The Wife: An unputdownable psychological thriller with a breathtaking twist Page 14

  I don’t normally have my phone while I’m with my clients, but I know Georgie won’t mind if I keep it with me just this once. I can’t afford to miss a call from the hotel. She agrees to keep the news to herself for now and I promise to call her as soon as I hear anything one way or the other.

  Forty-five minutes later, I wave goodbye to Georgie and her newly shining locks, and she says she’ll let me know if she hears anything more. I now have an hour and twenty minute lunch break, during which I’d originally planned to pick up some groceries for Vivian and the kids to have over the weekend. But I’ll have to leave that for now. It’s about a ten-minute jog home to get the car and then a fifteen-minute drive to the hotel. If I leave immediately, I can make it there and back with time to spare.

  I check my phone, but no one from the hotel has come back to me, so I slip off my ballet flats, tug on my boots, grab my coat and bag from the staffroom and head to the front door, catching Becky’s eye on my way out. She’s laughing with her client but must have noticed my anxious expression because she stops and raises an eyebrow in my direction. I mouth back that I’ll tell her later.

  ‘Zoe!’ I’m tempted to pretend I don’t hear Jennifer calling my name, but I can’t bring myself to do it, so I turn around, trying to appear calm. ‘One of Mark’s clients has popped in for a fringe trim. He’s out on his break so would you mind doing it before you leave for lunch?’

  I mentally grit my teeth and turn to Mark’s customer with a wide smile. She has a sharp blonde bob, and her fringe is almost over her eyes. ‘Of course. Come and sit down.’ I spend the next ten minutes trying my best to remain calm and friendly, and not hack into this woman’s fringe.

  Finally, it’s done, and she leaves, pressing a fiver into my hand on her way out. Jennifer nods her approval and I’m able to make my escape.

  Stepping outside onto the pavement, my breath hitches in my throat at the icy wind barrelling down the street, stinging my ears and making my eyes water. As I battle my way through freezing air and Christmas shoppers, I can’t help looking out for my sister. Although I mustn’t dawdle if I’m going to make it back in time for my next client. Why the hell did this health thing have to happen today of all days?

  I jog down Gold Hill, the impact from the cobblestones juddering up my legs. Finally, I reach my car, throw my bag onto the passenger seat and drive out to the hotel, trying not to speed, as I know the police are out in force at this time of year. Normally, I’d whack on the radio and sing along to some tunes, but right now I need to get my thoughts in order, so I opt for silence. I try to work out what I’m going to do if it turns out the restaurant is closed, and the party has to be cancelled. If Madeline and I weren’t going through this weird awkwardness, I’d ring to ask if she could throw some of her amazing canapés together. She’d do it, I know she would. But with the way things are between us, I doubt she’d even return my call.

  Eventually, I turn off the main road and onto the hotel’s long, winding driveway. I pull up outside the creeper-covered building, leave the car and jog up the front steps, worried I’m going to find the entrance doors locked. Thankfully, I’m able to push them open and I walk into the lobby, where an extravagant gold vase bursting with red-leaved stems and Christmassy flowers sits on a polished circular table. At the reception desk, an employee I don’t recognise stares at a computer screen. He looks up as I approach and gives a genuine smile. That’s what I love about this place – the staff are all so friendly.

  ‘Good afternoon. Can I help you?’

  ‘Is Vicky Trentwith in? I need to speak to her. It’s urgent.’

  ‘I’m afraid she’s in a meeting. Can I help at all?’

  ‘No. I need to speak to Vicky. I’m having my anniversary party here tomorrow evening.’

  ‘Oh, yes, you must be Mrs Johnson.’

  ‘Yes, I’m Zoe. Please can you let her know I need to speak to her urgently.’

  ‘She should be out in half an hour or so. If you go through to the brasserie, I’ll get someone to bring you a drink while you wait.’

  ‘Coffee? Are you serving food as well?’

  ‘I… uh.’ His face flushes and he seems a little lost for words. This doesn’t bode well.

