The Millionaire's Wife Read online

  Fin’s place wasn’t far from Sian’s, and it had stopped raining, thank God. Even so, it was a dank, grey morning, the sky dark and heavy, the pavement wet and dirty. I still couldn’t get used to calling the shed our place. I was hoping another living solution would come along soon. Maybe we could save up and get another flat. Or maybe – like I’d mentioned to Fin yesterday – the fact we were having a baby would mean that the council would help us out until we got on our feet again. I didn’t like the idea of benefits any more than Fin, but if we had no choice, then we should at least consider it.

  At last, I reached Fin’s dad’s place, and with an equal measure of fear and anticipation, I pushed open the gate and walked around the house. Before I’d got halfway down the garden path, the shed door opened and Fin stood there in the doorframe, dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, his hair messed up, his face pale.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  ‘Me too,’ I replied, falling into his arms, squeezing him tight, so relieved we weren’t mad at one another any longer. I pressed my face into his neck, breathing in his scent. ‘I shouldn’t have stormed off.’

  ‘Where were you all night?’ He detangled himself from my arms and frowned at me. ‘I was so worried. You never answered my calls.’

  ‘I’m sorry. My phone was on mute. I was upset. I went to Sian’s.’

  He stepped back, his face darkening. ‘Sian’s? You told Sian our private business?’

  ‘No. No of course not.’ I couldn’t let him know the truth – that I’d told Sian everything. He wouldn’t understand.

  ‘So what did you tell her?’

  ‘I just said we’d had an argument, and that we needed some space.’

  Fin shook his head. ‘I wish you hadn’t done that. It makes me look bad.’

  ‘No it doesn’t.’ I followed him inside and closed the door behind us. ‘All couples argue. It’s normal.’

  ‘But I don’t want us to be like “all couples”. We’re better than that. What we’ve got is amazing. We shouldn’t argue. Ever.’

  I laughed, but his face was serious.

  ‘I mean it,’ he said. ‘And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I was freaked out, but it’s not your fault. Am I forgiven?’ He sat on the bed, his hands clenched, his right foot jiggling up and down.

  I sat next to him, my heart filling with relief. ‘Of course. Of course I forgive you. But there’s nothing to forgive. Yesterday, oh God, we were both in shock. We said things and did things we didn’t mean. And . . . I love you, Fin, okay?’

  ‘I love you, too, Anna.’ He smiled. ‘More than anything. Which is why this decision to have an abortion is so hard – on both of us.’

  ‘What?’ My skin went cold. Did I understand him correctly? ‘You still want me to–’

  ‘There’s nothing more I want than to have a family with you. The thought of having a child that’s part you and part me, I can’t think of anything better. But, not right now. You know this. You know we’re not in any position to–’

  ‘You want me to get rid of our child? But you apologised. I thought you had–’

  ‘I’ve been thinking hard about it. All night.’ He took hold of my arms, turning me towards him, his eyes boring into mine. ‘We’ve wasted too much time already. Look, Anna, I’ve had an idea.’ His hands gripped me tighter.

  ‘Idea?’ My brain whirred, the room began to spin. ‘I hope it’s nothing like your last idea, Fin. I’m not going to be an escort, so you can just forget about that.’

  ‘Of course not. I was never serious about that.’

  It was good to hear him say it, but I’d thought about it afterwards, and a part of me had wondered if he had indeed been serious. A stab of fear crept into my gut. ‘Please, Fin, can you let go of my arms?’ His grip had intensified. He was holding onto me too tight.

  ‘Listen to me,’ he said, giving me a sharp shake. ‘A baby will ruin everything.’

  ‘No it won’t!’

  ‘Just listen,’ he cried. ‘Listen to my idea . . . Time’s running out for us. We’re already at rock bottom. Already having arguments. We can’t afford to wait.’

  ‘Fin! You’re hurting me!’

  Finally, he let go. ‘Sorry, sorry,’ he muttered, but his face had a faraway look.

  ‘What idea are you on about?’ I asked, rubbing at the sore spots on my arms and hoping his idea would include our child.

