The Optician’s Wife: a compelling new psychological thriller

by Betsy Reavley

  It wasn’t worth dwelling on the types of questions she might ask. Honestly, I had no real experience and couldn’t possibly second-guess what it was she was looking for. But she was a difficult character and I found it hard to imagine that many people would be willing to work for her. That was something I had on my side. That and Larry.

  Despite the fact it was before nine a.m. on a Saturday morning there was a reasonable amount of traffic. Of course, nowadays the roads are permanently gridlocked. Even in those days we noticed that there were more and more vehicles on the road. Cars where everywhere and more than that, they were a status symbol. German cars were the most sought-after for some reason. Although I remember reading somewhere that a lot of the big German car companies started off making vehicles for the Nazis. Not that it really bothered me. I didn’t drive nor could I imagine any time when I might have my own little car. I never pictured myself driving anything flash. A second-hand Ford Escort or something like that would have been nice.

  As I turned on to the bridge that linked Chesterton Road to Jesus Green I started to feel butterflies. I wondered what I was doing, being so brave and taking such a risk. I was content in my job. It was safe. Trying for the position in the bookshop was so unlike me. So unsafe.

  My head bowed, looking at my feet, I didn’t notice Larry approaching me from the opposite end of the path. I was so busy tussling with the idea of turning around and going home that I jumped when he laid his hand on my shoulder and spoke.

  ‘Hello you.’ He was wearing a white T-shirt and denim shorts. The first thing I saw were his legs, which looked tanned and were covered in fine, dark hairs. ‘Sorry,’ he apologised exaggeratedly stepping back, ‘I didn’t mean to scare you. I don’t bite very often.’ His grin was broad and white and I was reminded yet again of George Michael. I never went in for pop stars but if I had, George Michael would have got my vote. Dawn loved him too. She hid posters of him under her mattress. Dad would not have approved.

  ‘Nervous?’ Larry slipped his arm through mine and we carried on walking together.

  ‘Yes, a bit.’ I chewed my bottom lip and kept my eyes on the ground.

  ‘You’ll be fine. Honestly. The job is yours. Larry says so.’ He winked and pulled my arm gently. ‘You look really smart.’ He popped a piece of gum into his mouth before offering me a piece. I declined.

  ‘No thanks, I don’t think Ms Faulks would like me chewing gum.’

  ‘Probably right. You don’t miss a trick, do you.’ I liked him flirting with me. It was a welcome distraction from my nerves. ‘Your hair looks nice. You’ve done something different to it?’

  ‘Yes.’ I was so pleased he had noticed.

  ‘I like being able to see your face properly. And those pretty eyes.’

  Self-consciously I adjusted the Alice band as we approached the front of the bookshop. He let go of my arm and took a step back.

  ‘So, here we are.’ He had tucked his hands into his pockets and looked sheepish suddenly. ‘I’ll wait in the coffee shop round the corner on King Street. Meet me there when you’re done.’

  ‘OK.’ I clung on to the straps of my rucksack to stop my hands from shaking.

  ‘Break a leg.’ He blew me a kiss before turning and walking away.

  The centre was strangely quiet. Very few shops were open and the normal bustle of people on their way to work was missing. I checked my watch. It was five to nine. Standing on the pavement I looked up at the shop front and wondered whether I should knock on the door or just try to open it.

  Since Ms Faulks was expecting me I peered in through the glass to see if I could see her. The bookshop was as empty as the street. I tried the door to see if it would open. It did.

  Walking in the soles of my shoes echoed across the wooden floor. Suddenly it seemed like a spooky place, full of ghosts. I slipped my rucksack off my back and held it in front of me before finding the courage to call out.

  ‘Ms Faulks?’ No reply. ‘Hello, Ms Faulks, it’s Deborah. Deborah Campkin. I’m here for my interview.’ Silence.

  I stood still for a few moments wondering what I should do. The door was open so surely she must be there. I decided to go to the back of the shop to investigate. I knew if I was more than a few seconds late it would give her the ammunition she needed to grill me.

