The Millionaire's Wife Read online

  A crackle of branches made me turn my head. ‘Look, Fin.’ I pointed up ahead to our left. Through the trees came a couple of brown forest ponies. We stopped to watch them. They didn’t seem fazed by our presence, but simply walked on by, a few feet from where we stood. Seconds later, half a dozen more appeared through the trees following the same route as the previous two.

  Fin took a few steps back.

  ‘They won’t hurt you,’ I said.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I’ve seen them before. They’re not interested in us.’

  I didn’t think Fin believed me and he was happier once they’d disappeared into the forest behind us.

  As well as wild ponies, we came across a herd of cattle with shaggy red coats. This time we made sure to stand well back, mindful of the damage they could do with their long horns. We took arty photos on our phones of twisted tree trunks and frosted spider webs. Fin insisted on taking photos of me, but wouldn’t let me photograph him in return, so I had to take stealthy pictures while his attention was elsewhere. We laughed and kissed and it was as though we were in this perfect bubble of happiness. Neither of us spoke about everyday things, just content to be in the moment.

  ‘I’m getting hungry,’ Fin finally said, yawning. ‘Shall we eat?’

  I nodded, my stomach grumbling in agreement. We’d brought homemade cheese-salad sandwiches and a flask of tea which Fin carried in a small backpack.

  ‘Let’s sit over there.’ Fin pointed to a fallen tree in a clearing away from the track, its muddy roots exposed. He led me by the hand and we perched halfway along the trunk. He passed me my sandwich and we sat in silence, enjoying the tranquillity of our surroundings. The air was still with just the odd bird call and occasional rustling from a creature in the undergrowth. ‘God, I could eat that again,’ Fin said, popping the last piece of food into his mouth.’

  ‘Here, have the rest of mine.’ I passed him the other half of my sandwich.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Mm, I’ve had enough.’ Truth was, I could have eaten it, but I’d rather give it to Fin if he was still hungry.

  ‘Thanks. What’s the time, anyway?’

  I took my phone out of my pocket. ‘Wow, it’s two o’clock already. We should head back.’

  ‘Let’s have some tea first. Warm us up a bit.’

  I watched him as he finished off my sandwich, his square jaw moving, dirty-blond hair falling over one eye. I wanted to kiss him again, but felt weirdly shy for some reason. He was the one who usually initiated everything.

  Ten minutes later, we packed our lunch things away and I took a couple of steps towards the path, turning to see what was keeping Fin.

  ‘You’re going the wrong way,’ he said, standing by the fallen tree.

  ‘No, the car park’s this way,’ I replied. I wasn’t in any doubt. I knew because I could see the wood ant nest we passed earlier. It had been built next to a tree stump. And Dad always told us that they build their nests with the shallower slope at the front, facing south. I knew how to navigate my way around a forest – spotting ditches, trees and other markings. As kids, we fished, hunted and did all the other outdoor things that were second nature to our family. ‘We’ll have to walk fast,’ I said. ‘Our ticket runs out in less than an hour.’

  ‘Anna, it’s this way.’ His eyebrows knotted and he shook his head as though I were a child who’d done something wrong.

  ‘There’s an ants’ nest,’ I tried to explain. ‘I remember it from before.’

  ‘Yeah, the forest is full of them,’ Fin replied. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  I bit my lip. Fin was stubborn. I knew he wouldn’t concede. I’d just have to go along with him and try to get us back on track further along the way. We walked along the trail for about twenty minutes, heading in completely the wrong direction. In my head, I tried out numerous ways to tell him this, but they all sounded like the beginnings of an argument and I didn’t want to ruin our perfect day. I knew, though, that if we kept going along this track, we would end up further and further from the car park. I wished one of us had GPS on our phones.

  ‘You okay?’ Fin asked, taking my hand.

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Cos you seem a bit tense.’

  ‘No, just sad today’s almost over. It’s been good getting away from work and stuff.’

  ‘Telling me.’ He pulled me towards him and we stopped walking for a moment to kiss. When he held me like this, it was as though we were the only two people in the world. Even though we’d been together for almost five years, I still felt like the luckiest girl in the world. ‘Shall we stop at a country pub on the way home?’ he said. ‘Make the day last a bit longer?’

  There’s nothing I’d have liked more, but I knew we shouldn’t. ‘We can’t really afford it,’ I replied. ‘How about, we buy a couple of beers to drink at home instead?’

  ‘It’s not the same, but yeah, okay, Miss Sensible.’ He rolled his eyes, smiling to show he wasn’t too upset.

