Chapter 19: The Appeal
Chapter 20: The Photos
Chapter 21: The List
Chapter 22: The Dream
Chapter 23: The Baby-Sitter
Chapter 24: The Drunk
Chapter 25: The Apology
Chapter 26: The Brush-Off
Chapter 27: The Lie
Chapter 28: The Secret
Chapter 29: The Accident
Chapter 30: The Search
Chapter 31: The Photo
Chapter 32: The Gift
Chapter 33: The Questions
Chapter 34: The Mistake
Chapter 35: The Update
Chapter 36: The Drone
Chapter 37: The Discovery
Chapter 38: The Aftershock
Chapter 39: The Gathering
Chapter 40: The Footage
Chapter 41: The Theory
Chapter 42: The House
Chapter 43: The Find
Chapter 44: The Darkness
Chapter 45: The Truth
Chapter 46: The Hypnosis
Chapter 47: The Ghost
Chapter 48: The Revelation
Chapter 49: The Trap
Chapter 50: The Forgiveness
Chapter 51: The Plan
Chapter 52: The Last Time
Chapter 53: The Funeral
The Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Keep Reading …
About the Author
By the Same Author
About the Publisher
1
THE BURIAL
I can still feel the mud embedded deep under my fingernails, taste the dirt on my lips. I can still see the eyes: shining like glass, open and staring, deep in their sockets. Dead.
In my mind I watch the earth piling onto the body, slowly blotting out what’s been done. Finally covering those eyes, so they can’t judge anymore.
I’m confident no trace can lead back to me.
Part of me feels regret; a sadness that it came to such a drastic act.
For the moment, my conscience is telling me I’m guilty.
But that can be buried too.
2
THE SIGNS
Tuesday p.m.
The quiet murmurings that stopped as Louisa walked in the room, the closely guarded messages on his iPhone, the way he flitted about when Tiff was around – those were the little things that gave him away. He’d never been able to keep secrets. It’d been something Louisa had found endearing when she’d first met him on Millennium Eve at the party she shouldn’t have been at. But nineteen years later, his inability to hide anything despite believing he could – and that he was good at it – had lost its appeal.
Noah screamed in her left ear. She shifted the small bundle from one shoulder to the other, dragging the damp, sickly-smelling muslin square along with him, and bounced him in a vain attempt to console his colicky cries. He’d been howling for three days straight, Louisa was certain. As certain as she could be in her ‘new mum’ catatonic state, where each day rolled into the next with no real context, no definition or concept of time. Instead of faffing about secretively on his phone, Brian would be better served taking Noah and giving her five minutes to herself. Even going to the loo was a luxury these days.
She wondered if Emily had been like this, but Emily’s early years were a blur now. The teenage issues had long replaced any other bad memories of her infancy. Louisa shouldn’t be dealing with a baby. In just over two weeks she was going to be forty. As far as she’d been concerned, Emily was their one and only. Becoming pregnant was neither planned, nor particularly welcomed.
Ultimately, Noah was a mistake. Perhaps that explained why she was struggling.
Louisa lowered her chin and nestled against Noah’s soft, creamy skin, breathing in the distinct smell of baby, blocking his cries from her tired mind. Even contemplating him as a mistake sent a stabbing pain through her womb. Of course she shouldn’t think that way. He was perfect, beautiful – there were women who’d kill to have what she did.
It was because she was almost forty. The thought of reaching the milestone was an overwhelming one. Her mind flooded with anxiety. She was too old to be doing all this again. Sleepless nights, endless days. Nursery, pre-school, junior school, comprehensive, college.
College.
For a moment, Louisa’s memory displayed a vision – but it was lost as quickly as it appeared. She didn’t like to think about the period of her life when she was seventeen and studying for her A levels. There were too many gaps during her second year, and mostly her mind refused to fill them – apart from the odd occasion when an image burst into her head. Random images; unrecognisable faces. Ones she knew she didn’t want to, or need to, grasp hold of. There was little point in trying to piece together a past that wanted to be forgotten.
Noah’s screams finally penetrated her thoughts again – her ability to block them only temporary. All the things she was going to have to experience again. All those ‘stages’ she’d assumed were long gone. But here she was beginning the journey all over again, and with such a big age gap. It petrified her.
Not only that, but she had the other end of the scale to deal with at the same time. Teenage angst, moodiness, rudeness, the pushing of boundaries. It was becoming too much. Even Brian: safe, dependable Brian, who’d been the doting dad when Emily was a baby, had shown less of an interest in Noah. He often came home from his shifts at the prison exhausted and irritable. Sometimes it was as though she had three children to look after, but no one to look after her.
Louisa strode up to him, thrusting Noah out towards his chest.
‘Hang on, Lou. Can’t you see I’m busy?’ he said as he whipped the phone screen away from her so she couldn’t see the display, his body turning away from their son.
‘Funnily enough, so am I. And I’ve had this constant screaming pounding my ears for eight hours. Give me a bloody break and take him! I assume you do want to eat tonight?’
‘Mum!’ Emily’s voice, loud to compete with her baby brother, burst into the lounge. ‘What’s for tea?’
Louisa closed her eyes, taking a moment before she offered an answer. Too soon and her response would come across brusque, unreasonable. Aggressiveness was not a quality she wished to show to her daughter.
