The Next Wife: An absolutely gripping psychological thriller with a killer twist

by Liz Lawler

  Tess stared at her naked breasts, at the faint blue bruises where his fingers gripped too hard. Her hips bore similar marks. Nothing so drastic as to stop her in her tracks if she found them unexpectedly. They were barely tender, and, if covered, not felt at all. It was how she came by them that made her feel them more. She’d had no control over what was done to her and dark memories from her past had flooded back. She’d not told Daniel about that part of her childhood.

  She remembered Sara getting a carpet burn on the base of her spine from having sex on the floor. She’d laughed it off, saying good sex came at a price.

  ‘Do you think I’m a prude, Sara?’ she now asked her friend.

  ‘No! You’re not,’ came her emphatic reply. ‘And don’t you dare start questioning or doubting yourself. You’re full of insecurities, but you’re not a prude. For you it’s all about the love, being loved, but that doesn’t mean to say you don’t like sex. You just need to feel there is love behind it. That’s what he needs to realise.’ Sara paused for a few seconds, before speaking again. ‘So, are you going to be OK, Tess? I’m wishing now it was another few weeks before I leave.’

  Tess closed her eyes as she remembered Sara would be leaving next week. Her dream job of working as a nurse in the Australian outback, flying in little planes to far-reaching places to attend the sick or ferry them to a hospital, was finally happening. She would no longer be working in London as an intensive care nurse, and these long phone calls might not happen or be as possible. Her friend would be on the other side of the world, not in a city where Skype and internet access was immediate but in the middle of nowhere where radio communication or a satellite phone was more often used.

  Tess forced some positivity into her voice. ‘Don’t say that. This is what you’ve always wanted. And I’ll be fine. Just having a little wobble, and you’ve helped put me right again. So I’ll be fine. I am fine! OK?’

  ‘I hope so, you complicated little flower.’

  Tess smiled sadly. In the eleven years since they were student nurses together, Sara had used this phrase a thousand times, changing the noun to suit the mood, or at Tess’s dithering when ordering food. You complicated chicken nugget. You complicated McFlurry. Birthday cards though, every year, never changed – happy birthday you complicated dear friend.

  ‘We’ll talk again soon,’ Sara said. ‘Oh and Tess, put a cold flannel on your face before he gets home. I know what your face will look like now. It swelled up like a balloon when we watched Me Before You.’

  After saying goodbye, Tess climbed out of the bath and looked at her face in the mirror. It was true. Her face looked like she was having an allergic reaction. Her eyelids were so swollen they half covered her eyes, her nostrils were shiny red bulbs. It would take more than a cold flannel to calm it down.

  She breathed deeply, more easily now the ache in her chest had gone. She was better for talking it over, and now saw she was probably to blame for some of last night, waiting for him in her stockings and underwear. She had chosen black for God’s sake when she could have picked something less obvious. She had all those beautiful colours she could have chosen to wear. She would talk to Daniel and tell him how upset she’d been and then put the whole thing from her mind. She didn’t want to be miserable with him. She wanted to get past this, to be loving him again, to be feeling happy again. It was not much to ask for from a new bride.

  Mid-afternoon she was coming to the end of her chores. The house was clean, dinner decided on (again no chips or peas on the menu) and she had just put fresh linen on their bed. She opened the bedroom window to air the room as it had an odour to it when warm, like a dusty sweet scent of dried petals. She sniffed the gold-and-ivory curtain material and got a whiff of musty sweetness and wondered when they were last taken down for cleaning. The smell was trapped in the fabric and no doubt in the carpet too. The people who lived there before had probably become used to it, the air smelling normal to them. She imagined the woman as elderly with her scents long standing in vintage-style perfume bottles with atomiser bulbs and tassels. Maybe these curtains had been hanging since the day they were first put up and never been cleaned, instead squirted with sprays of perfume. She would make it a priority over the next week to get rid of these old smells – take down all the curtains and have them cleaned, and find a carpet-cleaning firm to come in and do the carpets. Better she get it done now before starting her new job, than hope letting a gust of wind blow through would make it disappear.

