The Wife: A gripping emotional thriller with a twist that will take your breath away

I head into the en suite. I need a shower. And when I’m done I pull on sweatpants and a t-shirt and I look at my reflection in the full-length mirror by the window. Turning sideways I lay a hand on my stomach, and I close my eyes, keeping them squeezed tight shut as my breath catches in my throat; as I feel my heart start to race, my skin become clammy, I can’t breathe, for a second or two. I can’t breathe. I get them every so often, these brief panic attacks that come from out of nowhere, sweeping over me with a brutal force. But I’m learning to handle them, or I’m trying to. And once again I flick that switch that pushes everything to one side, drop my hand, and step back from the mirror, swallowing down breath as it finally dislodges itself from my throat. I need another drink.

Back downstairs Michael’s nowhere to be seen, he’s not in the kitchen. I go into the orangery, but he isn’t in here either. And then I look towards the double glass doors at the far end of the orangery, the ones that lead through to the extension that houses the swimming pool. He’s there, poolside, pacing up and down, still talking into his phone, his hand running continuously along the back of his neck, and for a second or two I don’t move, I just stand there. Watching him. And then he stops pacing, faces the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out onto the garden. He leans forward, presses his forearm up against the glass, drops his forehead so it rests against it.

I move a little closer, my eyes fixed firmly on him. He’s still talking to whoever it is who’s decided that calling him this late is a good thing. Maybe it’s just Liam, but their phone calls to each other usually last about three seconds, just long enough to make sure they both know where they’re meeting, what time their squash game or football match is. They’re not exactly your heart-to-heart kind of friends. Are any men?

I go back into the kitchen and pour myself another glass of wine before I head into the living room, switch on the TV, trying to keep things as normal as possible. Until Michael walks into the room.

He places a fresh bottle of wine on the table beside the couch and throws himself down onto the chair by the fireplace.

‘Is everything okay?’ I ask, not missing the slightly weary expression on his face.

‘Everything’s fine. It was just one of my students. She needed some help with a project I’ve set for a group of them, that’s all.’

I feel my shoulders tense up. She needed some help? What kind of help?

He sits back in his chair and he smiles at me. ‘Come here. Come on.’ I get up, let him pull me down so I straddle him, and I close my eyes as he kisses me; as his fingers lightly stroke the base of my spine, causing my skin to break out in goose bumps. ‘I’ve told them they shouldn’t call this late, but, you know, they keep telling me I’m their favourite professor, who am I to let them down when they need me?’

I can’t help smiling too. This is what he does, how he reeled me in all those years ago with that disarming smile and those bright blue eyes. But I still want to ask him questions, ask exactly who he was talking to, why they were calling so late, was this really just about help with a project?

‘Michael…’

He gently pushes my hair back off my face, lightly kisses my slightly open mouth.

‘This is what I do, Ellie. It’s what I’ve always done. And I know what you’re going to say but I’m not going to compromise my students in any way. If they need my help, at any time, I’ll give it to them. I thought you understood that.’

‘I do, it’s just …’

‘It’s my job. To look after my students. It’s my job. Okay?’

He looks at me, his blue eyes burning deep into mine. He’s ending this conversation. He’s told me as much as he’s willing to tell.

I climb off him, go back over to the couch, and I anticipate the coming silence. He won’t want to do this, he won’t want to go where I’m heading.

Silence. Loaded with secrets. Hurt. Guilt.

‘It’s been over a year, Michael. And nothing’s changed.’

He drops his head, a sign that he doesn’t want this. And I can see what he’s been trying to do, all night. He’s been using his charm, using that smile, using sex to try and distract me. To try and stop me from doing this. But that only works for a short time. And this, what I’m seeing now, his body language, I’ve seen it all too often over the past few months, and a knot of frustration pulls tighter inside my gut. We’re done here. And he doesn’t make any attempt to stop me as I get up and leave the room, and that breaks my heart. It kills me.

I feel tears start to stream down my cheeks as I run upstairs, and I hate that I’m still crying. Is he really just accepting this as us now?

