Til Death Do Us Part: A gripping psychological thriller with a killer twist

by Daniel Hurst

  Craig knows that I won’t be able to stop turning the pages and I hate that he is right.

  Picking up where I left off, I re-join the story with Anna looking forward to a date night with Craig. She has just turned twenty-five, and life seems to be going great, for both her and her secret husband. But I am intrigued as to what happens over the next year because I met Anna when she was twenty-six, and there was certainly no sign of Craig then.

  What happened to break up this little love story?

  I turn the pages, my eyes skimming over the words. Reaching the next entry, it seems that she wrote it immediately after the date.

  More importantly, it seems like she is pissed off.

  How could he accept the offer without talking to me about it first? Doesn’t he think this concerns me? I am his wife, after all! I can’t believe the cheek of him that he thinks I can just drop my life here and move to Switzerland with him. Switzerland! I don’t even know what there is in Switzerland! A job for him sure, but what is there for me? And he has to go for at least a year! So what does that mean? Either I go with him and be on my own while he’s at work, or stay here and be on my own while he’s at work. What a choice that is! He’s calling me now, but I’m not answering. I’m too mad. I’ll speak to him in the morning. If he’s lucky...

  Oh my, what do we have here? Trouble in paradise? It seems like it. From what I can tell, Craig has been offered a year’s secondment at his bank’s head office in Switzerland, and he has accepted it without first consulting Anna. Maybe I’m not the only wife to be spurned by this man after all.

  Putting the diary down, I realise what must have happened. Craig must have gone to Switzerland and Anna stayed behind. That was when I met her. That was why I had no idea that Craig existed. She didn’t tell me, either because she was mad at him or because it was over when he left. I’ll have to read on and find out.

  And read on I will.

  Because by my calculations, it won’t be long until I make an appearance in this diary.

  66

  CRAIG

  2014

  I thought England was cold, but it’s got nothing on Switzerland. I’ve been here for four months now, and I’m pretty sure that I’m never going to thaw out again if this winter goes on much longer. Somebody said spring was on the horizon, but I see no sign of it here. There’s still snow on the mountains and ice on the roads, and I’ve been wearing my hat and gloves so much that they have practically become a part of my body now.

  Note to self; if I ever accept a job in a place like this again, I need to insist that I start in summer. At least that way I will get to go outside and see some of my new city without feeling like my face is going to freeze off.

  But if I’m honest, the weather is merely an excuse for my miserable mood. It’s not the low temperature that has me feeling so blue. It’s my wife, or rather, the fact that I am arguing with my wife. Anna hated the fact that I agreed to this one-year secondment at head office and she hasn’t calmed down since, even now when I’m already a third of the way through my term.

  In hindsight, I should have discussed it with her before agreeing to make the temporary move. She is my wife, and she deserved to be consulted on a decision like that. But I was always going to say yes to it. This is the best thing for my career right now. I want to go right to the top of the banking world. To do that, I can’t be turning down opportunities like this. Anna knows how ambitious I am, so while I understand her being a little miffed about me agreeing to this before speaking to her, I thought she would have calmed down about it by now.

  Unfortunately not.

  Anna is still mad at me and still barely speaking to me. She hasn’t been to visit me yet, despite my offer to put us up in a five-star hotel on the banks of Lake Geneva. Nor is she willing to entertain any ideas about visiting me here at some point over the next nine months, before my term runs out and I return to the UK. That is disappointing, not only because I miss her, but I thought her coming here could have been a little adventure for the two of us. We could have looked back on our little jaunt to Switzerland in years to come, reminiscing on days spent on the ski slopes in the Alps and sitting by log fires in the bars, and recalling how fun the whole thing had been.

  Cold but fun.

  But Anna has made it clear that she has no intention of getting on a plane and flying to Switzerland, either to visit me or to stay with me while I work, which means that I have to make do with video calls to see her face. While that isn’t ideal, it is better than nothing, or at least it should be. But even the video calls are not going well. Her demeanour when we speak has been as chilly as the weather outside, and sometimes I think I’d get more conversation out of one of these mountains than I do from her when we connect online. She is clearly mad, but I’m worried the problem runs deeper than that. I’m worried that a hole is developing in our relationship and it is going to quickly become a chasm between us.

  We need to be together, and we need to make up before we risk losing the unbreakable bond that we once shared. The problem is that she won’t come to me and I can’t go to her, such is the busy nature of my work at the moment. That means that I am stranded here in Central Europe while she is stuck back in the north-west of England. That distance isn’t exactly huge, but it is too big considering the difficulties we are facing right now.

  I’m not worried about her meeting somebody else. I trust her and know that she misses me just as much as I miss her. But I am worried that if things don’t improve quickly, then I won’t have much of a marriage to return to in eight months. I have to get her to come and visit me. If not, then I have to at least find a way for our video calls to become more friendly. I need to make her laugh. I need to remind her why she married me. Most of all, I need to get her to forgive me for not discussing Switzerland with her beforehand.