‘When I get five minutes to look in the fridge, I’ll be able to tell you.’
‘Oh,’ Brian piped up, his phone finally in his pocket. ‘You don’t even know what we’re having?’
‘No, love. Why don’t you rustle something up? Or take Noah. Like I’ve been trying to get you to do.’ A pain shot through her jaw as she clenched it forcefully. She gave a tight smile, then held Noah out at arm’s length for a second attempt.
‘No problem,’ he said, taking the noisy creature from her outstretched arms as though he was contaminated. He squinted his eyes as the noise came in close contact with his ears.
See how he likes it.
Louisa turned away from them and quickly slipped into the kitchen to make the most of her reprieve, closing the door to block out as much of the noise as possible. She hunched over the granite worktop, hanging her head and closing her eyes tight. God, her head ached. It was like having a hangover twenty-four hours a day, every day. Louisa reluctantly opened her eyes again. She stared at her lank, brown hair, which had splayed on the dark granite – split ends upon split ends, like branches on a tree, reminding her she hadn’t been to the hairdresser for almost a year. Straightening, Louisa contemplated what she could rustle an evening meal out of. It would have to be something with chips. Until Brian took her shopping, there was very little in the fridge, and mainly bags of breast milk in the freezer.
That reminded her.
She pressed a hand to each breast. When had Noah last fed? Both breasts felt relatively soft, yet she couldn’t remember feeding him; that could account for his screaming. But if it had been too long ago, her breasts would’ve become engorged and she’d be desperate to empty them. She tried to think back over the day: she usually fed Noah while sitting in the armchair in the corner of the lounge – what was once her favourite reading chair, before it became the feeding chair – and she always put the TV on while he suckled because it helped take her mind off the stinging sensation of her cracked nipples. What had she been watching the last time she fed him?
Worryingly, nothing came to her. The night-time feeds were always hazy, but not usually the daytime ones. The pounding pain in her head worsened the more she forced herself to remember, the pressure threatening to rupture her brain. Yanking open the bottom drawer of the kitchen cupboard unit, Louisa reached in, pulling forward the tea towels to reveal the rectangular packet she stored at the back. She turned it over and over in her hands before popping two pills from the foil pack. She stared at the capsules as the fear gripped her insides. A fear she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
Was it happening again?
3
THE TEXT
Wednesday a.m.
‘What are you doing?’ Brian asked, his words slurred from tiredness. He threw the duvet off and sat on the edge of the bed, his head resting in his hands. The room was dark bar the illumination of the digital alarm clock’s blue glow.
‘Getting dressed.’ Louisa zipped her jeans and, using her phone light to see, pulled at the soft-pink jumper under the mountain of discarded clothes on the tub chair in the corner of their bedroom, sending the rest tumbling.
‘But it’s five past five, Louisa?’
‘Oh, is it? It feels later. I’ve been up half the night with Noah.’ She tutted as she absently piled the clothes back up on the chair. She banged her hip against the dressing table as she stumbled towards the door. ‘Sorry, I’m a bit on the clumsy side this morning, didn’t mean to disturb you. You’ve got another hour yet, so go back to sleep.’
‘You’re clumsy every morning lately,’ Brian mumbled as he sank back into the pillow.
Despite the strong urge to tell him he would be too if he’d been the one up every night for the last three months, Louisa said nothing and just closed the door quietly behind her.
Noah was sleeping now. Louisa crept past his nursery, barely daring to breathe in case she woke him. Emily’s room, with a poster of P!NK adorning the door, was silent too. She seemed to sleep through Noah’s cries. Just as well – she was moody enough without lack of sleep impacting on her. Her schoolwork was suffering. It had been prior to Noah’s arrival but Louisa didn’t want her daughter, who was as bright as a button, to go downhill further because an unexpected baby had disrupted the equilibrium. Louisa trod carefully on each stair, avoiding the edge of the squeaky middle one.
In the kitchen, she took her handbag from where it hung on the inside of the larder door and retrieved the packet of Marlboro and a disposable lighter. Standing at the open back door, Louisa dragged on the cigarette. Her head swam for a moment, a light airiness consuming it. After a few more puffs, she relaxed.
She had limited opportunities to smoke without being noticed. Early mornings were the best. As far as Brian was concerned, she gave up long ago. She had given up for four years. But yesterday triggered something. The compulsion to start again overtook her and she was relieved to find her secret packet was still in its original hiding place in the bottom drawer of her mother’s old sideboard in the garage. When Brian was otherwise engaged on his mobile, she’d got them and popped them in her handbag. It wasn’t as if Brian would ever go looking in that. He wasn’t nosy, didn’t check up on her; he’d never think to search through any of her things. He wasn’t like that.
Louisa reached around to the outside and scraped the cigarette along the wall to extinguish it; then she hid the butt in one of Emily’s discarded Coke cans. That girl was drinking far too much fizzy rubbish. She washed her hands in the kitchen sink, spread a liberal spray of Oust around and then closed and locked the back door.