  Passing by rows and rows of neat bookshelves I came to a door that led into a back room. The sign on it read ‘Staff Only’ so rather than go through I thought it best to knock.

  ‘Yes.’ Her shrill voice called out from the other side of the door. ‘Come in.’

  Holding my breath I pushed the heavy wooden door open to find Ms Faulks sitting stiffly in a chair at a desk.

  ‘I thought you were going to be late, but I see that you are punctual. Take a seat.’ Her navy patent leather heeled shoes stuck out from her green tartan trousers. She was wearing a pale blue blouse and the same diamanté fox brooch I had noticed a few days earlier.

  I sat down unaware that I was still chewing my lip.

  ‘So,’ she looked down at a piece of paper through her small spectacles, determined not to grace me with eye contact, ‘why do you want this job?’

  There were no niceties. She cut right to the case.

  ‘Well, I really like reading books.’

  ‘Sit up straight, please. I can’t bear it when girls slouch.’

  ‘Sorry.’ I felt myself going red.

  ‘What else?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Her attempt to make me feel foolish was working.

  ‘I like food, but I have no desire to work in a supermarket. Just because you read it doesn’t mean you are suited to working in a bookshop. Tell me why I should employ you.’

  ‘I am young and eager to learn.’ I was determined not to let her cold stare put me off. ‘I have experience working with customers. I’m used to using a till and I’m a fast learner.’

  She sat back in her chair and took a long look at me.

  ‘If that’s the best you can come up with then I really don’t think this is right for you. I need someone intelligent, who can communicate with the people who come into the shop. Someone who can advise the customers which books to buy and who can help the students find what they are looking for. I’m just not sure you are made of the right stuff.’

  ‘But if you give me a chance, I can show you that I could do this job justice.’ My bravery came out of nowhere and I stunned even myself.

  ‘I will not be persuaded by insolence,’ she growled talking the wind out of my sails. ‘It’s brains this job requires not balls. If I had wanted to hire a man I would have done so.’

  ‘Well,’ I got up and put my rucksack over one shoulder, ‘thank you anyway.’

  ‘Where on earth do you think you’re going?’ Ms Faulks bellowed.

  ‘But I thought this interview was over–’ by then I really was confused.

  ‘Sit down,’ she barked.

  I stood glued to the spot unable to move or speak. It had taken her all of two minutes to tear me down and now she wanted me to stay. It didn’t make sense. I was shy and lacking in confidence but I was no masochist.

  ‘Why? Why should I sit down?’ I stood over her and started to feel more certain of myself. ‘You’ve called me stupid and insolent all in the space of a few minutes. I came here for a job interview not a character assassination.’

  Ms Faulks sat in her chair looking up at me with disbelief.

  ‘I wanted this job and I know I could have done it well but you aren’t prepared to give me a chance so no, I won’t sit down. If I want abuse, I can get that at home.’

  Ms Faulks stood up; the space between our bodies was less than two feet. ‘I’ve decided you don’t have what it takes to work here. Kindly leave. Now.’

  I shrugged my shoulders and turned away. Just as I reached the door I heard her say, ‘No one that unattractive should be foist upon the general public. Can’t imagine what a nice boy like Larry sees in you.’


  I stopped with my back to her and my hand on the doorknob. For the first time in my life I was overcome with anger. My hands were shaking but no longer from nerves. For a moment I imagined what it would be like to spin around and slap her hard across the face. Gritting my teeth, I pushed the door open and marched out of the shop.

  Once outside again the full force of the adrenaline hit me. I shook all over and had to go and lean against a wall to steady myself. In the few minutes I had spent in the shop Cambridge had come to life. People were beginning to fill the street and vans loaded with goods for the market traders crawled along the narrow cobbled road.

  I tipped my face up towards the sky and let the sunshine soothe me. Facing Larry was going to be difficult. The thought of disappointing him filled me with dread.

