Love You Gone: A gripping psychological crime novel with an incredible twist

by Rona Halsall

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,’ he gasped, his insides swirling with the sudden movement. ‘You’re right. Look, I’m wide awake now. Let’s open the bubbly, shall we?’

  The last thing he wanted was more champagne, but he really wanted to make Mel happy and he knew he’d got it badly wrong. Whatever it took, he’d do it to make things right between them. This was no way to start a marriage and it was all his fault. He rubbed at his face, his cheeks still stinging. It was a heck of a whack she’d given him, but then they were both a bit drunk, he told himself, and he knew how easy it was to misjudge things. Still, he didn’t want it happening again and he started to undo the foil on the bottle, fumbling with the cork.

  Mel knelt on the bed, still seething, her chest rising and falling as she took in big gulps of air, obviously struggling to keep her anger on her side of the bed.

  ‘You look so beautiful today, so gorgeous.’ Luke grasped at the words, any words he could find that might reassure her that he found her attractive and take away the hurt. ‘Please? Can we rewind?’

  After a moment she gave a heavy sigh and shuffled up to rest her back against the headboard, quiet now, dabbing at her face with a tissue while he poured them glasses of champagne. Just the smell of it was making him nauseous, but he passed her a glass and raised his in a toast. ‘To us, my love. To our marriage.’ He forced himself to take a sip and put his glass on the bedside table, not intending to drink any more.

  He got on the bed beside her and took her hand, twined his fingers with hers. ‘I’m so sorry, Mel. Really. Tell me what I have to do to make it up to you? Anything, just say.’

  She smiled at him then, and downed her champagne. ‘Well, Mr Roberts, I have a surprise for you and one I think you might like. But you’re going to have to get me out of this dress to find out what it is.’ She gave him a cheeky grin and he was relieved to see that the rage had passed and she was back to the woman he loved.

  He blamed himself.

  Of course it was his fault, inconsiderate idiot that he was. It was his job to make his wife feel special and falling asleep on his wedding night was definitely out of order. It wasn’t surprising that she’d hit him. What surprised him was that she’d hit him so hard and, in the morning, his cheeks were still a bit red. But there was no apology on her part, no mention of it at all, which made him wonder exactly what had happened and if he’d remembered it right. Alcohol could do funny things to your memory.

  So, he put the whole incident to the back of his mind, vowing that he’d learnt a valuable lesson and he would strive to make Mel feel special, do whatever it took to make up for his selfish behaviour.

  Twenty-One

  Seven months ago

  ‘Dad, where’s my picture gone?’ Tessa stood, hands on her hips, frowning. ‘The one of Mum that’s always by my bed.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘Where I can see her.’

  Luke looked up from the sink, where he had a bike tyre immersed in water, looking for a puncture. He had to be quick, because Mel hated him doing this sort of thing in her kitchen. It had caused one hell of a row last time and he had no intention of instigating a repeat performance.

  ‘Just let me finish this, sweetie, then I’ll come and have a look with you.’ He glanced at his daughter, and knew that something had changed. Something was bothering her. Is it the new school? he wondered, very aware that two school changes in the space of a year was a lot for any child to cope with. He sighed. Who am I kidding? It was more likely to be the new living arrangements. We’re all taking a bit of time to adjust, he told himself. That’s all.

  ‘Shall we go and see Nana and Pops later?’ He was rewarded with a grin and he wondered again whether moving to Bangor had been the right choice. In fact, had anything he’d done over the last year been the right choice? He really was beginning to doubt his decision-making ability these days.

  ‘Gotcha,’ he said as bubbles flowed from the site of the puncture. It was unreal how many punctures he’d had recently. Every time he planned to go out with kids on their bikes at least one tyre had a puncture and then, by the time it was all fixed, it was getting dark and too late to go. He marked the spot with his finger, pulled the tyre out of the water, dried it off and patched it, while Tessa watched him, a shadowy, silent presence in place of the chatterbox she’d always been. He’d have to see if he could winkle the problem out of her when they were on the way to the farm. He hoped it was something simple, something he could fix.