Brian’s mobile was charging on the worktop near the bread bin. He never took it to bed, always fearing he’d get a late-night call from his sister Alison, who lived in Yorkshire with his mother, taking care of her following the death of Brian’s dad. She’d phoned several times in the middle of the night, worrying about their mother’s behaviour and her health. It’s not that Brian didn’t care – he did. He was a good son on the whole. But his sister was needy and felt it was her responsibility to tell Brian every little detail of what was going on up there, while he ‘lived life’ at the opposite end of the country. She’d been bitter ever since Brian chose to move to Devon, where Louisa had always lived. And when they’d married, her bitterness intensified. For some reason, Brian felt Alison had always wanted to punish him for that choice.
Louisa took the phone, pressing the button to bring up the home screen. It was password-protected, but she could see the first part of each of the last few notifications and texts. Her breath caught. Tiff’s message was the last one. She could only see the first line.
All good for meeting Friday still? I assume you’ve managed to keep it from
Louisa’s face grew hot. She tapped the screen even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to access the full message. She placed it back on the worktop in the same position she’d found it in. Her heart beat wildly; she could feel pressure in her chest. Friday was when he was supposedly going out with the lads; Louisa distinctly remembered him arranging it. To her knowledge, Brian had never lied to her.
She wondered why he would start now.
4
THE FRIEND
Wednesday a.m.
Noah enjoyed being pushed in his pram, as long as Louisa kept it moving. If she could spend every hour of each day treading the pavements of Little Penchurch, he’d be a quiet baby. Tiff only lived a few minutes from her house, so rather than take the direct route, she went the long way around, circumnavigating the village in the hope Noah may stay asleep once she stopped at her destination. It was unlikely, but nevertheless she had to try something – and she was determined that nothing would stop her seeing Tiff this morning.
Tiff’s house was stunning, like her. It was detached – which again, some would say was one of her traits – standing in its own grounds set back from the road. Inside it was modern, spotless – like a show home. No husband or children to mess it up. Louisa opened the heavy wooden gate, manoeuvred Noah’s pram through and closed it behind her before walking down the side of the house to the back entrance. It was easier to get the pram through the patio doors at the rear. She hadn’t called ahead, so she hoped Tiff hadn’t left yet – she couldn’t remember if it was her yoga day.
‘Well, this a lovely surprise,’ Tiff said as she slid the patio doors fully open. ‘A bit early for you.’ She smiled, her wide grin revealing perfectly whitened, straight teeth.
‘Yeah, hope you don’t mind. I just had to get out of the house for a bit, and walking seems to be the only thing that keeps Noah quiet.’
Tiff crouched down to peek inside the pram. ‘Aw, he’s getting bigger. It’s all that good milk he’s getting.’
‘Not sure he is getting enough milk, actually.’ Now Louisa was inside her best friend’s house, she let her guard down. Without even realising she felt sad, tears began to trickle down her face.
‘Oh, lovely. Come here.’ Tiff enveloped Louisa in a tight hug, rocking her gently. This only added to Louisa’s unexpected outpouring of tears and suddenly she was sobbing.
‘I don’t know what’s happening to me.’ Her voice was muffled in Tiff’s white T-shirt.
‘Baby blues, love. They’ll pass. Come on, let’s get you a coffee.’
Louisa left Noah, who was thankfully still asleep despite the movement of the pram ceasing, and followed Tiff into her huge kitchen, wiping her tears with her jumper sleeve as she walked.
‘Here.’ Tiff handed Louisa a small cube of coloured tissues. Louisa took a few sheets and swiped them across her nose, annoyed with herself for crying the second she’d walked in. She watched through tingling eyes as her friend of eight years filled the see-through kettle with bottled water – she didn’t trust tap water, convinced she’d get cancer from drinking it – and stared at the blue light radiating through the liquid.
‘So—’ Tiff turned to look at her ‘—I take it you’re not sleeping, looking at those bags.’
Louisa couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Hah! Thanks, I feel better already!’
‘Sorry. I’d be a total mess if I were you. If I don’t get at least eight hours a night I’m a total bitch and I’d look like something from a horror movie.’
‘I doubt that, Tiff.’ She looked down at the scrunched ball of soggy tissue in her hand.
‘It’s a good job it doesn’t happen often, I can tell you.’
The kettle clicked off, and Tiff busied herself making the two coffees. Louisa glanced around the kitchen. Her whole downstairs would fit in this space. Her thoughts turned to the text message, and how she could bring it up without making herself sound distrustful of her friend. Her only friend. Well, the only one that counted, anyway – she knew lots of people: colleagues from the accountancy firm she worked for, other mums of kids Emily’s age, and now some mums from her antenatal and baby groups. But she didn’t socialise with them. She wasn’t like Tiff, who had dozens of close friends and revelled in moving in different social circles. That would only stress Louisa. Keeping a single friend was difficult enough for her, always had been.
‘Any goss?’ Louisa asked. It was the best way of getting Tiff chatting, so that she could find an opportunity to slip in her question.
‘Ooh, well, yes, actually!’ Tiff planted the mugs on two glass coasters and flounced away, disappearing through the double doors that led to the lounge. She returned, laptop in her hands. ‘Did you see this?’ Tiff twisted the screen to face Louisa. Sarah Weaver’s Facebook profile was displayed.
‘Oh, what’s going on with her?’ Louisa squinted at the page as Tiff reached around the laptop and scrolled down to Sarah’s latest status update.