I get ready for bed on auto-pilot, going through the motions until I can finally crawl under the covers and wait for sleep to take over. But it’s not coming easily tonight, and I lie there, staring at the wall, until I feel Michael slip into bed beside me; feel his arms wrap around me from behind, pulling me back against him and I close my eyes as his fingers slide between mine. We’ll go to sleep, wake up in the morning, and everything will be back to that new normal that fills our days now. A kind of normal I’m having to get used to, even though it’s not one I want. But this is the way it’s been for over a year now. The way I fear it’s always going to be. And while Michael may be willing to accept that, I’m not sure I can …

Chapter 6

‘Hey! What are you doing here?’

I’m surprised to see Michael at the spa. He hasn’t set foot in the place since he came with me to view the building a few months ago.

‘You left your phone on the kitchen table. I thought you might need it.’

‘Oh, right… thank you.’

I look at the screen, see that there are about a dozen missed calls I’m going to have to return.

‘Sorry … I was in such a rush this morning, I forgot to make sure I had everything. I hope this hasn’t made you late.’

He smiles at me, jerks his head back towards himself and I step out from behind reception, let him pull me into his arms, quickly kiss the tip of my nose, and I scrunch it up, laughing quietly.

‘I haven’t got a lecture until ten-thirty. You haven’t made me late.’

‘Can you stay for a coffee? I could show you around …’

I feel his body stiffen, almost as if a switch has been flicked and he lets go of me, pulls his phone from his pocket and looks at it. ‘I’d better get going. I still have to prepare some notes.’

Disappointment floods me, but I’m not going to push it. There’s no point. ‘Okay. Well, thanks for this.’ I hold up my phone and he throws me another smile before he turns away and heads out, stopping to talk to a couple of staff members who are hovering around in reception before he leaves. I watch closely as he exchanges pleasantries with Gillian, one of my masseurs, laying a hand gently on the small of her back as he leans in to her, both of them laughing at something he says. He’s a born flirt, my husband. He’s always been that way, he can’t help himself, charm oozes from every pore, and I think a lot of women find the fact that he’s an English literature professor but looks more like a movie star quite appealing. It was probably half the reason I was attracted to him, if I’m being honest. But the way he’s talking to them, when he finds it so hard to say anything to me, it’s like a knife in the back.

I turn away and busy myself sorting paperwork behind reception, and when I glance back up Michael’s gone, but as I look outside, I see he hasn’t left yet. He’s leaning back against his car, his phone to his ear. I come out from behind reception and go over to the huge bay window that overlooks the front grounds and car park. He’s still talking into his phone and he’s smiling. It looks as if whoever he’s talking to – it’s a friendly conversation, I’m guessing.

I fold my arms and take a deep breath, briefly closing my eyes. I’m letting way too much get to me lately. Maybe everyone’s right, maybe I am working too hard, but what choice do I have? I’m not the kind of person to sit back and let someone else take the reins. Besides, having something to focus on, it’s necessary.

Dropping my head, I take another deep breath, and when I look back up Michael’s getting into his car. I watch as he pulls away, drives out of the grounds. But I don’t move, I stay where I am, even though he’s out of my sight now. He’s out of my sight …

*

‘I seem to be getting a lot of male visitors this morning.’ I glance up as Liam sits down opposite me at a table out on the terrace. I’m taking a break, but I’m still surrounded by paperwork. I just thought a few minutes out in the sunshine might be nice. I thought it might help to clear my head. It hasn’t.

‘Well, I knew you’d be busy, so I thought I’d bring you some lunch.’ He slides a tub of salad towards me, the corner of his mouth twisting up into a smirk.

‘There better be a sandwich to go with that.’

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out two triangle-wrapped sandwiches. ‘There you go. Ham and cheese okay?’

‘Perfect. Thank you.’

‘Are you lecturing this afternoon?’ I ask between mouthfuls of salad and sandwich.

He shakes his head, taking a sip of coffee as he looks around at the newly landscaped grounds that surround the terrace that leads out from the spa’s garden room.

‘No. I’m heading back to the lab. Got a couple of meetings this afternoon plus a mountain of paperwork to catch up on.’

‘But you still found time to go and buy me lunch, huh?’

I smile and he returns it. ‘Don’t want you going hungry. You can’t run an empire on an empty stomach.’