  ‘What if we had to split up for a while?’ he asked. ‘Would you do that?’

  My heart twisted. Moments ago, I’d been so happy that Fin had apologised. But was this just his way of letting me down gently? My gaze shifted from his face to our confined surroundings, the stale air damp and cloying. I realised I might be breathing it all in for the last time. Turning back to face him, I felt tears on my cheeks, already mourning the loss of him. ‘Are you breaking up with me?’

  ‘No,’ Fin replied. ‘I would never break up with you. I want to be with you forever, Anna. I want to raise kids with you, grow old with you. I promise.’

  I exhaled with relief. ‘So why did you say we had to–’

  ‘I’m not talking about splitting up permanently,’ he explained. ‘Just for a while.’

  ‘For how long? Why?’

  ‘It would have to be for at least a year. Maybe two.’

  My mouth fell open. ‘You are breaking up with me. No one splits up for a year or more on purpose. Just tell me the truth, Fin.’

  ‘I promise you, I am telling the truth. I just . . . God, this is hard to explain. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.’

  ‘Fin. Just say whatever it is you have to say.’

  ‘Okay.’ He rose to his feet and went and stood over by the window. Then he turned to face me. His eyes gleamed and his skin had taken on an unnatural sheen. ‘Like I said, I have this idea. I’ll just come out with it. Tell it to you straight. What if . . . what if we split up . . . temporarily? You find a mega-rich boyfriend and I’ll find a mega-rich girlfriend, we marry them, then, a year or two later, we get rid of them, have their money, and then you and I get back together again?’

  ‘This is a joke, right?’ My whole body froze for a moment, my brain trying to absorb what he was saying.

  ‘I’m not joking. No.’

  I looked into his face for any hint of humour. For a sign that he was winding me up. But all I saw was wild-eyed excitement, his teeth grinding together, his fingers scratching at an angry red patch on the back of his hand.

  ‘Fin, listen to me.’ I stood up, took a step towards him. ‘We can’t do that. It’s isn’t . . . it’s not. . .’ I searched for the right word, ‘. . . moral.’

  ‘Fuck morals,’ he retorted. ‘We’ll make sure they’re not nice people. We’ll be like Robin Hood – taking from the rich to give to the poor. Come on, you’ve got to admit it’s a good idea, and it could really work.’

  ‘So, let me get this straight. You want us to marry rich people, divorce them, and then get half their money?’

  ‘Not quite,’ he replied. ‘We wouldn’t want the hassle of divorce. So, we marry them, pretend we’re totally in love, then they each have an “accident”. A few months later, you and I hook up again and console one another about the deaths of our spouses.’

  ‘Fin?’ I stared at him for any hint that he might be joking. But I found none. The look on his face was grim and determined. Desperate. ‘Are you serious?’ The realisation of what he was actually suggesting made my skin go cold. ‘You’re not serious. You can’t be.’

  ‘I am serious, Anna. It’s a bloody good idea. I know it’ll work.’

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My heart battered my ribcage and for the first time in our relationship, I felt something close to terror. ‘I . . . I think I better go.’ I turned away from him with shaking limbs.

  ‘Wait!’

  I stopped and turned back, hoping he was going to tell me to forget what he had just said. That he was talking rubbish.

  ‘Think about i
t, Anna,’ he said, his eyes glittering. ‘Just think about how our lives could be.’

  If Fin thought his idea was even remotely okay, then he wasn’t the person I thought he was. We’d been together since we were fifteen. He was my first and only love. We’d been through so much together. I thought I knew him. Sure he was a little rebellious, a little “out there”. But murder?

  ‘Those other ideas we came up with,’ he said, ‘they were okay, but they weren’t ideal. They were too half-hearted. This is so much better. You have to admit that.’ He hadn’t noticed my horror. He wasn’t thinking about me or our baby. ‘It’ll take a bit of time to set up and a lot of commitment.’ His eyes stared off into the distance for a moment as he imagined his perfect plan. ‘We’ll each have to find someone,’ he continued, his eyes focusing on me once more. ‘But it’ll be easy for you. Then, once you’ve been married a year or so, you’ll have to find a way to get rid of him. For good.’