  ‘Mrs Johnson.’ I turn at the sound of a woman’s voice. ‘I thought I saw you pull up outside.’

  ‘Vicky, thank goodness. I really need to talk to you.’

  Dressed in a tailored pale-grey suit, Vicky, the hotel’s general manager, is about five years older than me, tall and slim, with a sleek conker-brown ponytail. She gives me a bemused look. ‘Nothing wrong, I hope.’

  ‘Well’ – I decide to launch straight into it, I’m on a tight schedule here – ‘I’ve just heard a rather worrying rumour about the environmental health department, and I need to talk to you about it.’

  Her eyes widen and she ushers me past the reception desk into the back office, where a couple of staff sit at desks and glance up as we walk through. It feels a little strange to be in an area obviously not meant for customers’ eyes.

  ‘Sorry to bring you back here,’ Vicky says in a low voice, ‘but we all get a bit twitchy when that particular department’s name is spoken aloud.’

  ‘I’m sure. So is it true?’

  ‘Come through to my office.’ She ushers me through into another functional room with a bookshelf, a desk and a view out onto a deserted courtyard. ‘Would you like a drink?’

  ‘No, I’m here on my lunch break. I don’t have long. Didn’t you get my voicemails or my text?’

  ‘Sorry, no, I’ve been in meetings all morning.’ She smooths her jacket, sits in front of the desk, rather than behind it, and gestures to me to take a seat next to her.

  ‘So, what’s going on?’ I sit, getting a bad feeling. She’s definitely looking a bit shifty. I think about the nightmare of having to call everyone to cancel tomorrow’s party. To explain what’s happened. I suddenly feel like crying with disappointment and exhaustion.

  Vicky blows air out through even white teeth. ‘Look, there’s nothing to worry about, Mrs Johnson.’

  ‘So you didn’t have a visit from environmental health then?’

  She tilts her head from side to side. ‘We-ll. We did—’

  ‘What?!’

  ‘But it’s fine.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  She pauses. ‘Because there was no point in upsetting you for nothing.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  I give her a look.

  ‘They did a spot check yesterday evening. Found that everything was in order. And then they left.’

  I hardly dare hope that that’s the full extent of it. That my overactive imagination can now stop conjuring up images of salmonella-ravaged guests and scurrying rats.

  ‘And that’s it?’

  ‘Pretty much.’

  ‘So they just showed up out of the blue? Is that normal?’

  Vicky crosses her legs. ‘Can I ask where you heard about this?’

  I realise that Georgie’s brother-in-law could probably get in trouble for blabbing about it. ‘One of my colleague’s clients mentioned it.’

  She frowns and purses her lips. ‘Do you know their name?’

  I shrug and wince at my lie. ‘Sorry, no.’

  Vicky squares her shoulders. ‘Sorry you had to hear about it like that. But it wasn’t common knowledge and I’m obviously not over the moon that people are talking about it. But please don’t worry about tomorrow evening. Everything will be perfect for you and your husband.’

  ‘I’m just relieved that you’re not being shut down.’

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘Is it normal for the environmental health department to just show up like that?’ I ask again, as she didn’t answer me the last time.

  ‘It’s not normal, no. I mean, it happens. But it’s not a regular event. It can sometimes happen if someone complains about something, or it could just be a random spot check.’

&n
bsp; ‘So someone could have called them and reported you?’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose they could have. But it’s unlikely.’

  My body tenses up and I clasp my hands in my lap, trying not to let my imagination take over again.

  ‘Are you okay, Mrs Johnson?’

  ‘Uh, yes. Fine, thanks.’ I make an effort to relax my shoulders. ‘And please call me Zoe.’

  ‘Of course… Zoe. Would you like to stay for a complimentary lunch while you’re here?’

  I check my watch. ‘Thanks, but no. I’d better get back to work.’

