The Second Wife

by Sheryl Browne

  Relieved it was her, though food was the last thing she fancied, Olivia leaned back on the pillows. ‘Thanks, Becky,’ she croaked, ‘but…’ Unable to continue, she stopped, swallowing back the razor blades that seemed to be lodged in her windpipe.

  ‘Oh God, Liv, what on earth…?’ Sounding alarmed, Rebecca deposited the tray on the dressing table and hurried across to the bed. She’d noticed the bruises, Olivia guessed, which would be livid now. As would Richard. Her hand went gingerly to her neck. She should have covered them up, but she’d felt so listless and depressed last night. It had been all she could do to climb into bed.

  Her expression shocked, Rebecca sat carefully down beside her and reached to brush her hair from her face. ‘What happened?’ she asked, scanning her eyes worriedly. ‘Who did this, Liv?’

  It was obvious what had caused the bruises then. That wasn’t surprising, given how mercilessly he’d dug his fingers in. He’d meant it. He really had wanted to hurt her. Picturing his face, his fury and callous indifference to the pain he was causing her, a potent mixture of anger and fear bubbled furiously inside her.

  ‘Liv? Please talk to me, sweetheart,’ Rebecca urged her.

  Olivia hesitated, wishing she could, wishing there was someone in the world she could confide in, but how could she without implicating herself? Unless… She needn’t tell her everything, need she? Thinking about it, confirming what the clueless woman already suspected could actually work to her advantage. Rebecca would be appalled. She wouldn’t want to be in the same stratosphere as him, let alone a relationship, if she imagined he was an incestuous, deviant monster who took advantage of—

  ‘Liv?’ Rebecca kept badgering her, interrupting her thoughts. Olivia quashed her irritation. She’d need to play this carefully, appeal to the natural nurturer and mother inside her. Yes, this might actually work. And if it did, it would open Richard’s eyes to the fact that this woman couldn’t ever love him the way she did; that she would never stand by him the way she had. She would be repulsed if he came anywhere near her. She would confront him, tell him she was going to the police. It would be enough to scare him shitless. And then Richard would realise: he had to follow the rules. There would be no way he could talk himself out of it. He’d have no choice but to cut his losses and get rid of the bitch.

  She would help him. She would be right by his side, where she’d always been. He would be hopeless without her. Richard never had liked being hands-on. He would realise just how much he did need her.

  Got you Richard. You really should have been more in control. Olivia managed a smile. She didn’t have to work too hard at it. ‘It’s fine,’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘I’m fine, Becky, honestly.’

  Rebecca stared at her, incredulous. ‘Liv… you’re not fine. How could you possibly be? Please tell me who…?’ She trailed off, her expression growing horrified as realisation clearly began to dawn. Olivia had gone out with her ‘father’. She’d come back with him. There was only one conclusion she could reach. ‘Not Richard? Surely to God, he wouldn’t…’

  Olivia said nothing. Silence, she considered, would speak volumes.

  ‘Liv…’ Rebecca lifted her chin. ‘It was him, wasn’t it?’ Now Rebecca’s tone bordered on furious.

  Still, Olivia didn’t answer, lowering her gaze ashamedly instead.

  ‘Why?’ Rebecca asked, her big brown eyes wide and bewildered. ‘Why would he do such a thing? Tell me what happened, Liv. I don’t understand.’

  ‘I can’t!’ Olivia cried, tears springing forth.

  ‘Oh, dear God…’ Distraught, Rebecca took hold of her hands. ‘Why can’t you?’ she asked, more softly.

  Olivia kept her eyes lowered. ‘Because.’

  ‘Because? Please tell me,’ Rebecca implored her.

  ‘Of things he might say.’ Olivia’s gaze flicked guiltily back to hers. ‘Things he might do. Things he’s made me do.’

  Her face blanching, Rebecca was quiet for a second, and then, ‘I see,’ she said.

  Glancing up, Olivia noted the myriad of emotions now in Rebecca’s eyes as she tried to process this: confusion, anger, horror. She would be making assumptions – obvious assumptions. Idiot woman. She was as malleable as he was.

  Rebecca moved to place her hands on her shoulders. ‘Look at me,’ she said firmly.

