The Serial Killer's Wife

by Alice Hunter

  Her mobile pinged and her shoulders slumped as she read a new text from Isaac. She had a feeling he’d be the first to comment privately.

  Hey, babe. Hope you don’t think I’m being negative, but … are you absolutely sure you want to do this? You don’t think he’s making false promises so you’ll stay with him? I hope I’m wrong. But you know I only ever have your best interests at heart. You mean the world to me, you know that. And after the other night I thought things might have changed. XXX

  ***

  TOM

  And after the other night I thought things might have changed. XXX

  Well, that’s just perfect. I read the text over and over, getting angrier each time. I thought I might’ve been overreacting when I checked her phone before; jumping to conclusions. But no. I’d been right. They’re clearly at it behind my back. What other night? The one where Katie said she had to nip to the shop to get some more wine and she was gone for almost an hour? She’d told me she’d run into a friend and they’d chatted for ages.

  The liar. She was seeing him.

  Chapter 37

  BETH

  Now

  I’m relieved I’ve spoken to Adam and that he didn’t shun me. Now, though, as I walk through the village towards nursery, it’s Zoey I’m worried about facing. I’m scared of what’s to come: how much she already knows; how much explaining I’ll need to do. I’ll have to ask her to put extra support measures in place. None of this mess should impact on my daughter. It wouldn’t be fair on her. I pull my coat hood up even though it’s not raining, in the hope of a quiet journey. I’m late, so with luck I’ll have missed the majority of parents. Unless they’re hanging around, chatting to each other, gossiping, wondering why I’ve not shown up yet. Tension builds behind my eyes as I approach.

  Julia is standing near the gate with her triplets running rings around her, but she’s without her usual posse. That’s strange. I nod as I reach her, say a quick hello, then walk through the gate.

  ‘Beth, sweetie!’ she calls after me.

  I turn, slowly.

  ‘I thought you might be feeling a bit, well … lonely. I wanted to ask if you’d be up for me popping over later?’ she says, her head cocked. ‘I’ll bring wine?’ She lifts her shoulders and smiles. I hesitate, about to decline her offer, but she sees that coming. ‘Go on, Beth. I’m desperate for some adult company of an evening – I’m bored stiff of Matt.’ She rolls her eyes and gives a forced giggle. I wonder if she really means that; I suspect it’s an excuse she’s plucked out of nowhere in the hope I’ll give in.

  It can’t hurt.

  ‘That would be really lovely, thank you,’ I say.

  Julia stands taller, her expression brightening. ‘Oh, brilliant!’ she says, beaming. ‘I hate thinking of you rattling about in that cottage alone while all this … stuff … is happening to you.’ She grabs hold of her brood and herds them across the road, calling ‘I’ll be at yours for seven!’ as she goes.

  I immediately begin to doubt Julia’s intentions and I go to shout after her to withdraw my acceptance, but she’s already disappeared around the corner. I could text her later saying I’ve got a migraine or something to get out of it. With the pulsating pain I’m experiencing in my head right now, that might not be a lie anyway. I rub at my temples and go inside.

  Poppy is sitting on a chair, legs swinging, backpack on her lap. She looks tiny. A lump forms in my throat. I want to wrap my arms around her; protect her and keep her from whatever backlash Tom’s arrest will cause. ‘Hey, my little Poppy poppet,’ I say, reaching out to her, pulling her from the chair into a tight cuddle. I feel her hands grip my arms. I can’t stop the tears.

  ‘Don’t cry, Mummy,’ she says. All the tension from the past week that I’ve been holding onto, keeping in check, threatens to leak out of me now, in this instant. I jam my teeth together, breathe in deeply through my nose and compose myself. I can’t fall apart. I need to be strong for Poppy.

  ‘I’m just so happy to see you,’ I say. Her pale-blonde eyebrows lower, as though even she knows that’s not why I’m crying.

  ‘Okay, shall we take a moment to chat in the office, Beth?’ Zoey says. ‘Poppy, if you stay with Wanda for a little bit longer, I want to talk to your mummy.’

