The Optician’s Wife: a compelling new psychological thriller

by Betsy Reavley

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, but I’ve been on the phone to Detective Small. He wants me to bring you into the station to answer a few questions.’

  I groaned and let my head sink under the cloudy water.

  November 15th 1993

  Dawn had been living with us for a while. The spare room had been made into a private place for her, the dog and Daisy. She’d made it very homely. She was clever like that.

  I actually quite liked having her around. She helped with the day to day running of the house and was good with my kids. She cooked often and kept the place clean and tidy. In return we didn’t ask her for any rent. Occasionally she would do a food shop, though. Ian had been quickly persuaded to give her a monthly allowance. Larry had seen to that.

  I will never know what happened between the two men but after Larry paid him a visit we didn’t hear a peep out of him. He sent Dawn money and didn’t bother her. She and I discussed the possibility of divorce but nothing was ever done about it. She was happy to have him out of her life and feared that involving solicitors would encourage him to turn nasty again. As long as Ian wasn’t banging our door down I wasn’t going to disagree with her. She knew him better than anyone.

  The one thing that did surprise me was how willing Ian was to give up his daughter. He never once tried to see her. Daisy was such a sweet little thing it didn’t make sense to me. Before long I started to see her as one of my own. She was a little cherub and I wished I could have felt the same way about Sue-Ann. But Daisy was pretty. It was easier to love her than my own daughter.

  Dawn talked about getting a job but I encouraged her not to bother. She didn’t have anyone to look after Daisy and I wasn’t about to volunteer. She was more use to me when she was around the house. It wasn’t lost on me how we had swapped roles. For years I’d looked after her, cleaning and cooking. Now it was her turn. Of course I was still looking after her in a way: she would have been on the street if Larry and I hadn’t taken her in. I suppose old habits die hard.

  It was a mild autumn that year. I remember finding it difficult to believe that Christmas was only six weeks away. A large watery sun hung low in the sky. The light was beautiful. Sometimes, so that I could get out of the house and away from the noise the kids were making, I’d take Rollo, Dawn’s dog, for a walk.

  On that day in November as I crunched over the carpet of brown leaves I found myself walking towards the village of Grantchester to the west of the city. Crossing a bridge over the river Cam I found myself on a footpath that followed the river. It was surprisingly warm. I wore only a cotton sweatshirt and jogging bottoms and I flattened anything in my path with my tatty old boots.

  It was strangely quiet. The city was so close yet felt so removed. Wondering along the path I watched Rollo bounce about, stopping to pick up a scent or pee every few minutes. He was a happy dog. His tail pointed up in the air and wagged every time he discovered a new smell. It was nice to have an excuse to walk and get away from everything. Living with Dawn only reminded me of how fat I’d gotten. She never carried any extra weight. If anything she was too skinny. I started to worry that Larry might look at her that way. She was pretty and he had eyes.

  To my irritation she would leave her underwear hanging in the bathroom to dry. Her silky knickers and bras were draped over the radiator or hung from the curtain rail. I never understood why she didn’t hang them in the garden like I did. But on reflection she always was an attention-seeker. No doubt she did it for his benefit. I should have taken them down or put them in a really hot wash. That would have taught her a lesson.

  My relationship with Dawn was complicated and living with her again reminded me of this. Some of the time I wanted to protect her and some of the time I wanted to slap her face. We were so different. If we hadn’t been sisters we would never have had anything to do with one another. But I suppose that is the way it is for a lot of families. Sibling relationships are fraught with tension and ours was made worse by the fact that Dawn was Dad’s favourite and I wasn’t. If mum had been alive things would have been different. She loved me. I was her special girl.

  As walked along the water’s edge something caught my eye. The river was narrow at this part and a large dark object was slumped on the bank further upstream. Suddenly I remembered the killer that had been stalking the area. He – everyone always presumed it was a he – was no nearer being caught. I stopped still and squinted into the distance. Could it be a body? Not wanting to get any closer I picked up a stick, teased the dog and threw it in the direction of the mass.

