What My Husband Did: A gripping psychological thriller with an amazing twist

by Kerry Wilkinson

  Richard is beginning to think the detour wasn’t such a good idea, except that there’s something about the way Alice skips around the front of the car that leaves him yearning to tell her who he really is. Maddy will surely understand when it all comes out. He had broached the idea of a daughter with India – except that she’d taken it badly and he never got a chance to mention it again. It’s different with Maddy because she already has a daughter. She knows what it’s like.

  By the time this is through his mind, Alice is already a couple of steps further up the slope. An orangey blob is glowing from the tip of the dead end above. The surrounding hedges would make it impossible to see from almost all angles but, for whatever reason, it so happened that Alice was in precisely the right spot, with precisely the right amount of curiosity to ask about it.

  The stream babbles on the other side of the hedge as Richard hurries to catch her. They haven’t travelled far before it becomes apparent that the glow is coming from an interior light of a car.

  ‘Not aliens,’ Alice says, disappointed.

  ‘No…’

  They’re close enough that Richard has a good idea of what’s actually going on – except that Alice is too fast for him. By the time he’s reached for her to say that they should go back the way they came, she’s already dashed ahead.

  The car windows are misted but it’s not quite enough of a curtain to block what’s happening inside.

  Alice stops and turns to look up at Richard. She’s only a few paces from the car. ‘Are they fighting?’

  Richard puts a hand on Alice’s shoulder and tries to guide her backwards along the track towards the car. They’re not fighting…

  Except that it’s too late.

  The back door opens and Gavin Branch steps out of the car. His shirt is untucked and he’s refastening his trousers.

  ‘It’s not what it looks like,’ he says, talking to Richard.

  Alice has stopped and is trying to look past Gavin towards the back of the car – although Richard can see easily enough what’s going on, and he suspects it’s precisely what it looks like.

  Sarah Overend’s face appears at the back window. She squints to see what’s going on but, as she leans in, she shows that the only thing she’s wearing on top is a black bra.

  Alice giggles in the way children do when they see something naughty. She’s a young twelve, which Richard suspects is what happens when someone’s forced to move around and has been unable to settle. He thinks children ideally need two parents but then he’s old-fashioned like that – and this isn’t ideal. It’s not her fault that she hasn’t had that.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Overend,’ she says with a laugh.

  Gavin spins to look between the car on one side, plus Richard and Alice on the other. He’s stuck in the middle.

  ‘We’re going to go,’ Richard says, still trying to get Alice to move backwards. ‘Alice, come on.’

  She doesn’t move. She’s fascinated by what’s in front of her. It’s only now that Richard realises how cold it is. Alice is in her red coat, but he is wearing only his regular clothes – and Gavin is wearing less than that. Gavin’s frantic, short breaths disappear into the sky as the light from inside the car finally disappears. If only they’d left that light off. If only, if only.

  Gavin strides forward, brushing aside Alice as he closes in on Richard and grabs for the other man’s shirt. ‘You better keep your mouth shut,’ he says.

  Richard pushes him away, although there’s little force to it.

  ‘It’s your word against mine,’ Gavin adds.

  ‘I’m not going to tell anyone. Just… maybe find somewhere more private next time. Or turn off the lights.’

  ‘Don’t tell me how to live my life.’

  Richard keeps trying to move away, not wanting any part of the situation. It would likely all be fine if it wasn’t for one thing.

  Alice laughs.

  It’s more of a snort: a natural, childish reaction as opposed to anything malicious. Except that Gavin isn’t thinking straight. Everything happens in a second as he spins and thrashes a right arm towards her.

  There’s a splat as he catches her across the temple – and then, as Richard gasps a ‘no’, she’s falling. Her head cannons into a rock and bounces up before she slumps into a lifeless ball. There’s silence for a second – and then gravity takes hold as she slides down into the ditch and continues rolling towards the stream beyond.

  Thirty-Six

  If it’s only Gavin and Harriet who know that she was taking those clothes to the recycling bank, then it’s only Gavin or Harriet who could have told me to be there to watch…

  ‘Where’s Gavin?’ I ask.

  Harriet’s eyes narrow. She must know something’s up but she doesn’t know what. When she doesn’t answer, I take the burner phone from my bag and check the last few messages received. Something felt off about the most recent few but I couldn’t see what. Now I’m looking for it, the answer is right in front of me. It should have been obvious. I wanted it to be Richard who was texting me but it’s only now that I realise what I missed.

  Ru going to the ball later?

  Richard would never have typed ‘ru’ in place of ‘are you’. He’s an English lecturer. He’s always railing against text-speak and the way the younger students compose essays.

  ‘Where’s Gavin?’ I repeat.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Where is he?’ I’m shouting now, surprising myself.

  ‘I don’t know!’

  It’s like there’s a puzzle in front of me – and suddenly the pieces go together. When Sarah came to my house the other day, the important thing she asked wasn’t about Richard, it was about the police. She wanted to know if I knew anything about the investigation.

  Then there’s Zoe, who said that Gavin tried it on with her.

  And Sarah again – who missed Sunday’s meeting, which was at the exact time when she knew with one hundred per cent clarity where Harriet was going to be.