  They say time heals all wounds and I am sure that is right. In time, I know that Anna and I will be stronger than ever. I will eventually get back to England, and I will hopefully have a promotion to show for my sacrifice this year. Then maybe we can think about moving out of our flat and into a proper house. That would give us all the room we need to start that family we have discussed so much. We’re still young, but we know what we want. Children. I will earn enough to ensure that she will get to stay at home with them and not miss out on anything. It will be perfect. Everything that we ever wanted. And we will have it all in good time.

  But for now, it’s time to grab my hat and gloves again and get back outside into another freezing Swiss morning. I hope Anna is warm and cosy at home in bed back in Manchester.

  I can’t wait until I’m lying in our bed beside her again.

  67

  MEGAN

  Here it is. After all these pages and all this time. My first mention in Anna’s diary.

  And it’s a good one.

  This year has been rubbish with Craig being away, but there has been one good thing to happen to me lately. I’ve made a new friend. Her name is Megan, and we met in the gym. Both of us seemed to be doing as little as possible on neighbouring treadmills, more focused on watching the reality shows on our mobile phones rather than doing any real running. I was watching Real Housewives while she was watching The Kardashians. She caught me looking over at her screen during an ad break on my show, and she smiled at me before taking out her earphones and prompting me to do the same. She said hi, then asked me which series of Housewives I was on. Half an hour later, and we were still chatting.

  That is definitely the longest time I have spent on a treadmill.

  We ended up grabbing a coffee in the gym café after our “workout”, and we got on so well that I accepted her offer to go for a proper drink this coming weekend in Manchester. I hadn’t been planning on making a new friend, but she was so easy to talk to. I’m looking forward to substituting the coffee for wine and getting to chat more. It’s going to beat a weekend stuck at home thinking about Craig and how he ditched me for a year in Switzerland.

 
; I feel thrilled to see my name in Anna’s diary. I presumed it was coming, but I was still shocked when I actually saw it there in writing. Her version of events in how we met is true. We had each been on a treadmill in the gym, watching a trashy reality television show. It had been me who spoke to her first, and it had been me who had invited her out for a drink after we shared a coffee. Everything in this diary about how we met is accurate.

  I’m just about to read through the diary entry about our first drinks session in Manchester, even though I know exactly how it went down. We got hammered on three bottles of wine and ended up in a nightclub, dancing like lunatics to cheesy eighties pop music. After leaving the club at closing time and ducking out of the Manchester rain for some cheesy chips in a dodgy takeaway, we had hopped into separate taxis but not before promising each other that we would have to do it all again soon. It had been a great night, and I can still picture us both on that dancefloor now, our hands in the air and the dancefloor our own. Just two young women having fun.

  It had been awesome.

  I feel the knot of pain in my stomach when I think about how much life Anna still had to live when she died. I didn’t just lose my best friend. I lost a part of myself. But the moment soon passes. I’ve gotten better at processing it over the years. I wonder if Craig can say the same thing.

  I’m guessing not. He wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t miss Anna. Maybe he misses her more than I do. Or maybe it’s the same.

  One thing is for sure.

  Neither of us are getting her back.

  68

  CRAIG

  It’s Monday. The day before I plan to kill my wife.

  Who said anything about this being the worst day of the week?

  I’m walking through the ground floor of my workplace, nodding and smiling at my colleagues sitting at their desks as I go, but my mind is twenty-six miles away back in Sunningdale. It’s on Megan and how she is feeling right now in our garage.

  I expect she is feeling rather sleepy.

  I started putting the crushed sleeping tablets inside her food on Friday and have been gradually increasing the dose over the weekend. She must be grateful that I started adding tomato sauce to her meals of chicken and rice, but the extra touch is merely to mask the powder she is consuming. It’s working because she is eating it all.

  There have been no more outbursts from her since I altered her diet. No banging on the door. No shouting at me to let her out. No more dramas when she reads something she doesn’t like in Anna’s diary.

  She is calm now. Chilled. Drowsy.

  She is almost ready for how I need her to be tomorrow.

  I will take her another meal tonight when I get home from work, this one with a little more medication in it than yesterday’s serving. She should be out like a light tonight, and I’m not expecting her to wake up again until the noose is around her neck and there is nothing but fresh air beneath her feet.

  “Morning Ali,” I say to the cashier sitting at the desk by the entrance to the banking hall. The pleasant greeting and wide grin on my face belies the fact that I am imagining my wife hanging from the garage roof right now.

  “Good morning, sir. How are you?” Ali says in his typically ultra-polite manner.

  As the manager, I’m used to most people in this office being friendly with me. Nobody dares to be rude to the boss, after all. It’s a powerful feeling to know that everyone here has to be nice to me, even if they disagree with my way of running the branch. I love being in control of so many people’s lives. Work will help me fill the void when Megan is gone.

  “I’m well, thank you, Ali. How’s your family?”

  “They are very good, sir. My son turned five this weekend, and we had a party for him at the house.”

  “Sounds wonderful. Wish him a happy birthday from me.”