  ‘My picture, Dad. You said you’d help me find it.’ Tessa was standing behind him as he wiped down the sink and the worktops. He’d almost forgotten, his mind on work and the delivery of cannabis capsules he’d promised his mum he’d make at the weekend, wondering how he could fit it all in with Mel’s plans. She’d booked lunch at a place up the coast, somewhere fancy that was going for a Michelin star. Not his cup of tea, but she loved that stuff and, more than anything, he wanted to make her happy. She hadn’t let him forget the way he’d let her down on their wedding night and he knew he still had a way to go to make up for his bad behaviour.

  ‘I know, poppet. Just got to finish this, then I’m all yours.’

  He looked around, satisfied that everything was up to standard, then took his daughter’s hand and let her lead him upstairs.

  ‘Look how tidy it is in here, Tess. You’ve done a great job. Must be nice to come back to such a clean room.’ It actually looked a bit bare, he thought, and nothing like the colourful tumble of toys and possessions she used to exist in.

  ‘I like all my cuddly animals out, actually,’ she said, hands on hips. ‘They don’t like being stuffed in a cupboard. They’d much rather be on my bed, so they can see what I’m doing.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you get them out again?’

  ‘Smelly Melly won’t let me.’

  ‘Tessa! You mustn’t call her that.’ Luke tried to hide his panic, but his face gave him away.

  ‘See, Dad, you think she’s smelly too.’

  ‘Only in a good way.’ He sat on the bed and Tessa sat next to him. ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit rude to call her that? You wouldn’t like it if people called you smelly, would you?’

  ‘She calls me horrible things.’

  ‘She does not!’

  Tessa stared at him, the look in her eyes making Luke’s heart clench. ‘Yes, Dad, she does. She called me…’ Tessa stopped and chewed at her lip as if she’d remembered something.

  ‘Called you what?’ Luke frowned.

  Tessa looked at him, a glimmer of fear in her eyes. ‘Promise you won’t tell? ’Cos she said if I told you then she’d take all my toys to the tip.’

  Luke felt a weight thud to the pit of his stomach. He knew how much those toys meant to his daughter. How they were her little friends.

  ‘Promise.’ Luke nodded and when he put an arm round her, and pulled her close, he could feel her body shaking. Something was seriously wrong here and he wondered how he was going to put it right.

  ‘She called me a spoilt little bitch.’

  Luke gasped. ‘When, sweetie? When did she call you that?’

  ‘When you weren’t here.’

  ‘Once when I wasn’t here?’ Maybe she’d caught her at a bad time?

  ‘No, Dad. It’s happened a few times now.’

  Luke’s scalp seemed to tighten, as the news swelled inside his head and the implications made themselves real. His work hours were prone to change, his workload unpredictable, and he relied on Mel to organise the school run, as her work was more flexible. Anyway, she’d offered to do it. Had insisted, in fact, as soon as they’d got back from Gretna and she’d moved in with them.

  ‘It’s my job,’ she’d said to him, smiling. ‘My priority is the children now and they come before work. Anyway, I’m self-employed, so it’s up to me when I organise meetings. And I work from home a lot anyway, so it’s not a problem.’ She’d put a reassuring hand on his arm. ‘I want to do it. Honestly, I do. And it means I’ll get to meet the other mums, get involved
in all the school stuff.’ She’d actually been excited about it and he would have to say it was a relief. Juggling the kids and work had been a bit of a nightmare previously and he’d used up an awful lot of favours in the last few months.

  Tessa snuggled up to him. ‘I liked it at the farm, Dad. I want things to go back to how they were. I’ll learn Welsh. Honestly, I’ll try harder.’

  Luke stroked his daughter’s hair and he wished that he could turn back time. Undo decisions. Make them again with hindsight. Why on earth had he been in such a hurry to move out?

  Ted.

