Page 66 of The Wife
Toby stares down at me with pity in his eyes. He’s chewing his bottom lip. His teeth white against the pink flesh. It all looks wrong. Everything feels so weird and wrong.
‘I’m sorry,’ he finally says. ‘I really am.’
There’s a lump in my throat, and a bright, jagged pain has wrapped itself around my heart. I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this. It’s too much. It’s too awful.
‘Why don’t you get into bed?’ Toby says softly. ‘I’ll get you those headache pills.’
‘How can I get into bed?’ I cry. ‘How will I ever be able to sleep after what you told me? This is a nightmare. An absolute living nightmare.’ I stare wildly around the room, hating the sight of it. Suddenly realising that this is where it happened. ‘It was in here! This is where she died, wasn’t it?’
‘Shh, shh, Zoe. Keep your voice down. It’s okay. It was a long time ago. It’s over now. It’s finished. It was an accident.’ He gathers me into his arms as I try to hold back great wracking sobs.
‘We need to leave.’ I gulp out the words. ‘I want to go home.’
‘Tomorrow.’ He strokes my hair and kisses my tear-streaked face. ‘Right now, you need to get some sleep. You need to calm down before you make yourself ill. Shh, shh,’ he soothes. ‘It’s okay. It’ll be okay. Come on, let’s get you into bed.’ He carefully peels off my clothes and helps me get into the enormous bed, the hotel sheets crisp and cold. I shiver and lay my head on the pillows, too tired to think any more. I close my swollen, tear-filled eyes and let sleep claim me.
Twenty-Seven
NOW
Dina’s hands are snug around my neck and I claw at them, desperate to pry them free. I kick and flail at her body, but all the energy has drained from me and I can’t seem to move my limbs properly. My vocal chords are being squeezed so tightly that I’m unable to even cry out. Nothing I try is having any effect. I’m too close to her face to make out her features clearly, but her eyes are narrowed, and her mouth is twisted, her breath hot on my face. My vision keeps blurring and I swing between sheer terror and utter disbelief that this is it. That I’m powerless to escape. That I’m about to die. Surely something will happen to break her grip on my flesh. Surely someone will intervene to save me.
I wake with a wordless cry, still in the grip of my nightmare, gasping for breath with my hands at my throat. My body is bathed in sweat and my head thumps like a bass drum. My heart pounds as I remember my dream – I was being murdered by my sister. For a few moments I have no idea where I am. It’s dark. I’m lying in Toby’s arms, the heavy curtains blocking out all but a faint thread of light from a tiny gap where they don’t quite meet. And then it all comes flooding back to me. I’m at the hotel… my sister is dead… I killed her. Each realisation is a crushing blow to my chest. I clench my teeth and screw my eyes shut again.
Toby doesn’t stir as I extricate myself from his embrace. I sit up, trying to get my breathing under control. What’s going to happen now? I really want to get out of this hotel and go home. But the children are back at the house with Celia’s sister Vivian. And anyway, how will I be able to face my beautiful Alice and Jamie knowing that I’m a murderer? That I killed my sister. How will I be able to faceanyone? I still can’t believe I did it. Why didn’t I pull Dina away from Toby, rather than smashing a vase over her head? But she had a knife, maybe she would have used it onme. If only I could remember more than just Dina shouting at Toby. I concentrate on trying to recall anything else from that blank spot, but all I get for my trouble are shooting pains across my temple.
Toby is still sound asleep next to me. I’m glad. I could do with a few moments to myself to try to make sense of everything. I can’t deal with him waking up yet. I don’t want to talk to anyone. As I ease myself up, he stirs and mumbles. I freeze. But then he turns over and I’m able to make my escape, tiptoeing into the bathroom wearing just my underwear.
I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror. Last night’s make-up is patchy and streaked, highlighting the dark circles beneath my eyes. My hair is plastered against one side of my head and my fake eyelashes are squashed and misshapen. I peel them off and drop them on the side of the sink, then I step out of my underwear and into the large shower cubicle.
As the hot-water jets batter my body, I wish I could switch off my thoughts, but it’s impossible. Toby’s story comes back to me in pieces, and with each fragment, it feels as if I’m being re-made into a different person. A person I don’t recognise.
An image jumps into my brain. Of me crouched on the floor, staring down at Dina’s crumpled form. I turn her face towards mine and recoil when I see that her eyes are blank, staring at nothing. With a pull on my gut, I remember the shock. The horror. And, even more shocking and unexpected, the feeling of rage I felt towards her.Another memory.
As the water rushes over my skin, my whole body begins to shake uncontrollably. My poor, poor sister. I know she was a troubled soul, but she didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to die. I realise Toby was telling the truth. I hadn’t quite wanted to believe that my sister was dead. But there’s no disputing the sharpness of that flashback. I’m still shaking, my hands trembling and my knees soft as sponges.
What am I going to do? Is Toby right? Should we keep this a secret? I deserve to go to jail for what I did, but why should Toby and his family also be punished simply for looking out for me? And what would knowledge of my crime do to the children?
A knock on the shower door makes me jump. I turn to see Toby standing there in his boxers, his face and body blurred behind the steamed-up glass.
‘Zoe, you okay?’ His voice is muffled.
‘I’ll be out in a minute.’ My voice wobbles.
‘Can I jump in with you?’
‘Hang on, I won’t be long.’ I turn away from him and hope he understands that I want to be alone. Just a few moments more to try to compose myself. A few moments more until I have to go out and face reality, more questions and answers that I’d rather not deal with. But as I stand here quivering, with hot water streaming down my body, I’m overtaken by a rush of shame. I’m behaving like a child. This was somethingIcaused. It wasme.Mysister.Myfamily who dragged Toby and Nick into this. I need to step up and take some responsibility. I can’t blame Toby for simply telling me the truth. Even though he should have told me ten years ago. I can’t hide from what I’ve done.
I’ll give myself one more minute in here, and then I’ll dry off, get dressed and face whatever today holds. I can’t believe that I’ve spent the last decade thinking Dina didn’t want anything to do with me. That she’d cut herself off from her family, when in reality she was gone. I choke out an unexpected, violent sob. Tears mingle with shower water and my shoulders shudder. But I have to stay in control of my emotions – at least for now. There are too many other people to consider in all this for me to fall apart.
Before I can change my mind, I turn the shower dial to cold. The effect is almost instantaneous. Freezing jets shock me out of my crying jag. Gasping, I turn them off and stand dripping and shivering, but more awake and clearer-headed than seconds earlier.
I push away the image of Dina’s blank-eyed stare, step out of the cubicle, grab a thick grey bath towel from the radiator and wrap it around my goose-fleshed body. The towel is blissfully warm. I take another for my hair. My mouth is dry and sour. There’s a complimentary toiletry kit by the sink. I tear open the wrapper and fish out a bamboo toothbrush and mini-toothpaste tube. I brush my teeth badly and quickly; thankful the mirror is too steamed up to show my reflection again. Steeling myself with a deep breath and a squaring of my shoulders, I leave the bathroom.
Toby is sitting by the window drinking coffee, already dressed in jeans, a shirt and V-neck jumper. He must have decided to skip his shower. He glances up as I enter the room. He doesn’t quite smile but manages to give me a sympathetic look. ‘Snow,’ he says. The curtains are open. Through the window lies a world of white – the grounds, the sky, the branches of the trees, the ledges of the mullioned windows, all blanketed with thick snow. I briefly think of the kids, and how excited they’ll be to wake up to this. My stomach heaves.
‘What’s the time?’ I croak.
‘Almost nine.’