  Gavin.

  It can only be Gavin who put the phone through my letter box and has been messaging me ever since.

  But why would he want a bag of Richard’s clothes and his coat? That’s what I left behind the village sign after all.

  And then I see the other thing. In the same way that Sarah and Gavin knew that Harriet was going to be in the back room of the Fox and Hounds hosting a planning meeting for the ball, Gavin knows precisely where I am now. He’s the one that encouraged me to be here.

  Go to the ball later. There will be answers. I promise.

  ‘I have to go,’ I tell Harriet. ‘Tell Kylie I’ve gone home. I’ll pick her up later.’

  Harriet spins, off guard from what’s just happened. ‘Why are you going?’ she asks.

  I ignore her, fumbling in my bag for the car keys and then hurrying across to where I’m parked. I’m already in the driver’s seat, trying to close the door, when Harriet stands in the way and blocks me from shutting it.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asks.

  ‘I need to go.’

  ‘But why? What’s going on with Gavin?’

  ‘Nothing. I just need to go. I’ll be back later. Make sure you tell Kylie I’ve gone.’

  Harriet hovers for a moment, before I reach and physically push her away from the car. She allows herself to be moved – but stands and watches as I reverse out of the space and then accelerate towards the hill that leads up to my house.

  The phone that came through my door sits on the passenger seat next to my bag and it chimes that old-fashioned ding-ding-ding. The road is empty and I slow as I pluck the device from the seat and click to see the new arrival.

  I’m at the back of the Fox & Hounds now. Come quickly.

  There’s a brief moment in which I forget that this isn’t Richard – but it only lasts a second. This is Gavin – and he wants me to be waiting at the back of the pub – which means that’s the last place I should be.

  I continue driving and then turn on
to the driveway. The gravel crunches to announce my arrival and then I get out of the car and stand, looking towards the house. All the lights are off, except for the rainbow fairy bulbs on the Christmas tree that wink through the curtains of the living room. I left those on, partly through habit. Richard always says that big social events in Leavensfield would be a godsend for burglars if anyone paid enough attention.

  Something feels wrong, although I can’t say what. It’s only when I get to the front door and insert the key that I turn and spot it. My car is always parked in the same spot – and there are tyre-shaped dimples in the gravel from where Richard always leaves his. It’s only gentle, barely noticeable, but now there’s a third set in between the two. Someone else has parked here recently.

  I let myself into the house and am swallowed by the darkness. The only light in the hall comes from the second phone as I tap ‘Where ru?’ as a reply to the message about going to the Fox and Hounds. Might as well play along.

  There’s nothing untoward upstairs, other than that Richard’s office is still uncomfortably bare. I wonder if there were any papers in there relating to Gemma and Alice. He’s either bought a house, or is renting it – but, if it’s in his name, then there isn’t necessarily a link. Does Dini know? Has he known all this time, but he’s kept it from me?

  Back downstairs, I edge into the living room, where the Christmas tree lights continue to blink. There’s no one here, so I head for the kitchen. The blinds are up and, because of the position of the moon, it’s almost like a bluey daylight has descended. There’s nobody here, either.

  The house is empty.

  I start to turn to head back to the car, unsure of my next move, when I feel drawn to the shed at the end of the garden. It was empty when I looked a few days before and sat in Richard’s rocking chair.

  There’s dew on the lawn; a gentle dusting of fine white across the grass – except that’s not all there is. There are footprints, too.

  I go to grab the shed key from next to the back door – except that it isn’t there. I search the surrounding surfaces and look on the floor but there’s no sign of it. It was definitely in place earlier. I open the back door anyway and step onto the lawn. The footprints that lead to the shed are only visible because they’re recent: a series of long outlines on top of the grass. As the dew continues to build, they’ll be gone in minutes.

  I’m halfway across when my phone starts to ring. My proper phone. It’s Harriet’s name on the front but I ignore her as I silence the device. It instantly starts to vibrate from her repeat call.

  There’s no need for a key to enter the shed – because the padlock sits on the low wall at the side, next to the key. I reach for the door and the hinge creaks noisily into the silent night as I pull it open.

  I spot the rocking chair first, untouched in the back corner, next to the pile of blankets. It’s all so normal… until I turn and look the other way – and stare into hell.

  *

  LAST SUNDAY, RICHARD

  The blood appears instantly. It’s on the rock where Alice hit her head and, as she slides limply towards the stream, there’s a speckling of red across the stones.

  Richard watches, frozen to the spot. It doesn’t feel real and yet it’s in front of him. He steps towards her but a hand snags his arm and drags him backwards. Gavin’s eyes are wide and there’s saliva bubbling in the corner of his mouth.

  ‘We need an ambulance,’ Richard gasps, as he tries to wriggle his arm free from the other man’s grip. When Gavin continues holding on, Richard reaches forward and pushes him. He succeeds in making the other man let go – but also in leaving himself off-balance. As Gavin staggers in one direction, Richard tumbles in the other. His knee has twisted in the attempt to get away and the small stones graze his palms as he tries to right himself.