  There was no doubt that he was a big part of the answer. Mel was the other. Push and pull. That’s what had done it. Ted wanting him gone, the animosity between them making it too uncomfortable to stay, and Mel pulling him towards her, bewitching him with her passion and love, sorting out all sorts of practical problems for him, showing him how his life could be so much better with her in it. He swallowed, his mouth as dry as dust.

  He’d got what he’d wished for. A life with Mel.

  The second time she’d hurt him, it had been in the heat of the moment, during sex. Her fist had caught his ear when he’d climaxed before she did and he’d thought it was an accident.

  ‘Oh God, I didn’t mean it.’ She rubbed at his throbbing ear, apology in her eyes. ‘Honestly, I just thought it, I didn’t mean to do it.’

  He frowned, not sure if he’d heard her properly. Why would she even think about thumping me? He pulled away slightly, so he could see her better. ‘What do you mean?’

  She looked away, her hands stroking his chest as she spoke.

  ‘It’s so hard to explain, but… it’s just… I organise my life around everyone else. Put you all first, rushing about making sure that everything runs like clockwork and you don’t have to worry about anything. And…’ Her voice cracked. ‘Sometimes my needs have to be top of the list. But you don’t understand that…’ He could feel her tears on his skin, warm and wet as they trickled down his chest. He realised what he’d done then, felt awful, and cursed himself for not being a better husband. But he knew where he was going wrong and he resolved to do better.

  The next time it’d happened, they’d been having a row about the dog, who had stolen Mel’s toast off the table while she wasn’t looking. It wasn’t the first time Bernie had snaffled food, but Mel was in a rush to get to a meeting and was already a bit wound up. When Luke had laughed about it, she flew at him in a flurry of slapping hands, stinging his arms and chest while he backed away into a corner, waiting for her anger to subside.

  And then it was because he’d taken the kids out on a night hike and had forgotten to tell her they’d be staying over at the farm for the night. That time it wasn’t just slaps and scratches; that time, she’d punched him in the face while she yelled at him, telling him how inconsiderate he was, leaving her all on her own. The bruises took a bit of explaining. A tumble off his mountain bike, he told everyone, more ashamed of the visible evidence of a fight with every incident.

  He knew it was his fault she got so cross and although she might snap at the children at times, he’d never seen her be physical with them in any way and was sure she would never hurt them. No, it was his selfish and inconsiderate behaviour that got her livid, and it was up to him to learn from his mistakes and try harder.

  His upbringing had made him very aware that a man should never hit a woman, that words should be used to resolve arguments, not force, given that a man would always be stronger and more able to cause harm. Actions that he would live to regret.

  He’d watched, unseen, as his father towered over his mother, his body clearly thrumming with anger, his fists clenched firmly by his sides as they threw insults at each other until their anger wore itself out. That’s how it had always been with Anna. Of course they’d had rows, but physical violence had never been a part of their relationship however angry they’d been. He was coming to understand that Mel lived by a different set of rules.

  Now, he shook the thoughts from his mind and brought his attention back to his daughter.

  ‘Okay, Tessa, let’s see if we can find your picture?’ He needed a distraction to stop his mind going down a road that he didn’t want it to go down. A road that didn’t bear thinking about. ‘Maybe it got knocked down the back?’

  Tessa sighed, exasperated. ‘I’ve looked, Dad. I’ve looked everywhere.’

  ‘Well, it can’t have just disappeared, can it?’

  ‘I think she’s thrown it away.’ Tessa’s bottom lip quivered.

  ‘She wouldn’t throw it away.’ Luke was horrified at the thought, was sure Mel must have just put them in a drawer somewhere.

  ‘She said she was my mummy now and I didn’t need Mum’s picture anymore.’ Tessa looked up at her father, her voice almost a whisper. ‘I’ve already got it out of the bin twice.’

  His eyes widened. ‘No. Mel wouldn’t do that.’

  He felt Tessa’s body stiffen and he winced as he realised he’d just called her a liar. And that was one thing his daughter was not. However hard it was to tell the truth, Tessa never shied away from it. Never. Tessa nodded, tears in her eyes. ‘I saw her rip up the one in the lounge as well. The one on the mantelpiece. She didn’t know I was watching.’

