The Dead Ex(33)

But it isn’t working for me right now. My bed still feels empty. Cold. I try to lie diagonally to take up the space, yet it’s not the same.

I used to love watching David sleep. He looked like a little boy. So vulnerable. Cheeky too. Sometimes he used to talk, but it was hard to make out the words.

Once I was shocked to find myself thinking how easy it would be to put a pillow over his head. I knew a woman who did that once. She got Life.

The weird thing is that my husband hadn’t done anything wrong then – well, nothing I knew about.

I loved him. Everything was good.

But I still couldn’t stop thinking about the pillow. It was as if I knew what was to come.





15



Vicki

2 March 2018


Just as I am potting some rosemary (a symbol of good luck) on my kitchen window sill, the door knocker thuds. It’s DI Vine again, with a different sergeant this time. He doesn’t introduce her. I’ve been waiting for this. The police often follow up quickly after an interview to unnerve suspects.

‘There are just a few more things we need to check. Mind if we take another look?’

‘It’s becoming a habit,’ I say.

They don’t smile.

I gesture inside. ‘You know the way.’

Be calm, I tell myself.

‘Would you like something to drink?’ I ask the woman, who is waiting with me. She’s younger than the last with a slightly foxy face and two silver stud earrings in one lobe. I decide to get her on side. Might be easier.

‘Cup of tea would be nice. Milk with two sugars.’

‘I don’t have a kettle in case I burn myself. I told your inspector that before.’

‘Ah yes,’ she says heavily. ‘You have epilepsy, don’t you?’

She says the word with a certain amount of scepticism. I’m used to that. Unless someone has seen you have a seizure, they often don’t understand. I’ve actually heard of people like me being accused of being ‘benefit cheats’. Sometimes I wish others could go through it – just the once – and then they might be more understanding. Mind you, it’s the babies that really upset me. The parents’ stories on the websites reduce me to tears.

‘Can’t be easy to do your aromatherapy stuff,’ she says, interrupting my thoughts. ‘What if you have one of your turns when you’ve got a client?’

My mind shoots back to one of my worst early experiences. When I came to, I found my lady – still in her underwear – dialling 999. ‘Ambulance,’ she was babbling in the way you do when you’re scared stiff. ‘Quick.’

‘Are you ill?’ I’d asked sleepily.

She’d given me an ‘are you mad?’ look. ‘No. But you were. Your eyes started rolling and you began thrashing all over the place. You hit me. Look!’

There was indeed a bruise starting to show on her arm.

‘You must remember!’

But I didn’t. That was when I’d explained my ‘condition’. At least, I’d tried to. I was feeling very tired and woozy, which is what always happens.

‘Then you shouldn’t be treating people,’ she said. ‘You could have hurt me. Isn’t there a law against it?’

No. Someone with our condition can still carry on working. Yet, as it was explained to me at the time of diagnosis, you have to be ‘sensible’. Not take risks. As if that was possible.

On the other side of the wall, I can hear cupboards being opened.

‘What would you do,’ I demand, ‘if you suddenly started fitting?’

The woman looks as if I’ve asked something quite ridiculous. ‘No idea. I’ve never been in that position.’

‘Nor had I,’ I said quietly, ‘until it happened. And I’ve never been in this one either. I don’t have anything to do with my ex’s disappearance, you know.’

Her eyes sharpen. ‘Then who might?’

I have a flash of the second trip after Hong Kong.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you’d gone to Paris?’ I’d asked David when he finally came home.

‘I did.’

‘No you didn’t.’

‘You’ve been busy. Probably didn’t hear me.’

At the time, I’d accepted it. After all, I’d had a lot on my plate and might well have not taken this in. Now I know better. David could worm his way out of anything. Is that what he’s doing now?

I turn to face her. ‘Like I told your boss, I think he’s just taken himself off somewhere.’

‘Is there anyone you can think of who might want him harmed?’ Her voice is softer as though she is the one who is trying to get me to be her friend.

I laugh, even though it isn’t funny. Her face turns suspicious. Instantly, I know I’ve made a mistake. I try to get out of it. ‘When you’re a wheeler-dealer like David, you are bound to make enemies.’

‘What about his family? His wife, for instance. What do you know about her?’

I hadn’t trusted Tanya from the moment David had introduced me to her at the staff party. We’d been married for barely a month. ‘My right-hand woman,’ he’d said. Tanya’s eyes had glittered. Jealousy spat out of them.