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

visit again. If I leave it until next week, Jimmy will be back from his holiday. Perhaps he’ll be more helpful than Alexander.

As I weave through people on the walk back to the station, I feel my mobile vibrating in my pocket.

‘Hey, Lucy. Everything okay?’ I duck down a quieter road, leaning against the wall to take her call. ‘Sorry, I’m in London – just …’ Just what? What should I tell her?

Her voice cuts in anyway, so I don’t need to think up a reason.

‘Beth. The police have been asking questions.’

‘Oh,’ I say. ‘At the café?’ My mind goes blank for a moment, unable to imagine a reason why they’d be there.

‘No, not here. Not me.’

I pull at the neckline of my blouse, suddenly feeling hot. ‘Who, then?’

‘They were wanting information from Oscar.’

‘What?’ A flurry of anxiety sweeps through me. ‘What’s Oscar got to do with all of this?’

‘I’ve no idea, Beth. But they were particularly keen to hear about the borrowed car.’

My mind is a whirl of confusion as it attempts to make sense of this statement. ‘We haven’t borrowed any car from Oscar.’

‘It appears Tom did.’ Lucy pauses. I hear her draw breath. ‘On Tuesday morning.’

Chapter 52

BETH

Now

Julia’s expression is both tense and relieved when I get there to pick up Poppy.

‘Oh, thank God!’ she says as she flings the door open. ‘Who knew one extra child would make such a difference? People assume because I “cope” with triplets that I’ll find another a breeze.’ She turns and heads to a room off the hallway. I follow, feeling terrible. I’ve clearly caused her harried state by asking her to have Poppy.

‘I’m so sorry, Julia. I’ve over-stepped the mark—’

‘No no, sweetie, not at all. I really was – am – happy to help any way I can. I just need a stiff drink and a lie down after it, that’s all. Four little ones running riot isn’t exactly calming.’

I laugh. ‘I’ll be sure to drop around a few bottles of fizz as a thank you.’

‘A secret getaway, alone, to a spa would be better.’ Julia sweeps her hair up and secures it with a scrunchie into a ponytail. Even stressed out she looks as though she belongs in a beauty advert or something. She shouts for Poppy, then brings her attention fully back to me. ‘Did you find what you were looking for?’ She smiles sympathetically.

‘Er … no. Not really.’ I sigh. I don’t tell her about Lucy’s call. I’m still too wound up and I haven’t been able to get it straight in my head despite my long journey home. I need to digest it; try and figure out its relevance. Why would Tom borrow a car when he had one in perfect working order?

The reason can only possibly be a bad one.

‘That’s a shame. Maybe it’s a good thing, Beth,’ she says, her face serious. ‘No telling what you might unearth. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.’

A cold sensation claws up my spine. ‘So, you think he did do the terrible thing he’s accused of,’ I say. I don’t pose it as a question, as it’s clear she thinks Tom’s guilty. She wouldn’t have said that otherwise. Her face pales.

‘I’m sorry. Look, I have no idea if he is or isn’t capable of … hurting someone. All I’m saying is, do we ever really know a person? I mean, everything about them? What goes on in the darkest recess of their minds? There has to be a question in your head that it’s a possibility, or I assume you wouldn’t have jetted off to London today. I’m not judging, Beth. I’m in no position to do that. All I’m saying is, leave it to the police. Let them do their job. The villagers of Lower Tew have got your back regardless.’

Tears prick my eyes. I’m grateful for the support Julia is giving me – and it’s reassuring to hear her say she’ll be on my side whatever the outcome. But it does worry me that she thinks Tom is guilty. And it worries me that although she is saying the right things to me – to my face – she could very well be saying entirely different things to people behind my back. The fact the nursery mums were saying I must know, that I must be aware of what Tom’s done, sits heavily within me, like a malevolent spirit crouching, waiting.

‘Thanks, Julia. I really can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done today.’ I decide not to embellish further.

‘What are friends for?’

Poppy rushes up to me and flings her arms around my legs. ‘I thought you were gone,’ she says, burying her face in my jeans.

‘Of course not, Poppy. I had to work longer today, that’s all. I’m sorry.’ I lift her up, squeezing her tightly and nuzzling my nose into her neck.

‘Are we climbing the wall again?’ Her face lights up. I’m glad she saw that as a bit of an adventure earlier, but I’m hoping it’s not something we’ll have to repeat daily.

‘I’m a little tired for climbing. Maybe we can just go in the front door now,’ I say, looking to Julia with my eyebrows raised, mouthing ‘Can we?’ She nods. Thank goodness. I assume the journalists will be back, though. I’m certain they won’t give up that easily.

Reaching the road to home, we walk slowly towards our cottage. Cautiously, in my case. I relax when I note there are no extra cars parked, or people outside. The place is in darkness. I immediately take Poppy upstairs to bed. It’s been a long day for her. It’s been long for me, too.

I think about my next move while listening to the gentle hum of the microwave – yet another meal for one.

Tom borrowed a car from Oscar’s garage. Why? As much as I’m loath to admit it, I think Julia is right. Do we ever really know everything about a person? I know the answer: of course we don’t. I know a lot