  Alice is on the other side of the path – or she was. Richard can’t see her now because she’s disappeared below the line of the verge. He starts patting his pockets, hunting for his phone. She needs an ambulance and it’s going to take long enough to get one out here as it is. Unless it’s better to carry her back along the track and get to a hospital himself…

  He pushes himself up, trying to ignore the pain in his knee. The last time he twisted it was coming down the stairs when he realised he’d left something in his office. The type of innocuous adjustment he’d have made tens of thousands of times through his life. Then he found himself in a crumpled heap, wondering how it had all come to this. The doctor said there wasn’t much he could do. He recommended a physio and gave a speech that basically came down to ‘age, huh?’

  Richard tries to stand but it’s hard to put weight on the knee. The best he can do is half-limp, half-hobble across the lane towards where he saw Alice disappear into the ditch.

  Gavin’s standing there, staring down towards a gap in the hedge, where the stream is flowing on the other side.

  ‘Al—’

  Richard doesn’t get the name out because Gavin turns and punches him in the face. Richard reels backwards, knee collapsing in on itself. A pair of teeth rattle around his mouth and the metallic taste of blood swills across his tongue. Not a punch… something else… something harder. Gavin must have been clutching a rock, or something like that. Stars swirl across his vision but Richard sees Gavin drop an object to the ground. Or maybe he hears it? It’s hard to tell as the thoughts all disappear into one another.

  Then there’s black. Someone’s dragging him across the ground, then he’s being lifted and dropped into somewhere dark. There are muffled voices – a woman who’s trying to speak through a series of cries that seem to be getting louder and louder. There’s a man’s voice, too. Maybe Gavin’s? He says something about ‘it has to be this way’ and ‘just get yourself home’.

  Richard only realises he’s in a car boot when he tries to sit up and cracks his head on the low ceiling. He must be in the back of Gavin’s car, although the man’s voice from the other side then says ‘I’ll move his car’. Richard closes his eyes and tries to focus on the words but then he’s being bumped up and down. The vibrations scorch through his body and everything aches. It even feels as if his mind is thumping. Thoughts appear and disappear but none of them seem to fit together. He closes his eyes again.

  There’s a clunk and then light. Not much light but enough to make those green stars swim in his eyes. Or maybe that’s because something hit him in the head?

  Someone’s in front of him. A man. Someone he knows.

  ‘Time to get out.’

  It’s Gavin who’s speaking. Of course it is. It was Gavin who hit him. It was Gavin who shoved his little girl into that rock.

  ‘Where’s Alice?’

  Gavin clinks something on the edge of the car boot and Richard squints through the gloom to see the long barrel of a rifle pointing towards him.

  ‘It was my father’s,’ Gavin says. ‘This thing can put down a deer, and it can definitely do the same to you. So let’s get out of the car nice and slowly.’

  Richard’s knee aches as he tries to spin himself around. He wants to get to Alice but there’s no obvious way out. His back hurts and so does his head. In fact, it would be quicker to list the body parts that don’t throb. He thrusts his legs out the back of the car and then rocks forward to propel the rest of his body out. As soon as he hits the ground, Richard’s body crumples underneath him.

  ‘Oh, get up,’ Gavin sneers. ‘I didn’t hit you that hard.’

  Richard tries but everything is spinning. Gavin is suddenly closer than he realised – and is thrusting some sort of white cloth towards him.

  ‘Press that to your head,’ Gavin says.

  ‘Where?’

  Gavin frees one hand from the gun and taps his own temple, indicating the spot.

  Richard copies and then realises that he’s bleeding. Something gloopy is clinging to his ear and the side of his face. When he presses the cloth to his face, jolts singe through him from ear to ear.

  ‘Walk.’
r />   ‘I can’t, I—’

  ‘Walk!’

  Richard stumbles in the direction indicated by Gavin. It turns out to be through a gate at the side of a house and then across what looks like a building site. There’s a separate, smaller house in the distance, although it’s hard to tell in the murk. No, not a smaller house. Stables.

  When they reach the stables, Gavin opens one of the doors and ushers Richard inside with the rifle. There are hay bales against the back wall and stray threads of straw across the hard ground.

  Richard rests against the wall as Gavin crouches and puts the gun on the floor. His brain tells him that this is the chance. He can spring across and grab for the weapon, while making as much noise as he can.

  Except his body won’t obey. By the time the thought has occurred, it’s already too late. Gavin has lifted a hatch that Richard hadn’t seen, and then picked up the gun once more.

  ‘Down there,’ he says.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘An old food storage area for the horses. Now get in.’

  Richard eyes the rifle and knows there are few options.

  ‘What about Alice?’

  ‘I’m dealing with it.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  Gavin lifts the gun, not exactly pointing it but making it clear that he can. ‘Get in.’

  There’s a ladder that’s attached to the edge of the opening – and Richard does as he’s told, despite the ripples of pain through his knee and back. Anything to keep Alice safe.

  The area underneath the stables isn’t quite tall enough for him to stand. There’s more straw across the floor, although little else he can see in the darkened corners. He imagines rats or mice – although it feels enclosed. Corner to corner, there might just be enough room to lie down.