  After another fifteen minutes of trudging along the same track, the route veered off in three different directions. I knew we should take either the left or right branch in order to try and get ourselves heading the right way, but of course, Fin took the route which lay straight ahead.

  ‘I have the feeling we might be going the wrong way,’ I said.

  Fin laughed. ‘Your sense of direction is crap, Anna. We’ll be at the car park in about half an hour and I promise I won’t say I told you so.’

  I took a deep breath and let him lead me further into the forest, wishing I could stand my ground, but not desperate enough to provoke an argument.

  As the sun sank lower, the cold burrowed its way beneath our clothes, and no amount of brisk walking could warm our hands and feet. The car-park ticket had expired over an hour ago, and our easy chatter had stopped. It would be dark soon.

  ‘Fin . . .’

  He cut me off. ‘I think we took a wrong turn at that last fork in the path,’ he said. ‘Let’s turn around. I think I can get us on the right track.’

  I heaved a sigh of relief as we finally turned on our heels, heading in the right direction. Without saying anything, Fin let me guide us back to the car park. After a while, dusk faded into darkness with only a quarter moon to light the path. We passed the fallen tree where we’d eaten our lunch – this was the place where it had all gone wrong. I spotted the original path we’d taken from the car park, recognising the wood ant nest, remembering other fallen trees, holly bushes and drainage ditches.

  It took us a further hour and a half to reach the car park, our hands numb, our feet ice blocks, our good moods ruined. By that time it was almost six o’clock and there was only one other vehicle in the car park – a van, its headlights illuminating our car.

  ‘What the hell?’ Fin let go of my hand and strode over to our Corsa.

  Someone in a high-vis jacket was leaning over the windscreen. Were they trying to break in? I followed Fin, fear replacing tiredness.

  ‘Hey!’ Fin called out. ‘What are you doing to our car?’

  The guy straightened up and pointed to the windscreen.

  ‘You’ve got to be joking!’ Fin removed something from beneath one of our frozen windscreen wipers and started waving it around. It was a plastic packet of some kind.

  My shoulders slumped as I realised the man must be a traffic warden. He’d given us a parking ticket. Maybe it wasn’t too late, maybe I could appeal to his softer side.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘We got lost in the forest. That’s why we’re late.’

  ‘You should always stick to the trails,’ the man said, his voice deep with a rich country accent.

  ‘Come on, man,’ Fin said, tilting his head, his voice softening. ‘Cut us some slack. We can’t afford to get a ticket.’

  ‘Too late,’ the man replied with an indifferent shrug. ‘It’s in the system now, nothing I can do. You can write and appeal if you like.’

  ‘Can’t you just ta
ke it out of the system?’ Fin asked, his arm outstretched, trying to give the man back the small yellow plastic packet on which was written: PENALTY CHARGE NOTICE ENCLOSED.

  ‘No can do.’

  ‘Fuck’s sake, man.’ Fin squared up to him. He tried to stuff the ticket into the front of the man’s coat.

  ‘Fin!’ I stepped in and put a hand on his arm. ‘Leave it. We’ll write to the council. Tell them what happened.’

  ‘Get back, Anna. This is between me and this twat here.’ Fin pushed at the man’s chest. The guy was shorter than Fin, but older and stockier. If this escalated into a fight, I didn’t think Fin would win.

  ‘See that.’ The man pointed to a post above the ticket machine.

  Fin and I turned our heads.

  ‘CCTV camera,’ the man said. ‘You lay a hand on me one more time and I’ll get the cops to rewind the footage. I’ve taken punters to court before. I can do it again.’

  Luckily, Fin backed off. ‘Wanker,’ he said, walking away. ‘Come on, Anna.’ He opened the car door, slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door.

  ‘What a bastard,’ Fin muttered as I got into the car. ‘Bet that CCTV camera doesn’t even work.’

  My throat tightened as he ripped open the packet.

  ‘Seventy fucking quid,’ he hissed. ‘You have got to be joking.’

  Despair washed over me. There was no way we could afford to pay it. ‘I can’t believe they have traffic wardens over here on a Sunday evening,’ I said.

  ‘Great day this has turned out to be.’ Fin tossed the parking ticket onto the back seat, switched off the interior light and started up the engine. ‘I should run the bastard over.’ We screeched out of the car park, dangerously close to the traffic warden, our back wheels sliding out over the icy surface.

  ‘Careful,’ I said, grabbing onto the dashboard.

