Seeing Richard’s face darken, his expression a mixture of incredulity and anger, Nicole stopped. He didn’t believe her. He thought… Dear God, what was he thinking?
Richard looked away. ‘Will you be okay?’ he asked, turning back to Olivia.
He squeezed her hand when she nodded timidly, then got abruptly to his feet. His expression was inscrutable, Nicole noted, as he walked towards her. The quiet before the storm; before the insults and venom spew forth. Her heart beat a violent rat-a-tat in her chest. Nicole closed her eyes. Richard isn’t him. She clamped her mind down hard on thoughts of the misogynist, of the malice that would spark in his eyes before his hand shot out. Richard wasn’t him. He wouldn’t condemn her. He wouldn’t despise her. He wouldn’t. ‘I think we need to talk,’ he said, his tone devoid of any emotion as he walked past her to the door.
Nicole glanced in Olivia’s direction before following him. She simply smiled. Like a cat that had got the cream.
EIGHTEEN
REBECCA
PRESENT
Watching Sam and Olivia dive into the pool in perfect synchronicity, Rebecca turned her gaze towards Laura, feeling for her. Laura attempted to keep her gaze fixed on her book and failed. After glancing at the two, who were now racing each other to the end of the pool, she closed the book and climbed off her lounger.
‘I think I’ll go and make sure we’re unpacked,’ she said, smiling half-heartedly in Rebecca’s direction.
‘Do you want a hand?’ Rebecca offered, thinking she might need an ear.
‘No.’ Laura forced another smile. ‘I thought I’d take a quick shower and reapply my sunscreen while I’m at it. Thanks all the same, Becky.’
‘Good idea,’ Richard said, shielding his eyes against the sun as he looked up from his lounger. ‘I think I might need to cool off myself soon.’ He nodded towards the pool.
Laura’s smile was a bit wan as she turned for the house.
‘She seems like a nice girl,’ Richard observed, as she disappeared through the patio doors.
‘She is,’ Rebecca confirmed, tempted to join her anyway. It was obvious Laura did feel put out – and possibly pale in more ways than one in comparison to Olivia, whom Sam was paying too much attention to. In fairness, Olivia seemed determined to monopolise him. But still, Rebecca should have a quiet word with her son. He wasn’t an unfeeling person – far from it. He was caring and very aware of not treating women disrespectfully, having been brought up solely by her, but unfortunately that made him a little naive to women’s wiles sometimes. And to the fact that he attracted women’s attention. She was biased, obviously, but with his toned muscles and blonde good looks, he was definitely a magnet.
‘She seems shy,’ Richard commented.
‘She is a bit,’ Rebecca said, looking back to where Sam and Olivia were now splashing about with each other in the water. ‘I think that’s what Sam loves about her,’ she added, glancing sideways at him. Was Richard aware that his daughter was flirting with Sam? Apparently not. She watched him as he gazed across the pool, seemingly miles away.
‘Olivia seems to have recovered well,’ she ventured, broaching the subject around which Nicole’s troubles appeared to have started.
Richard’s gaze came back to hers. ‘Sorry?’
‘Olivia. She seems to have recovered well from her ordeal.’
‘Oh, yes. Yes, she has. She was devastated at first. She was very fond of Nicole. Her death was traumatic for her, but she seems to be doing okay now.’
Rebecca nodded. ‘Actually, I was thinking more about the awful event on your wedding day,’ she clarified tentatively.
‘Ah.’ Richard picked up his beer and took a large slug. ‘Nicole told you about that then?’
Rebecca noted his uncomfortable expression. ‘Out of concern,’ she said. ‘She was worried for her. For both of you. As she would have been.’
Sitting up, Richard faced her. ‘She was.’ He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. ‘She was really supportive of her. It wasn’t easy for Nicole either, as you can imagine, but we got through it – Olivia did – with Nicole’s help and some counselling.’
Rebecca glanced again at Olivia. She certainly seemed to have recovered. Rebecca hadn’t got the impression she’d been receptive to any help Nicole had tried to offer, however. ‘She didn’t want to report it though?’
