Turning away, I start to fill seed trays and carefully label them, but my heart isn’t in it. Instead, I discover how agonisingly slowly time can pass; how when you’re waiting for news, a call, or anything to happen, every second feels ten times longer.
As the stress catches up with me, my heart starts to race. Suddenly shaky, my grip on life seems to be loosening, a full-blown sense of panic consuming me as I remember the last time it happened. I’d been at my lowest ebb after my marriage to Dominic ended. On the verge of a breakdown, even. Back then, I hadn’t known what was happening to me, but this time I recognise the symptoms. Terrified it’s happening again, I think about calling the therapist I used to see back then. Sonia Richardson. But I can’t bring myself to make the call. She’d be another person to whom I’d have to explain Matt’s lies.
*
The thought of cancelling the wedding dominates my mind. But at least work forces me out of the house for a couple of hours. As I drive to Shoreham, in my fragile state I’m easily distracted, almost pulling out in front of a van, only narrowly avoiding hitting it. It shocks me into concentrating long enough to make my deliveries, before heading straight home when I call Lara.
‘Have you heard anything?’ It’s the first thing she says to me, without so much as a hello.
‘No. Lara …’ I hesitate, but I can’t go on putting it off. ‘I think I should cancel the wedding.’
‘Oh God, Amy.’ She sounds shocked. ‘Why not leave it a few more days?’
‘People need to know. Some are travelling quite a distance.’ Trying to keep my voice level, I’m thinking of people like Matt’s parents. Then I remember – they still haven’t replied to my email. I make a mental note to try them again. ‘And if I do it now,’ I continue, ‘maybe I can get some of the money back.’
‘Amy …’ She sounds confused. ‘Matt told me … I thought you knew …’
My ears prick up. ‘Knew what?’
‘He took out insurance. I assumed he would have told you. He asked me to organise it a couple of months ago – not for any particular reason. I think he saw the costs adding up and wanted to protect what you were paying out.’
It’s another secret. I feel my skin crawl at the thought that he’s kept this from me. Silent for a moment, I try to imagine why he would have done such a thing. ‘There’s been so much going on. It’s possible he did tell me and I forgot.’
As she speaks, she sounds hesitant. ‘I would have thought you’d have remembered something like that. And I can’t imagine why he’d hide it from you?’
But he had hidden it – why, I can’t imagine. Stunned into silence, a conversation we had comes back to me. At the beginning, it had been me who suggested it, when we were booking the venue, after hearing horror stories of last minute double bookings and cancellations. I remember Matt’s words. It’s a waste of money. It’s hardly as though either of us will change our minds.
‘Maybe he forgot to tell you.’ Lara tries to sound reassuring, but there’s an edge of uncertainty in her voice. ‘But basically, if the wedding’s cancelled at the last minute, everything’s covered.’
Any relief I might feel that the costs are covered is outweighed by the fact that Matt didn’t tell me. It’s impossible to ignore the glimmer of suspicion that creeps into my head. He must have done it, because something had changed. Had he already decided our wedding wasn’t going ahead? I can’t think of any other reason why he wouldn’t have told me.
After speaking to Lara, I remember I haven’t told her the police asked for her mobile number. But needing to clear my head, I pull on my coat, close the front door behind me, and instead of heading for the Downs, walk the other way, towards Steyning. The air is still, pale streaks of light filtering through the clouds, lifting the gloom. Either side of me, banks of russet-coloured bracken edge the lane, behind them trees, their stark branches meeting overhead. It’s the kind of evening that I would normally breathe in, savouring the scent of damp earth, the turn of autumn to winter, listening to the dusk song of the blackbird perched nearby. But tonight, I barely notice.
As I walk, denial holds me in its grip. Even after what Lara told me about insuring the wedding, I don’t want to believe that Matt’s been deceiving me. Closer to the village, the lane slopes more steeply and I turn back, not wanting to run the risk of seeing anyone I know, asking questions I can’t answer. Easier, for now, to be alone.
By the time I get back to the house, through the dusk, I make out a shadowy figure near the door. Fleetingly imagining it’s Matt, my heart instinctively leaps. But if it was him, he wouldn’t be standing there – he’d be inside. Only then do I see the police car, recognise PC Page waiting for me.