  Rollo went skipping over to the stick and returned it to me without noticing the lump by the river. I took a few tentative steps forward. It looked like a corpse. Standing alone, I wondered what to do. I didn’t want to get involved but curiosity got the better of me and I made my way carefully towards it. I hadn’t realised I was holding my breath until I got closer and realised it was an old coat that had caught on a fallen tree. Of course it wasn’t a body.

  Rollo was at my feet panting and nudging the stick with his nose. Feeling foolish as well as spooked I ignored the dog’s request, turned around and made my way back along the path towards home.

  Sue-Ann and Robbie had gone to school when I got back and the house was peaceful. I gave a sigh of relief as I slipped my boots off and left them lying in the hallway. As I passed the lounge I saw Daisy and Owen sitting in their playpen happily together. Rollo pushed past me, almost knocking me over, and bounded up to the kids wagging his tail, still holding the stick he’d been playing with on the walk.

  The children squealed with excitement when he pressed his large wet nose through the bars of the wooden pen and tried to lick their faces.

  I left them there and went into the kitchen to get a glass of water but was surprised to find it abandoned. Dawn was nowhere to be seen. Going to the bottom of the stairs I called up.

  ‘Dawn? You there?’

  There was silence. As I turned to go and check on the kids I heard her call out.

  ‘Yes, just coming. Be down in a minute.’ She sounded frantic.

  I took my glass of water into the lounge and turned the TV on. Moments later Larry went rushing past on his way towards the front door.

  ‘What are you still doing here? Running late, aren’t you?’

  ‘Needed to iron a shirt. See you later.’ He said, before I heard the front door close behind him. That’s funny, I thought. I could have sworn Dawn had ironed some only yesterday.

  Seconds later she appeared in her dressing gown.

  ‘All OK?’ She asked me leaning over the playpen and stroking Daisy’s head.

  ‘Fine. That dog of yours is relentless. Doesn’t he ever get tired?’

  ‘He’s still young.’ She sat down beside me straightening her satin gown.

  ‘Kids go off to school OK?’

  ‘Sure. All fine. I sent them with sandwiches and crisps. Hope that’s OK.’

  ‘Fine. As long as they eat it.’ I stared at the TV watching two women on a chat show tear into each other.

  ‘Right, well, I might go and have a bath.’ Dawn stood and stretched.

  ‘Didn’t you have one last night?’

  ‘Yes. But you are allowed to wash on a regular basis, you know.’ She could be so cutting when she wanted to.

  ‘Fine. But remember who pays the bills round here.’ It was the best come-back I had.

  ‘As if you would ever let me forget.’ She sauntered out of the room leaving me behind in a waft of her sugary perfume. No wonder she wanted a bath. She smelt like a sweet shop.

  January 28th 1998

  ‘I really don’t know what else you want me to say.’ I sat in the horribly uncomfortable plastic chair and stared across at DS Small.

  ‘The truth would be a good place to start.’ His mask had slipped and he no longer felt compelled to play the good cop.

  ‘I’m telling you the truth, as I know it.’

  ‘OK, OK Mrs Miller, have it your wa
y. Let’s go back to the very beginning.’ He flicked through a pile of notes that lay on the table between us.

  ‘If I’m not under arrest why am I here?’

  ‘We are here to talk about the whereabouts of little Daisy McCarthy. I have cautioned you, which means you are not obliged to say anything.’

  ‘I’ve got nothing to hide.’

  ‘Good. Let’s continue then.’

  I looked over at Carol Winter-Bottom who sat stiffly beside me. She gave me a definitive nod of the head.

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘What is your relationship to Daisy McCarthy?’

  ‘She’s my niece.’

  ‘When was she born?’

  ‘Late 1990, I think.’

  ‘When did you last see her?’