I sit back and briefly drop my gaze. ‘Did you and Michael …?’ I look up, my eyes meeting his. I need to know if he’s lying to me, too. ‘You met for a drink, right? Last night?’

Liam frowns slightly. ‘Yes, we did.’

‘Okay.’

‘Something wrong, Ellie?’

‘He’s lying to me, Liam. He said he had tutorials last night, but he didn’t. There was nothing in his diary, I checked with Sue. So, where was he? Between leaving the university and meeting you, where was he?’

Liam’s head drops, his hands clasped tightly together, and for a few, long beats he says nothing. But he knows, he understands what Michael and I went through; the reasons why we are the way we are now. That’s why I can talk to him.

‘I don’t know, Ellie,’ he sighs, raising his gaze and dragging a hand back through his hair. ‘I don’t know where he was.’

‘Did he say anything to you?’

‘Jesus, Ellie, come on. We don’t sit there and share emotional shit. We don’t do that.’

I look at him and I suddenly realise how tightly my fingers are gripping the arm of my chair and I quickly loosen that grip, feeling my shoulders sag as I do so.

‘Look, I know that what happened …’ He drops his head again, and I don’t miss the way he wrings his hands together. He’s frustrated, I can tell. ‘Nobody expected you to get over it in a fortnight, it was never going to be that simple, but, maybe now’s the time to start dealing with it. Properly.’

‘I’m dealing with it, Liam. You, of all people, know I’m dealing with it.’

His eyes are back on mine and he’s still frustrated, he isn’t hiding that fact.

‘Yeah. I guess you are.’

He stands up. He’s calling an end to this conversation, one I’m not even sure got started. There was more I wanted to say. Even though he doesn’t know everything, nobody does, he understands enough. And I need him, to talk to.

‘I should be going. I don’t want to be late for those meetings.’

‘He won’t talk about it, Liam. He won’t go there. I mean, sometimes it’s like he refuses to acknowledge it even happened. Is that the best way to deal with it?’

He shrugs and that irritates me, it really does. ‘Maybe, in this case, it is. I mean, how are you dealing with it, Ellie? Hmm? How are you really dealing with it, because, there are times when you don’t want to talk about it either.’

I look at him and I want to say something but I don’t know how to respond, because he’s right.

‘Sometimes talking isn’t always the answer, Ellie. You know that better than anyone.’

I stand up, gather my things together and start to make my way back inside. It looks as if we’re finished here.

‘Ellie, come on. I’m sorry, okay?’

I turn around and he comes over to me; he takes my hand and he gives it a gentle squeeze, his thumb running lightly over my knuckles. He doesn’t want me to go back inside angry or upset. I get that. He’s a good man, Liam Kennedy. A good friend, to both of us … though a better friend to one of us.

‘Okay. You’re sorry.’

He smiles, I smile too, and the mood is lightened. Sometimes he’s the only one who can make me smile.

‘Are you coming to the party on Saturday?’

It’s Michael’s birthday at the weekend. We always have a small house party when it’s someone’s birthday, even though Michael told me he didn’t want anything this year. He was happy to just let this birthday slide by. But I think we need to at least try and keep up some level of normality. It’s what he keeps telling me to do, after all. Carry on as normal. Forget what happened. Move on. So we’re having this party. If we start pulling back from our friends they’re only going to continue with the pitying looks and the questions I can’t answer. I don’t want people to know the truth; know that I’m terrified of losing my husband, scared of the secrets he’s keeping. Scared that history could repeat itself.

‘Are you sure you should be having this party, Ellie? I mean, the spa opens on Friday …’

‘It’s keeping me busy, Liam. I need the distraction.’

‘Haven’t you got enough of those?’ He raises his eyebrows.

I start to walk back inside and he follows me, falling into step beside me, and I don’t answer his question. I don’t think he was expecting me to.

‘Nobody says you shouldn’t keep busy, Ellie, it’s just that, all these distractions …’

‘They’re necessary. All of them.’

We stop walking and I turn to face him.

‘Thanks for lunch. That was really kind of you. But you should probably leave now, if you want to miss the worst of the early afternoon traffic.’

‘Dismissing me, huh?’