  She turned to close the window, feeling there was now too much fresh air as goosebumps rose on her arms, and was surprised when she saw the old lady standing by the gates staring in at the house. Her thin white hair was blowing on top of her head like white candyfloss and Tess worried she’d get cold standing so still. What was she doing there? Was she confused or just lost again? She’d told Tess on that one occasion when they spoke that she was visiting a friend on another street, only she got the streets mixed up which she discovered after looking through Tess’s windows. Was she mixed up again? Tess had seen her a few times now when out running. Surely she wasn’t still getting confused about where her friend lived, not if she was visiting her often? The adjacent streets weren’t that similar and landmarks usually reminded people of the right way to go. The obvious reminder for most was the street name. She was old though, perhaps easily confused. If she didn’t leave soon Tess would go outside and help her, maybe walk with her to this friend’s house.

  The ringing of the landline phone by the bed startled her. It so seldom rang she could be forgiven for forgetting they had one. Maybe Daniel was calling, having tried her mobile first which was downstairs in the kitchen charging and possibly on silent. She felt queasy at the thought of speaking to him, not yet ready to have that talk. She forced herself to pick up the receiver and speak in a calm voice.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hello, is that you, Tess?’

  For a moment she was speechless. Her mother-in-law was on the phone. She hadn’t spoken to the woman since her wedding day and had only met her on that one occasion.

  ‘Hello,’ she said again for want of something to say.

  ‘Is Daniel at home, Tess? Only I’d like to speak to him.’

  Tess gaped at the phone, at hearing the abrupt request. The woman clearly had no time for pleasantries, or else her need to speak to Daniel was more urgent.

  ‘Um, no, Mrs Myers, I’m afraid he’s not. He’s playing golf.’

  The woman gave a small sigh. ‘No matter. I just wanted to see he was all right. If he’s playing golf I’m sure he is.’

  ‘Has something happened?’ Tess dared to ask.

  ‘No, dear. I ring him every year on this day just to see how he is.’

  Tess wanted to ask why, but before she could utter another word the phone went dead, and she was left shocked by the woman’s rudeness. She had hung up without saying goodbye. Tess placed the receiver back in the cradle and sat down on the bed in a quandary. What a strange call. Why had his mother called, and why this day every year? What did September 12 represent? A celebration? An anniversary? It wasn’t his birthday. So maybe the death of someone, perhaps a grandparent?

  Tess eyed Daniel’s large wardrobe and wondered if it held any answers. She walked over to it and opened both doors wide. The contents were the same as when last opened to hang away his ironed shirts. She had no idea what she suddenly expected to see or find. There would be nothing new in it as everything was what she’d unpacked, already seen, put there by her after moving in. His mother’s tone was maybe just her way. Tess hardly knew her so there was no way of knowing if she was normally like that or not. Her cryptic reply was weird, though. I ring him every year on this day just to see how he is.

  There was so much she didn’t know about her husband, Tess realised. Their time together had only scratched at the surface of who they were before they met. They hadn’t even exhausted topics such as first dates, first loves, first time. They’d each summarised their lives, their grow
ing ups (hers harder than his) almost quickly as if to get to the part that really mattered. Them. In love. Finding each other. It was a forward-moving relationship with no time to look back on what had shaped them to become who they were now. Although, looking back, he knew far more about her than she him. After making love one night, then virtually living together in his flat with barely a month passed since they met one another, she’d opened up to him about her dream of having a large family one day. I want to belong, she’d told him. I want to belong. That’s what I want. I never belonged as a child.

  Her words hadn’t scared him, which so soon into the relationship they could have. Instead they had encouraged him to make it happen. He’d proposed to her two months later, and on their wedding day had whispered in her ear just after they made their vows words she would never forget. You belong now, my love.

