The Happy Couple: An absolutely unputdownable and gripping psychological thriller

by Samantha Hayes

  ‘No, I meant that,’ she says, pointing. ‘I don’t seem to have any control over when he comes. He turns up whenever he bloody likes, just appearing and messing with my head.’ She knows she’s slurring, can’t help it.

  ‘Sorry, what?’ Simon says, a curious smile forming. He pours two shots, hands Jo the smaller of them and gets back into the same position as before. Only closer.

  His leg is definitely touching yours now. Don’t move. And don’t blurt.

  ‘I blurt a lot,’ Jo says, swallowing, rolling her eyes at herself. She needs to be serious for a moment.

  Don’t be serious. If you’re serious, it’ll come out. And then you’ll cry. And he’ll think you’re a messed-up crazy criminal and… and then he’ll call the police!

  ‘Blurting can be good,’ he says in just the right tone of voice to stop her feeling silly. ‘Nothing wrong with a cathartic blurt if it makes you feel better. And I’m a good listener, if it helps. It’s a big part of my job. I couldn’t do it if I wasn’t.’

  ‘You’re a therapist?’

  ‘Yeah, you could say that,’ Simon replies. ‘So go on, who just turns up and messes with your head?’

  ‘Will…’ Jo whispers, staring at him over by the bookshelf. He’s watching them both as they sit there on the sofa, his face deadpan rather than having the usual appreciative look he has in his eyes.

  What the hell are you doing? Will says to her, his voice matching his disapproving expression.

  ‘I know you’re cross,’ Jo says across the room. ‘I’m sorry… honestly, nothing’s going to happen here, and…’

  ‘Firstly, I’m not in the least cross,’ Simon says, looking slightly puzzled at whatever Jo is saying. ‘And as for the other bit, well no, that’s fine. I’m sorry now. I’m probably coming on a bit strong and—’

  ‘What? No, wait… I didn’t mean you…’ Jo says to Simon and, without thinking, she takes his drink from him, leans forward and kisses him full on the mouth. It’s the only thing she can think of to make herself keep quiet.

  Twenty-One

  ‘God, I’m so sorry…’ Jo pulls back. Simon stares at her.

  ‘Don’t be. If you hadn’t done it, I would have.’ He touches her cheek, wiping away a stray tear. ‘But not if I’d known it was going to make you cry.’

  Jo touches her face, drops her gaze and sighs. ‘Sorry… I didn’t mean—’

  ‘It was a lovely kiss,’ he says softly. ‘Can’t deny I haven’t wanted to do that since I first saw you.’ His eyes smile along with his mouth as she stares into them.

  Then she looks over at Will.

  Simon looks over his shoulder, towards the bookcase. He frowns. ‘So are you going to tell me who Will is?’ He runs his finger along Jo’s forearm, gently stroking it.

  She shudders. ‘I’m not crazy, just so you know.’

  ‘I never said—’

  ‘He’s just someone I used to know,’ she replies, looking at his finger on her arm.

  ‘Boyfriend?’

  ‘Husband, actually.’

  Simon thinks a moment. ‘Ah,’ he says, taking his finger away. ‘I didn’t realise you were married. You’re not wearing a ring.’

  ‘I’m not. I mean, I am, but… I’m… I’m kind of separated.’

  I only took it off because I didn’t want people asking questions – why are you house-sitting alone? Where’s your husband?

  ‘It’s complicated.’ She shrugs.

  ‘And now it’s more so?’

  Jo laughs, reaches for her drink and knocks half of it back in one go. ‘It couldn’t be more complicated whatever happens now, so no worries there.’

  ‘People… people escape for all sorts of reasons, you know. There’s no shame in wanting time out, time away.’

  ‘Escape?’ Jo’s heart thumps. ‘No, no. I’m just here for a break.’ She swallows.

  ‘Depends what you’re having a break from, I suppose,’ he says. ‘And if that makes it escaping or not.’ He leans forward, kissing her – so softly, Jo isn’t even sure he’s doing it. And when she opens her eyes, looks over his shoulder, Will is still standing there, hands on hips – watching, slowly shaking his head.