  ‘She was with her mother.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘A while ago.’ I shrugged.

  ‘What time of year was it?’

  ‘Spring, I think.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘At my house probably.’

  ‘Probably? Where in your house?’

  ‘I don’t know. The kitchen maybe.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘I mean, what happened the last time you saw your sister and her daughter?’

  ‘Don’t really remember.’

  ‘What was her reason for leaving the area?’

  ‘I already told you. She didn’t actually tell me she was going to leave. I came back to the house one day and she was gone. Left a letter saying she was going to Spain.’

  ‘With Daisy?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘Did the letter mention the whereabouts of Daisy?’

  ‘Probably. I don’t remember. It was a long time ago. I can’t remember every word of a letter I read years back.’

  ‘What led to Dawn wanting to leave?’

  ‘Nothing as far as I knew. I suppose she wasn’t very happy.’

  ‘Did she say that to you?’

  ‘Not in so many words.’

  ‘But she implied she wanted to move to Spain.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So it was a sudden thing?’

  ‘I guess you could say that.’

  ‘Did you try to contact your sister after receiving the letter she left you?’

  ‘No I didn’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘She didn’t leave a forwarding address. She said she’d be in touch once she was settled.’

  ‘At the time she disappeared did Dawn own a mobile phone?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Either she did or she didn’t.’

  ‘OK, yes, she did.’

  ‘Did you ever call her on it after the date you say she left?’

  ‘Maybe. Probably a couple of times.’

  ‘And did you talk to her?’

  ‘No. The line wasn’t working. I figured it was because she was abroad or something.’

  ‘So, let me get this right: your sister ups and leaves without a word of warning and you can’t get hold of her. Didn’t you think that was strange?’

  ‘Not really. She was always a bit flaky. Dawn didn’t really care about other people’s feelings. She always did what she wanted.’

  ‘It sounds as if you were cross with her?’

  ‘No. Why would I be?’ I shuffled in my chair wanting to be out of the stuffy interview room.

  ‘Was there a row before she left?’ Small’s eyes fixed mine.

  ‘No. She and I didn’t really argue.’

  ‘Even though you thought she was selfish.’ He sat back in his chair looking satisfied.

  ‘I never said that.’

  ‘You sound annoyed, Mrs Miller.’

  ‘Look, she was stubborn. If she’d wanted to talk to me she would have called or something.’

  ‘But she couldn’t, could she.’

  ‘No she couldn’t. But I didn’t know that back then, did I. Like I said, I thought she was in Spain lying on a beach somewhere.’

  ‘Did her husband ever contact you and ask as to her whereabouts?’

  ‘I think so. Once or twice.’

  ‘And what did you tell him?’

  ‘I told him to get lost.’

  ‘Why was that?’

  ‘I told you, he used to beat her up.’

  ‘We’ve spoken to Mr McCarthy and he denies your claims.’

  ‘Well he would.’

  ‘Currently we only have your word that he ever laid a finger on her.’

  ‘Why would I make it up?’

  ‘Good question.’ Small raised his eyebrows. ‘Did you discuss her sudden disappearance with your husband?’

  ‘Course I did,’ I huffed.

  ‘And what did he say?’

  ‘Ask him.’

  ‘We have. Now I’m asking you.’

  ‘Well, he said she was a grown woman and she had to make her own choices.’

  ‘Were Mr Miller and Dawn close?’

  ‘Not particularly.’ Moving in my seat I reached for a glass of water and took a sip. My throat felt so dry. I was sick of talking.

  ‘But they got on?’

  ‘Yeah. He was always kind to her.’

  ‘And Daisy?’

  ‘Sure and her.’

  ‘Did you not worry about Daisy when your sister suddenly up and left?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘She wasn’t my kid.’

  ‘And are you worried now?’

  ‘Well, I know stuff now I didn’t know back then.’

