The Mistress - Jill Childs Page 0,80

Anna.

I said, ‘I’ve been paying cash for everything, like you said. I’ve brought a few thousand.’

‘Good. I’m nearly out.’ He nodded. ‘We won’t need a lot. It’s pretty cheap, round here.’

I tried to smile back. I imagined walking down the High Street with Anna, constantly checking shop windows to see if anyone was following us. Jumping every time I heard footsteps. Being constantly afraid of a knock at the door in case someone had traced us. I still wasn’t sure I could do this. Live a lie.

‘I was good, wasn’t I?’ He chuckled to himself. ‘I nearly did break my bloody neck, hurtling down those steps in the dark. Gotta hand it to me. The sound effects were awesome. I deserve an Oscar.’

‘I had my heart in my mouth on the sail back,’ I said. ‘You grabbed hold of the rope okay?’

‘That water was freezing.’ He grimaced.

I thought back. There’d been no moving him, once he’d come up with his crazy plan. Don’t you see? he kept saying. It’s perfect. We get that mad bitch off our backs and, once the insurers pay out, we’ll be rich. We can start again. Clean sheet.

He said, ‘And we were right about Laura Dixon. She bought everything. She really thought she’d killed me.’

Poor, weak Miss Dixon. I’d sensed how unstable she was. I’d felt her anxious eyes seek me out, all those times I’d been sitting in the school library while children stumbled through their reading.

Ralph went on, ‘It’s shut her up, anyway. Served her right. I never thought she’d be such a mad bitch. ‘

I cleared my throat. ‘How was the cottage?’

We’d chosen one of the derelict cottages along the coast, its windows boarded up, the flooring dank with mildew. It stank of foxes, rising damp and wood rot. I’d done my best to clean it up and Ralph fixed the door and padlocked it, then stored his things there, a supply of dried and tinned food, spare clothes and his camping gear. That’s where he’d headed once he’d swum the final stretch to the shore that night.

He shrugged. ‘I survived. Can’t say I was sorry to leave.’

I considered the vacancy in our own house, after he’d gone. The air had seemed empty without him. I’d missed him terribly. But, over time, I’d sensed something else too. The cautious fluttering of my old self. My more assertive, more independent self.

I remembered the evening I’d entered his study and cleared it, the satisfaction I’d felt when I’d categorised and ordered his books and packed them neatly into boxes. I remembered the things Bea had said about me, once I’d finally started to adjust to living without him. You look fab. Better than ever. All sort of sparkly.

‘How was my memorial service?’

‘Not a dry eye.’ I pulled a face. ‘You’d be amazed what lovely things people found to say about you. Even Miss Baldini.’

‘Shame I wasn’t there.’ He looked amused.

I considered him. Ralph. My husband. The father of my child. The man I’d stood by. The man I’d carried on loving, no matter how many times he disappointed me.

I said, ‘I went to see her. Laura Dixon.’

He stared out towards the darkened windows, his jaw set.

‘What were you thinking?’ I went on. ‘Why did you send her texts? She might’ve gone to the police. And why did she change the locks? That was you, wasn’t it, letting yourself into her flat?’

He shrugged, splaying the fingers of his free hand. ‘Harmless enough. Anyway, she had it coming.’

‘Harmless?’ I sat up and twisted to face him.

‘What?’

I took a deep breath. ‘You tried to kill her, didn’t you?’

‘Kill her?’ He laughed. ‘Come on.’

I persisted. ‘You drugged her with her own pills. Was that why you went round to her flat – to get them?’

He looked taken aback. ‘What’re you talking about?’

‘You crushed them into the wine you left her in the boathouse.’ It was bitter, she had said. But I drank it for him.

He lifted his arm from the back of the settee and made circles with his stiff wrist.

I said, ‘She knew something was wrong. She was just in too much of a state to think it through.’

‘You know what? I’m sorry they found her.’ He was still flexing his fingers, bringing his wrist back to life. ‘A couple more hours and it would have been too late. Honestly? Far better if she’d just died.’

I looked away. I thought again about Miss Dixon, hunched in her armchair, gazing out vacantly at the passing world.

Ralph said, ‘She