  ‘Oh God, oh God, oh God,’ Jo whispers after Simon has gone to the bathroom. She pushes her fingers through her hair – partly to make it look more presentable but also because she feels like tearing it out. Really, she wants to slap herself round the face. How much more complicated do you want your life to be? And do not have any more to drink…

  She stares around the room. No Will now. She breathes out a heavy sigh.

  She’s about to stand up to fetch some water from the kitchen when her hand catches on something cold, half submerged between the sofa cushions. ‘Oh…’ she says, pulling out a small bunch of keys. They must have fallen out of his pocket, she thinks, about to place them on the table. But then she sees the label. Hawthorn Lodge… the same handwriting as on the set of keys she’s been given. Except there are four keys on this ring, whereas there are only two on hers – one for the front door, one for the back.

  ‘So what are the other two for?’ she whispers, looking at them, seeing one is for a mortice lock, the other for a Yale lock. The same type as would fit the locked bedroom door in Suzanne’s house. Hearing Simon coming back downstairs, and without thinking of the consequences, Jo quickly shoves the keys in her bag.

  ‘So,’ Simon says, sitting down close to her. He takes one of her hands, pressing his mouth against hers again before she can speak. Jo feels her insides melting, trying to convince herself she doesn’t like it. But it’s not true. She does. ‘Tell me about Will, then,’ he says, pulling away a little. ‘Has he upset you in some way?’

  Simon’s face swims in and out of focus and the room spins behind him.

  I’ve just stolen your keys… and whether the keys fit or not, I’m going to break into that spare room. I think Suzanne knows where my missing husband is… I think she’s having an affair with him.

  Jo hiccups.

  ‘Did I… did I just say anything?’ She reaches for her glass. Drains it. Sears the back of her throat as if in punishment. Simon pours more, even though she puts up a mini-protest with her hand. The coffee and cheese have helped sober her up, but now she’s feeling woozy again.

  ‘No,’ he says gently, the soft lines on his face showing concern within a small smile, a quizzical frown. ‘But I’m here to listen if you need.’

  ‘Oh, thank… thank goodness,’ Jo goes on, briefly turning away. ‘OK.’ She takes a breath. ‘I guess, given your job, I can explain a little. But…’ She pauses, waiting for the hiccup. ‘It’s just between us, OK? But then you’d know all about that anyway. Heaven knows, I’ve had enough counselling over the last few months to know it has to stay confidential.’

  Just get it off your chest, Jo. You’re never going to see him again after this week. It might help…

  Simon raises his eyebrows, his expression filled with compassion. ‘Jo, firstly, I can’t be your therapist. Though you can completely trust me, OK?’

  She nods, hiccuping, again knowing the rules they have to adhere to. Soon after Will went missing, she’d approached Margot’s sister, also a counsellor, to arrange some sessions. She’d popped into Sew Perfect to see Margot, and Jo had taken the opportunity to ask her, hoping she might get a good rate. But she was told that their connection through Margot, however tenuous, went against her professional code of ethics. That’s when she’d gone to her GP and taken her turn in the NHS queue.

  ‘Have you ever had a secret so big it feels as though there’s this… this thing living and growing inside you?’ Jo says quietly. ‘And the longer you keep it in, the harder it is to contain until one day, you realise it’s taking all of your willpower, all of your functioning capabilities just to hold onto it? But all you can do is keep the secret, grip onto it for dear life as it gets heavier and heavier, dragging you down until you can barely even breathe or eat?’

  Simon waits a moment, nods h
is head slightly. ‘So there’s something you want to get out, but can’t?’ He pauses. ‘I understand. I can hear it in your voice, see it written on your face.’ He shifts one leg up underneath him. ‘And look, I don’t know what’s going on here…’ He points back and forth between the pair of them. ‘Apart from a very nice kiss, of course.’ A grin. And Jo returns it. ‘I don’t want to make things more complicated for you, but if you’ve got stuff you need to get off your chest, I can be your emergency friend, if you like.’

  Oh, Christ, Jo thinks, trying to focus on what he’s saying. He’s backing off, thinks I’m a terrible person because I told him I’m married…

  She bows her head, letting out something between a laugh and a groan.

  ‘What?’ Simon says, stopping. ‘I don’t think you’re a terrible person at all. I’ve seen and heard some bad things in my job, I can tell you, so not much shocks me these days. And of course, while I can’t be your therapist, we can pretend, right?’ He takes her hand again, gives it a squeeze, a stroke.