  ‘So yes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you are aware that we have recovered the body of a child from your basement? The same basement your sister was buried in.’

  ‘Yes, I’m aware.’ I scowled at him.

  ‘Do you think Daisy is still alive?’ Small kept clicking the top of a biro. The noise was driving me mad.

  ‘Could be. I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t seem very upset, Mrs Miller,’ Small leant forward on his elbows. His shirt arms were rolled up.

  ‘No point in being upset until I know anything for sure.’

  ‘You know that your sister is dead. You know that your husband admitted to killing Mark McCarthy.’

  ‘Yes, well, I’m in shock and I’ve got my boy to think of.’

  ‘Forgive me for being a sceptic. I’ve done this job a long time and one of the hazards of it is that people lie.’

  ‘I’m not lying.’

  ‘But you are implicated.’ Small’s lips went into a thin smile.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because bodies have been discovered in the grounds of your home and your husband has confessed to murder.’ I immediately looked to Carol Winter-Bottom for help. She sat back in her chair, eyed the policeman and folded her hands in her lap.

  ‘You are aware how serious this situation is, Mrs Miller.’ Small continued clicking his biro.’

  My right leg was shaking uncontrollably. Carol reached out a hand, under the table and rested it on my knee to signal I should stop the twitch. Then she turned to me and nodded her head once.

  ‘No comment.’ I said pretending to examine my nails. ‘That’s all you are going to get out of me from now on.’

  January 3rd 1994

  Dawn sat at the kitchen table painting her nails a garish shade of pink.

  ‘You’re not a teenager any more,’ I scoffed.

  ‘Doesn’t mean I have to stop making an effort.’ She looked me up and down with contempt.

  I ignored her look and went over to the fridge and opened the door. I wanted something to eat but I didn’t know what. The dog lay dozing on the floor.

  ‘Are there any biscuits left?’ I asked closing the door.

  ‘Probably not.’ Dawn continued to concentrate on her nail varnish. ‘You’ve probably eaten them all.’<
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  Determined not to rise to her snide remark I went over to the cupboard and removed the biscuit tin. It was empty.

  ‘Go to the shop and buy some more.’ I reached for my purse that was lying on the kitchen surface and removed a five-pound note. ‘You can get more milk while you’re at it.’ I held the money out.

  ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ Dawn sat up and looked at me defiantly. ‘Not with a psycho on the loose.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Another body turned up in the river yesterday. It’s gruesome.’ She gave an exaggerated shiver.

  ‘Where did you hear that?’

  ‘It was on the TV. Don’t you ever watch the news? Sometimes I think you live with your head in the sand.’

  ‘Oh, it’ll just be that guy who went missing on New Year’s Eve. A drunk who fell in the river, and you know it. Any excuse not to go to the shop.’ I rolled my eyes, tired of her attitude.

  ‘Doesn’t it worry you, a killer on the loose?’

  ‘Why should it? I’m sure he wouldn’t want to kill me. But I can see why you might be worried.’ I couldn’t contain my smile.

  ‘Bitch,’ Dawn muttered under her breath.

  ‘Have you ironed those shirts?’

  ‘Yes. Someone had to.’

  ‘Good. You can sit here and act like a princess. I’ll go and get some milk for your kid to drink, shall I?’

  Dawn looked up at me her almond-shaped eyes framed by the perfectly applied make-up she always wore.

  ‘You could do with the exercise.’

  ‘And you could do with a slap.’ I grabbed my wallet and marched out of the kitchen. I was bursting with anger. She was lucky I hadn’t hit out. My size meant that I could cause damage. How I would have loved to wiped that smirk off her face.

  It was then that I realised I didn’t want her living under my roof any more. That night I would talk to Larry and suggest we tell her to get her life together and move out. She had been relying on us for long enough.

  The kids were all in the lounge watching a video they’d been given for Christmas. I stood in the doorway looking at them all. They were so transfixed by the screen they didn’t even notice me.