  A flash of concern crosses Poppy’s face, but it’s quickly replaced with a smile as Wanda takes her hand and leads her to Pets Corner. They have a new giant African land snail which she finds fascinating.

  Inside the office, Zoey tells me not to worry. But when I explain that Tom has now been charged, her relaxed expression tightens. I’m surprised this development is news to her; I’d have thought the gossip would’ve reached everyone by now. She shifts awkwardly in her seat, then clears her throat.

  ‘Oh, I’m very sorry to hear that. This must be a very stressful time for you. Look, I’m not here to judge.’ The very fact she’s said this makes my tummy flip. She thinks Tom’s guilty. Does she think that somehow I am, too? ‘Our responsibility is to Poppy, to help ensure she’s not adversely affected by anything while she’s in our care. Internal, and to some extent external factors, too. But I obviously have no control over what happens outside of this establishment, Beth.’

  ‘No, no. I realise that. I was only going to ask that you keep a closer eye on her here; make sure no other children or staff treat her any differently.’

  ‘The children are too young to understand. They are very unlikely to behave differently.’

  ‘They might pick up things from their parents. I’m betting they’ll have lots to say about my current situation.’ I wring my hands together in my lap, the thought of it making me anxious.

  ‘We will of course keep a closer watch on Poppy. We’ll listen out for anything like that and nip it in the bud. We want nursery to be a safe haven for her, a place she can continue to develop and grow.’ Zoey reaches across and puts her hands over mine, giving them a gentle squeeze. ‘She’ll be all right, Beth. Kids are amazingly resilient.’

  The memory of my dad leaving me flashes through my mind’s eye.

  Are they?

  Because that’s not my experience.

  Chapter 38

  She’s lying silent, motionless on her back, her bound wrists secured to the headboard, her legs spread, each ankle attached to a bed post. His breathing is becoming louder, quicker. The blindfold prevents her seeing him but she hears his movements; knows where in the room he is. Knows what he’s about to do.

  She used to get an adrenaline rush of anticipation. Now, she just wants it over. Wants to reach the other side without fear clouding her mind for the entire time it takes him to act out his fantasies. She hopes she made herself clear last time and that he won’t strangle her to the point of passing out again.

  ‘I need to teach you a lesson,’ he says. Her hopes diminish as she feels hot palms on her chest, rising upwards, settling on her throat.

  She takes a deep breath. Prepares herself for his game.

  His weight suddenly shifts off her. She’s confused. She tries desperately to sense where he’s gone, what he’s doing. This is new. She breathes steadily now; twists her head to listen, to figure out what he’s up to. Then something smooth is slipped around her neck. Is he using his tie?

  She feels a strong tug as the material constricts her throat. Hears his moan of anticipation, his arousal building.

  Here we go.

  Chapter 39

  BETH

  Now

  ‘Oh, God!’ I start at the knock on the front door and quickly push the dishwasher drawer closed. It’s seven o’clock; I’d forgotten all about Julia coming over and I never texted her an excuse. The urge to pretend I’m not in is strong, but as she’ll know I am, it’s not an acceptable get-out. I haven’t even washed and changed – too busy tidying up the kitchen following dinner – I must look a right state. I groan and run my hands quickly through my hair as I go to the door.

  ‘Hi!’ Julia beams, holding up a bottle in each hand. She’s certainly
come prepared. She’s also come dressed up. I thought I looked a state before, but now I feel even worse. She’s wearing a pretty pale-yellow dress, which I’m guessing is designer, and her glossy hair is pulled up into a messy – but perfectly styled – bun. Her face is fully made up: her eyes are heavy with golden shadow and black mascara, her foundation is contoured, her high cheekbones are highlighted in a pearly satin shade, and her ruby-coloured lips are perfectly pouty, as though she’s going out out. Not just to a friend’s house. Or an acquaintance’s, in this case.

  I let her in, catching a waft of expensive perfume as she sweeps past me into the hallway. She turns back to face me, hesitant.

  ‘Oh, go on in there,’ I say, pointing to the lounge. Of course, she’s never stepped foot inside my home; she doesn’t know the layout. ‘I’ll grab us some glasses.’