‘Sorry to drop in like this.’ In the dim glow of the outside light, her face is clouded. ‘Do you mind if I come in? There are one or two things I’d like to talk to you about.’
I nod, my fingers clumsy as I fumble with my key. ‘Of course.’ But I know the police don’t turn up unannounced with good news. Inside, my stomach churns as I anticipate the worst.
Jess
Matt came into our lives on a day of burnished copper leaves and an autumn breeze scented with wood smoke; in one of those before and after moments life is filled with. My mother and I walking up the village High Street, past the characterful shopfronts and the pub where people were spilling out onto the pavement, our lives as they’d been for as long as I could remember. My mother in skinny jeans and a silky black top, me in boots and a short red dress.
We were on our way to my friend Sasha’s parents’ annual party, with live music and a barbecue in the grounds of their house. Up a narrow lane in the village, a wooden door in a flint wall opened into their front garden. I remember the roses growing up the house that were still in flower, their scent mingling with that of the smoke; the neatly mown lawn, its single apple tree heavy with fruit, the front door open, so that sounds from the party drifted outside.
All of those moments belonged to before. As we went inside, making our way through to the big kitchen, a throng of people milled. I watched a man glance towards my mother, a curious expression crossing his face, almost as if he was waiting for her. Then I saw their eyes meet. Felt that moment in my bones when before became after.
I couldn’t have known, but after that, nothing would ever be the same. From the start, he unnerved me. It was the way his eyes cruised restlessly, hovering on other women, until they came to rest on my mother.
He was too contrived, too watchful. I was sure he was playing a game. When he made his way over to her, I watched her body language, defensive at first, slightly awkward; his persistence, her defences slowly being eroded; her face growing more animated as he leaned in closer. There was an expression in her eyes I hadn’t seen before. A look in his, as he turned round and his eyes locked with mine, hostile, challenging me; holding my gaze for several seconds, before deliberately smiling. There was no question he knew who I was, that this man was playing a game with both of us.
‘Who’s that?’ I whispered to Sasha, as soon as I had the chance.
‘How should I know? Why?’
‘He’s flirting with my mother.’
Sasha looked at me as though I was missing something. ‘That’s good, isn’t it? I mean, you’re going to uni soon. Wouldn’t it be good if she met someone?’
‘Yes.’ I wanted my mother to find someone. But he reminded me of a cat prowling, toying with its prey, reeling it in, before pouncing.
Amy
Chapter Six
I’m on edge as PC Page follows me through to the kitchen, where I take off my coat and hang it over the back of one of the chairs, before going to close the curtains. ‘I’ll put the kettle on. Would you like tea? Have a seat.’ Putting off the moment I know is coming, I nod towards the table.
‘No – thanks.’ Pulling out one of the chairs and sitting down, she looks at me. ‘Amy … why don’t you sit down?’
I tense, as fear gets the better of me. It’s the tone of
her voice, her deliberate hesitation, preparing me. Pulling out a chair, my stomach churns as I sit down. Oh God. Has the worst happened? ‘What is it? Have you found Matt?’
‘Not yet.’ Pausing, she shakes her head. ‘But there’s something I have to tell you.’ She hesitates again, her eyes steady as she looks at me. ‘There’s no easy way to say this. But yesterday, we had another report of a missing person. Another man. The call came from a woman in Brighton, reporting her partner as missing. She couldn’t be sure for how long, exactly. They don’t live together. It sounds as though they lead quite independent lives. Anyway …’ Her eyes look directly at me. ‘We took his details, including a physical description. Then she gave us his name.’ She pauses. ‘Matthew Roche. I’m sorry Amy, but we’ve every reason to believe it’s your fiancé.’
I stare at her in disbelief. Then I shake my head and get up, walking across the room, standing with my back to her, trying to take in what she’s saying, before turning back to look at her. ‘That’s impossible. It couldn’t be him.’ What she’s suggesting is outrageous.
