The Wife
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HarperImpulse an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers
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This paperback edition 2018
First published in Great Britain in ebook format by HarperCollinsPublishers 2018
Copyright © ML Roberts 2018
ML Roberts asserts the moral right to
be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book
is available from the British Library
ISBN: 9780008119461
eISBN: 9780008119454
Version: 2018-02-01
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are
the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is
entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted,
in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior
permission of the publishers.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Epilogue
About the Author
About HarperImpulse
About the Publisher
For my husband. His constant support has been everything.
Prologue
Sometimes you look at people and you think their life is perfect. You envy them, what they have, what you assume they have. The perfect marriage, perfect careers, perfect home. They have it all, or that’s how it seems to those on the outside. But sometimes, behind those closed doors of that seemingly perfect home, secrets live in the shadows, just waiting to reveal themselves. Secrets that make that perfect life more fragile and fractured than anyone could imagine. Secrets that cast a darkness over everything, even when the sun is shining.
I had secrets.
And my life wasn’t perfect, even when I thought it was.
We all had secrets.
We all told lies.
We all had a darkness that blocked out the sun.
No … my life wasn’t perfect …
Chapter 1
‘Come on, Michael. Dance with me.’
‘When was the last time you saw me dance, Ellie?’
I lean back against the wall, the edge of my mouth twisting up into a smirk. ‘Our wedding.’
‘Almost fourteen years ago.’
I put down my gin and tonic and reach out and grab him by his belt, pulling him towards me, smiling as my mouth almost touches his. ‘But they’re playing our song.’
‘We have a song now?’ He arches an eyebrow and gives me the kind of grin that made me fall for him in the first place, all those years ago.
‘For a supposedly intelligent man you can be such a dick sometimes.’
He laughs, a low, husky laugh and I close my eyes as he kisses me, just a small kiss, his lips barely graze mine, but it’s enough. ‘We don’t have a song, Ellie,’ he whispers.
I let go of him and pick up my drink, taking another sip as my eyes scan the room. I’m not the biggest fan of Michael’s work gatherings, but as one of the university’s leading professors, a respected academic and head of the English Studies Department, it’s my duty, I suppose, to be by his side at these events. And I’m used to them now. In the beginning I’d always felt slightly out of place, as if I didn’t belong in this world. I never went to university, I wasn’t born into a family with those kind of aspirations. My family was nothing like Michael’s. My family was a mess, but I was determined not to go down the route everyone expected me to take. I was determined to become successful against all the odds, and so far I’ve been very lucky. I’ve achieved that success.
Michael leans back against the wall next me and I turn to face him. ‘We do, actually. We have a song. You just never remember what it is.’
He frowns and I look into his eyes and I can tell he genuinely wants to remember what that song is, but he can’t. And it doesn’t matter anyway, not really. I just like bringing it up, watching him squirm slightly as he tries his hardest to recall something that, in his world, isn’t all that important.
‘Liam’ll dance with me.’ I smile, and Michael returns it.
‘Any of the men in this room would dance with you, Ellie. You’re like a breath of fresh air around here.’
‘You’re hardly stuffy professor material yourself … Oh, hang on, there he is … Liam!’ I wave frantically across the room at Liam – Dr Liam Kennedy BS, MSc, PhD, to give him his full title, although, there are probably half a dozen letters I’ve missed off there – one of our closest friends and a visiting lecturer here at the university.
He turns to acknowledge me, throwing me a wide smile before he takes a drink from the tray of a passing waiter and makes his way over to us. ‘He still won’t dance with you, huh?’
Michael rolls his eyes and holds up his hands in a gesture of defeat, shaking his head, but he’s smiling too. ‘I know when I’m beaten. You two go light up the dance floor. I need to have a word with Laurel about Monday’s department meeting.’
‘Still using your charm to kick-start that research project, huh?’ Liam smirks.
‘Works every time. Oh, and don’t wear him out, Ellie. We’re playing squash tomorrow, and I need him at his best if we’re going to have any hope of beating Harry and Ed. I swear those two are taking something …’
I watch him head off in the direction of Laurel Greene, another colleague; watch the way her eyes light up as he approaches, because that’s the effect my husband has on people, especially women. He’s handsome, charming and fun, even if he doesn’t dance. Popular with both students and staff, he’s a big part of this university, deeply committed to his work, sometimes a little too committed, but that’s who he is. And I knew that the day I fell in love with him.