  ‘Thanks,’ she says, her mind exploding with fireworks. Would it help? Would it alleviate the pressure if I kept it vague? They say a problem shared…

  ‘A problem halved,’ Simon adds.

  Jo stares at him, wide-eyed, taking another sip of her whiskey, her head thrumming and spinning.

  Finally, she takes a breath. ‘What if… what if you know someone – knew someone – who’d done something so bad you couldn’t even stand to give it space in your own mind, let alone talk about it?’ Jo hears her own voice, but it doesn’t sound like her. Doesn’t seem to be coming from her, as though she’s detached from it. ‘And what if you were a part of what had happened, without knowing at first, and that same person then swore you to secrecy? Forever. And you couldn’t tell a single soul because if you did, that would… that would…’ Jo shakes her head. ‘That would mean the end of everything you held dear? I’m asking for a friend, of course,’ she adds with a croak, clearing her throat.

  ‘Sure, I understand,’ Simon says, narrowing his eyes as he looks at her. His voice is deep and thoughtful as he rubs his chin, raises his eyebrows. ‘Sounds like a conundrum indeed,’ he adds. ‘So someone you know is in this predicament?’

  ‘Yes. A… a good friend of mine.’ Jo looks away. ‘She doesn’t know what to do. Something else bad has happened since and, in light of this other thing, well… hindsight is great, of course. But only in hindsight.’ She shrugs.

  ‘I understand. I think,’ Simon says, looking confused. ‘You mentioned counselling. Has your friend had any?’

  ‘Yes. Lots, though she never spoke about this. She was conscious that some things – the really bad things – aren’t actually confidential.’ Jo feels her cheeks colour and it’s not from the whiskey.

  ‘True enough. But usually only where there’s something like a child protection issue, or a terrorism risk, or… or…’ Simon watches her, his eyes flicking about her face. ‘Or murder.’

  Slowly, Jo’s hand comes up to cover her mouth when she catches sight of Will standing on the other side of the room, giving her a look, shaking his head, his eyes filled with something she doesn’t recognise.

  Twenty-Two

  The dog is walked. The cat is fed and asleep. A delivery of logs has been taken and Jo has cleaned the bathroom and watered all Suzanne’s houseplants. As she carries out the duties she’s been set, she forces herself to detach from what it is she’s likely doing: looking after the home of her husband’s lover.

  She puts down the voile curtain she removed from the kitchen window, the needle half way through a stitch. The hem had come down and she’d spotted a sewing basket in a cupboard, thought she’d procrastinate more by doing a few extra jobs around the house. Easier than facing what she’d really come here to do.

  What are you expecting to find in the locked bedroom, exactly? Will? His body? And what if the key doesn’t even fit? What if Simon notices you stole his keys and catches you red-handed? And no more blurting!

  Jo shakes her head, exhausted from the constant chatter in her mind. She lays down the curtain and heads upstairs, the stolen keys in her pocket. Her head thrums from last night’s alcohol and her heart is bruised from what she and Simon did.

  Will is now not the last man you kissed…

  She’d repeated the words over and over as she lay in bed after getting back last night until, finally, she fell into a fitful sleep. But it was a restless, sweaty sleep filled with dreams of Will and Simon playing golf together, having a drink together, driving home drunk together – Will at the wheel.

  She’d sat bolt upright then, drenched and gasping for air as she wondered where she was. Her mouth was dry, her lips almost stuck together she was so parched.

  My lips are sealed…

  Jo removes the keys from her back pocket. She looks at them, jangling them between her fingers. ‘I don’t feel good about this,’ she says, glancing back down the stairs, seeing Spangle in the hallway. He lets out a little whine as if to say Don’t do it…

  ‘What if Suzanne has nothing to do with Will?’ she says to herself. ‘Then I’m prying into the private space of a woman who has put her trust in me. Not only have I kissed a man, technically cheating on my missing husband, but I’m about to become nothing more than a low-down snoop, too.’

  Spangle barks from the hallway, his claws clacking on the stone floor as he paces back and forth, half jumping up at the front door a couple of times.

