‘Sorry,’ I said, chuckling as I withdrew my hands. ‘Work was fine. I’m really pleased with the new lines. Well, all except one. It’s a beautiful dress but it’s got this whopping big footprint on the train.’ I did not care about the dress, much less want to talk about it, but he would think something was up if I didn’t share my day.
‘I’m sure you’ll work your magic on it,’ Alex said. He was proud of what I had done to the business, though he had no idea just how lucrative it had become. Had he known, he would have pushed for a move long before now. The thought sent a frisson of worry through me. Had the person interested in the house come through? Was that what this surprise dinner was all about?
Alex opened the door to our dining room and I saw that the table was set. With soft music playing and candles flickering, he had transformed it into a warm, cosy space, but still there was a chill growing inside me and I could not hold back the question on my tongue. ‘What’s the special occasion? It must be good, you’ve bought oysters.’
‘Fresh off the bay,’ he said, avoiding the question as he poured me a glass of champagne. Oysters were my favourite food and I rarely went a week without indulging. Jamie called them fish bogeys, and Alex wasn’t much better, reluctant to admit liking anything that my birthplace produced. I took a few sips from my glass, my nerves jangling as I waited for him to tell me what was going on. We ate in silence, my thoughts racing. It was not until we had finished our desserts that he let me in on the secret. He topped up my glass with the last of the bubbly and I wondered if he had been hoping for the alcohol to take effect before he broke the news.
‘Here’s to new beginnings,’ he said, gently clinking his crystal glass against mine. ‘I’ve sold the house.’
My hand raised in mid-air, I stared at him. ‘Our house?’ I lowered my glass, unable to drink its contents. I knew this moment could come, yet hearing the words leave his lips made me feel sick inside.
‘Yes,’ he said, his tone forcibly light. ‘I had a lovely couple view it today. Cash buyers. They want to restore it to its former glory.’
‘Really? But there’s so much to be done . . .’ I said, amazed he’d accepted their offer without telling me. I should have been annoyed, but I’d made him put his life on hold for long enough. I knew I could not stay here for ever.
‘They’re artists; they fell in love with the setting more than anything. They’re very keen.’
My face was a picture of calm but inside my heart felt like a jackhammer. ‘Did they check out the land?’ I said, praying the answer was no. What if they had? Alex said they were artists. People like that would immediately be drawn to the trees that bordered the paddock. What if they’d discovered my secret? The police could be on their way right now. I might never see Jamie again.
‘No – it was raining and they didn’t have any proper shoes. They offered the full asking price without seeing it. A dream sale.’
I knocked back the contents of my glass, the once pleasant bubbles now leaving a vinegary taste in my mouth. ‘Looks like we’re moving to Leeds,’ I said, knowing Alex had probably already earmarked a property to buy.
‘You’re going to love it,’ he said, the relief visible on his face as he reached over and squeezed my hand.
I offered him a tight smile, my mind on the body I’d buried in our back yard.
CHAPTER SIX
EMMA
2017
With Jamie home and tucked up in bed, it felt as if the whole house was sleeping. Alex snored softly, tired from a full day’s work then coming home and cooking as well. I stared up at our low-beamed ceiling – the cobweb magnet, as Alex called it. At six foot two, he had to duck slightly each time he entered a room. Everything was small in our little L-shaped cottage; it was easy to see why he was fed up of it. It was not as if it were filled with happy memories for me either: my mother’s departure, nursing my terminally ill father, and what had happened out back . . . It felt entrenched in misfortune. I only hoped that the new owners would have more luck.
Alex was quiet and thoughtful when we first met. Our friendship was firmly established before he made his feelings clear. He knew I was still recovering from what I called a ‘bad relationship’, although that was as much as I told him at the time. It was the little things that endeared him to me: smuggling food into the library when I was snowed under with studying, and knowing when I needed some time on my own. When I was struck down with a bad case of the flu it was Alex who nursed me through it. When I was snotty and dishevelled it was Alex who missed important lectures to stay by my side. Alex’s continued support was a debt I was only able to begin to repay when his father died from heart failure, squeezing his hand tightly as the man he loved most in the world was lowered into the ground.
Alex gave me the courage to believe that I deserved a better life. Family was everything to him and, after we married, all he wanted was to seal our union with a child. Getting pregnant with Jamie had been worth all the sacrifices it took to get there. But now there was a cloud on the horizon, threatening to break a storm over our happy home.
The more I thought about what I’d done, the sicker I felt inside. The truth was rotten and festering. I pictured it as something ragged, dragging itself across the mudflats to make me account for what I had done. Lying in bed with no street lights to soften the night, it was easy to allow my imagination to run riot. I had been reckless, crazy. Christ! I still had the shovel in my shed. Why hadn’t I gone back there, buried the body deep and disposed of the evidence? It was the same reason I stopped going to church after it happened. Because I could not face it, that’s why. I forced myself to think about what I had done. Luke’s body was out there, but what state was he in? It had been four years. Had he fully decomposed? Or had the wildlife picked his remains apart? My stomach lurched at the thought. And then a flashback, in glorious detail, making me sit up in bed and gasp for breath.
Alex stirred beside me. ‘You all right, love?’ His words were muffled, thick with sleep.
I smoothed his tousled brown hair. ‘I was having a nightmare. I’m going to get a glass of water. You go back to sleep.’
But as I wrapped my dressing gown around me, I knew the truth was a nightmare from which I could not awake. I crept to the kitchen, working my way through my options, trying to view them as dispassionately as possible. I could return to the body and dig a deeper grave, yes, but what if the new owners had the site excavated? Then what? A chill descended and I switched on the kitchen light. An energy-saving bulb hung limply from its pendant, devoid of a light shade. The last time I had tried to fit one, it had driven a shock down the length of my arm right down to my toes. Alex seemed happy to allow the place to fall further into disrepair because it was another reason for us to leave. Shuffling to our wide, square kitchen sink, I filled a glass with water from the tap, forcing myself to focus. I needed a plan B. I could gather up Luke’s remains, burn them, dispose of what was left somewhere safe. But how? I was a thirty-year-old woman who dealt in wedding dresses. I couldn’t do this alone. You murdered him quickly enough, my subconscious rasped.