How to Kill Your Husband (and other handy household hints) by Kathy Lette (top 10 novels to read TXT) 📗

should say that. I gave up on religion at the age of fifteen. But this afternoon, after you left, Cassie, I realized that there is an afterlife, you know. It’s after your husband dies.’ Jazz twirled, her dress fanning out around her, like a demented Doris Day. ‘We must devise an advertisement for our next boyfriends. Only happy, supportive, non-alpha males may apply. Men who will cook and clean for us while we work.”

Hannah’s countenance took on a sucked-on-a-lemon look. ‘There is more to life than work,’ said the woman who had been known to call out in her sleep, ‘Take the highest bidder! But get him up by ten per cent!’ ‘Why don’t you sit down and I’ll pour you a nice stiff drink?’ Hannah suggested, sympathy spilling across her face.

‘Doctor David Studlands has taken a Hypocritical Oath. The reason he’s in Africa so much is because he’s guinea-pigging those poor people to perfect some anti-ageing invention. And he’s remortgaged our house to do so. Apparently he’s taken leave without pay so much these last five years and has so many debts that the bank’s foreclosing. And he’s being blackmailed. Did Cassie tell you?’ Jasmine pushed the hair from her face with pink-varnished talons, leaving flourmarks. ‘I understand Sylvia Plath now, I really do. Marriage truly is a fun-packed, frivolous activity – occasionally resulting in death. Lard! Lard! Lard!’ She reloaded the syringe and injected the half-thawed carcass once more. ‘How else can I get rid of him? I mean, men often punch themselves in the stomach to show how tough they are, but rarely when they’re holding a ten-inch carving knife. However, if I kill him and make it look like an accident, which is what he’s no doubt planning for me then I’ll get his life insurance money. Like most wives, I can always use an extra one or two million. Especially now that I’m h . . .’ She paused, not quite able to bring herself to say the word ‘homeless’. ‘Now that I’m domiciliary-deficient.’

I looked at Hannah in alarm. Jazz wasn’t the most subtle or cautious person. Whatever she did to Studz might be originally reported as an accident, but not after those highly advanced forensic tests proved that his heart had been gouged out of his body by his wife’s nail file.

‘You know what he wants now, Hannah? Did Cassie tell you? He wants custody of Joshie.’

‘What? I would have thought that putz would sue for less custody.’ Hannah positioned herself on the kitchen banquette, orchestrating her taffeta evening gown around her.

‘It is ridiculous,’ I commiserated. ‘I mean, they may sit on the same twig on one branch of the family tree, but that’s about all they share.’

‘If he gets custody, you see, he won’t have to pay me any maintenance.’

‘But Josh is an adult, nearly.’

‘Not till he finishes school. And then he’s got Uni so he’ll still be living with me in the family home. And that maniac of a hubby of mine doesn’t want to have to pay for it.’

‘Apart from that it’ll be an amicable split,’ I elaborated to Hannah sarcastically. ‘They’ll both get fifty per cent of the acrimony.’

‘Look what I found today.’ Jazz thrust a torn-out bit of newspaper at me. ‘A phone number for a Forensic Cleaning Service for Victims of Violent Crime. It deals with Decomposition, Blood and Related Stain Removal. Rather handy if I chop him up and put him through my food processor. Now that’s the kind of tip a wife needs. How to Kill Your Husband – (and other handy household hints).’

‘Stop this crazy talk right now!’ Hannah demanded. ‘Let’s all sit down and get practical.’ She patted the banquette beside her. ‘Who’s your accountant? Do you have his or her home number?’

‘It’s not crazy talk. The reality is, there are only two days when a husband is great fun to be around. The day you marry him – and the day you bury him.’ Jazz cackled like one of the witches in Macbeth.

‘Studz will never get custody of Josh.’ I put my arm around Jazz reassuringly. ‘It’s the mother’s job to be the eye of the storm.’

‘Boys need their mothers.’ Hannah slid her arm around Jazz’s other shoulder. ‘You must be strong for the sake of your son. Mother Courage, that’s where the expression comes from, dah-ling.’

Pained at the memory of how the predatory Bianca had ingratiated herself into my children’s lives, my skin, which already felt as though it were made of paper, was scorched by her words. I could feel my face burning.

‘I know Josh’s friends, his dreams, fears, hopes. What he’s thinking, how he’s feeling, what mischief he’s plotting. What do I live for? My son’s jeans still warm after he takes them off for the wash. The smell of his hair when he hugs me goodbye in the morning. Is that too much to ask out of life?’

‘No, darling,’ I soothed, kissing her forehead. ‘It’s not.’

‘Jazz. Think straight. Accountant’s number. Bank account details. Do you have a lawyer?’ Hannah insisted, sitting back down and marshalling pen and paper. ‘If only he didn’t have that private eye’s evidence. Gevalt! And that photo! I told you cheating on Studz wouldn’t fix anything. But did you listen to me? No.’

Jazz leaned back against the sink, cocked her head to one side and looked down at Hannah through screwed-up eyes. ‘Are you suggesting that David and I should have gone to couples counselling? Oh, that soooo worked out for Cassie, didn’t it? Her husband is now living with his therapist – thanks to you.’

It was true. All therapy had done was to encourage Rory to leave our marriage. One word from Bianca and he’d left so damn fast he had G-force cheeks. I bit back a tear.

Hannah bristled. ‘I’m sorry, but you’re the one who ruined Cassie’s life. She was fine, she was happily married, until you interfered, Jasmine.’

That was true too. At Jazz’s insistence, I’d been hurling myself against the bars of my relationship