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

‘That jacket you dropped back for Michael a couple of nights ago …’

He raises his head, his eyes back on mine. ‘What about it?’

‘I found something. In the pocket.’

He frowns, putting down his fork. ‘Found what?’

‘A receipt. For that Spanish restaurant – the one me and Michael used to go to regularly.’

He’s slightly confused now, I can tell.

‘It was for lunch there. A few days ago.’

‘So?’

‘So, we haven’t been there for a long time. Not since … It was our place. Why would he go there without me? And who was he with, huh? Who did he take?’

Liam sighs and it’s one filled with frustration as he picks up his fork and resumes eating. He isn’t even entertaining this conversation. And I want to tell him I dropped by the university, I want to tell him that, too; tell him what I saw, but I stop myself, I pull back because I’m not sure he wants to hear that, either.

‘I think I’m losing him, Liam.’

He keeps his head down and I watch him, the way he stabs his pasta with a fork, the sound of metal hitting china loud enough for me to hear above the noise of the busy bistro.

‘When he touches me, which isn’t all that often, it doesn’t feel like it used to. He doesn’t feel like he used to.’

‘Have you talked to him?’ Liam asks, but he keeps his head down. And there’s a slight edge to his voice, a hint of frustration, and I don’t want to push him away too, I really don’t.

‘I’ve tried. But you know how it is, he doesn’t want to listen.’

Liam looks up and sits back in his seat, his eyes finally meeting mine.

‘I love him, Liam. And yes, I’ve told him that. He knows I love him. And I know – I think he loves me …’

‘You think he loves you?’

I break the stare this time, glancing around the bistro at couples and families and groups of friends all enjoying lunch. The place is full of laughter and excited gossip, conversations that aren’t darkened with unfounded suspicion and doubt, like mine are.

‘How long is it going to take? How much more do we have to go through before it pulls us so far apart we can’t ever come back together?’

‘I can’t answer that, Ellie, you know I can’t.’ He sighs again, running a hand back through his dark-blonde hair, and I turn my head back around to look at him, but he’s turned his attention to the people around us now. And I just watch him for a few seconds. I try to read his expression and I start to feel that guilt hit me again. I keep dragging him into this, into my and Michael’s problems, but he was involved too, to some extent. He went through it with us; he knows how hard it’s all been. He understands. He’s been there for me. More than Michael has. But I still feel that guilt, sometimes.

‘Surely we didn’t go through all that shit just to lose everything?’ I say quietly, and I wait for him to respond, but he doesn’t, not really. Instead he checks his watch and continues to eat as though I hadn’t uttered a word, hadn’t asked that question.

‘What if he keeps putting those barriers up?’

Again, no response.

‘I know Michael’s hiding something.’

He finally looks up, laying down his fork, his attention is on me now. ‘Hiding what?’

‘I don’t know … I don’t know anything for sure, I just …’ I sit back. I can feel that weariness start to flood my body again. That doubt, that uncertainty, it’s rushing forward, threatening to overwhelm me, but then I remember what I saw, at Michael’s office. I remember the way she looked at him, the way he looked at her. I remember that. I remember what’s gone before too. I remember the past. And now that doubt and uncertainty is being chased away by a fire in my belly. I have a mission, right? I have a job to do. ‘He’s looking for a distraction.’

‘And you’re not?’

Liam looks at me, right into my eyes, and I drop my gaze, because he’s right. We’re both looking for distractions. We both need them, and that’s part of the problem. ‘I saw her.’

‘Saw who?’

‘Ava.’

I wasn’t going to say anything about this, but I really can’t stop myself. I can’t.

‘Who the hell is Ava?’

‘One of Michael’s students …’

‘Jesus Christ …’ He throws back his head. He’s not even attempting to hide his exasperation now. And I can see it on his face. It’s not there as much as it is on Michael’s – that expression I’m all too familiar with – but it’s there all the same. The disappointment, the frustration, the wishing I’d just drop all this shit and get on with my life. It’s there, now, I can see it clear as day.

‘And you think, what? That he’s sleeping with her?’

His bluntness shocks me a little, but maybe he’s just doing that to try and make me see things more clearly, but I know what I saw. And I don’t want to argue with him. I don’t need that. ‘The way he looked at her … the way she looked at him, there was something else there …’

I leave that sentence hanging, because I’m not entirely sure how to finish it, and Liam, he stays silent for a few seconds, his eyes down, and now I’m wondering if I should’ve confided in him at all. Maybe I should’ve kept this to myself, until I had something more concrete. Until I knew, for sure.

‘My husband refuses to talk to me. He refuses to talk about something that we still need to talk about, I still need to talk about. It doesn’t matter whether he’s moved on or not, I haven’t. I haven’t. And if he’s looking for some kind of distraction … Is it my fault? Have I pushed him into this?’