‘Life is too short to be with people who hold you back. Embrace change. Don’t be afraid to turn the page of your own story or you’ll never reach the next chapter.’
‘Okay, it’s a bit deep – but I don’t understand, what’s wrong with it? It’s just some motivational quote.’
‘Haven’t you been keeping up? Don’t you realise what this means?’
Louisa sighed. Keeping up with Facebook wasn’t something that had occurred to her during the last three months of sleep-deprived baby tasks. She hadn’t been that great with social media prior to Noah’s birth, but the most she used the internet for at the moment was searching for ‘how to prevent colic’ or ‘tricks to make him sleep like a baby’. As well as the chat rooms on Mumsnet – they were her current lifeline. Not the goings-on with friends-who-weren’t-even-real-friends on bloody Facebook. If it wasn’t for Tiff having set up her Facebook profile in the first place, she’d never have bothered with it. Fake lives and fake friends were not her thing.
‘It’s not something I’ve been compelled to do, no. I’ve been a little preoccupied …’
‘Well, yes, I guess. You are useless at posting anyway, and you never respond to my posts, even if I tag you.’
‘Sorry.’ It was quicker and easier to apologise rather than get into a debate about the negative aspects of splashing your life online.
‘Not to worry. Anyway, I digress. Back to Sarah. After being “found out” last month, she’s been keeping a low profile. But then, this. It has to mean she’s still seeing Mark, doesn’t it? We’re all going to the school fundraiser on Wednesday evening, so no doubt I will find out more then.’ Tiff looked pleased with herself. She and Sarah had history and it was no secret they’d clashed over who was better at organising village events – whether it was for the primary school, the cottage garden society show or the church fund, Tiff liked doing it all. Without much help. And certainly not from Sarah Weaver, who she viewed as a nuisance and someone who put barriers up where there shouldn’t be any (even if she was right). Tiff liked to think of herself as THE fundraising organiser of the village – the best and only ‘go-to’ person there was. Anything that put Sarah, her main competition to this title, in a poor light was a good outcome as far as she was concerned. So, if there were rumours, Tiff wasn’t likely to do anything other than fan the flames.
Despite Tiff not having any children, let alone at the school, she’d managed to get in with the head teacher by volunteering to read with some of the younger pupils. Louisa suspected that Tiff’s stated motive for doing it – so she could organise events – was only part of the reason. From some of the conversations they’d had over the years, Louisa deduced that Tiff regretted her decision not to have a family and now believed this was her way of being a part of something she felt she was missing out on. The fact she could be so pushy, and even hoity about it, always came as a surprise to Louisa.
She often wondered how they’d become such good friends. They’d met at a mutual friend’s wedding eight years ago and somehow just clicked. As unlikely a friendship as it was, and a total surprise to Brian, they’d remained close ever since. Maybe it was because Louisa posed no threat to Tiff’s aspirations: Louisa was never going to want to be an organiser of anything because she didn’t even like events or parties. If she was coerced into going to one, she’d be the person keeping quiet in the corner of the room, drinking an orange juice and looking lost. Tiff was welcome to the attention.
Louisa was suddenly aware she was meant to be offering an answer – responding to Tiff’s assumptions about Sarah’s extramarital affair in the way her friend wanted her to. As this finally sank in, Louisa realised it gave her an opportunity to bring up the real reason she’d visited today.
‘Let me get this right,’ Louisa said. ‘You think Sarah has been having an affair with Mark – her best friend’s husband?’
‘Er … yes! I know you’ve been off the scene for a bit, but how come you’ve missed all of that? It’s not like we live in a big village – it’s tiny, and everyone knows everyone. I don’t know, Louisa – sometimes you disappoint me.’ She shook her head. ‘And anyway, I thought we talked about this last time we had coffee?’
‘I don’t remember …’
‘Baby brain,’ Tiff mocked. ‘Anyway, how evil is that?’
This was Louisa’s chance to mention the text. But with Tiff’s obvious distaste for what Sarah had done, why then would she be doing the same to Louisa? Although, it was always easier to judge someone else’s actions rather than your own. And she may only be reacting to this because it was Sarah, not because she actually felt it was evil.
Louisa took a deep breath. ‘Yeah, that’s awful. Who would cheat with their best friend’s husband?’ She stared into Tiff’s deep-blue eyes, expecting to see a hint of guilt.
‘A bitch, Louisa. A total bitch, that’s who,’ Tiff said vehemently.
‘You’d never do that to me, would you?’
The burst of laughter made Louisa jump. For a moment she was puzzled – she hadn’t realised she’d said the words out loud, only thought them.
‘What? God, of course not. And, you know, it’s not as if Brian is my type.’ She threw her head back and carried on laughing.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Louisa put her mug down hard on the coaster. She’d managed to go from mistrust to indignation in a beat.
‘You’re serious,’ Tiff said. The laughter stopped, her smile disappearing. ‘I’m confused, Lou. What’s up with you?’
‘I’m sorry, I’m just hormonal. It’s nothing.’
‘No, go on. It’s obviously something or you wouldn’t be reacting in this way.’
‘I feel bad now. I – I shouldn’t have looked …’
‘Looked at what?’ A mask of concern darkened Tiff’s face. Louisa regretted saying anything, but now she’d come this far she may as well continue.