I smile slightly. I don’t want him to think I’m being a complete bitch. I’m not. I just think we’re wasting time now. ‘Are you coming? To the party?’

‘I’ll be there, you know I will.’

‘Good.’ I reach out and gently touch his arm, giving it a small squeeze as I lean in to quickly kiss his cheek. ‘And I really am grateful for lunch. Sometimes I forget to eat, you know?’

‘Yeah. I know.’

I step back and turn to go.

‘Ellie?’

I spin around, frowning slightly. ‘Yes?’

‘Do you need any help? With the party?’

I shake my head. I can manage. ‘No. Thank you. Michael doesn’t want a huge fuss, so I’ll be fine.’

‘Okay, well, good luck for Friday. And I’ll see you both soon, all right?’

‘Yeah. See you soon.’

I watch him leave, watch as he lifts a hand and drags it back through his hair as he walks away. Is he frustrated with me? I feel as if everyone around me is frustrated. Everyone has something they’re not saying. Something to hide …

Chapter 7

I lean back against the counter and sip my wine, watching as our friends and neighbours chat and laugh. The party’s in full swing now. And as I look around me, it really is as if nothing has changed.

I turn away to refill my glass and I realise how nice it is to have the house full again. It feels good to hear laughter and music, any noise that helps drown out the lingering feeling of guilt.

I take another sip of wine. I need the Dutch courage and just as I’m about to turn back around, plaster on my perfect hostess face and join the party, I feel someone sidle up beside me, feel his hand brush mine as he takes the bottle from me and refills his own glass. I turn my head slightly and I smile at Michael, and his mouth catches mine in an unexpected kiss, which causes a small shiver to course right through me. But I know he’s just playing to the crowd. These brief, snatched moments when we’re in public; when we’re surrounded by people, that’s when I can pretend everything’s how it used to be, how we used to be. Before I questioned everything, before he became swathed in guilt and remorse for something he had no idea could have turned out the way it had.

He pulls back and his eyes meet mine, and I feel a wave of love so strong for this man it almost knocks the breath right out of me. And I wish with all of my heart that I knew how to fix what was broken, I really do. Brushing it under the carpet, ignoring it, that’s become the chosen option. Maybe it’s the only one we have left now, I don’t know.

He smiles at me, cups my cheek in the palm of his hand, his thumb lightly stroking my skin as he leans in to me, his mouth brushing against my ear. ‘You look beautiful tonight,’ he murmurs, his breath warm on my neck, and I bite down on my lip as he steps back from me, throws me one last smile, picks up his wine and walks back out into the party. That’s it. The moment’s gone. He’s played his part, done his bit. But I need him to show me that he loves me. I need him to make me feel as if he means it; make me feel the way he used to make me feel, when we’re alone, not just when we’re surrounded by others. I want him to listen to me and not walk out of a room or make excuses not to talk. I need him. And I love him. Of course I do.

A hand suddenly touching my arm makes me jump back, my heart beating ten to the dozen as I fall back against the counter, struggling to catch my breath.

‘Jesus, Ellie, I’m sorry … I’m sorry.’

‘Oh God. You scared the hell out of me!’ I laugh a bit too loudly to cover up the panic that shot through my body.

I look up at Liam and his expression is genuinely apologetic. He didn’t mean to scare me. ‘It’s fine, really. I’m just exhausted, what with the spa opening yesterday, and organising this party.’

‘The one that Michael didn’t want.’ He leans back against the counter beside me and folds his arms, staring out ahead of him.

‘The one we needed to throw.’

‘Why?’ He turns his head to look at me. ‘Because you want everyone to think everything is normal?’

‘Nothing’s normal any more, Liam. I’m just trying to keep up a pretence, that’s all. It’s what Michael wants. And you didn’t have to come tonight. Not if you didn’t want to.’

‘Michael’s my best friend. You know how important you are to me. Of course I had to come.’

He reaches behind him for the bottle of Scotch on the counter, grabs a tumbler from the tray and pours himself a drink.

‘You should come and join the party. People are starting to ask why you’re hanging around in here.’

I watch him head back out into the crowd, and he’s right. I should go and join the party.

