The Vow - Debbie Howells Page 0,20
woman’s photos, everything that David’s said, I’m in denial; unable to measure the implausible evidence of a stranger against the believable words of the man I love.
Chapter Seven
While PC Page appears convinced that she’s right, I’m filled with worry, the unfailing belief I had in Matt tinged with uncertainty, its stain slowly spreading, turning to disbelief shot with moments of hope that are all too fleeting. Her parting words haunt me. Matt’s been leading a double life.
Even with the evidence the police think they have, it’s impossible to know who to believe. Since that last time Matt and I spoke, I’ve held an image of him, walking back in, his eyes full of regret, with an explanation that will make everything OK again – until now. But then the words of the woman in Brighton come back to me. He isn’t who you think he is.
In bed, I send another email from my iPad to Matt’s parents. Please can you get in touch, here’s my mobile number. I need to speak to you, urgently. Unable to sleep, I’m haunted by images of Matt with a nameless, faceless woman, until eventually when I drift off, I dream I’m in a church. Sitting alone at the back, the darkness is broken only by flickering candlelight. Then as two ghostly figures glide past, somehow I’m watching our wedding take place. Recognising Matt, I feel my heart leap. Handsome in the suit we chose together, the woman beside him is me, wearing my beautiful, dusky dress, except as I look more closely, a sense of foreboding fills me, because everything’s wrong. The dress that I coveted has become blackened, the hem ripped, while my hair is tangled, my bare feet engrained with dirt. Then panic sets in, because my daughter is absent. Where’s Jess, I try to cry out. Jess has to be here … As I search the shadows for her, the church door bursts open, letting in a swirling wind that one by one extinguishes the candles, while Matt pushes back my tangled hair and lowers his lips to his bride’s. Seeing her face for the first time, a silent scream comes from me.
Sitting up in bed, my heart is pounding, my skin damp with sweat, the vision of my dream still horribly vivid, of the woman wearing my dress, of Matt kissing her, saying his vows to her, the scent of incense and mustiness from the church. Desperately trying to calm myself. It’s a dream, Amy. It isn’t real. But as my heart rate slows, the memory of PC Page’s visit comes back, and the reality of Matt’s betrayal hits me again, knocking the breath out of me.
While I watch the earliest light break the darkness, I think about how my life has become so far removed from what I thought it was. My future with Matt, our plans, all of them meaningless, our relationship a charade, while a churning desire to find this other woman fills me. I need to know her name, the colour of her hair, what she does, where she lives. But most of all, I need her to know what she’s done to me.
*
After a string of cold, clear days, the weather changes suddenly, dense fog suspending the landscape in a half-light. Not bothering with a shower or make-up, I pull on yesterday’s jeans and an oversized jumper, slipping on my boots before going outside.
The air is clammy, claustrophobic, my vision restricted to a few feet in front of me. There are orders I need to begin prepping, work that each day I’m getting more behind with, but I can’t face it. Nor do I want to talk to anyone, replying to Jess’s WhatsApp with the briefest of messages, letting even Cath’s calls go to voicemail. In the end, I give up, making my way back to the house through the same fog that doesn’t seem to have lifted even slightly.
I haven’t been inside long when there’s a knock on the front door. When I open it, PC Page is there. ‘May I come in?’
Nervous all of a sudden, I nod. Coming in, she closes the door behind her. ‘What is it?’ I ask, staring at her.
She stands there. ‘Could we sit down for a minute?’
‘Of course.’ My face flaming hot, I lead her through to the kitchen, clearing part of the kitchen table as I gesture to her to sit down.
‘I won’t keep you long. I just have one or two questions.’ She hesitates. ‘The