  A chill ran through Luke as he got up and hurried downstairs to the kitchen. He opened the bin, but found that it had recently been emptied. He looked outside, but the wheelie bin was empty too. Today, he remembered, with a horrible sinking feeling, was bin day.

  He walked round the house, looking for the pictures of Anna that had hung in almost every room. A reminder for the children, he’d told Mel when she’d complained about his dead wife watching her, judging her. He’d been so busy that he hadn’t noticed they were gone. They’d been there yesterday, he was sure of it, as he had a habit of stroking Anna’s face, having little chats with her.

  Did Mel overhear me? Was she jealous?

  His pulse was racing now, a mess of unease growing in his mind, spreading like a stain. He ran upstairs into the bedroom, looked in his bedside drawer, where he kept his favourite picture. The one when the kids were little, Anna looking so content and peaceful, the broadest smile on her face as she held her babies on her lap.

  But it wasn’t there.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, finding it hard to believe that Mel would be so cruel.

  He was thankful that he still had some of his possessions up at the farm, including a couple of photo albums. But that wasn’t the point. The point was Mel didn’t know that, so as far as she knew, she’d destroyed all his pictures of Anna. And it was the best ones that had disappeared.

  Luke could feel muscles tensing in his body that he hadn’t wanted to use since he’d left the farm; his fingers flexing, fists clenching and unclenching. Mel was at a meeting in Manchester, networking she’d said, to see if she could draw in some larger clients. She would be late home tonight, which was definitely a good thing, given the way he was feeling.

  Verbally abusing his daughter and throwing away all the pictures of Anna; that was seriously bad behaviour and he wasn’t sure what to do for the best. He rounded up the kids, ready to head off to the farm, because if Mel walked through that door right now, he wasn’t sure how he’d react.

  Twenty-Two

  Later that evening, Luke dropped the children at the farm, without explanation to his mother, except to say he would be back later. Then he’d gone home, readying himself to have a serious conversation with Mel. He’d been sitting in the kitchen when she finally arrived back, cheeks flushed and a triumphant gleam in her eye.

  ‘I’ve got a meeting with the regional manager of CBL Systems!’ she announced as she walked in and put her bags on the table, along with a bottle of wine. She noticed his lack of response and frowned at him. ‘You know, the company I’ve been trying to get a contract with.’

  He gazed at her, anger sizzling through his veins.

  Her hands went to her hips, confusion on her face.
‘I thought you’d be pleased.’

  ‘Yes, well done,’ he said, in a monotone voice.

  ‘What the bloody hell is wrong with you?’ She had that glint in her eye, the one that signalled trouble. He should have taken notice, should have moved, but he was so angry with her that he stayed in his chair, determined to get his point across.

  ‘I’ve just found out that the pictures of Anna are gone. All of them. And Tessa tells me you’ve—’ She flew at him then, fingernails clawing at his face before he knew what was happening, before he could dodge out of the way.

  ‘That bloody dead wife of yours!’ she screamed. ‘Why should I have to live with her face all over my walls? Why should I? It’s as if I’m not good enough. Saint bloody Anna. Like shrines all over the house, they were.’ And all the time she was shrieking at him, she was scratching his skin like a wildcat, his hands and face taking the brunt of the punishment dished out by her sharp acrylic nails.

  ‘Mel, stop it!’ He held his arms over his head and pushed her away with his foot before he stumbled out of his chair, managing to put the table between them. She glowered at him, fury in her eyes.

  ‘Not bloody good enough, am I? You just don’t care about me. Even though I look after everything. Do everything for you. I run the house, I run our lives and what thanks do I get?’

  He drew a breath to say something to try and calm her down, but before he could speak, she grabbed her laptop bag from the table and smacked him in the face. It smashed into his cheekbone, sending shards of pain shooting through his flesh. He staggered backwards holding his head in his hands, gasping.

  ‘You stupid excuse for a man. You don’t love me. And you sure as hell don’t respect me, or you wouldn’t have had those pictures of your dead wife all over the house.’