Richard shook his head. ‘I wanted her to, to be honest, but Olivia was adamant she wouldn’t, for Nicole’s sake.’ Turning his attention to his beer glass, he reached towards it, manoeuvred the glass full circle on the table and left it where it was.
Rebecca read the body language. This was clearly something he wasn’t comfortable discussing. ‘Tell me about yourself,’ she said, changing the subject. She wondered whether she should contact Peter. Both Richard and Peter might think it was none of her business, but given that it had been the catalyst to the circumstances of her dear friend’s death, Rebecca felt that it was. ‘I gather you’re a property developer, but I’ve no clue what that actually involves.’
‘That’s right.’ Richard smiled distractedly. ‘Buying and selling property, put simply.’ He reached for his beer again, this time taking a smaller drink of it.
‘What? Private property?’ Rebecca asked, reaching for her own drink.
‘Some,’ Richard said, appearing to relax a little. ‘Commercial property mostly.’
‘So how does it work? I mean, do you just buy buildings and sell them on at a profit?’
Richard smiled. ‘It’s not quite that simple,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t make much of a profit if I bought properties at market value. I buy older properties, some historical, in need of repair, do them up and then sell them on. The secret is to identify a buyer and suggest he could buy the property at a lot less than the market value if he buys direct from me before it goes up for sale.’
Rebecca knitted her brow. ‘So you have a ready buyer identified before you even make the purchase?’
‘That’s the gist of it, yes. For example, I might buy at, say, two hundred thousand, spend maybe twenty thousand on necessary repairs, and sell at two hundred and eighty.’
Rebecca was impressed. Aware that Richard knew she’d overheard his conversation that day at the cemetery, she wondered whether impressing her with talk of money had been his intention or he was simply talking shop. She couldn’t help but wonder about the ethics of such a transaction either. Wouldn’t it exclude other interested buyers?
‘Surely there’s red tape though?’ she asked him. ‘Planning permissions to obtain, that sort of thing?’
‘Yes, usually.’ Richard clasped his hands in front of him and glanced down. ‘And no, I don’t resort to bribes. Where there are large sums of money, there are always going to be wheelers and dealers, dishonest people. I consider bribery and corruption far too risky. I have my family to consider, after all. Sadly, that now consists only of my daughter.’
He looked back at her – a long, penetrating gaze. ‘So, do I pass?’ he asked. ‘Or do you still consider me a bit dodgy?’
Rebecca was taken aback, both by his forthrightness and his apparent honesty. ‘I didn’t,’ she protested, laughing embarrassedly. ‘I don’t.’
‘Good.’ Richard narrowed his eyes briefly, and then smiled more easily. ‘I don’t need to resort to illegal activity, Becky,’ he assured her. ‘I was distracted for a while, naturally, and I do still have some figures to juggle to cover my losses, but my business acumen is good. I suppose you could say I’m lucky at gambling, unlucky in love.’
The look now in his eyes was heartbreaking. Rebecca did have cause to want to judge him, and Richard was aware of that. It had all happened so fast. Nicole had been doing so well until he’d come into her life. He’d swept her off her feet, seduced her. Because he’d fallen in love with her? Or might he have had ‘figures to juggle’ then? That thought had already occurred, but still, Rebecca couldn’t make it add up. Nicole, who’d never wavered from her belief that Richard was an
ything but a kind, caring man, had been comfortable financially, but not wealthy, as Rebecca was. Had Nicole shared that information with him? He must think her reasonably well off, with her own house in France. Would he try to seduce her, she wondered? Perhaps she should be the one to do the seducing? The thought of his hard body pressed close to hers wasn’t an unpleasant one. But what then? What if Richard Gray was all he seemed to be: a charming, heartbroken man who’d just lost his wife? If he turned her down, would she have her answer?
‘So, do you trust me enough to share a little about yourself?’ Richard asked, as she deliberated. ‘How you came to live in France? Whether you have someone in your life?’ Locking his eyes on hers, he studied her intently. ‘Or is that too personal?’
NINETEEN
NICOLE
PREVIOUS YEAR – AUGUST
Once the paramedics were satisfied that Olivia had received the right medication and was out of danger and breathing normally, Richard saw them out and then walked straight past Nicole, who was hovering uncertainly nearby.