&nb
sp; ‘You okay?’
Liam’s voice drags me back from my thoughts and I look at him. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. A little tired, but it’s been a busy week.’
‘Another drink?’
I nod and follow him to the bar, waiting until I have a fresh gin and tonic in my hand before we resume our conversation.
‘So, how’s the new spa coming along?’ Liam asks as we commandeer a quiet table near the back of the room and sit down.
‘Well, thankfully, the grand opening is going ahead next Friday, as planned. Bob, my builder …’
Liam’s face breaks into a grin. ‘Bob the builder? Seriously?’
‘I know, believe me, I’ve been listening to the same joke for two months now. I’m as sick of it as he is. Anyway, he’s due to sign off on the work Monday morning, meaning we can now start moving things in and get everything organised ready for Friday.’
‘Your fourth business, huh? You’re killing it, Ellie Travers.’
‘Well, I might not have any letters after my name, but I haven’t let that hold me back.’
‘Three salons and now a day spa, what’s next for your empire?’
I take a sip of gin and quickly glance across the room. Michael’s charming the Bridget Jones pants off Laurel Greene. I can see, even from over here, how much he’s got her wrapped around his little finger.
‘If there were degrees given out for flirting, huh?’ Liam smirks.
‘It’s just who he is, you know that. Besides …’ I turn back to face Liam, leaning back in my seat and crossing my legs. ‘I’ve never really been Little-Miss-Wallflower, have I?’
He laughs, a louder, slightly more raucous laugh than Michael’s, but even though there are some distinct differences between the two men, they’re more like brothers than best friends. They met, as students, at this very university – Michael studying English Literature, Liam Biochemistry. They both became lecturers here, until Liam left to focus more on his work as a research scientist, but he’s retained visiting lecturer status here at the university. At a couple of universities across the UK, actually. He’s a very well-respected figure in his field.
‘No, Ellie, you could never be described as a wallflower.’ He leans forward, clasps his hands together on the table. ‘So, are we going to have that dance, or not?’
I cock my head, smiling slightly. ‘You know what my and Michael’s song is, don’t you?’
‘Beyonce. ‘Crazy in Love’. Your first-dance wedding song.’
‘I knew that.’
I feel hands on my shoulders and I tilt my head back to see Michael behind me. ‘No you didn’t. Are you done schmoozing Laurel now?’
‘I wasn’t schmoozing anyone.’ He joins us at the table, stealing a sip of my gin. ‘I thought you two were going all “Saturday Night Fever”?’
‘Yes, well, the moment’s passed.’ I retrieve my drink and throw Michael a smile. ‘Besides, I didn’t want to tire him out.’ I jerk my head in the direction of Liam. ‘You’re both on the wrong side of forty now, so …’
‘You let her get away with talking to you like that?’ Liam winks as he gets up, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on my cheek, slapping Michael’s shoulder as he slides past him. ‘I’ll leave you guys to it. I’ve got a meeting first thing in the morning, before that squash game, so I’m calling it a night. See you both tomorrow.’
I watch him stride through the crowd of people, stopping every now and again to say a few words to old colleagues and friends before he disappears from sight.
‘Maybe we should call it a night, too,’ Michael sighs, checking his watch. ‘You must be shattered, the week you’ve had.’
‘I’m okay.’
He looks at me. ‘Are you?’
‘Michael, I’m fine. Really.’
He stands up and holds out his hand and I take it as we head towards the exit, his fingers curling around mine, and I squeeze his hand a little tighter as we walk.
‘I’m really proud of you, Ellie.’ He stops and pulls me into his arms, kissing the tip of my nose. ‘And I don’t think I tell you that enough. You deserve the success you’re finally getting. It’s been a long time coming. After everything you’ve been through …’ His expression changes, for the briefest of seconds, a fleeting moment that only someone as close to him as me could possibly have noticed, before he pulls it back and his smile returns. ‘Potential Local Businesswoman of the Year, huh?’
I smile back, tugging gently on his shirt collar. ‘Hey, slow down, okay? There are only rumours of a nomination at the minute, let’s not get too excited.’
‘Ellie!’
A loud, deep voice aimed in our direction cuts through the noise and I look over Michael’s shoulder to see Ernie Waterford approaching: Michael’s predecessor as Head of Department and a lifelong mentor to my husband, not to mention a good friend.