‘A text. On Brian’s phone. He’s been weird lately, acting suspiciously, on the bloody mobile all the time. All hush-hush stuff. I thought he must be having an affair …’ Louisa looked up at Tiff, her face stony. ‘Maybe it’s with Sarah.’ Louisa gave a nervous laugh. But it was too late to make jokes – Tiff knew what she was getting at.
‘No. Not Sarah. But not me either. Not anyone, Lou. He only loves you.’ Her voice was cool.
Louisa swallowed hard. ‘Why are you arranging to meet then? Friday, you said in the text.’
Tiff got up and walked around the kitchen island to Louisa.
‘Look, Lou,’ Tiff said, putting an arm around her shoulders. ‘Even if Brian was my type, I’d never cross that line. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a husband-snatcher. And I would never go after my best friend’s husband. I’m going to put this down to your sleep-deprived state – and your loopy hormones, like you said – and try not to be deeply hurt that you’d even think such a thing. Now, how about another coffee?’ Her hand slipped from Louisa’s shoulder as she straightened and moved away.
Louisa frowned. Tiff hadn’t denied the text, although she’d put up a convincing argument about how she wouldn’t have an affair with Brian. Because of her reaction Louisa didn’t feel she could carry on the conversation or ask anything more about Friday – not without alienating her further.
There was something more, though, she could sense it.
Louisa realised she only half-believed her best friend. And that didn’t sit well at all.
5
THE REQUEST
Thursday p.m.
Louisa awoke with her head and torso slumped over her lap. She straightened, taking a deep breath as she looked round the room. She was in Noah’s nursery, in the chair.
Her heart gave a jolt. She’d been feeding Noah.
She looked down. He was quiet. Still. Cradled in her arms. She’d fallen asleep over him.
Louisa shook him gently.
Nothing.
She jumped up, holding Noah upright.
A sharp cry.
For a moment she was relieved. But the cry was her own.
‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ Brian crashed through the door, hair ruffled, his face ashen.
‘No – ah …’ Louisa gasped for air, holding the limp baby up towards her husband.
‘What? What about him. He’s quiet, Lou, leave him to sleep.’ Brian’s brow was furrowed.
‘I – I was feeding him, I fell asleep – he’s – he’s not breathing, Brian!’
Brian hit the light switch. A soft yellow illumination filled the small room.
‘Louisa.’ He reached out and took her arms. ‘Louisa, he’s just asleep—’
‘No. I squashed him, look …’ Louisa was afraid to gaze down again, fearful of seeing the damage she’d done. But suddenly her arms felt light.
She looked down.
Noah wasn’t in them.
‘You must’ve been asleep and dreamt it, Lou. He’s fine. He’s in his cot, and he’s breathing. I promise.’ Brian pulled Louisa gently towards the cot and placed her shaking hand on Noah’s chest. ‘See?’
Louisa’s breathing slowed as she felt the steady rise and fall.
Tears of relief slipped down her cheeks. It hadn’t felt like a dream. She’d been certain he was in her arms.
‘Come to bed.’ Brian’s voice – soft, coaxing – relaxed her.
Louisa could only nod as Brian took her hand and gently guided her to their room. She climbed into bed. But she didn’t fall asleep again. A coil of fear remained – an ache, a pain she couldn’t rid herself of – the question of whether she’d hallucinated purely because of sleep deprivation lay heavy in her exhausted mind.
She waited for Brian’s deep guttural snoring to start, then she crept out of bed.
Her online search yielded a long list of hits. Louisa’s anxiety at what had happened – her belief she’d suffocated Noah when he wasn’t even in her arms despite her eyes telling her otherwise – lessened slightly. It seemed hallucinations were one of the most common effects of lack of sleep. One article mentioned that the effects of sleep deprivation could mimic mental illness.
Louisa began to panic that having Noah, and the lack of sleep that came with him, might have triggered her old problem. Or was the article right – was she merely experiencing the effects of not sleeping? She didn’t want to think about it. Louisa closed Google and was about to log into Mumsnet, but then decided Facebook might take her mind off things more. Thinking about what Tiff had said about Sarah, and the fact Louisa had never responded to being tagged, she thought now was as good a time as any to catch up. She may even find evidence of something going on between Tiff and Brian. They were both aware she didn’t really use Facebook and therefore would be unlikely to spot anything untoward – they may have taken advantage of that.
After a few failed attempts at logging in, Louisa finally recalled her ‘easy-to-remember’ password that Tiff had set for her and the homepage popped up. She immediately searched Tiff’s and Brian’s profiles. There were a few ‘likes’ – and Brian had commented on Tiff’s last profile picture she uploaded – simply saying ‘lovely’ – but surely that was nothing to worry about. She scrolled through the last two weeks of status updates, new photos and every comment on Tiff’s account, checking to see if Brian had said anything inappropriate. Then she did the same on Brian’s. Even though she was analysing everything as if under a microscope, she couldn’t find anything that looked suspicious in terms of them having an affair.
She then clicked on to Sarah’s profile. At first glance, her life looked perfect. Every photo Sarah posted showed smiling faces; happy families – on outings, all sitting around the table having a family meal, the kids all behaving. The picture of perfection – then she did the dirty? Facebook is a lie, Louisa concluded. In fact, she would go as far as saying it was evil. The fakeness appalled her. It was why she kept off it, although, deep down she knew that wasn’t the only reason.