  I couldn’t lie to myself any longer. This wasn’t a harmless fantasy of his. Fin was deadly serious.

  ‘Don’t cry,’ he said.

  I put my fingertips to my face and found my cheeks wet with tears.

  ‘It won’t be forever,’ he said. ‘Two years apart at most. Probably less. But it’ll be worth it. And then we can have as many children as you like – four, five, six . . . more. And we can bring them up in our huge house, far away from here, with no more money worries. We’ll never have to work, or have to answer to crappy bosses again.’

  I let his torrent of words fade out of my consciousness. He was like a child wishing for Christmas. When had he become so deluded? How had I not seen it? Maybe I’d chosen not to see it. The signs had been there for months, but I had clung onto my childish image of him. This perfect god. I snapped myself out of my daze and rose to my feet, thinking about what to take with me. I would need some clothes, my passport . . .

  Words left my lips, but I could barely comprehend what I was saying. ‘I don’t want to hear any more about your plan. We’re finished, Fin. I’m sorry. This is it. We’re over.’

  ‘Okay,’ he stood up and nodded. I hadn’t expected him to take my rejection so calmly. But then: ‘Yeah, you’re right. We have to act like it’s completely over. Like this is the end of us. And then, once we’ve both done our part–’

  ‘No. Fin, you’re not understanding me. Once I leave here, I’m not coming back. Ever.’

  ‘Anna.’ He smiled. ‘I know what you’re doing, but there’s no one else listening. You don’t have to pretend. Not yet. Let’s say two years from now, we’ll meet up again. After it’s done.’

  Shit. He didn’t get it. He wasn’t hearing me. There was something really wrong with him. Something broken inside. My breathing quickened. I needed to get away from here, but would he hurt me if I tried to leave? This place was sucking the air from my lungs, squeezing the energy from my body. I’d been trapped in this poisonous cycle for far too long. Part of me still loved him – the carefree, blond-haired surfer who everyone adored. But the real Fin was more complicated. Darker. Suffocating. Only, I hadn’t wanted to see the truth. I needed to break free before he broke me.

  I kissed his cheek and put a fist to my heart. ‘Bye, Fin.’

  His face still had that excited, faraway look. The one I’d come to dread because it meant he was thinking up more outlandish plans for our future. Well, he’d just have to make plans without me. I was leaving him for good, and I wasn’t coming back.

  ‘I’ll get in touch once it’s done,’ he said. ‘You’ll need to start planning, Anna. You need to do what we discussed. Go to the doctor, make an appointment for an abortion. Then find a rich guy. And remember, we mustn’t have any contact while it’s going on.’

  ‘No. Stop talking like that. You’re not doing anything to anyone, okay.’ I stared at him, willing him to understand that we were over. ‘Listen to me, this is not happening. I’m leaving you now. This is not part of any plan, we’re finished for good, okay?’

  But he carried on speaking. In the end, I gave up. I gathered together my meagre belongings and packed them into the holdall my parents had given me, not bothering to fold my clothes, but stuffing things in as quickly as I could. It was as though I was falling off the edge of a cliff in slow motion, freefalling, grasping out for a safety rope that wasn’t there. Tears still rolled down my cheeks, and a hollowness settled in my stomach, which was ironic as my stomach was anything but hollow, it was full of a life that wasn’t going to get the chance to be.

  ‘See you in two years, Anna. I love you.’

  I shook my head. ‘I’m not doing it Fin.’ I turned to look at him one last time, to try and get him to listen. ‘Fin, you need help. I’m going now, but will you go and see a doctor? Talk to them about how you’re feeling?’

  ‘I don’t need a doctor. Just see the plan through and it’ll all be good.’

  I repressed a shudder and walked out, desperate to be away from him now. That person in there, that wasn’t the Fin I knew.

  As I walked out of the shed and across the rain-soaked path, I realised I had nowhere to go. Why hadn’t I brought Sian’s spare key with me this morning? Never mind. It probably wasn’t fair to lay all this at her door. Instead, I decided that the time had probably come to go home. To put all this behind me and return to Sweden. I would text Sian, tell her Fin and I had split. Then I would call up my parents and ask them to book me a flight. They would help me out in a heartbeat. Maybe I’d be able to leave today.