  I keep the smile on my face as I stride away from Ali’s desk, through the double doors of the banking hall and into the reception area where I see several men in suits sitting on leather seats, waiting for my arrival.

  After a quick nod of my head towards the receptionist behind the desk, I approach the men and hold out my hand. Greeting them all warmly, I lead them upstairs to the boardroom where we will hash out the details of the new mortgage scheme that we are planning to introduce for the bank’s customers next year.

  It’s a busy time for me, and it’s only going to get busier. Once I’m done here, I will go home and put my wife to sleep before making my final preparations to kill her.

  It’s not easy being the boss.

  But somebody has to do it.

  69

  MEGAN

  I’m tired, and my head feels fuzzy. I’m finding it hard to concentrate on Anna’s diary, never mind think about my current predicament and getting out of this room. I have noticed a change in my concentration levels over the past few days, but I’m not sure what is causing it. Maybe it’s just a consequence of being in this garage for so long.

  Or maybe Craig is putting something in my meals.

  I wouldn’t put it past him, and there has to be a reason why he has consistently brought me food when it would be easier to leave me in here to starve. I’m sure he wants me dead, but the question is how? I imagine he’ll want to avoid any suspicion landing on him so he must have thought it all through.

  He had a plan to get me inside this room, so he must have one to get me out of it.

  Ignoring my weary body’s demands for rest, I haul myself off the camp bed and to my feet, heading over towards the treadmill before turning it on again. As the conveyor belt moves beneath me, I urge myself not to lose strength now, at what is approaching the critical time. I was planning on making my move soon anyway but the recent change in my body over the last few days has prompted me to bring my plan forward. If I stay in here much longer, I might end up too tired and weak to do what I need to do to get out. Whether my recent drowsiness is by Craig’s design or just the symptoms of my body beginning to break down in this dungeon I call home now is unclear. But I can’t afford to let myself get any worse than this. I feel like I could sleep for days, which is exactly why I need to keep moving.

  There will be plenty of time to rest when this is all over.

  As my tired limbs begin to loosen up, I think about how Anna and I met and how quickly we became close. I have continued to pour over her diary, despite my increasingly foggy brain. I have read through all the entries about how we enjoyed many great nights out in Manchester during those first few months after we had met. But I have also learnt something new about that time that I cherish so much.

  I have learnt how Anna was tormented by the fact that she hadn’t told me about her husband in Switzerland.

  Back then, I had no idea Anna was married. I thought she was just as free and single as I was. I never actually saw her with another man, but she acted as if she was unattached, pretending to me that she had been with several men in her past, rather than admitting the truth I know now, which is that she had been in a serious relationship since she was seventeen.

  She certainly had plenty of opportunities to mention the fact that she had a hubby, but she never did. From reading her diary, I have now learnt why. One, she was mad at Craig for moving to Switzerland for a year, so was hardly in the mood for talking about him. And two, she had started to develop feelings for me at the same time.

  I had always suspected that Anna saw me as just more than a best friend. After all, I had certainly seen her as much more than that. We got on so well and spent so much time together during those months. We became so close.

  We even shared a kiss.

  But Anna had never truly opened up to me about how she felt. She had always made a joke about that night when our lips had met on the dancefloor. She had said she had been drunk, and she hadn’t been wrong. We had been wasted. But that wasn’t an excuse for what had happened. We had kissed because we had wanted to.

  We had kissed because we had feelings for each other.

  The di
ary entries after that night reflect how confused Anna had been about what had happened between us, as well as how guilty she had felt about being intimate with somebody who wasn’t her husband. Still, she hadn’t made any more effort to see and speak to Craig in Switzerland. Still, she had been happy to keep meeting up with me instead of staying home and missing him.

  As I quicken my speed on the treadmill, I think about how Craig must have felt when he read Anna’s diary entry and found out his wife had kissed another woman. Had he felt angry? De-emasculated? Jealous? Or just confused? Probably all of the above.

  No wonder he hates me so much.

  But there is no time for emotion now. Feelings about the past won’t do much good to either of us here in the present.

  I turn off the treadmill, having only been running for four minutes. It’s not much, but it has been enough to get my blood pumping and wake me up a little. I feel re-energised enough to go back to the diary and read some more. I need to know what happens before I leave this room and the diaries behind.

  I feel like time is running out in this garage, but that is okay because I know the diary entries are running out too. Things escalated quickly after we shared that kiss. It wasn’t long until Anna decided that she wanted to stop seeing me. It wasn’t long until I lost my best friend, and Craig lost his wife.

  But what was the last thing Anna wrote before she died?

  70

  CRAIG

  2015

  My year in Switzerland has finished. I’ve done my time, and now I’m almost home.

  I’m almost back with my beautiful wife.

  Staring out through the window of the taxi as it drives through the rain-soaked streets of Manchester, it’s hard to believe that I was surrounded by snow only a few hours earlier. I never thought I would be warmer getting off a plane in England compared to how I had been when I had first boarded it, but that is precisely how I had felt when I had landed at Manchester Airport.