The Serial Killer's Wife by Alice Hunter (best romantic novels to read .txt) 📗

She takes a deep breath. Prepares herself for his game.

His weight suddenly shifts off her. She’s confused. She tries desperately to sense where he’s gone, what he’s doing. This is new. She breathes steadily now; twists her head to listen, to figure out what he’s up to. Then something smooth is slipped around her neck. Is he using his tie?

She feels a strong tug as the material constricts her throat. Hears his moan of anticipation, his arousal building.

Here we go.

Chapter 39

BETH

Now

‘Oh, God!’ I start at the knock on the front door and quickly push the dishwasher drawer closed. It’s seven o’clock; I’d forgotten all about Julia coming over and I never texted her an excuse. The urge to pretend I’m not in is strong, but as she’ll know I am, it’s not an acceptable get-out. I haven’t even washed and changed – too busy tidying up the kitchen following dinner – I must look a right state. I groan and run my hands quickly through my hair as I go to the door.

‘Hi!’ Julia beams, holding up a bottle in each hand. She’s certainly come prepared. She’s also come dressed up. I thought I looked a state before, but now I feel even worse. She’s wearing a pretty pale-yellow dress, which I’m guessing is designer, and her glossy hair is pulled up into a messy – but perfectly styled – bun. Her face is fully made up: her eyes are heavy with golden shadow and black mascara, her foundation is contoured, her high cheekbones are highlighted in a pearly satin shade, and her ruby-coloured lips are perfectly pouty, as though she’s going out out. Not just to a friend’s house. Or an acquaintance’s, in this case.

I let her in, catching a waft of expensive perfume as she sweeps past me into the hallway. She turns back to face me, hesitant.

‘Oh, go on in there,’ I say, pointing to the lounge. Of course, she’s never stepped foot inside my home; she doesn’t know the layout. ‘I’ll grab us some glasses.’

The second I return and set the glasses on the table, Julia goes straight in for the kill. ‘So, I heard there’s been a development.’

‘Yes, that’s right. I assume all the village knows now.’ My tone is curt. I’m a little put out that this is her opening line, after she invited herself to my home to offer ‘support’.

‘Terrible news. I’m really sorry it’s come to this.’ She tries for a concerned look as she glances around, but it seems a bit forced. She pops the cork from one of the bottles and pours the Prosecco to the brim of each glass. ‘I hope you don’t mind some bubbles. I know they’re more for celebrating, which is not really fitting given the circumstances, but maybe we could drink to celebrate new friendships!’ She gives a wide smile.

‘Drown my sorrows, more like. God, this whole thing is devastating, Julia,’ I say, honestly.

‘I can only imagine,’ she says, her head shaking. ‘You must be so … discombobulated.’

‘Good word.’ I give a sharp snort. ‘Although … angry, hurt, scared … lost – they’re the current emotions fighting over themselves inside me.’

She smiles, sympathetically. ‘Have you spoken with Tom?’

‘No. I’m too wound up. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that I’m thinking if I don’t speak to him, I can pretend it isn’t happening.’

‘Ah, good old denial. The burying of the head. I can understand that, Beth. But you need to talk to him, surely? Find out how bad the situation is?’

‘He’s been charged with murder, Julia. How much worse can it get?’

‘Well, without wanting to sound negative – the worst thing would be that he’s found guilty. Don’t you want to know what he thinks about the charge? I mean, I assume you believe he’s innocent and that there won’t be enough evidence to convict him, but you have to know what’s going on, Beth. So you can prepare.’

Prepare. Even the word is heavy with connotation. The need to do something; to act. But all of a sudden I know I’m not ready for all of this. I don’t want to sit here, opening myself up like this. I need to change the subject; I’ve been far too candid with someone I barely know.

‘Yes, well – tomorrow is soon enough for reality. Now, Julia, I want to know how you manage it?’

‘Oh? What?’ She frowns – although you wouldn’t really know it; her forehead barely crinkles.

‘You’ve got triplets, you’ve got your own business, you always look spectacular. I just don’t get it. How on God’s earth can you juggle everything? I’ve only got one child and I look like … well … this.’ I run my hand up and down myself to back up my statement. Julia throws her head back and laughs, displaying a full set of perfectly white teeth and zero fillings.

‘Oh, sweetie – most of what you see is pure projection.’ She takes a large gulp of fizz.

‘Projection?’

‘Yes, you know – the image I wish to project onto the world. You think I’m managing?’ Her laugh is brittle now. ‘You’re very lovely to say so. And I’m glad I’ve succeeded in giving that impression – that that’s the way you see me. You and everyone in Lower Tew.’ She gives a dramatic sigh.

‘Ah,’ I say. ‘So, not everything is how it seems?’ I’m glad I’ve managed to make the conversation take this turn. The heat is off me for the moment.

‘Is it ever?’ She swallows back more Prosecco. ‘We all hide behind closed doors for the majority of the time, don’t we? No one knows what happens; what a person’s life is really like once the door is locked. Unless we tell someone.’ Tears bulge, but they don’t escape her eyes. She’s clearly used to being in control of her emotions. I wasn’t expecting this. Maybe it’s the wine talking; I think she’s probably had a few glasses before coming here.