  Making sure to appear hesitant, Olivia met her gaze.

  ‘Olivia, whatever it is he’s coerced you into doing, you can confide in me, you know. I promise I won’t judge you.’

  Nodding timidly, Olivia wiped a tear from her cheek.

  Reaching for her hands again, Rebecca squeezed them gently in her own. ‘Has he been abusing you? Sexually?’

  Olivia took a breath, for effect, then, ‘Yes,’ she blurted. ‘I didn’t know what to do. I feel so, so ashamed.’

  Rebecca pulled her towards her. ‘There is nothing to be ashamed of, Olivia. Nothing. Do you hear me? It’s him who should be ashamed, the absolute… bastard!’

  ‘I’m scared of him, Becky.’ Olivia gave it her all, sobbing wretchedly into Rebecca’s shoulder. ‘Really scared.’

  FIFTY-SIX

  RICHARD

  PRESENT

  It had been bracing in the cool morning air, but an early swim had washed the cobwebs from his brain, sharpened him up. He’d slept too heavily, dozing off again after Rebecca left, which was something he never normally did. He’d finally woken feeling lethargic, a dull ache pulsating in the base of his skull, and experiencing a mild sense of panic that he wasn’t on top of things. He was becoming careless, deviating from the rules, which might lead to mistakes, one of which could be fatal. He had to stay focussed and concentrate on his priorities, the first being how to deal with Olivia, who’d unwisely decided to remind him she could hold him to ransom. The second was his relationship with Rebecca and whether it realistically had any kind of future. Was it likely to last, given his past?

  Walking into the hall, he found her coming down the stairs with a breakfast tray, the contents of which were still intact. ‘How is she?’ Looking appropriately worried, he asked after Olivia as he bent to give Wanderer and Bouncer a fuss, but both were still far too busy with the chews he’d given them earlier to be remotely interested in him. Fickle creatures, he thought, smiling tolerantly. They were actually anything but; faithful to the person they perceived as top dog to the last. Unlike humans. He’d learned very early in life never to place his trust there.

  Straightening up, he pondered again the problem of Olivia and how best to proceed. He was beginning to think that having her simply leave might be the answer. She’d told Rebecca she’d be moving out, so it wouldn’t raise too much suspicion he couldn’t invent some story about if she suddenly upped and left. A shallow grave in the woods was out of the question though. He needed somewhere more permanent, where she might never be discovered. The new-build construction site just out of town, possibly? Once the foundations were down, it would be as safe a place as he could find. Wearing his high-vis vest and an appropriately coloured hard hat, which was easily obtainable, he would pass as part of the construction crew. It was a possibility, and definitely a safer option than any of his own renovation sites, which were too close to home. Richard smiled inwardly at the irony that the only person with whom he could discuss the feasibility of such a project was Olivia.

  Rebecca smiled at him over her shoulder as she headed towards the kitchen. ‘She’s very sleepy,’ she answered his concerned question about Olivia. ‘You were right about the sleeping tablets. She took one late last night apparently.’

  ‘Oh. She’s all right though?’ Richard knitted his brow and followed her through. She had taken a sleeping pill then. He’d obviously shaken her up quite badly. No more than she deserved.

  ‘She will be,’ Rebecca assured him. ‘Her throat’s very sore, but it’s just a cold, I think. I left her tucked up under the duvet.’

  ‘Do you think she should see a doctor?’ Richard asked, trying to establish whether Rebecca had seen
the bruising he had no doubt would be obvious this morning.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Rebecca said, scraping the untouched food into the bin. ‘There’s not much they can do for colds, is there? I’ve told her to let me know if there’s any swelling.’

  ‘Thanks, Becky, you’re an angel.’ Richard smiled gratefully. ‘I’ll go up and check on her in a second.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bother until later if I were you. She’s pretty zonked out. I should think she’ll sleep at least until lunchtime. She’s all right though, honestly.’ Rebecca reached to press a hand reassuringly to his cheek as he walked across to her. ‘A day in bed will do her good.’

  Richard nodded. ‘You’re probably right. I’ll go up later. Take her some soup or something,’ he said. ‘That smells good.’ He nodded to the coffee machine she was busy at.