Going across to the far side of the kitchen, he stood with his back to her for a long, agonising moment.
Nicole waited, apprehension twisting her stomach. She’d learned in the past that silence was her safest option: the best way to avoid the full wrath of her first husband’s vileness for whatever imagined crime she’d committed. She’d sworn she would never do that again. Yet she had no idea what to say. What could she say that would make Richard believe she hadn’t done anything with malice in her heart? That she would never, ever dream of causing harm to Olivia in such a calculated way? There was no way to tell him that she suspected it was Olivia who was trying to harm her. To do that would be to fall into the trap, to be seen by Richard as the one making ridiculous allegations. That was what Olivia wanted, she was sure of it.
Sighing heavily, Richard finally turned to face her. ‘I’m sensing some resentment, Nicole,’ he said, massaging his forehead tiredly. ‘I think I’m going to need some help understanding what’s going on.’
Nicole felt relief surge through her body. Closing her eyes, she thanked God that he could see it, too. ‘She seems to hate me,’ she said quickly. ‘Ever since the incident on our wedding day. I’m not sure why – whether she holds me responsible in some way – but she clearly resents me. Every time we’re together, she interrupts on some pretext or other.’ She glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see Olivia standing behind them, despite the apparently debilitating asthma attack. ‘Everything I do seems to cause a problem for her. I have no idea…’
Seeing Richard’s incredulous expression, Nicole trailed off. He hadn’t meant Olivia’s resentment of her, she realised, cold trepidation creeping through her. He thought she was resentful of Olivia. He truly did.
‘She lives here, Nicole,’ he said, his tone terse. Nicole couldn’t fail to see the flash of fury in his eyes. ‘And what you did today did cause a problem. A quite considerable problem. She could have died, for Christ’s sake!’
Nicole’s stomach tightened like a slip knot as he moved towards her, fear born of years being on the receiving end of a man’s explosive temper causing her to step instinctively back.
At this, Richard stopped. ‘You really do have some issues, don’t you, Nicole?’ he said, his expression one of astonishment.
She had issues? ‘I didn’t know!’ Nicole protested vehemently. ‘I had no idea she suffered from asthma. She never said. You never—’
‘She told you she has allergies!’ Richard pointed out, running his hand agitatedly through his hair. ‘Did you not think that might include poisonous fumes?’
‘To dogs’ hairs!’ Nicole countered, hating herself for her weakness as tears sprang to her eyes. She’d sworn. She’d promised herself she would never let a man reduce her to tears again. ‘Yet you have Wanderer, a long-haired golden retriever! How was I supposed—’
‘Who stays downstairs,’ Richard reminded her. ‘She was trying to talk to you, Nicole, but you obviously weren’t listening.’ His face taut with anger, he glanced at the ceiling, and then, ‘This is useless,’ he said, striding past her, causing Nicole to flinch.
‘Richard!’ Nicole stopped him. ‘This is wrong. All wrong. You know me. You know I would never do anything as awful or careless as Olivia is implying.’
Tugging in a breath, Richard stayed where he was. ‘The thing is, I don’t know you that well, do I, Nicole?’ he said eventually, his tone more subdued as he turned back to face her. ‘I do know my daughter is asthmatic though.’
He searched her face for a long, soul-crushing moment, then shook his head and turned away.
‘Richard, please…’ Nicole tried. ‘You have to believe me.’
Richard paused. ‘It’s probably best if we discuss this further when emotions are less fraught,’ he suggested, after a second. ‘Meanwhile, I’m sorry, but Bouncer needs to stay downstairs in future. And please do something about those lethal fumes.’
Watching him walk away, Nicole felt disorientated, as if the ground had been ripped from underneath her, leaving her freefalling into space. Bouncer followed her everywhere. He was like her little shadow. She looked across to where he sat in the middle of the kitchen, his tail thumping nervously on the floor, his huge, chocolate-brown eyes beseeching. He’d slept on her bed in her own house. Richard knew how she’d struggled, after moving here, even to leave him downstairs at night. She’d only been able to because he’d had Wanderer for company.