  ‘Okay, well, if you’re sure. And, like I said, please don’t worry. Tomorrow’s party will be wonderful.’ She gets to her feet and I do the same before following her back out into the hotel lobby where a well-groomed family are checking in, their matching luggage being wheeled in on a trolley by one of the young porters.

  Vicky and I say goodbye and she hurries off. My earlier adrenaline has ebbed away, leaving me tired and hungry. I’m irritated that I’ve had to come on this wild goose chase for nothing, that I’ve wasted my precious time, and now I’m going to have to scramble even more to get everything done before the party.

  I march back out to the car, wishing I’d asked Vicky for a sandwich to eat on the way back. I open my handbag and find a couple of Polo mints in their wrapper. They’ll have to do. I pop one in my mouth, slide into the car and head back to work, thinking about who might have reported the hotel to the health department. Could it have been a random spot check, like Vicky thought, or might someone have had a more specific reason in mind? A rival hotel? A dissatisfied customer? Or something else entirely?

  I can’t believe this is a coincidence, not with all the other stuff going on. I don’t want to be paranoid, but after what happened with Cassie, I wouldn’t put it past her to try to sabotage my anniversary party. This has got her name written all over it. The one person I’m praying has nothing to do with this is Dina. I know we’re not exactly on the best of terms, but surely she wouldn’t be so malicious as to try to ruin something that means so much to me. Not my own sister.

  Twenty

  THEN

  With my hand on my not-quite bump, I pace the small kitchen, wondering what I should do about Dina possibly being back in the UK. Calling the police would be the sensible option, wouldn’t it? But maybe that’s an over-reaction.

  I don’t want to tell Dad my discovery. Not yet anyway. There’s no point alarming him. But who am I kidding? Dad doesn’t get fazed by anything. I’m more worried by the likelihood he wouldn’t be alarmed. That he would give his usual shrug of the shoulders and say Dina will contact us when she’s ready. It would seem that I’m the only one who actually gives a damn. And I’m not even sure why.

  She left the UK almost ten years ago and hasn’t once been back for a visit. Sure, she keeps in touch sporadically via text and the occasional email. But the sad thing is, she usually only contacts me or Dad when she needs something. I try not to dwell on that. If she really is back in England, then surely it’s an opportunity for us to reconnect. To make amends for past hurts. But I know I’m kidding myself. If Dina is back and hasn’t got in touch, then she’s even more selfish than I thought. After the last time we spoke, I felt like I never wanted to talk to her again. But she’s still my sister. I need to know one way or another, partly for Dina’s sake, but mainly for my own peace of mind.

  I stop pacing and sit at the table, annoyed by the tears of self-pity and anger that are threatening to fall. I sniff loudly and snatch up my phone again, this time calling the one person I trust to know what to do.

  ‘Hi, Zo.’

  ‘Toby, are you busy?’

  ‘We’re laying a patio over in Fontmell Magna.’

  ‘Oh, okay, don’t worry. I’ll speak to you later.’

  ‘What is it?’

  I will myself to sound calm. ‘Nothing. I was just seeing if you were free to come home for lunch, but—’

  ‘Hang on a sec…’

  ‘Toby…’ But he’s not listening. I hear muffled voices down the line, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.

  ‘Zo?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m still here.’

  ‘I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Can you make me a sandwich?’

  ‘You don’t have to.’

  ‘I want to.’

  ‘What about the patio?’

  ‘Dad and Nick can manage for a bit. We were off to the pub for lunch anyway.’

  ‘Okay, see you soon.’

  I feel instantly better now that I know Toby’s on his way back. He’ll know what to do. And even if he doesn’t, it will help to have someone to talk to about things. He already knows how shaky things have been in the past between me and Dina. Okay, so he doesn’t know everything. But that doesn’t matter.

  I busy myself making us both a cheese salad sandwich until finally I hear his key in the lock.

  ‘Hey!’ he calls out.

  ‘Hey, in here,’ I reply.

