Chapter 6
BETH
The scent of her light, sweet perfume drifts into the front of the car like a fresh bouquet of flowers. She’s a chatterbox. She didn’t shut up the whole flight, and she hasn’t shut up since we got in the car.
Justin flicks on full beam as we near the downhill road that leads to our old barn conversion.
‘The new tenants are moving into Bush Farm next week, aren’t they?’ I say.
Justin nods. ‘That’s right.’
Bush Farm is the house on the other side of the fields.
Justin bought it when it came up for sale last year, and we now rent it out.
He indicates left to take the narrow lane leading to the front door.
Not that he needs to. Our house is in the middle of nowhere, and traffic rarely passes through the two-house hamlet.
And even though the airport is only twenty minutes away, we don’t get any plane noise.
There used to be three houses, but Justin insisted we buy one of the other two when it came up for sale.
Not for the old, rundown dwelling, but for the land, he said.
Just another one of his lies. He just doesn’t want anyone living close by.
Single-handedly pulling it down became another of his many projects.
The other house to the right of our property is an old, derelict cottage, which has been in probate for the past fifteen years.
He plans to buy it, too, when it comes up for sale. Owning a hamlet, who would’ve thought?
We bought this place ten years ago when my father died and Justin’s career started to take off.
It’s full of character and charm, with a long, narrow converted barn sitting in twenty acres that stretch down to the wooded area beyond.
There’s also a large lake, and a stable block that Justin built where I kept my beloved Honey until she died, and I was too ill to replace her.
I adored living here in the beginning. Now I despise it and want to move.
I built up the courage to ask him to sell at the beginning of the year.
A wish he reluctantly agreed to consider, although I knew he was lying.
But then his mother had a fall. And my consultant said the words no patient wants to hear: I’m afraid your cancer has returned. So we’ve not discussed it since.
A phone beeps. ‘That’s yours,’ Justin says.
I open my bag, find my phone and glance at the screen. ‘It’s Connor, asking what’s for dinner. Your mother’s in bed. He’s had a difficult day with her.’
‘I’ll order a takeaway. Immy, you must join us.’
No, she mustn’t join us.
I grit my teeth so hard, my cheeks ache. We need to be alone. I want to spend time with my son. We don’t see him enough as it is.
‘I’m fine,’ she pipes up from behind me. ‘I ate at the airport.’
The wheels of Justin’s Porsche 911 crunch along the gravel driveway. He stops the car in front of the timber-framed carport, faking lightness into the tone of his voice. ‘You go and say hello to Connor, and I’ll show Immy to the annexe.’ He cuts the engine.
I open the car door to a wall of heat. It’s dead quiet.
No one would hear you if you screamed. The thing Justin has always loved about living here, he says.
That and the towering oak and pine trees that surround the grounds, which make the house invisible from the road.
I used to love the seclusion. These days, it’s suffocating.
I glare at him. ‘It’s fine. I’ll show her.’ Swinging my legs up and onto the driveway, I duck my head, find the door frame and struggle out. How I loathe this car. It’s like climbing out of a hole in the ground.
‘I won’t hear of it,’ he says. ‘You need to rest.’
I pop my head back inside the car. ‘I said, I’ll do it.’ If we were alone and disagreeing, he’d fight me. But he wouldn’t do that in front of this girl. He gives me a disapproving look, which I ignore, and I tilt my seat forward to let the girl out.
Immy unfolds herself out of the car. ‘I can get an Uber back to the airport in the morning,’ she says. ‘Save you the trouble of driving me. You’ve already been so kind.’
‘Not at all,’ Justin calls from over the other side of the car. ‘I’ll take you on my way to work.’
Saliva fills my mouth. I shoot him a look.
But he can’t see me in the fading evening light.
On his way to work? He said he wasn’t going into the office this week.
He doesn’t need to. We run our business from a converted house in an exclusive part of Primrose Hill in London.
But I rarely go there now. I can’t stomach the commute.
And the small team we’ve built allows him to mainly work from home in the office he built at the end of the stable block.
Immy follows me up the winding path to the front door.
I put my key into the lock. Blue, my beloved dog, scratches at the front door.
When I open it, his whole back end is wagging, his tail flicking furiously from side to side.
He tears around in circles in his true drama-queen style, his constant howls telling me how much he’s missed me.
Immy and Justin enter the house behind me. Blue barks at her. Justin takes his collar. ‘It’s OK, big fella. We’ve got a guest.’
Immy reaches out a hand and strokes his fur. ‘You’re a beauty,’ she says. ‘We had a Siberian Husky when I was a kid. They’re the best dogs.’ She makes a fuss of him, ruffling his thick silky coat. I hate the way he is so accepting of her.
‘They sure are. Hard work when they’re younger, but this fella is getting on,’ Justin says. ‘Thankfully, he doesn’t need the five-mile run every day like he used to.’
Blue follows Immy and me to the annexe. Justin converted this end of the barn into a self-contained studio. A short passage joins it to the main house. I unlock the door.
It’s a large room with a small galley kitchen area and a designer bathroom with a walk-in shower on one side, and a bedroom on the other.
A large wooden door with a mortice lock leads out the back to a small courtyard, enclosed by tall laurels, with a round metal table and two matching chairs.
A perfect spot for sunny days. It’s a place I’d rate five-star if it were an Airbnb place I stayed in.
Blue remains close, flicking his tail against my leg to remind me he’s there.
‘What a beautiful place.’ Immy parks her cabin bag on the bed and plonks her rucksack on the top.
I cringe, thinking of the dirt and germs she has spread to the clean, white duvet.
The bed faces a dugout fireplace with a flatscreen above.
Inside the opening sits a large lantern full of fairy lights.
I bought it at a garden centre I took Hattie to one day when Justin was in London, before I had my car accident.
The one I had when he brought that last girl back here.
I pulled out of a T-junction, not seeing the truck that appeared from nowhere.
Now Justin drives me if I want to go anywhere, or I take an Uber.
‘This is so kind of you.’ She appears uncomfortable. Good. She won’t think twice about leaving in the morning. ‘But I don’t want to be any trouble. I’ll be gone before you get up.’ She’s saying all the right things.
I briefly smile. ‘I’ll take you to the airport. Justin will be busy.’ It’s been a long time since I drove his car. But I will this once.
‘Oh, no. I’ll call an Uber.’
‘Absolutely not.’ I’d rather not get up at the crack of dawn, but at least that way, I’ll know for sure she’ll be gone. ‘I insist. What time’s your flight?’
‘I’m not sure exactly.’ She gives a brittle laugh. ‘I’ll have to check.’
I walk to the fitted double wardrobe built into the wall opposite the kitchen area. Sliding open the doors, I pull out a clean set of towels and hand them to her.
We stand in an awkward silence, like two teenagers in the dinner queue on their first day at a new school, until a voice startles us both. ‘All sorted.’ Justin walks in.
I bite my lip. He’s brushed his hair. ‘Takeaway sorted. Come and join us, Immy. I’ve ordered enough for four, and Beth never eats much, do you, darling?’
I bite my lip. I should tell her to go. Order an Uber now and get her away from here as quickly as possible. But Justin’s look silences me.
Please don’t do this to me again. We won’t survive it this time.
When you marry someone, you think you know what you’re getting into. But we never truly know someone. Not really.
I should’ve left him after the last time.
But I can’t.
He’d never let me.
I know too much.