As she moved the cursor to close it down, vowing to herself never to go back on the site, Louisa’s attention was caught by the number beside the miniature world icon on the top right of her page. Thirty notifications.
Ignore them.
It’s not like she had tons of friends – real or otherwise – so despite a long absence she hadn’t expected to see so many notifications.
Louisa relinquished and clicked on them.
Her breath ceased for a few seconds. Every one of them was from a single source, and it was not Tiff, as she’d expected. And all but one of them was the same.
Oliver Dunmore invited you to join the group Exeter College Leavers 1997
The newest notification was the only one that was different.
You joined the group Exeter College Leavers 1997
How had she joined? She hadn’t accepted the invitation.
Oliver was not a person she wished to remember, and neither was her time at Exeter College. Louisa’s head swam.
She slammed the laptop lid closed.
6
THE OFFER
Friday a.m.
‘You look dreadful. You can’t go on with this little sleep, Lou.’ Brian’s opening line as he walked into the kitchen holding Noah was an unnecessary statement.
‘I know that. I’m really feeling it. Last night scared me.’
‘Me too. You were so utterly convinced you’d killed him.’ Brian passed Noah to her, then gave her shoulders a squeeze before sitting down at the table opposite her. ‘Your eyes … they were manic, Lou. You didn’t look like you.’
‘I’m so sorry for freaking you out.’ Louisa dropped her gaze, not wanting Brian to see the fear in her eyes. She smiled at Noah’s scrunched-up face as he yawned.
‘I’m having Noah tonight. There’s enough milk in the freezer and he’ll be okay with me bottle-feeding him for one night. I’m going to take you to Court Farm this afternoon. I’ve booked you a room there – you need to get some sleep.’
‘What? No, Brian. It’s a lovely thought but I can’t leave Noah. I won’t sleep if I’m away from him, I’ll just worry all the time.’
‘He’ll be absolutely fine with me. Don’t you trust me?’
Four words. Ones that had huge weight attached to them. Louisa couldn’t even answer immediately.
‘I know I’ve not been pulling my weight.’ Brian reached across, running his fingertips gently across Louisa’s cheek. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been selfish. But let me do this now. For you.’ He looked at her with pleading eyes. ‘Please?’
The text to Tiff was fresh in her mind. He wanted her out of the way so he could meet up with her.
‘I don’t feel confident. Not with how I’ve been feeling …’
‘Tiff will be with you.’
‘What?’
‘Tiff is going to stay too. Separate room, don’t worry – you need solid sleep, not to be chatting all night.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Louisa frowned. This was an unexpected turn.
‘I could see how badly this lack of sleep was affecting you. I’ve been talking to Tiff, asking her advice really, and together we thought this would at least give you a bit of a break …’
Louisa sank back in the chair. Had their messaging and the hushed conversations all been about arranging one night away from her baby? Louisa’s face flushed. Shit. She’d practically accused Tiff of having an affair with her husband. As well as hallucinations, she could now tick paranoia off the sleep deprivation checklist.
‘But it’s a pub, Brian. I won’t sleep with all the noise.’
‘The rooms are in a converted barn adjacent to the pub so it should be fine. Even if you don’t get to sleep until midnight, you could still get seven, eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. It’ll be far better than what you’ve been getting.’
Louisa contemplated it. It wasn’t as if her parents could take Noah, like they used to Emily. They were too old now: her mother too fragile, her dad clueless – plus, she hadn’t even spoken to them for weeks, their relationship remaining strained. Even when they’d looked after Emily, Louisa had always felt it’d been something they’d done out of duty rather than love. Each time her mum agreed to take Emily it was a decision edged with bitterness.
Louisa’s rocky relationship with them, her mother in particular, was a hangover from her teenage years – she’d often been told how she’d been challenging, that her erratic behaviour when she was at college had caused no end of worry. Louisa had spent a long time wishing she could’ve gone away to a college further afield, rather than to the closest one. But commuting daily to Exeter was simpler and it wasn’t as though she had much choice anyway. It wasn’t like going off to uni, where it was expected you live away from home. She was only doing A levels and none of her friends had their own digs; all of them lived at home too, so she couldn’t even crash at anyone else’s. Things might have been very different if that had been a possibility.
Considering her lack of options, Brian’s offer may well be her only opportunity to have some time out. One night couldn’t hurt. And she really needed sleep if the last few days, and particularly last night, were anything to go by.
‘Thank you.’ She gave a grateful smile.
‘Good. That’s settled then.’ Brian got up and moved to the worktop where his mobile was. He unplugged it from its charger and was immediately immersed in texting. Tiff, she presumed.
‘We got any Coco Pops?’ Emily breezed into the kitchen. No ‘good morning’, no eye contact.
‘Unless you’ve eaten them all, then yes – in the larder.’
Emily huffed and sloped over to the larder, pulling the yellow box from the top shelf. Louisa watched as her handbag banged back against the door as Emily went to close it. She must remember to take the bag with her secret stash of cigarettes inside to Court Farm later. She’d also take her tablets from the drawer. While one night away from Noah might be beneficial, she had a feeling she’d need more help than that to sleep well.