‘I agree it doesn’t sound plausible.’ PC Page is silent for a moment. ‘It’s exactly what I thought, at first. But one of our officers went over there with the photo you gave us. This woman had photos, too – not just of him, but of them together. She described his job as a management consultant at Orbital. She knows about you, too.’ She breaks off, watching me. When she goes on, her voice is more sympathetic. ‘There’s no question it’s him. Your Matt. It very much looks as though he’s leading a double life.’
There’s a moment of silence as I stare at her, reeling, before the shock hits me. Then common sense kicks in. ‘There’s no way.’ I shake my head, adamant. ‘He can’t be. Matt lives here. With me. He wouldn’t live a lie. We’re getting married. We’ve written our vows. His are here – somewhere. I saw them, only a couple of days ago.’ I’m clutching at straws as I frantically search for the piece of paper. ‘He goes to work, then he comes home. To me,’ I add, desperately, unable to find it, sitting down again. ‘There aren’t enough hours in the day for anyone else.’ But as I speak, I’m remembering what David said about all the time Matt had been taking off, of how convinced I’d been that he’d made a mistake. But if what she’s saying is right, maybe he hasn’t. Maybe instead of being at work, Matt’s been with her.
‘I know this must come as a terrible shock to you.’ Her voice is gentle and I know as she speaks, there’s more.
‘Please, just tell me.’ I’m dreading what else she’s going to say, but however unpalatable the truth might be, limbo is worse.
PC Page hesitates, then speaks slowly. ‘The woman told us that Matt, her boyfriend, was with her the evening he disappeared. She even knew he’d called you about the non-existent American client. She also told us he was about to leave his fiancée for her. Their wedding was coming up. He knew he had to tell her, but he was waiting to find the right moment. I’m so sorry, Amy. He isn’t even hiding behind an alias.’
It has to be a mistake. But as I stare at her, I can’t think straight. Instead, my mind is all over the place, thinking about what the woman in Brighton said, about Matt insuring our wedding without telling me. And now this.
She goes on. ‘Allegedly he was at her flat that evening. He left there just before eleven. He was planning to come back here and talk to you – that same night. But no-one’s seen him since.’
As the weight of his duplicity catches up with me, I feel my world collapse into ruins. Our wedding’s just days away. It was supposed to have been the happiest of days – the start of the rest of our lives. I thought he loved me. He wouldn’t leave me. Not when we’d planned a future together. As my mind takes me back to when Dominic left me, the same sense of betrayal fills me. I need Matt. Staring at the table, I feel desperate.
‘Who is she? You have to tell me who she is.’
But PC Page shakes her head. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t give out personal information.’
‘Why not?’ My voice brittle, my eyes fill with tears. ‘It’s my life that’s been devastated. I deserve to be told everything you know.’
‘Amy, it’s the law.’ Her voice is understanding, but firm.
‘There is another explanation.’ Still unable to take it in, I search wildly for anything to disprove what she’s telling me. ‘Whoever this woman is, she’s lying. Maybe she has a thing for Matt – an obsession – and she’s jealous of me. It could have been her who left the flowers here, to freak me out. We have a joint bank account.’ Getting out my phone, I open the app, checking it for withdrawals. ‘Matt hasn’t touched our money. And his passport is upstairs. I’m going to get it.’ Racing upstairs, I pull open the drawers in the desk in our tiny study, where I find his passport with mine. Hurrying back downstairs, I place it on the table in front of PC Page. ‘He’d hardly have left this if he was leaving me.’ Thoughts race into my head, thoughts that at last make more sense than anything else I’ve heard so far as I confront a terrifying possibility. ‘Don’t you see? She’s behind all this. Have you searched where she lives? Maybe she’s hurt him or locked him up somewhere. If he was about to call off our wedding, he would have been honest with me. Matt loves me.’ Panic in my voice, I stare at PC Page, desperate for her to understand.
‘But that’s the point.’ Her eyes are unflinching. ‘The fact is he hasn’t been honest with you, surely you can see that. He told you he was meeting an American client the evening he disappeared. A client his boss told us didn’t exist.’ She pauses. ‘I suppose he hadn’t taken his passport because he was planning to come back here.’
