The Last Wife

THE LAST WIFE J. A. BAKER Faith is the bird that feels the light when the dawn is still dark. RABINDRANATH TAGORE To Anita and Valerie. Here’s to the future, ladies. Onwards and upwards. CONTENTS Prologue Part I 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 Part II 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 Acknowledgments More from J. A. Baker About the Author The Murder List About Boldwood Books PROLOGUE With hindsight, I should have gone with that inescapable gut instinct that gnawed at me on the journey there, the one that I duly ignored, pushing it away every time it reared its head. I should have persuaded Neil we had made a grave error of judgement and persuaded him to stay on the ferry for the return journey back home. So many things we should have done but didn’t. So many things I shouldn’t have done but did. There were too many words unsaid between us, too few conversations. And definitely too many ill-thought-out actions. We should have turned around and gone back home, that was the thing. Not that we had a home to go back to, having sold it, our possessions shipped out four weeks prior after being put into storage for a month. But we didn’t turn around because I didn’t say or do anything. Instead, I just stood there, mute, fingers clasped around the metal railings, hands numb from the cold, and ignored that small, still voice in my head, the one that continually told me something was amiss with this whole venture, that something was about to go horribly wrong. Sometimes it’s easier, isn’t it? To ignore the subtle signs, to quell those nuanced voices inside your head and be carried along with the original planned agenda. Having to endure the upheaval of suddenly refusing to align to a prearranged schedule takes courage. Nobody likes upsetting the apple cart, least of all me. I was also feeling weak, shattered actually. I didn’t have it in me to tell Neil that I’d changed my mind, that we were making a big mistake. I had no reasons to give, no tangible evidence to present to him. Just that low rumbling of discontent that swirled about in my gut making me feel queasy and out of kilter. And yet, despite my misgivings, despite the turmoil that whirled in my head, I had to admit that it looked so beautiful that night as we sailed towards our new home: the dark water, the rugged PART I 1 ‘Christ, it’s so cold here. What happened to the summer?’ Neil stared up at the sky, shoulders hunched, eyes narrowed against the strong north-easterly breeze that lapped around our faces. It was freezing; there was no denying it. I wondered if Neil was also having second thoughts, voicing his innermost doubts to me, skirting as we always did around the edges of the problem without saying what we actually meant. Perhaps I should have taken more notice, seized the opportunity to tell him how I was feeling, reassured him that to be reticent and frightened was okay, that it wasn’t a sign of weakness and that I was feeling it too. ‘It’s not so bad,’ I replied, trying to mask my own fears and angst, thinking that living on an island out in the middle of the North Sea was probably going to test the pair of us both physically and mentally. I knew then that speaking openly about what was burrowing deep within my brain wouldn’t work at that point. It had been my idea, moving here. I had seen the cottage for sale online and was immediately attracted to it, the longing to escape from events of late pushing me on, giving me the impetus to run away from everything I knew and loved. I wanted to draw a line under it all, start afresh. I wasn’t running away. I was simply starting again. That’s what I told myself. Everyone deserves a second chance, don’t they? Even me. Especially me. And yet as we stood there discussing the weather, wondering where the late-summer heat had gone to, something in the pit of my stomach continued to flap about whenever I thought about what we were doing. What we were about to take on. I squashed down those feelings, told myself that everything was too far down the line to make any major changes. I needed this new venture, was unable to go back to my old life, to face my family and friends after what I had done. Putting some distance between