  Toby comes through to the kitchen, rubbing his hands together, bringing with him the fresh scents of damp earth and cold air. ‘You okay? That sarnie looks amazing. I’m starving.’ He gives me a lingering kiss followed by a hug.

  ‘I’m really glad you’re here, Tobes. Sit down. Do you want tea?’

  ‘Please, that would be great. You all right? You sounded wobbly on the phone.’

  ‘It’s Dina. But it’s probably nothing.’

  Toby washes his hands at the kitchen sink. ‘Oh yeah? What’s happened?’ He sits at the table, picks up half his sandwich and takes a huge bite.

  ‘Her phone number doesn’t work anymore. It says it’s not in service.’

  ‘So maybe she lost it. Or got a new one.’

  ‘But now I have no way of getting in touch with her.’

  ‘I’m sure she’ll let you know her new number once she gets one.’

  I set my husband’s mug of tea in front of him and take a seat opposite.

  ‘Are you really that worried about it?’ he continues.

  I pick at the corner of my sandwich, breaking off a piece of crust and squashing it between my thumb and forefinger.

  ‘Zoe?’

  ‘I’m just… I was over at Dad’s this morning, telling him about the baby, and he didn’t even seem that bothered.’

  ‘You know what your dad’s like. He’s low-key. He doesn’t make a song and dance about anything.’

  ‘I know, but it’s such a let-down. It makes me think about what things would have been like if Mum hadn’t died.’

  ‘Hey, hey…’ Toby comes around to where I’m sitting and pulls me up into his arms, strokes my hair and kisses my forehead. ‘I can’t imagine what that must feel like for you, but your dad still loves you, even if he doesn’t always show it. And your mum would’ve been incredibly proud of you.’

  ‘I wish she’d got to meet you.’

  ‘I know. Me too.’

  ‘Maybe if she hadn’t died, Dina and I would have had a better relationship. Or any kind of relationship. She’s like a stranger to me. I mean, what kind of sister doesn’t care about becoming an aunt? She doesn’t want anything to do with me! I tried to take care of her after Mum died. Tried to be a mother to her, I suppose. But she just kept pushing me away. Got annoyed with me whenever I tried to look out for her. What was I supposed to do? Just leave her to get on with things herself? She was only eleven.’

  ‘Yes, but you were just a kid too. It wasn’t your responsibility. It was your dad’s. Stop beating yourself up about it. Right now, she’s probably just off enjoying herself and has completely forgotten that you’re over here worrying about her.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Definitely.’

  I extricate myself from his embrace and sit back down. ‘Sorry for being on such a downer. It must be the pregnancy hormones. Finish your lunch.’

  Toby takes his seat again.

  ‘The thing is, I rang the hostel where she was staying, and they said that she lef
t Thailand last year.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yeah, they said that she came back to the UK months ago.’

  Toby takes another mouthful of sandwich. ‘Well we know that’s not true, because she was still in Thailand when we got married. Didn’t she say that she couldn’t come to the wedding because—’

  ‘Because she was still in Thailand. Yeah, I know. But what if she was lying?’

  ‘Why would she do that?’

  ‘I dunno. Maybe because she didn’t want to come. Because she resents me for some reason.’

  ‘Look, Zoe, I don’t know what’s happened with your sister. Maybe she’s lost her phone, or maybe she’s gone off the radar on purpose because she’s got issues. But whatever it is, it’s not your fault, and there’s nothing you can do about it. She’s a grown woman. You can’t let her selfishness ruin your happiness.’

  I hear what he’s saying, but Toby doesn’t know the truth of what went on. And I can’t tell him. ‘I was thinking about calling the police to see if they’re able to track her down.’

  ‘I mean, you could try. But I’m fairly sure that it would be almost impossible for them to trace someone who’s been living abroad for however many years it’s been.’

  ‘Almost ten.’ I blow air out of my mouth. ‘I can’t believe it’s been that long.’

  ‘Give it a few days. Maybe she’ll get in touch.’

  ‘Okay. You’re probably right.’