  ‘What is it, boy?’ Jo says, frozen on the landing. ‘Is someone there?’

  Spangle lets out two more barks, causing Jo to head to the front bedroom window. She looks out to the drive below, her breath fogging a small patch of glass. Apart from hers, there are no other cars parked there and, although she can’t quite see the front door fully, all seems quiet.

  Perhaps Spangle is warning you…

  Before she loses all her courage, convinced there’s no one there, Jo pushes the key into the bedroom door’s mortice lock. It’s stiff at first but then, as she forces it to turn, she feels the lock bite and the mechanism move. Then she puts in the Yale key and, with one hand on the knob, she slowly pushes the door open, screwing up her eyes.

  She jumps as her phone vibrates, ringing in her back pocket.

  Quickly, she pulls the door almost closed, grabbing her phone from her pocket, glancing at the screen before answering. ‘Lou, hi. I’m so glad you called.’ And she means it, letting out a big sigh. Another warning. Don’t do it…

  ‘Thought I’d just check how are things going,’ Louise asks. ‘Are you having a lovely time?’

  ‘Yes, yes I am, thanks,’ she replies slowly. In spite of everything, a tiny part of that is true. Though a different time is perhaps more accurate. The quiz was fun, walking Spangle is enjoyable, the house is comfortable and Simon is… Jo shudders. She can hardly tell Louise that she’s kissed another man. ‘The countryside is lovely around here.’

  ‘Lots of bracing beach walks, I hope?’ Lou replies. Jo can hear the drone of the car in the background, the echo of the hands-free speaker.

  ‘Oh… yes, of course.’ Jo hasn’t taken Spangle to the beach yet, not set eyes on the sea since she arrived. She might as well still be in the Midlands.

  ‘How are the animals?’

  ‘They’re great, actually. I’m tempted to get a pet when I come home.’ Jo stares at the bedroom door, the half-inch gap. She can’t see much inside, doesn’t trust herself not to say something if she opens it while on the phone to Louise. By the tone of her voice – slightly flat – Jo senses she’s called for a reason.

  ‘So you’re definitely staying down there for the duration?’

  ‘Of course. I have to. Why?’ Jo tries not to feel too affronted, but everyone asks her if she’s OK, if she’ll cope, if she’ll manage, if she’ll see it through and go the distance.

  Maybe I’m finally toughening up, becoming more accepting of Will’s disappearance. Thing is, I don’t ever want to be at the point of… o
f not caring, of not looking for him in a crowd, or hearing his voice when I least expect it…

  ‘Archie and I have had the biggest argument.’ The line crackles but Jo hears Louise choke back a sob.

  ‘Oh no, Lou… I’m so sorry. Do you want to tell me why?’

  Silence. Just the hum of the engine.

  ‘You don’t have to, obviously, but… but a problem shared,’ she says, feeling her cheeks colour as she’s reminded of last night again.

  ‘It was about money,’ Louise says, sighing heavily. The engine noise quietens, as if she’s pulled over, and then it cuts out completely. ‘I’ve just arrived home but honestly, I’m dreading going in and seeing him. I’m in no fit state for it all to kick off again.’

  Jo doesn’t understand. Archie is a surgeon. Louise is a solicitor. Their incomes are reflected in their lifestyle. Money is the last thing Jo would have expected them to come to blows about. A birth plan disagreement, perhaps, or what colour to paint the nursery, or which caterer to use for the christening – she could understand those.

  ‘I’m so sorry to hear that, Lou. I mean, is everything OK? Are you…?’ She doesn’t want to say ‘in trouble’ when referring to either of them. It seems ridiculous.

  ‘No, no, it’s nothing like that.’

  ‘OK…’ Jo says, not wanting to pry. ‘You know I’ll listen if you want to talk.’

  ‘Last night, we were going over some finances. Looking at starting a savings plan for Speck, putting aside some money each month for private school, university – that kind of thing. But we’ve also been thinking about buying a bolthole by the sea, perhaps a place in Cornwall. You know we’ve had that on our “list of wants” for ages, and we can’t use Mum and Dad’s cottage now they’re letting it out. Anyway, it’s hardly luxurious and not a beach in sight.’

  There are only two things on my list of wants… Jo thinks, touching her belly and thinking of Will.