‘Looking stunning, as always.’
Michael moves aside, allowing Ernie to envelop me in a big bear hug, the scent of cigars and port filling my nostrils. ‘Flattery will get you nowhere, Professor.’
His booming laugh almost drowns out the music and I glance over at Michael, who throws me a knowing smile.
‘Persistence is in my blood, Ellie. I’m still trying to work out how that man there snared a woman as beautiful as you, but if he ever leaves you …’ He winks at me and I laugh, too. Ernie’s harmless flirting has been part of our lives for as long as I can remember now, ‘he’d be an idiot,’ he adds, throwing me another wink before he heads off in the direction of the bar.
Michael slips an arm around my shoulders, gently kissing the side of my temple. ‘I don’t think that’s something we need to worry about, do you? Neither of us is going anywhere. Are we?’
I slide my fingers between his and I smile, turning my head so my mouth catches his, and
I taste gin on his lips as he kisses me quickly. ‘I hope not.’
Chapter 2
I used to love early mornings. That time of day when it can feel as though you’re the only person awake, when everything is calm and peaceful. I used to crave those snatched hours alone – it’s the perfect time to think, when all those thoughts that may have felt jumbled before suddenly start to make sense. But now – now things are different. Things have changed. Nothing makes much sense any more, there’s too much to think about, too many thoughts crowding my brain and it doesn’t always make for those calm and peaceful hours alone I was once so fond of. I found myself waking early this morning; found myself down here, in the orangery that stretches the entire length of the back of our beautiful home on the outskirts of the County Durham countryside, drinking tea and thinking, about all those things I’d rather forget. Nights like last night; parties, dinners with friends, they help push the memories to one side, for a little while, but they’ll never go away. They always come back.
Curling my legs up underneath myself I settle back into the comfortable couch that looks out over our sprawling garden. A neat, raised decking area leads out on to a perfectly manicured lawn, its flat, green surface interspersed with patches of shrubbery and strategically placed pot plants. There’s a magnolia tree near the centre of the lawn, two apple trees to the side, and at the back of the garden there’s a small vegetable patch, which is – was – very much Michael’s baby. My fingers don’t even come close to being green. Next to that is a sky-blue painted summer house, its front porch decorated with various terracotta pots, all housing an array of multi-coloured pansies. That summer house is my office. Was my office. I used to love working out of that summer house, it was my haven. Once. Now my office is in a side room next to the small indoor swimming pool we had built onto the back of the orangery a couple of years ago. A room that used to house towels and robes, but they’re now kept in a large storage box at the back of the pool area. I needed that room. I wanted that room. A strange choice, maybe, given that we have three spare bedrooms upstairs, but I wanted that room.
I stare back outside, watching as the sun starts to break through the
early morning cloud, casting shadows over the summer house. Casting shadows. Something I’ve become all too familiar with. Shadows. Darkness. Even my beautiful garden feels different, now.
Over the years we’ve turned that garden from nothing but grass and wasteland into a rustic, colourful space. We worked hard to make sure it was perfect, for us. For what we needed - wanted it to be, and I look over towards the back of the garden, to a corner adjacent to the summer house. It’s empty now, that corner, we don’t need what used to stand there, not any more. I wanted it gone.
I don’t go out into the garden all that much any more. I don’t have the time. I’m too busy. I’m about to open another new business, a day spa, and that’s taking up a lot of my time. Too much of my time, some would say, but keeping busy is important. Over the past year and a half I’ve opened a third hair and beauty studio – I already have one in Newcastle and another in Durham – as well as taking on this day spa. I’ve never really been one to take it easy. I find that even harder to do now, despite people telling me to slow down. It isn’t that simple, it never has been. It’s even less so, now.
I close my eyes for a second, just for a second, and then it’s almost as if the silence suddenly hits me, making me aware of its presence, and they spring open. I walk over to the French doors in front of me, and I know I won’t be able to stop myself from doing what I seem to do on an almost daily basis now. But they say we all have a touch of OCD inside us, somewhere. I just need to make sure that door is locked. What’s so strange about that? And as my fingers close around the metal handle I inwardly scold myself for being so paranoid. Of course it’s locked. I check every night, before we go to bed. Every morning, when I come down here. Every time someone goes outside, I check the second they come back in.