To tell me he was leaving. In the silence, I feel reality shift further as her words sink in. I think back to Matt’s last call and what he said to me, to what David said, shaking my head again, confused. The woman’s story conflicts with mine, yet for reasons beyond my grasp, it is somehow more credible to the police.
‘Amy …’ PC Page hesitates. ‘The night he went missing, we’ve every reason to think he was meeting this woman. We’ve been going over CCTV footage – one section in particular, in which two men are seen entering a bar in the middle of Brighton. We’re fairly sure one of them is Matt.’
As she speaks, my stomach churns. ‘Do you know who the other one is?’ I hesitate, going on before she can answer. ‘I might know him. You should show me the image.’
‘We’re not a hundred per cent sure it is Matt, but for now, we’re working on the assumption that it is. The other man …’
‘He must be the American client Matt told me about,’ I interrupt. David must have been wrong. ‘This is proof, isn’t it?’
But when she pauses, I know there’s more. ‘I have another theory. According to the woman who contacted us, Matt had gone for a quick drink with one of his work colleagues, before coming out half an hour later and getting in a cab. We managed to get the vehicle registration and we’ve tracked down the driver, who dimly remembers taking a man to another part of Brighton – apparently he hadn’t any cash on him. I guess that would register with a taxi driver.’ She frowns at me. ‘A woman came out to meet him – it was she who paid the fare. The same woman who later told us he’d gone missing.’ She pauses. ‘I’m going to level with you. We both know that Matt’s been keeping things from you. From the evidence we have, I don’t think there’s any doubt he’s having a relationship with her.’
I stare at her, not wanting to believe her, as she goes on, more kindly. ‘Is there someone who could come and be with you? Family, or maybe a friend?’
‘There’s Jess, but I don’t want her to worry about me.’ Shaking my head, again I think of calling Sonia, devastated, hating how I have no privacy, that everyone knows the details of Matt’s betrayal – if that’s what this is, because even with the CCTV footage, the other woman’s photos, everything that David’s said, I’m in denial; unable to measure the implausible evidence of a stranger against the believable words of the man I love.
Chapter Seven
While PC Page
appears convinced that she’s right, I’m filled with worry, the unfailing belief I had in Matt tinged with uncertainty, its stain slowly spreading, turning to disbelief shot with moments of hope that are all too fleeting. Her parting words haunt me. Matt’s been leading a double life.
Even with the evidence the police think they have, it’s impossible to know who to believe. Since that last time Matt and I spoke, I’ve held an image of him, walking back in, his eyes full of regret, with an explanation that will make everything OK again – until now. But then the words of the woman in Brighton come back to me. He isn’t who you think he is.
In bed, I send another email from my iPad to Matt’s parents. Please can you get in touch, here’s my mobile number. I need to speak to you, urgently. Unable to sleep, I’m haunted by images of Matt with a nameless, faceless woman, until eventually when I drift off, I dream I’m in a church. Sitting alone at the back, the darkness is broken only by flickering candlelight. Then as two ghostly figures glide past, somehow I’m watching our wedding take place. Recognising Matt, I feel my heart leap. Handsome in the suit we chose together, the woman beside him is me, wearing my beautiful, dusky dress, except as I look more closely, a sense of foreboding fills me, because everything’s wrong. The dress that I coveted has become blackened, the hem ripped, while my hair is tangled, my bare feet engrained with dirt. Then panic sets in, because my daughter is absent. Where’s Jess, I try to cry out. Jess has to be here … As I search the shadows for her, the church door bursts open, letting in a swirling wind that one by one extinguishes the candles, while Matt pushes back my tangled hair and lowers his lips to his bride’s. Seeing her face for the first time, a silent scream comes from me.
Sitting up in bed, my heart is pounding, my skin damp with sweat, the vision of my dream still horribly vivid, of the woman wearing my dress, of Matt kissing her, saying his vows to her, the scent of incense and mustiness from the church. Desperately trying to calm myself. It’s a dream, Amy. It isn’t real. But as my heart rate slows, the memory of PC Page’s visit comes back, and the reality of Matt’s betrayal hits me again, knocking the breath out of me.
The Vow: the gripping new thriller from a bestselling author - guaranteed to keep you up all night! Page 5