7
THE DECOY
Friday p.m.
Tiff’s car – a volcano-red Audi A8, so she’d informed Louisa when she’d bought it brand new – drew up outside at smack on five. Louisa watched from the window as Tiff got out, perfectly dressed as usual, her Ray-Ban sunglasses on, despite the March weather being quite dull. Louisa looked down at her own ensemble: the same jeans she’d been wearing all week and a plain black baggy T-shirt. She should’ve made more effort, but then again, it was meant to be a relaxing night away so it didn’t really matter what she wore.
Brian had come home from work early and taken Noah out for a walk – Emily begrudgingly went with them. Louisa had said her goodbyes. In her head, she repeated, It’s only one night. She knew it could only do her good.
She’d made sure her cigarettes and tablets were in her bag – she’d already taken two tablets that morning as a precaution, knowing her anxiety levels would be increasing. Checking the freezer, she noted there was a good stack of frozen milk, even more than she’d thought. How had she pumped off that much? As far as she could tell, her milk production had slowed to the degree she was considering supplementing Noah with formula. At least she didn’t have to worry about him going hungry. The bottles were freshly sterilised. All was taken care of. She popped two more tablets out of the aluminium pack, swallowed them without water, and threw the packet back into her handbag as she thrust it over her shoulder and walked towards the front door.
‘Hi, hun! You not ready yet?’ Tiff said as she embraced Louisa, then stood back to take in her appearance.
‘Er … yes. I didn’t see the point in dressing up,’ Louisa said.
‘No, no I guess not. Have you packed anything else?’ Tiff’s frown said it all.
‘I’ve got another T-shirt.’ Louisa held up the small overnight bag she’d found in the back of the wardrobe and that she’d stuffed with minimal supplies.
‘Why don’t you pop upstairs and grab something nice for later – a dress or something.’
‘For later? I was planning on sleeping later, Tiff.’
‘Yes, yes. Of course. I thought I’d treat you to a nice dinner though, before you bed down for the night. You’re looking pasty lately, like you’re in need of a good meal. And you know, a drink or two, which I’m sure will help you settle quicker.’ She smiled.
Louisa knew it was futile to argue so she bounded up the stairs, pulled her old faithful off the hanger – a flower-print jersey dress – and shoved it inside her bag. She grabbed her make-up bag too. Pasty. She would make a small effort, just to get Tiff off her back.
‘Right, let’s go!’ Tiff was out of the door before Louisa could say anything.
The room was small but adequate. Louisa had often been to the restaurant and bar at Court Farm but living so close meant there’d never been a need to stay. It felt weird to be sleeping away from home when it was only two miles away. She really hoped she felt better after tonight; Brian would be so disappointed if his plan didn’t work, but Louisa knew that she’d need far more than one night for a difference to be made.
A knock interrupted her thoughts. Louisa opened the door to Tiff.
‘My plan is that you shower now, dress up, slap on some war paint and we hit the bar in an hour. Sound good?’
‘Well, I guess.’ Anxiety coursed through her body like a rapidly spreading virus. It seemed a lot to do in an hour, and the double bed with its fluffy pillows and crisp, clean bed linen looked really inviting.
‘I’ll go and get some wine. It’ll be like old times, getting ready to go out.’ Tiff’s enthusiasm made Louisa smile in spite of her misgivings. When they’d first been friends, Tiff regularly dragged Louisa out on a Friday night – not clubbing, those times were long gone – but they’d go into Newton, traipse from one pub to another, Tiff drinking more than was sensible, and they’d have a good laugh. It was the time getting ready at Tiff’s house that used to make Louisa’s night. She always went to Tiff’s because there, Louisa had no one making any demands on her: she could avoid Emily’s bedtime and leave the calming-down period and story-telling to Brian, so it was more fun. She’d have been fine with just that, not even bothering to go out. Louisa wasn’t much of a drinker, not since her college days. She’d allow Tiff to get her a drink now, though. One wouldn’t hurt, and it wasn’t as though she had to feed Noah.
‘Okay. I’d better jump in the shower then.’
‘Excellent,’ Tiff said as she did a dramatic twirl and left the room. Louisa took out the dress she’d squashed into her bag, brushing it down and hoping the creases wouldn’t be too visible once it was on her. This could be just what she needed – a shower in complete peace, a few hours of being ‘normal’, a nice meal, a good natter and an entire night of undisturbed sleep. Just in case though, she would take a couple more of the pills. She didn’t want to waste the opportunity of getting rest by lying awake all night worrying. Her mind always came alive the second her head hit the pillow, so it was worth having a back-up. She swallowed the capsules with water from the tap and went into the bathroom.
Tiff had convinced Louisa to have two glasses of wine while they were getting ready, and her head now felt woozy. She should’ve waited to eat before having the second. They made their way out of the accommodation building, which, just as Brian had told her, was adjacent to the pub. Tiff had her head down, busy texting. Louisa prickled, irritated that Tiff couldn’t stay off her mobile for even a few hours. Louisa shook her head. She hoped tonight wasn’t a mistake. Shuffling along behind Tiff, who was now quite forcibly pushing through some people standing at the bar, Louisa kept her head lowered. An uncomfortable sensation rippled through her; she didn’t want to make eye contact with anyone, suddenly feeling exposed – everyone staring at her.