  Tess sighed to herself. Remembering his words was what she needed right now. It had been an emotional few days, a rollercoaster few months, and last night was just an unexpected blip. No more than that. She wouldn’t even mention it later. Nor about his mother’s rudeness. She’d just say his mother called and leave it at that.

  Chapter Six

  When Tess looked out of the window a short while later she was relieved to see the old lady was gone. If she saw her again she’d start up a conversation to gauge her mental capacity. She may just be a little eccentric and there was nothing wrong with that so long as she was safe, and knew where she was and where she was going. If this was confirmed Tess would rest easy and revert back to occasional nodding again.

  Her spirits had lifted a little and she was now less worried about Daniel coming home. She would not make things awkward between them and had already decided to wear some of the new clothes again, a navy dress with a Peter Pan collar that would look OK if she wore her hair up in a high ponytail and her pretty flip-flops. Her legs were still tanned from summer, and her toenails only polished yesterday so there should be nothing he could find fault with. She squashed the negative thought, telling herself he wasn’t out to look for faults. He was aiding her to look her best.

  He smelled of fresh air when he returned, and had a finger-length width of colour across his high cheekbones. His dark blue golfing top fit snugly, outlining his broad chest, and Tess felt strangely reserved as she gazed at him. Mental images of the previous night’s sex flushed her warm and confused her emotions. Like Sara said, she did like sex and she was strongly attracted to him, only not like last night when she was unwilling and he must have known. He seemed to sense her discomfort as he leaned against the kitchen counter, keeping his distance and folding his arms in a relaxed manner.

  ‘Everything OK?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded.

  ‘Anything I can do to help with dinner?’ he offered.

  ‘No, it’s all in hand. Sea trout, salad and potatoes, and fruit salad for dessert. Is that OK?’

  ‘It’s more than OK. It sounds like a feast.’

  His enthusiasm seemed a little overboard, but she was grateful to him for putting her at ease.

  ‘Well, in that case I’ll hop in the shower and change before dinner.’ He stepped towards her and kissed her cheek. ‘Pretty dress, pretty hair,’ he said, and then frowned as he stared at her footwear.

  ‘What?’ she lightly challenged, and then afterwards wished she hadn’t.

  ‘Not what I would call sensible footwear for the kitchen, Tess. Maybe keep them for the beach. I’ll dig you out a pair of shoes while I’m upstairs.’ He gave her appearance a further inspection, and as if deciding on something gave a small nod. ‘Maybe wear a little less make-up. Your face doesn’t need it.’ He smiled as if he’d been helpful, before taking his leave from the kitchen.

  Tess stared at his retreating back. Her small bubble of confidence was burst. He undid the nice words in those last remarks. Had he meant them to be kind? There were facets to her husband’s character she was starting to see more and more. His forceful opinion for one, and the swing from someone she knew to someone unknown was playing with her confidence. The last few days had thrown her off-kilter. A shift in the balance of their relationship had taken place. She felt as if she had been given a smaller voice, one of less importance than his. Had she allowed this to happen by submitting to wearing the clothes he chose? Given him permission to now correct her other choices?

  Last week she would have been trailing after him up the stairs, lounging on the bed while he dressed, just to be in his company or to talk. Now, she was standing like a guest in her own home awaiting his return. That wasn’t normal. In the space of three days something had changed between them. Since the evening he came home from work and found fault with what she was cooking and wearing he’d been different. It can’t have started because of the food and her clothing surely? She needed to get back to how they were before then, get back to behaving naturally, otherwise she saw problems ahead. She poured herself a glass of wine to calm her thoughts. When he came back down those stairs she was going to tell him she was going back to work. This is what they both needed, for him to see her as she was before becoming a wife, a person who had things going on in her life other than what shoes to wear. Because he seemed to have lost sight of that.

  She was a trained nurse with eight years’ experience, not a wife from the fifties happy to stay home all day and bake cakes and clean house. She took a gulp of wine. She’d tell him good and proper and if he didn’t like it he could lump it.