‘Pushed him into what?’ He looks up, and his eyes – that frustration is still there, but there’s something else. He understands, all too well. ‘What exactly do you think is going on, Ellie?’

I let a couple of beats go by before I answer him. ‘What if it’s happening again?’

My voice is barely a whisper. I’m not crazy. I’m not imagining anything.

‘What am I supposed to do? Just fall into line, suck it up and wait for him to get whatever he’s doing out of his system? Is that how it works now?’

‘Maybe he’s just found his own way of dealing with things.’ He finally faces me again, and looks at me hard. ‘And you have yours.’

He holds my gaze for the briefest of seconds, and then he’s signalling for the bill. He’s calling an end to this now. And I feel that rush of guilt return.

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t keep using you as a sounding board, it isn’t fair.’

And it isn’t, but right now life isn’t fucking fair, and I’m tired of everyone just expecting me to be over this. To forget. To accept that things have changed. To move on. I’ll move on when I’m ready, and I’m not ready yet.

‘I’m always here, Ellie, if you need me. You know that.’ His tone has lost that slight edge now, and I smile, reaching for his hand, but he pulls it away as the waitress places our bill on the table. I just wanted to thank him, for being here. For listening to me, again.

‘Liam, I … thank you.’

‘Are you going to be okay?’

I nod. I’m going to be fine.

‘Come on, let’s get out of here … Look, I’ve got nothing on this afternoon, do you want me to come over? Keep you company?’

I look at him, and his expression’s one of concern now. Jesus, I don’t need his pity, too. ‘I don’t need babysitting.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘No. I know it isn’t, I’m sorry.’

‘I haven’t got anything planned, and if Michael’s not home …’

‘I said no, Liam.’ I hold his gaze, because I mean it. I don’t want him to come home with me. I don’t need him to do that. I don’t need looking after. ‘Besides, I’m not going home. I’m going to work.’

‘Okay.’ He holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘I get the message.’

I gather up my things and fish my car keys out of my bag, and then I hesitate for a second. I give his offer of company a second thought. If Michael still isn’t back. Then I push that thought to the back of my mind. I need to be on my own now, to think.

‘I really am grateful, Liam. For everything.’

We fall into step alongside each other as we walk to our cars, the silence between us so different to the one that constantly haunts Michael and me. This one is a friendly, comfortable silence, whereas the ones that have gradually developed between me and my husband – they’re laced with unspoken words, locked-away feelings, they’re tinged with guilt.

‘Hey. Come here.’

We stop by my car and I turn to face Liam; let him pull me in for a hug.

‘Remember what I said, all right? I’m always here, if you need me.’

I step back from him, and I smile. ‘I know.’

I watch as he heads down to the street, to his own car, wait until he’s driven away before I get into mine, and once again I just sit there. I don’t make any attempt to drive away, not yet. I turn on the radio and I sit back and look outside at the busy street. I need another minute, that’s all. And as I sit there my mind goes back to that phone call I heard Michael make just a couple of nights ago. Was it really just a work colleague he was talking to? He offered me his phone, told me I could check for myself, but that could’ve been nothing more than him calling my bluff. He knows I would never do that. I couldn’t be that woman, except, I am. I am that woman.

I close my eyes and sigh quietly. Has it helped? Offloading all my crap onto Liam’s shoulders? I don’t know. I don’t know if anything can help. I just know that I’ve started something I have every intention of finishing now. And if I have to do that alone, then that’s fine, I’m okay with that. It might even be better that way. But I need to know what my husband’s hiding. I need to know who my husband’s seeing; why he’s lying to me. I need to know what he’s doing when he isn’t with me. I need to know. And I’m going to find out.

Chapter 12

‘Liam told me you bumped into each other today.’

‘We did.’ I hand Michael a glass of wine and sit down on the couch by the fireplace, curling my legs up underneath myself. ‘We went for lunch, at that new bistro not far from the Durham salon.’

I haven’t asked him where he went today, why he wasn’t where he said he would be. I haven’t asked him anything. I’m biding my time. Waiting until he trips himself up, gives something away, because he will. He thinks he can hide behind his charm, use that smile to disguise his deceit. I’m watching you, Michael. I’m watching you.

‘So, what did you talk about?’

I take a sip of wine. ‘Nothing in particular.’

‘Did you talk about us? About me and you?’

I frown slightly, because that’s a strange question. Would he be angry if he thought I was talking about us?

‘We talked about a lot of things. But, yeah, I mentioned us.’

It’s hard not to, when it’s all I can think about most days. Us. What we had. What I want back, at any cost.

‘Do you remember who we used to be, Michael?’

‘We’re still those people, Ellie.’

‘Are we?’ I don’t want him to answer that. He doesn’t need to. ‘Do you remember who we were?’

He looks at me, and there it is, that change of expression, the fear that I’m about to launch into that conversation he continually avoids, and I wait for the inevitable shut-down.