‘We’ve got a table in the upstairs room,’ Tiff said, finally turning to face Louisa and ushering her up the stairs first. Louisa was glad to be escaping the busy, noisy bar area to the more subdued upstairs. She stumbled on the steps, grabbing the rail to regain her balance. Two wines mixed with the tablets was clearly not the best of ideas.
Nearing the top of the stairs, Louisa’s chest tightened. Tied to the bannister, floating ominously, were a couple of Happy 40th Birthday balloons. Her feet refused to move forward, but Tiff nudged her on.
‘Go on, it’s all right,’ she coaxed.
The room, which a moment ago was quiet, erupted into a frenzied noise of singing.
Oh, God no.
Her eyes darted around, her brain attempting to put it all together. What the hell? Her birthday wasn’t for another two weeks so this must be for someone else. As the out-of-tune rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ continued, Louisa noticed that balloons displaying the big 4-0 adorned every table. The room was filled with people she didn’t recognise, who all appeared to be clapping and cheering for her. The dizziness returned, threatening to cause her legs to give. Her eyes settled on Brian, who was smiling, standing with Noah in his arms at the front of the gathering. Noah wasn’t crying. Even Emily, standing at Brian’s side, was smiling.
‘Surprised? I wanted to make sure you did something special for your fortieth.’ Brian grinned. Louisa’s mouth opened, but no words would form. She couldn’t fathom why he would have thought this was a good idea in her current state. She had a strong urge to turn around and run back down the stairs, but more people came up behind her, blocking her route. Fleeing didn’t appear to be an option.
This was the worst thing that could’ve happened. What about her relaxing night, the one where she was meant to sleep? A hot ball of irritation burned in the pit of her stomach. This was not a happy surprise but now that she’d been forced into the situation, and quite clearly couldn’t get out of it, Louisa lifted her chin, put her shoulders back and made her way properly into the guest-filled room. After a few hellos and polite thank you for coming statements, Louisa sat at the table nearest the window. If she didn’t sit, she’d collapse. The throng of voices blurred into the background as Louisa stared outside. More people were coming. Surely not for her? How many people did Brian invite? She didn’t even know this many people.
She felt a hand on her knee.
‘I know I tricked you into this, but I really thought … well, we really thought it would do you good. I’m still taking Noah home with Emily after the meal.’ He bounced Noah gently in one arm, but it appeared as though there was no need – the baby was content and settled. ‘So you’ll still have time to yourself.’ His eyes sought hers for approval. She attempted a smile, hoping it looked grateful rather than stabby, which was how she was really feeling.
‘How did you arrange this?’
‘With Tiff’s help, of course. The night away with Tiff was the perfect decoy. It got you here, ready for the surprise to be sprung on you.’ He sounded so chuffed with himself – and granted, he’d actually done a good job keeping it from her. It seemed he was better at keeping secrets than she’d given him credit for. Part of her was relieved that the party was the reason for his constant texting, his sneaky behaviour. Another part, though, couldn’t shake the foreboding sensation deep in her gut.
‘Tiff helped? What’s she done – invited all her friends?’ Louisa gave a quick sweeping glance of the room trying to pinpoint some people she actually knew.
‘No, silly.’ He gave her a hug, kissing the top of her head. Thank God Tiff had convinced her to shower and wash her hair. ‘She went through your friends list.’
‘My what?’ Louisa’s jaw slackened.
‘Your Facebook friends – she said she knew your password as she’d set your profile up and you’d never changed it. Sorry – I thought it would be okay if she did it. She even managed to track down your old college buddies thanks to an invite you’d had to join the alumni. Took her ages – she’s pretty amazing at all this organising stuff, isn’t she?’ He beamed.
The blood in Louisa’s veins cooled, an icy sensation creeping underneath her skin.
She shook her head, unable to formulate the right words. She wanted to scream but, instead, a numbness took over.
‘It wasn’t easy – you’ve never talked about any of them despite me digging over the years – but we thought it would be the ideal time to do some catching up. A reunion of sorts. What better time than this milestone?’
Her breathing shallowed; the room closed in on her. There would never have been a good time for that.
She had to escape this room full of strangers. Because that’s what they were, in effect. None of them really knew her. She silently prayed that none of those on the Exeter College list would turn up. Surely after twenty-two years none of them would even remember who she was? She’d left after her A levels while the majority of her friends had gone on to university, scattering far and wide across the country. Louisa hadn’t kept in contact with anyone. They wouldn’t bother to come to her fortieth when they’d not set eyes on her for all that time. The thought of it even being a possibility, though, set her nerves on edge. Grabbing her handbag, and without looking at Brian, she got up.
As Louisa pushed through the people, she heard multiple ‘happy birthdays’ and her name being spoken, arms reaching out and hands touching her. Muttering her thanks, she quickly moved on, her eyes focused on the stairs. As she reached them she bumped into someone coming the other way.
‘Long time, no see,’ the smooth, deep voice said. A voice that caused tiny electric shocks to spread inside her body. Her prayer hadn’t been answered.
Louisa was paralysed to the spot.
She hadn’t seen him since 1997, but his face was instantly familiar.
Oliver.
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