  ‘I have an urge for cappuccino.’ Rebecca smiled. ‘Do you fancy some?’

  ‘Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse.’ Richard stepped towards her, snaking his arms around her and nuzzling her neck. She smelled amazing: fresh spring flowers with a subtle blend of vanilla. Far more enticing than the coffee. Did he want to be without her? He felt it again, that painful tug at his heart he’d only ever felt once before: as a child whose spirit had been crushed when he’d discovered his murdered dog. A lot like Bouncer, a bedraggled stray, the dog had followed him home from school. His mother had ‘got rid of the flea-bitten thing’. Digging in the mud at the bottom of the garden, he’d discovered how. He’d put away childish things that day and concentrated his emotions on basic survival, biding his time until he could make sure that bitch was stuffed deep into the worm-ridden earth.

  He’d concentrated on survival ever since, in a world he didn’t fit into. He’d had to. He’d acted his fucking heart out, trying to be human. The fact was, though, he hadn’t met any humans he liked, until Rebecca. She was an enigma: feminine, yielding to him, yet strong. Her love for her son was powerful. Richard was sure that, if she had to, she would lay down her life for him. She fascinated him. And she frightened him, because he couldn’t contemplate his future without her. Existing once more, which was all he’d ever done, rather than living.

  He ached to feel what other people did, to be ‘normal’ – something he’d believed he wasn’t, could never be, thanks to the crap the psychiatrist in the care home had spouted. He’d been wrong. If he took nothing else away from his relationship with Rebecca, he would take the knowledge that he was capable of loving. He’d just never felt safe to. Had never felt safe enough even to acknowledge the possibility. This was normal. This was safe, for the moment.

  He eased her closer, needing to feel the warmth of her body next to his. ‘You do realise you’re doing terrible things to me?’ he asked her.

  Rebecca leaned into him as he peppered the nape of her neck with soft kisses. ‘I just might, if you keep doing that,’ she murmured. ‘But after the coffee.’ Pressing her hand to her mouth, she suppressed a yawn. ‘I was up at the crack of dawn with the dogs, remember?’

  ‘Hell.’ Richard squeezed his eyes closed. ‘I’ve given them chews. Do you think they’ll be okay?’ That was a stupid thing to do. He should have thought. He would hate to think he’d done anything to make the dogs ill.

  ‘They’d better be,’ Rebecca called as he went to check on them. ‘Or you’re on the next dog run.’

  ‘No problem,’ Richard said, reaching to stroke Wanderer, whose tail thumped manically. Delighted as he might be to see him, Richard doubted he’d part company with the now ragged chew easily, even for him.

  ‘Do you want chocolate sprinkled on top?’ Rebecca asked from the kitchen.

  ‘Why not,’ Richard said, thinking that chocolate was poor compensation for what he really wanted as he came back. Stopping, he watched, his undeniable desire for this woman spiking, as she licked her finger, collected up spilled chocolate powder from the work surface and then inserted it slowly into her mouth.

  Christ. Now he knew what it was like to be human. Richard walked across as she repeated the procedure, catching her hand before it reached her lips. ‘Do you realise how erotic that is?’ he asked her huskily, his body responding to the primal ache in his gut.

  ‘What?’ Rebecca laughed, surprised. ‘I was just…’

  His eyes holding hers, she stopped. Richard lowered his head, closing his mouth over her finger, sucking it deep into his mouth, the chocolate – sweet and piquant – whetting his appetite. He wanted her. His free hand found the small of her back, easing her closer, hitching her to him. He wanted to taste her, every enticing inch of her flesh.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  OLIVIA

  PRESENT

  Halfway down the stairs, Olivia stopped breathing. Every sinew in her body tensing, she gripped the banister hard. They couldn’t be. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. After all she’d told her? Hearing Richard utter in that throaty way he did – ‘Fuck’ – the unmistakable guttural moan of a man close to coming – her man! – she knew with absolute certainty what was happening.

  Swallowing hard against the bile rising like corrosive acid in her throat, Olivia carried on downstairs, her heart thrumming wildly with a combination of growing fury and curiosity as she came in full view of the sitting room doors.