  The coffee shop he had mentioned was less than a hundred yards away but the journey there felt like the final steps of a prisoner on death row. I no longer felt anger. Only shame. I knew my bubble would burst. The last few weeks spent in Larry’s company had been like a dream. Girls like me didn’t get the leading man. We were extras wheeled in to make the female star of the show look even better.

  As I turned down the alley I could see that Larry was sitting in the window of the coffee shop. He spotted me and jumped out of his seat, pushed past the breakfast crowd and bounded out of the door. It was so unlike him. Normally he was the pinnacle of cool.

  ‘So, when do you start?’ he called out, taking broad strides towards me.

  I stopped dead in my tracks and waited for him to join me. As he got closer he must have noticed the expression on my face and his smile melted away.

  ‘I don’t.’ My voice was meek and I couldn’t look him in the eye. He stopped about a metre away and examined me.

  ‘What happened, Dee?’ He was no longer the boisterous young man he had been the moment before.

  ‘She hated me.’ I was trying not to cry so that he wouldn’t see my misery.

  ‘Come on,’ he moved closer to me and put his arm around my shoulder, ‘let me buy you a hot chocolate. Then you can tell me what went wrong.’

  July 17th 1983

  I’d followed her home the day before but kept my distance. She lived in a maisonette in one the Victorian houses off Chesterton Road. From the other end of the street, I watched her let herself in and go indoors. I didn’t even know why I’d followed her. I was curious, I suppose. I wanted to see where she lived.

  On the Sunday I waited around, hoping to catch sight of her. Fate played her card. The old woman came out of her house holding a bag as if she was about to go shopping. It was a clammy day. It felt like thunder was in the air and a storm was approaching. Making sure she didn’t see me, I stayed behind her, following as she took a bus to a supermarket. She was smartly dressed; just like she had been the first time I’d laid eyes on her. She never had a hair out of place.

  She went about her business unaware that my attention was focused solely on her. She didn’t seem aware of my presence. That’s when it dawned on me. That’s when I knew what I wanted to do. I left her to her shopping, returned to her street and waited.

  An hour later she returned carrying an armful of bags and went into her house. Still managing to conceal myself at the other end of the street I noticed the noise coming from the river. A gentle lapping of water. Hoping the old woman would stay put for a while, I decided to go and investigate. I needed to plan my next move.

  I passed one of the university rowing houses as I made my way down towards the water. The angry grey sky above was reflected in the surface. Transfixed by the beauty of the movement I bend down and dipped my fingers into the river. It was cold but not as cold as I had been expecting. Taking my hand up to my nose I tried to get a scent from it. A couple in a rowing boat looked at me strangely and I retreated from the river’s edge, not wanting to draw attention to myself.

  At the end of her street, Kimberley Road, was a narrow walkway that led down to the river. I decided I would wait there until it was dark. The clouds were rolling fast across the sky, tumbling towards their final destination.

  The hours dripped by slowly until eventually dusk fell over the city. I watched as birds returned home and the people of the river started to disappear until there was no one. Only me.

  At half-past ten at night I decided to make my move. I was cold by then and I was getting impatient.

  I took a deep breath, relishing the buzz of adrenaline, as I approached her front door. I knocked once, loud enough that she would hear.

  Seconds later her grey face appeared in the open doorway.

  ‘Hello?’ Her voice was clipped but tinged with uncertainty.

  Before she had a second to react I put my hands around her throat and shoved her inside, pushing the front door closed behind me using my foot. I was surprised by my own strength. Her little beady eyes filled with horror as I continued to tighten my grip. Her cheeks started to turn red as her hands scrabbled at my arms in vain. I was not going to let go. Not until it was over.

  Beneath my palm I could feel the pressure of one of her veins and the blood trying to pump around her body. Every ounce of strength she had was fighting to stay alive. But my desire was stronger and I squeezed harder still.