‘We loved each other.’

That throws me slightly. I wasn’t expecting an answer, I was expecting the usual barriers to come up. He used the past tense; we loved each other, that’s what he said. Loved. I still love him.

‘We were those people who loved life and lived it, every day, like it was the last one we were ever going to experience.’

My wonderful, idealistic husband. It can never be that way again, and I think, deep down, even he knows that.

‘What happened changed that. What happened changed everything.’

‘For a while, yes. It did …’

‘For a while?’ I put my drink down and sit up, my eyes fixed on his. He is going to listen to me now and he is going to understand the pain and the fear I still feel, every day. ‘I lost our baby, Michael. I miscarried our child, I … you think that changed everything for a while?’

He gets up and comes over to me, sits down beside me. He takes my hand and he brings it to his mouth, kissing it gently, and I’m so angry at myself for crying now. So fucking angry.

‘We can’t go on like this, Ellie. We can’t. It isn’t good for us. It isn’t good for you. I hate seeing you like this.’

‘Then let me talk, Michael. Please. Let me talk about it.’

He drops his gaze, but he keeps hold of my hand, his fingers tightening around mine. ‘Ellie, sweetheart, I just think – I think that dwelling on it, on what happened, it’s unhealthy. We can’t change anything, we can’t turn back the clock …’

‘I know. I know that, but – do you know how difficult it is for me? To keep all this shit bottled up inside because you don’t want to talk about it?’

‘We’ve talked about it so many times, Ellie. We’ve been over and over it, so many fucking times, and it needs to stop now. It needs to stop.’

‘And what? That’s it? Where does that leave me, Michael? Hmm? Where does that leave me? Should I be – I don’t know – grateful that you’re over it?’

‘That isn’t what I meant …’

‘I still need to talk, Michael. I still need to talk; do you understand that? Because I don’t think you do. Oh, you’ll give your students all the time they need, they can talk to you, but your own wife?’

‘Ellie, come on …’

‘They can talk to you, Michael.’

He slowly raises his gaze, his fingers gripping my hand tighter still.

‘What’s going on here, Ellie?’

I pull my hand away from his. I sit back, pull my knees to my chest, hugging them to me as I stare out ahead of me. I take a deep breath. I don’t want to go there again, I don’t want to keep remembering, but the memories are racing forward now. They’re too powerful to ignore.

‘When I woke up, in hospital – when I woke up, and you told me …’ I drop my head, bite down on my lip, I don’t want to cry any more. ‘When you told me we’d lost the baby, I felt so empty, Michael. So fucking empty. It felt like – like I’d died, too.’ I look up, turn to face him. ‘Like we’d died.’

‘Ellie …’

He reaches for my hand again and I let him take it. ‘We didn’t just lose a baby, did we? We lost us?’

He rests his palm against my cheek, his eyes looking deep into mine, and I feel a wave of love so strong for this man flood me. It knocks the breath right out of me.

‘No, my darling, we didn’t. We didn’t.’

I think we did.

‘It’s like you’ve forgotten our baby ever existed,’ I whispered, covering his hand with mine, our fingers sliding together. ‘And I can’t do that.’

He sighs quietly, squeezes my hand gently. ‘You were hurting so much, Ellie. I just didn’t want to hurt you any more.’

‘I felt so alone, Michael. A huge part of me had been ripped away, taken from me in a way that …’ I don’t finish that sentence. I can’t. Losing the baby was painful enough, but remembering the way it happened …

‘We had it all planned, remember? Names. The books we’d read to him or her. The school we wanted our child to go to. Where we were going to take our son or daughter on his or her first holiday …’

‘Don’t do this to yourself, Ellie, please.’

I look away, look down at my arms hugging my knees. ‘I wanted that baby, so much.’

‘We wanted that baby. It hurt me too, losing our child like that.’

My head snaps up, my eyes meeting his. ‘Did it?’

‘You really have to ask that?’

‘You were ready to get rid of the nursery. Ready to paint over the past like our baby had never existed …’

‘That’s not what it was like, and you know that. Losing the baby hurt me too, Ellie.’

‘It’s just that, you were so busy telling me we had to put it all behind us, had to forget …’

‘I didn’t tell you to forget about the baby. I never once told you to do that.’

‘Losing our child makes up so much of what happened that night, Michael. So forgetting isn’t something I can do. Even if you can.’

I want to ask him who Ava is. I want to ask him, but if I mention her name, if I go into specifics he’ll think I’ve been spying on him. And he’d be right, that’s exactly what I’m doing, but I don’t want him to know that. So I can’t mention her. Not yet.

‘I worry, Michael. That it’s going to happen again, that history is going to repeat itself and I can’t go through it a second time, I can’t … I can’t do it.’

He looks at me, right into my eyes. He’s throwing me a silent instruction. He’s telling me to end this, to stop this, to shut up.

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