  Oh God, no. Her stomach lurched as she took in the scene before her with nauseating clarity. She was on top, the clever bitch. She’d taken her in, lulled her into a false sense of security, caressing her sorrow with soft-spoken sincerity.

  Her hands were on his chest, stilling him, like a black widow spider over her mate. She was rising from him slowly, pausing, then sliding unhurriedly back down; languid, sensual movements. She was making him wait. The dominant in their shameless erotic dance, she was orchestrating their performance, soaring and ebbing to Elgar’s ‘Salut d'Amour’, which was playing in the background.

  Playing softly.

  She’d wanted her to hear.

  Seeing Rebecca lean towards him, her lips seeking his, her tongue duetting with his, Olivia’s heart drummed a prophetic warning in her chest.

  She wanted her to know. She was stealing him, taking him to new heights of ecstasy. Places he could never go with her. With her, he fucked: primal frenzied fucking to satiate his base desires. With this woman, he was making beautiful love.

  She was taking him away from her. Taking her place.

  One hand clutched to her stomach, Olivia pressed the other to her mouth as the woman who would replace her arched back up, increasing the pace, bringing him to the sweet kind of climax she’d always hoped to: something meaningful, bodies and souls entwined. They’d never had that. He’d only ever taken what he wanted and then left, leaving her hurting and lonely. She longed to feel their limbs entangled as they lay together afterwards, satiated, depleted, two bodies as one. In all the time she’d known him, Richard had never closed his eyes, allowed her to sleep safe in his embrace.

  Rebecca turned her face towards her as Richard clutched her hips, anchoring her hard to him. Reading the words on her lips as the melody reached a crescendo, the pieces of her shattered life crashing around her, Olivia backed away.

  In that agonising moment, she knew he’d meant to do more than scare her. He’d wanted to kill her. It had been there in his cold, unflinching eyes. She’d told herself he wouldn’t, that it was more than he dared. She’d tried to convince herself that he wouldn’t ever truly harm her, that he could never survive without her. That he was nothing without her. But the reality was that she’d never been safe with him. And now… It was she who was nothing without him.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  RICHARD

  PRESENT

  ‘So, was that a yes to the chocolate?’ Rebecca asked, smiling mischievously over her shoulder as she led him by the hand back to the kitchen.

  Feeling dazed after their impromptu sex, Richard took a second to answer. He wasn’t used to giving over control completely. He’d never been sure he would be comfortable with it. In fact, it had been exq
uisite, an experience beyond anything he could ever have imagined. How much had he missed out on, he wondered, since he’d been that tearful ten-year-old child who’d made up his mind that displays of emotion were weak?

  ‘I think I might need it,’ he said, leaning to brush her cheek softly with his lips as she veered off towards the coffee machine. ‘It will play havoc with my diet, but…’

  ‘You don’t need to diet.’ Rebecca laughed as she set about preparing fresh coffee. ‘Your body is perfectly toned and firm’ – she turned to give him a look loaded with suggestion – ‘in all the right places. Trust me.’

  Seating himself at the kitchen island, Richard smiled. ‘Thanks for the compliment, but some of us do have to work at it, you know.’ Watching her dip a finger into the chocolate, making eyes at him as she licked it off deliberately slowly, he found himself actually laughing. He still didn’t know what these feelings were that he had for this woman, how she’d ignited something he’d thought didn’t exist inside him, but he now knew for sure he didn’t want to be without her. Sadness enveloped him – another feeling he’d experienced rarely as an adult. How would he keep her? He wouldn’t, if the truth ever came out. He couldn’t let that happen.

  ‘Penny for them?’ Rebecca said, carrying the coffee across to him.

  ‘Sorry?’ Richard’s mind was back on the problem that was Olivia.

  ‘You’re miles away.’ Handing him his coffee, Rebecca seated herself opposite him.

  Richard took a sip. She’d gone overboard on the chocolate and added extra cream as well. It was good. ‘I was just thinking that I wish things could have been different.’ He sighed demonstratively. ‘But then, as selfish as it might sound, I’m glad that they’re not.’

  ‘Nicole?’ Rebecca asked, looking sympathetically at him over her mug.

  Richard glanced awkwardly down and back. ‘Yes,’ he said, playing the role, though the sweep of remorse about the child she was carrying was all too real.