  After a minute her body started to relax and go floppy. Still I held on to her neck until I was sure I had seen the life leave her body. As she died with my hands around her throat her body grew heavy. Refusing to let go and wanting to keep the moment alive for as long as possible, I collapsed on top of her still gripping her throat.

  We must have lain together like that for some time in her hallway. Eventually I pulled myself off her and sat back to look at her body. My breathing was heavy, almost a pant.

  She was so still. Her eyes were bloodshot and staring. I sat with her there for a while stroking her hair. The I got up off the floor and went to explore her home. I turned the television off in the sitting room before walking into the kitchen. There, lying on a draining board was a clean plate, a saucepan and a small kitchen knife. I picked it up, mesmerised by the shine of the metal, and ran my finger along the sharp blade. It had been calling to me and at last I knew what I had to do.

  Returning to the body I knelt down beside it and stroked her hair for one last time before carefully inserting the point of the knife into the skin below her left eye. I moved the blade around the socket until eventually I was able to lever the eyeball out.

  The jelly mass lay on her cheek still attached to the nerves. I was amazed by the intricate anatomy. My fingers were covered in blood and bits of skin so I wiped them on her blouse before hacking through muscles and veins that were attached to the eyeball itself.

  When I had finished removing both eyes I stood up to admire my work. She would never look at me like that again. Two hollow bloody caves stared back at me and I felt a grin spread across my face. I returned to the kitchen, washed my hands and the knife before putting it back where I’d found it. Then I searched for something to put the eyeballs in. I would keep them. They would be a reminder.

  For lack of anything better, I used a plastic bag to wrap them in before putting them into my pocket. Checking the time on my wristwatch I saw that it was nearly one o’clock in the morning.

  Stepping over her corpse I went over to the front door and opened it a fraction. Outside the night was dark and quiet. I ran my eye up and down to the street to check nobody was about, before taking hold of her ankles and dragging her heavy weight down to the river. It was only twenty yards but my heart was thumping hard in my chest from a mixture of the effort and the next wave of adrenaline.

  I rolled her on to her back to look at her one last time and noticed the little brooch on her blouse glinting in the moonlight. A keepsake.

  Using all my strength I rolled her little body into the water and watched for a second as it started to drift away.

  Then I slipped back into the night taking with me my treasures.

  July 19th 1983r />
  By the time Tuesday arrived I had started to forget about my interview from hell. Larry had done a brilliant job of consoling me. Silly old bat, he’d said. It made me feel much better. But still I couldn’t quite shake the memory of her forbidding stare and cutting words.

  It wasn’t the first time in my life that I’d suffered rejection, and it wouldn’t be the last, but it had never come from someone I expected to respect before. I couldn’t make sense of it. My mere existence seemed to be at the root of her hostility.

  Before I met Larry I’d been invisible. I might not have liked that but I was comfortable with it. It was all I’d ever known. Then he burst into my life and things started to change – both for the better and for the worse. It seemed that my association with him was having a ripple effect on my life. It was as exciting as it was scary.

  As usual I had agreed to meet Larry for lunch. It was a dull day. The air was close and the sky threatened rain. On my way to buy my sandwich I passed a newsagent’s. Propped outside beside the entrance was a billboard with a headline in large black capitals.

  BODY OF WOMAN FOUND IN RIVER

  I never normally paid attention to the local news but it was such a sensational story that I felt compelled to go into the shop and buy a paper. I paid for a copy of the Cambridge Evening News and left the shop. The sky was darker than before and ominous clouds were collecting above the rooftops. Shoving the paper into my rucksack I made my way towards the café I often met Larry in. I would read about it later.

  When I reached the café Larry was standing outside leaning against a wall talking to a beautiful brunette, who curled a long lock of hair in her fingers and giggled. I stopped just out of sight, uncertain whether I should interrupt. The young woman was wearing a pale pink vest and denim shorts that showed off her long thighs. She dropped the cigarette she had been smoking and stubbed it out with one of her clean white sneakers before sauntering away. When I was sure she was gone I scurried out from my hiding place and approached Larry.