Glancing around me I try to find Michael, but I can’t see him. Maybe he’s outside. It’s a beautiful evening and the orangery doors are wide open, so I look out there. And, yes, there he is, standing at the edge of the decking, a little way away from everyone else who’s ventured outside on this beautiful spring evening. He has his phone to his ear, surprise surprise, his head down. It’ll just be work. Something’s come up, that’s all it’ll be. Nothing is happening here. I know that. Don’t I? He’s just talking to one of his students, a work colleague, nothing is happening.

I can’t stop myself from turning back around to watch my husband. He’s still talking into his phone, his body language only slightly animated, and when he smiles and laughs I feel my stomach dip. Well, as long as he’s fine. He’s not letting what happened affect him. I feel angry, envious that he can just push it aside as if it never happened. I can’t do that. I can’t. I can’t pretend, like he can.

Without thinking I put down my drink and slip away into the hall. I go upstairs. I need a few minutes alone. Going into our room I head over to Michael’s side of the bed, crouching down in front of the small chest of drawers, and for a second I just stay there, I don’t move. Am I really doing this? Is this what it’s come to? Is this the woman I’m turning into?

I reach out and slowly slide open the top drawer, leaning forward to peer inside, but a sudden noise coming from the landing outside makes me jump. I almost fall backwards as I let go of the drawer handle and I have to grab hold of the duvet to steady myself. There are voices outside in the hallway and I realise now that it’s just friends from the party looking for the bathroom. My heart is still hammering away against my ribs.

Deep breath. Calm down, Ellie. I peer back inside the drawer. The contents are lined up neat and tidy – a couple of pens, a notebook, some papers he’s using to help his research. Michael’s writing another book and he likes to make notes before he goes to sleep.

I reach inside and lift up the notebook, but there’s nothing underneath it. Did I think there would be? I open it, still not entirely sure what I’m looking for, but I quickly flick through it anyway. And there’s nothing but page after page of Michael’s ridiculously neat handwriting. What was I expecting to find, exactly? I don’t know, because I’m not thinking straight. I just know that he’s hiding something from me. Again. Something’s going on. Michael’s behaviour – it’s familiar. He’s been like this once before. It’s happening again.

I sit down on the edge of the bed, crossing my legs up underneath myself, the noise and the chatter from the party drifting upstairs. I look at the picture of me and Michael hanging on the wall opposite our bed. One of our wedding photos, blown up and framed in all its perfect glory. Two smiling, incredibly happy people, madly in love. We had everything. We had it all, that perfect life, that exciting future ahead of us. Until it was all snatched away, just like that. We lost it all.

There was a time when I thought nobody knew me better than my husband. When I fell in love with Michael, I fell hard. I fell so hard, because I never thought a man like him could love someone like me. He was the charismatic one, the centre of attention. I was the adoring wife. But he’s underestimated me. You see, I’m not ready to lose my husband. So whatever’s going on, whatever he thinks he can hide from me, I’m going to find out what it is. Whatever it takes.

Chapter 8

‘Do you want some breakfast?’

Michael throws a pile of files down onto the countertop and reaches for the coffee. ‘No, I don’t have time. I’m already late for a meeting with my research students. I’ll grab something at work.’ He takes a sip of coffee, slides a hand onto the small of my back. ‘And where are you going to be spending your day today?’

I turn to face him, his hand moving around to rest on my hip. ‘The spa.’

He smiles, and for a moment everything feels like it used to. He cups my cheek, leans in to kiss me slowly, and I close my eyes and take this moment because it’ll soon be over.

‘I’d better go.’ He steps back from me, throws me one last smile and grabs those files he’d discarded not thirty seconds ago. ‘I’ll see you tonight.’

‘Hang on … Michael!’

He stops before he reaches the door, and I can tell from the way his shoulders sag that he’s frustrated. He just wants to get out of here.

‘How about I cook tonight? I’ll get a bottle of that wine you like, make you your favourite …’

‘What’s going on, Ellie?’

I’m actually quite stung by his question, by his tone of voice. It’s verging on suspicious, as though he thinks I’m doing this because I have some kind of ulterior motive. And maybe I do, but only because I’m trying to save something here. I’m trying to save us.