Page 77 of The Wife
After a while, Celia takes a breath. She looks at me and purses her lips. ‘You’ve probably realised by now that what I gave you wasn’t simply a sedative.’
I try to glare at her, but I can’t even do that. My eyes remain open, but I can’t move them at all – not to close them, or even blink. They’re dry and uncomfortable, unlike my mouth, which is now filling with saliva that’s dribbling down my chin.
‘It’s a shame it’s come to this, Zoe, but if you really are starting to get your memory back, then you haven’t left us with much of a choice.’ Celia tilts her head as though commiserating with me.
Malcolm is removing a pack of blue silicone gloves from his bag, similar to the pair that Celia is wearing. He opens the plastic packaging and pulls them on one finger at a time. The sight of them makes me want to cry with fear.
‘I’ve enjoyed having you as a daughter-in-law,’ she continues, ‘and you’ve given us two beautiful grandchildren. So for that, we’re grateful. But right now, I have to consider the safety and wellbeing of my sons.’
Celia gets to her feet.
‘I gave you some sleeping tablets earlier to keep you in your room, which is why you’ve been feeling so woozy. And I think they might have brought on a bit of a panic attack. I’ve also injected you with a neuromuscular blocking agent,’ she explains impassively. ‘Right now, it’s in the process of paralysing your limbs and vocal chords. Unfortunately I’m not an anaesthetist so I may not have got the dosage exactly right. Naturally, I did my research, but it’s not the same as having done it on a live patient. Ordinarily, you’d have been intubated with oxygen to help you breathe, in case you have a reaction to it, but obviously that’s impossible here, so I’ve just had to make do and hope for the best. Sorry about that.’ She pauses. ‘Just be aware, there’s a chance you may stop breathing.’
If I could sob or beg for mercy, I’d be doing it right now. I’d be pleading and crying. Appealing to her conscience, even though I now realise she hasn’t got one.
While Celia’s talking, Malcolm extracts a blue nylon rope from his bag. I wonder if they’re going to use it to tie me to the chair. Although I don’t know why they would need to do that after Celia has already incapacitated me.
‘In any case,’ Celia continues, ‘I hope you don’t stop breathing before we’ve finished here, because it would rather spoil our plans. We’ve come up with a good solution to the problem of what to do with you.’ She pauses. ‘We’re going to have you commit suicide… because you couldn’t live with the guilt of having killed your sister.’
It takes me a moment to process her words.Suicide.I guessed they were planning something horrific, but to hear her spell it out so baldly turns my skin to ice. All the while, as she’s telling me these terrifying plans, the memories of what happened ten years ago keep hitting me like pieces of jagged shrapnel. Tearing chunks out of my heart.
Celia stands and takes the rope from Malcolm while he manoeuvres a dining chair into position next to me. She holds the rope in two hands, running her thumb back and forth along its surface, stroking it as she continues talking.
‘We’re using a blocking agent because if I’d simply tied you up, you’d have got rope burns and the authorities might have suspected foul play. But this way, unless they do a specific test during the post-mortem – which is highly unlikely – they’ll simply believe that it was a tragic suicide. The downside, of course, is that it probably doesn’t feel very pleasant for you, sitting there paralysed while all this is going on. But it won’t be for too much longer.’
Malcolm steps up onto the chair with a grunt, and I notice that he’s wearing clear plastic bags over his shoes. Celia hands him the rope and it’s then that I see it has a loop at one end –a noose.
The sight of it makes me feel faint, and I will myself to pass out so that I don’t have to live through the horror of them doing this to me. But although I’m light-headed, I remain stubbornly conscious. And it’s terrifying.
How has my world managed to change so much in the course of a day? Yesterday, I thought my sister was back in Shaftesbury, I was celebrating ten years of marriage to the man I loved, and I believed my in-laws were the wonderful family I had always longed for. Today, I’m processing the fact that my sister was murdered by my husband and has been dead for a decade, and the people I love the most are the ones who betrayed me, lied to me and are now about to kill me.
I’m unable to look up, so all I can see are Malcolm’s legs as he balances on the dining chair. I’m guessing he’s fixing the rope to one of the heavy wooden beams that run across the ceiling.
‘We’d better hope Guy doesn’t come back to check on her,’ he mutters.
‘You heard him before,’ Celia replies. ‘He said he’d see her tomorrow. Anyway, the man is so emotionally retarded he’s probably gone back to the bar to get drunk.’
‘But what if hedoescome back?’ Malcolm presses.
‘Then we’d better hurry up and get this done,’ Celia snaps. ‘We have to do this quickly anyway; the blocker only works for around six minutes and I really don’t want to have to give her another dose.’ She turns back to me. ‘Toby and the others think Malcolm and I have gone to our room for the evening. While I came here to keep an eye on you, Malcolm waited in for room service and rented a movie on demand, so everyone will think we’re spending the evening in our room. Which is where we’ll be heading right after we’ve finished up here.’
‘There we go.’ Malcolm sounds pleased with himself. ‘I think that’s the right height.’
Celia looks up. ‘I think you need to make it a bit longer. Zoe’s shorter than you. Otherwise it’s going to be tricky to get her up there.’ She scratches the side of her mouth with a gloved forefinger.
‘Hm, I think you’re right,’ he replies. ‘Maybe another couple of inches.’
Although my body is paralysed and my vocal chords are silent, inside I’m screaming. How can they discuss this so calmly, as though they’re talking about some innocuous DIY project? Neither of them seems remotely distressed by the fact they’re about to commit a murder.Mymurder.
Celia bends down a little to look me in the eye. She wipes some of the drool from my chin with the finger of her glove. ‘There was no need for Toby and Nick to know what we’re doing here. I’m not certain they’d approve. Toby does still love you and he’ll be quite upset that you decided to end things. But I’m sure you must realise that, as a parent, you’ll do anything to protect your children.’
‘Okay,’ Malcolm says. ‘I think that should do it.’
Celia gazes up at the ceiling critically. ‘Yes. Good.’ Malcolm huffs his way down off the chair as his wife resumes talking to me. I don’t know why she’s bothering. She’s about to kill me, so why take the time to explain all this? Maybe she finds it cathartic. Or maybe she’s proud of her plan and wants to show it off. Or perhaps she’s simply a sadistic bitch who wants to terrify me.
Regardless of her reasons, Celia’s monologue continues, ignorant of my silent, raging curses. ‘It was such a shame that Nick couldn’t handle the pressure – he’s always been less robust than his brother. The whole thing was making him physically ill. Nick was about to tell you the truth, so Toby had to do some quick thinking. But unfortunately Toby was silly enough to bring up the past, telling you an altered version of events – yes, Toby came and told me everything that happened last night. Poor boy was in quite a state. He could have told you any number of lies, but instead he had to mention Dina showing up. That’s probably what triggered your memories.’ She puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head. ‘Never mind. What’s done is done. Such a pity that my lovely Toby is going to become a widower. He’ll be quite devastated.’ She pauses. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he’s okay and that my grandchildren are well looked after, of course. In time, I’ll help him find a new mother for our angels.’
Icy anger is gradually replacing the wrenching terror in my gut. I’m hit by a raw animal need to attack this woman who’s decided to end my life to save her son’s skin. To ruin my children’s lives by taking away their mother. I don’t want Alice and Jamie to go through what I did. To experience that pain of losing a parent so young. If only I could move or speak right now. If only I could claw the smug smile from Celia’s face.