And now it seemed he was banned. As was she – from intimacy with her husband, from her art. Olivia thought she was winning. Nicole felt something harden inside her. Well, she was wrong. Being married to the misogynist had taught her the art of survival. She would play the game. She would bring the canvases down and work in the garage if need be. She would vacuum every dog’s hair and speck of dust from the house.
Marching to the utility room, she grappled the vacuum from the cupboard, cursing as she caught her shins on it. Heaving it upstairs, she avoided looking at Olivia as she passed her bedroom, though Olivia was watching her. Nicole could sense her eyes on her, like a cat choosing its moment to pounce.
Hearing her put her music on speaker, Nicole took some small pleasure from turning the vacuum on and making as much noise as she could while she worked.
Finally, everything free of dust and largely non-existent dogs’ hairs, including curtains and blinds, she switched the vacuum off and dragged it back to the landing, realising that Olivia was on her phone as she did. Not being inclined to eavesdrop – and in favour of getting her art materials out of the house to the sanctuary of the garage, where she could at least vent some frustration through painting – Nicole turned back to her short-lived studio. And then stopped.
‘She won’t last long,’ she heard Olivia say assuredly. ‘She’s so needy, it’s pathetic.’
Nicole’s blood froze in her veins. Her. She meant her.
Bitch. Walking back to the large, airy room she’d intended to work in, Nicole surveyed the canvas she’d already swept with broad strokes of vibrant reds, greens and whites. She was trembling, she realised. Because of her. Biting back the cry of rage rising inside her, she snatched up a large bristle brush and slashed it through the still-wet oils, again and again, diagonally, vertically, horizontally, over and over, finally swirling the paint into a vast grey-green sludge.
Her anger eventually abating, her energy depleted, Nicole paused, her chest heaving. She was giving her what she wanted. Giving in to destructive emotion, which could only lead to argument. Now Olivia wouldn’t have to work at destroying her marriage. She would simply sit innocently by and watch gleefully while Nicole destroyed it herself.
Covered in paint after heaving her materials and canvases to the garage, Nicole sat on the floor amongst a chaos of canvases and texted Becky. She needed to hear a voice of reason.
Dear lovely Becky, do you think there’s part of me that’s fundamentally selfish? I ask because Olivia seems to think I’m driv
ing a wedge between her and her father, so I can keep him all to myself. I’m not, or at least I didn’t think I was. She’s also accused me of trying to poison her with fumes while I was priming my canvases. She’s asthmatic apparently. I didn’t do anything intentionally. Though I’m tempted. In short, we’re not getting on. At all. As I don’t get on with my mother and the misogynist said no man could ever live with someone as vile and self-centred as me… I’m beginning to wonder, is it me?
Hearing the side garage door open, Nicole looked up to see Richard coming in bearing a mug.
‘Hey,’ he said, offering her a small smile as he came towards her. ‘I brought you a coffee.’
Nicole felt like ignoring him, but then, wouldn’t that behaviour be as childish as Olivia’s? She was older – more mature, supposedly. Right then, she felt like weeping like a baby.
‘It has some brandy in it. The good stuff,’ he tried. ‘I thought you could use it.’
Realising her reluctance to meet his gaze, Richard parked the mug on the floor and then crouched down, clasping his hands in front of him. ‘I don’t blame you,’ he said, ‘for what happened with Olivia, or for not speaking to me. I’ve been an idiot. I was worried about her – terrified, for a while there – but that’s no excuse for blaming you. Can you forgive me?’
Nicole glanced up and, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, very nearly burst into tears.
‘You can take a swing at me if it’ll make you feel better.’ He smiled sheepishly.
Nicole felt her mouth twitch in response. ‘I don’t do violence,’ she said, doing her best to look haughty.
‘I think your canvases might beg to differ,’ Richard pointed out, glancing around him at the bedlam that was the garage floor.
‘Only to inanimate objects.’ Nicole winced inwardly. Had she really done all this in a temper?
‘I’ll make sure to keep moving then.’ Richard’s smile reached his eyes, at last. ‘Incidentally, I know it’s a bit of a cliché, but did anyone ever tell you that you look gorgeous with green paint all over your face? Like an adorable little leprechaun.’
The Second Wife Page 10