  At that moment, more than anything, I wanted to see my parents again. To fold myself into Pappa’s arms and hear Mamma’s no-nonsense advice and comfort. I didn’t even care that she would say I told you so. I welcomed those words. All I knew was that I had to get out of here. Away from Fin and his insane ideas.

  Chapter Sixteen

  2017

  I’ve done nothing since I met up with Fin at the garden centre. I have no plan. I have no idea what to do for the best. Fin gave me one month, and that month is almost up. In fact, I only have one day left.

  Right now, Will is upstairs in the shower, and I’m sitting on the kitchen sofa, waiting for him. We’re eating out at Blackwell’s tonight with Sian and Remy. As I wait, I wrack my brains to come up with some way of getting Fin off my back, of convincing him to leave me alone. But since all this started up my brain has been looping around in circles, never able to settle on a way out. I drain my glass of Chardonnay and set the glass down on the side table with trembling fingers. I pick up the embroidered cushion lying by my side and hug it to my chest.

  Problem is, Fin is not a rational person. I know the best thing to do would be to contact the police and tell them everything. Show them the texts and hope they believe I’m telling the truth. But Fin can be extremely convincing. He could make them believe I’m complicit. And the fact I married a rich man doesn’t do me any favours. I could probably cope with the police finding me guilty, but the thought of Will thinking that I never loved him, that I married him for his money, that I would want to harm him in any way . . . I couldn’t bear it.

  Whichever way I look at things, I’m trapped in a no-win situation. If I tell the police, I risk losing everything. If I do nothing, Fin says he will do it himself. I shiver. If only Will and I could disappear. Run away somewhere where no one can find us. I only have one day left before Fin acts. Why can’t I come up with a way out? I’m not stupid. I can work something out. Can’t I? But I’m fooling myself. I have no plan. I gaze down at the cushion in my lap and see that I’ve managed to unpick one corner of the beautiful embroidery, the strands now frayed and ugly. I’ve ruined it.

  ‘Can’t believe you’re ready before me.’ Will comes into the room dressed in a suit, his dark hair still damp, the scent of his aftershave so comforting and familiar it makes me want to cry.

  ‘I was ready ages ago,’ I say, rising to my feet. I’ve been too preoccupied to spend hours on my hair, nails and make-up, on deciding what to wear. Instead, I threw on a black dress, boo
ts, a silver necklace, and tied my hair up in a high ponytail. Quick and easy. ‘Wait till I tell Sian I got ready in less than twenty minutes. She’ll never believe me.’ It’s a standing joke that we’re late for everything due to the fact I always take so long to get ready. Will has given up trying to make me go any faster – he’s even started telling me we’re due places an hour earlier than we really are. That way, we have a chance of getting there before the thing ends.

  Will is shaking his head, laughing, and I join in. I marvel over the fact I can laugh and joke when underneath I feel as though my world is dissolving. Over the past few weeks, my whole life has become an act. Beneath every conversation lies an undercurrent of dread. I’ve been forcing myself to be light hearted, to make jokes, to laugh and be as loving a wife as I can possibly be. I can’t risk Will asking me what’s wrong. Because, if he asks the question, I may just tell him the answer.

  ‘I’ll drive if you like,’ Will says. ‘We can always get a taxi back.’

  ‘Okay, thanks.’ I’m glad he offered. I don’t think I’d be able to keep my mind on the road.

  I grab my red wool coat and a patterned scarf, pat my hair and we step outside into the damp and chilly February evening.

  ~

  We arrive almost on time and find a parking space close to the bistro. It’s started sleeting again and we run along the pavement hand in hand, before breathlessly pushing open the door to Blackwell’s.

  ‘Didn’t you bring an umbrella?’ Will’s dad holds the door open as we stumble into the warm, dry restaurant, its familiar smells of garlic and burnt sugar making my appetite reappear for the first time in weeks.

  ‘It wasn’t raining when we left,’ Will replies.