  Without a nylon barrier covering her feet the shoes were rubbing the backs of her heels. She had kicked off the flip-flops when he’d returned with the low-heeled courts, and hoped when she took them off later her heels were blistered to make him feel guilty or sorry for acting like a prig. They had eaten dinner in near silence, with him sat one end of the long oval dining table and her the other. He was in a quiet mood with nothing to say despite glancing at her frequently. She could feel her resentment brewing. She’d eaten enough silent meals while growing up, her hearing always tuned and eyes watchful for a change in mood. Her childhood had left her with a built-in antenna for impending unpleasantness, and anxiety from always waiting for it to happen. Something was happening, but what? Was it the change to their lives coming between them? In that case she wanted to go straight back to London.

  They were coming to the end of their meal and she, despite two further glasses of wine, had yet to tell him about her job. She cleared her throat.

  ‘Before I forget there are two things I need to tell you. First, your mother called today. She wanted to speak to you, but I said you were playing golf.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘And you’re telling me now? Did she say what about?’

  Her insides tightened a little. She should have said something sooner. Maybe today’s date meant something and was why he was in this mood?

  ‘Sorry, I should have mentioned it earlier, and no, she didn’t say what about. We didn’t even talk. She asked if you were here and when I said no, she said OK and goodbye.’

  ‘And the second thing?’

  ‘I got a job. I start a week on Monday.’

  He stared at her across the table and slowly, without saying a word, rose from his chair and walked out of the room. It was the second time in the space of a few hours she was left gazing after him. This time she got up and followed. He’d gone into the drawing room and was standing next to the drinks cabinet.

  ‘Have you nothing to say?’ she asked.

  He remained silent, fixing himself a drink, before giving her his attention. A slight impatience flitted across his face, as if this was an effort. ‘Why?’ he eventually asked, in an off-hand manner.

  ‘What do you mean, why?’ she asked in return, vexed by his tone and one-word reply. ‘It’s what people do. They work. I work. I have a career. I’m sorry if that doesn’t suit you or that I can’t be at a different hospital to where you work, but I want this job. No one need know we’re married, if that’s what’s bothering you. I haven’t yet changed my reg
istration name to my married name so I’ll be working under my maiden name. You needn’t be concerned that people will know about us.’

  ‘I wasn’t, as a matter a fact,’ he said back. ‘Eventually, some of my colleagues will meet you. It’s no secret I’m married. No, Tess, you misunderstood me when I asked why. My why is because I thought we were trying for a family? Though I noticed you guzzling back the wine tonight. You said you wanted a large family and I see no reason to change our plan. So why go out and get a job? We don’t need your salary. There is much to do in taking care of a house this size so it can’t be for lack of something to do. So again, why get a job?’

  She was tempted to blurt out she wasn’t ready; he was making her feel so guilty when she knew they weren’t even trying yet. But she wasn’t ready, nowhere near ready after the last few days.

  ‘Daniel, I’ve got a brain in my head which I wish to use. And yes, I would like a family, but I don’t wish to sit around just waiting for that to happen. It’s better that I work and enjoy being a wife, though I must say I’m not enjoying it at this precise moment.’

  He raised his glass at her, the gesture ever-so-slightly jeering. ‘You don’t say.’ Then he drank the liquid in one swallow. ‘Well, that’s not what you led me to believe before we married, is it? You said you wanted a large family. You said you wanted to belong. So what is it, Tess? Do you want a family or not? Or is this about last night? Is that it? Are you sulking, Tess, over a little rough sex and have now changed your mind?’

  Her mouth opened in shock. She could feel blood draining from her face. He had known it was rough? He had known, and now he was what? Mocking her for minding? Her insides did a somersault. The room closed in as she focused on the man before her. Where was the man she married? The one she was in love with?

  ‘I’m going to bed,’ she said stiffly, trying to hold on to her dignity. ‘I don’t understand why you’re behaving like this, Daniel, but it’s not very nice.’