  The second I return and set the glasses on the table, Julia goes straight in for the kill. ‘So, I heard there’s been a development.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. I assume all the village knows now.’ My tone is curt. I’m a little put out that this is her opening line, after she invited herself to my home to offer ‘support’.

  ‘Terrible news. I’m really sorry it’s come to this.’ She tries for a concerned look as she glances around, but it seems a bit forced. She pops the cork from one of the bottles and pours the Prosecco to the brim of each glass. ‘I hope you don’t mind some bubbles. I know they’re more for celebrating, which is not really fitting given the circumstances, but maybe we could drink to celebrate new friendships!’ She gives a wide smile.

  ‘Drown my sorrows, more like. God, this whole thing is devastating, Julia,’ I say, honestly.

  ‘I can only imagine,’ she says, her head shaking. ‘You must be so … discombobulated.’

  ‘Good word.’ I give a sharp snort. ‘Although … angry, hurt, scared … lost – they’re the current emotions fighting over themselves inside me.’

  She smiles, sympathetically. ‘Have you spoken with Tom?’

  ‘No. I’m too wound up. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that I’m thinking if I don’t speak to him, I can pretend it isn’t happening.’

  ‘Ah, good old denial. The burying of the head. I can understand that, Beth. But you need to talk to him, surely? Find out how bad the situation is?’

  ‘He’s been charged with murder, Julia. How much worse can it get?’

  ‘Well, without wanting to sound negative – the worst thing would be that he’s found guilty. Don’t you want to know what he thinks about the charge? I mean, I assume you believe he’s innocent and that there won’t be enough evidence to convict him, but you have to know what’s going on, Beth. So you can prepare.’

  Prepare. Even the word is heavy with connotation. The need to do something; to act. But all of a sudden I know I’m not ready for all of this. I don’t want to sit here, opening myself up like this. I need to change the subject; I’ve been far too candid with someone I barely know.

  ‘Yes, well – tomorrow is soon enough for reality. Now, Julia, I want to know how you manage it?’

  ‘Oh? What?’ She frowns – although you wouldn’t really know it; her forehead barely crinkles.

  ‘You’ve got triplets, you’ve got your own business, you always look spectacular. I just don’t get it. How on God’s earth can you juggle everything? I’ve only got one child and I look like … well … this.’ I run my hand up and down myself to back up my statement. Julia throws her head back and laughs, displaying a full set of perfectly white teeth and zero fillings.

  ‘Oh, sweetie – most of what you see is pure projection.’ She takes a large gulp of fizz.

  ‘Projection?’

  ‘Yes, you know – the image I wish to project onto the world. You think I’m managing?’ Her laugh is brittle now. ‘You’re very lovely to say so. And I’m glad I’ve succeeded in giving that impression – that that’s the way you see me. You and everyone in Lower Tew.’ She gives a dramatic sigh.

  ‘Ah,’ I say. ‘So, not everything is how it seems?’ I’m glad I’ve managed to make the conversation take this turn. The heat is off me for the moment.

  ‘Is it ever?’ She swallows back more Prosecco. ‘We all hide behind closed doors for the majority of the time, don’t we? No one knows what happens; what a person’s life is really like once the door is locked. Unless we tell someone.’ Tears bulge, but they don’t escape her eyes. She’s clearly used to being in control of her emotions. I wasn’t expecting this. Maybe it’s the wine talking; I think she’s probably had a few glasses before coming here. Or is it her way of getting me to open up about what my life is like behind closed doors?

  Clever.

  ‘You do keep all the balls in the air, though, don’t you? I mean, look at you – always perfectly dressed and made up, a successful beauty business, three mostly well-behaved children – that can’t be easy – a doting husband, and you have a whole host of friends.’ I wonder if I’ve overdone it; simplified everything and made her sound a bit shallow.

  She gives a sad smile. ‘Externally, yes – I agree my life looks pretty darn amazing. And don’t get me wrong, I work hard, and on the whole I’m happy with what I’ve achieved – what I accomplish on a daily basis. But internally,’ she places a hand over her heart, ‘so much is missing, Beth. I need to be able to share the successes and the stresses, have moments of candour and peel back my exterior to reveal the flaws beneath, too. It’s quite lonely being perfect all the time.’

  I’m a bit lost, and unsure how to react. Julia Bennington isn’t playing me. She’s just caught up in a hell of her own making. By burying her real feelings and covering her flaws, she has created an image of a completely together, successful wife, mother and businesswoman. And now she feels unable to come clean; to let others in.

  ‘And the nursery mums? The other villagers? You haven’t confided in any of those people?’

  ‘Nope. The façade is well and truly constructed and I can’t, won’t, bring that crashing down now. I lost the one person who knew the real Julia.’

  My mouth drops open. ‘Oh, Julia. Not Matt …?’ Did he leave her and no one even knows? She really has gone to great lengths to keep up the pretence of perfection.

  ‘No. Not him. He’s still the same – ignores me for the best part and uses me as the trophy wife when it suits. I don’t tell him anything these days.’

  ‘Oh, sorry – I assumed that’s who you meant.’

  ‘I meant Camilla. You know, Camilla Knight, Adam’s late wife?’

  ‘Ah, yes, sorry.’ I’m taken aback. I remember they were in the same group of friends, but I didn’t realise they were particularly close.

  ‘When she died, she left a gaping hole in my life.’ Julia swallows back the rest of her Prosecco and refills. I don’t speak: clearly Julia is gearing herself up to share more. It’s a relief that Julia is doing all the talking, but the sadness oozing from her is making me uncomfortable. It’s weird she’s chosen me to unburden herself to; to share her innermost feelings, show her true self. I don’t even know her. But then, maybe that’s precisely why it’s me she’s pouring her heart out to. Is she priming me to become her next best friend all of a sudden?

  ‘The best friend position is still vacant,’ she says, as though reading my mind. She gives a wavering smile. ‘No one knew me like Camilla did. None of the others, the ones I hang around with, see me. Do you understand? They don’t look beyond the Julia with the triplets; the Julia with the business; the Julia with the designer handbags and clothes. Because they aren’t bothered about anything else. They don’t want to see anything different. Camilla did. She was actually interested in me: she asked questions, she didn’t just rely on what I told her. I thought she was nosy to begin with, and I closed up even further. Then, when she asked me to go to hers after book club one evening, she told me she was worried about me. That’s when I realised she was a true friend. She cared about the things I kept hidden. She was invested enough in our friendship to delve
deeper and I appreciated that.’

  ‘I can imagine. It’s hard to find a true friend, isn’t it? I haven’t had one since uni. My mates went separate ways and we lost contact. I haven’t lost anyone, not like you have, but I understand that need to have someone close you can turn to and confide in – someone who you know will always have your back.’

  ‘Exactly. That’s what I sorely miss. I assumed Lucy was your go-to friend here, though?’

  ‘Ah, well, Lucy’s lovely – but she’s young. We don’t have an awful lot in common. She’s brilliant at Poppy’s Place – she’s trustworthy, dependable. Been really good during this latest upheaval. But she’s not someone I’d call a best friend, if you know what I mean.’

  I’m annoyed at myself for bringing the topic back to me. I lean forward, take the bottle and top up our glasses. ‘And she’s loved up! She’s just starting out on her journey. I would hate to disillusion her,’ I laugh.

  ‘You’re right, she needs to find that out for herself. Poor girl.’ Julia necks back the glass.

  ‘She might be lucky!’ I say. ‘Someone has to make it through life truly happy, don’t they?’

  ‘I’ll drink to that,’ Julia says, raising her empty glass. ‘Oh, bugger.’ She tilts the bottle towards her glass and a few droplets of wine dribble out.

  ‘I’ll get the other one,’ I say, getting up and heading in the direction of the kitchen. I’m wobbling slightly; my head feels light. ‘I can’t believe we polished that one off so quickly.’ I should slow down. I don’t want to get drunk and be incapable of looking after Poppy. Adam’s face pops into my mind and I feel a tug of guilt. What would he think of my parenting?