  Fin ignored my warning, careening out into the road, almost driving us into a ditch. I said nothing while he took a breath and righted the car. We drove home in silence, his anger hanging over us, my sense of guilt expanding. I should never have suggested this day out. It was extravagant and stupid. I’d have to make it up to Fin, but not right now. He wasn’t in the mood to hear my apologies. I would wait until he’d calmed down.

  Chapter Ten

  2017

  The freezing fog has finally cleared, and I gaze out of the kitchen window at the grey, scudding clouds ahead and the murky, roiling ocean below. Normally, I know how to keep myself busy – meeting up with friends, running on the beach, exercise classes, spa days, hair appointments, nail appointments, shopping, reading – but since the text, I can’t seem to settle to anything. Will has been out all morning. He wouldn’t tell me where he was going. He said it was a secret. I’m not keen on secrets or surprises, which is ironic considering what I’m keeping from my husband. But I’m anxious not to dwell on that. Instead, I’m trying to figure out a plan, now that leaving the country is off the agenda.

  I jump as my phone buzzes on the counter top – a call rather than a text. I turn and walk towards it, my palms suddenly clammy, my head swimming with nerves. Will’s profile picture stares out from the screen and I instantly relax my shoulders.

  ‘Hey,’ I say. ‘Where are you? What you up to?’

  ‘I’m outside in the car.’

  ‘Outside the house?’ I wrinkle my nose. What’s he doing calling me from outside?

  ‘Do me a favour,’ he says. ‘Go and sit on the sofa in the kitchen.’

  ‘Huh?’ Dread taps at my chest. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Can you just do it, Anna?’

  ‘Is everything okay?’ I ask, my heart thumping. I’m tempted to go into the lounge and peer out of the front window.

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ Will says. He doesn’t sound worried, or scared. In fact, he sounds . . . excited.

  I hear a squeal. ‘What’s that noise? Is someone with you? I’m coming out―’

  ‘Anna!’ He cuts me off. ‘For once in your life, will you just do what I ask?’

  ‘Sorry.’ I try to calm down. ‘You want me to sit on the sofa? The one in the kitchen?’

  ‘Yes. Please.’

  ‘Oka-y.’ I walk over to the sofa and sit on it, crossing my legs, then uncrossing them again. ‘I’m sitting.’

  ‘Good. Now close your eyes.’

  ‘Why do I have to―’

  ‘Anna. Please.’

  ‘Okay, okay, eyes are closing. Eyes are closed.’

  ‘Good. I’m ending the call now, and I’m coming in.’

  I open my eyes quickly to end the call, place my phone on the coffee table and re-close my eyes, feeling faintly ridiculous. I hear the sound of the front door opening and closing again. Of footsteps getting closer.

  ‘Don’t open your eyes yet.’ Will’s voice. He sounds excited.

  I catch a faint malty scent that I can’t place.

  ‘Okay,’ he says. ‘In a second, you can open your eyes, but please don’t squeal or make any loud noises, okay?’

  ‘You’re scaring me, Will.’

  ‘Open your eyes,’ he says.

  I do as he asks and have to blink a few times to clear my vision. Will is standing in front of me, holding something. It’s moving. I catch my breath.

  ‘Oh my God,’ I whisper. ‘It’s adorable!’

  ‘He’s twelve weeks old,’ Will says, his eyes shining. ‘And he’s yours, Anna.’

  I’m staring at a tiny puppy with dark eyes and a brown curly coat. He’s making little whimpering noises and sniffing at the air. I can barely speak I’m so overcome with emotion. Will sits next to me and places the little bundle on my lap. Its nose goes into overdrive, snuffling me and burrowing into my cable-knit jumper. My fingers grasp him gently, marvelling over his silky soft fur.

  ‘Do you like him?’ Will asks, stroking the little guy’s head.

  ‘Oh my God, I love him,’ I whisper, trying desperately not to let a sob escape. I can feel myself on the verge of breaking down. Of losing it completely. I know these unshed tears are about more than this puppy. I inhale deeply and give myself a shake. ‘I can’t believe you got me a dog.’ I turn to kiss my husband. ‘Thank you.’ I’ve wanted a dog my whole life, but with my parents having moved to the UK and then home to Sweden again, they were never in one place long enough for us to make that kind of commitment.

  ‘He’s kind of an apology,’ Will said. ‘For being a prat the other day.’

  ‘What?’ I don’t know what he’s referring to. Will has never been a prat.

  ‘You wanted to go to Sweden,’ he explains, ‘and I wasn’t very nice about it. It’s where you’re from and I should have been more understanding. Of course you’re entitled to want to go back whenever you like without being made to feel guilty.’

  Now it’s my turn to feel guilty. Wanting to visit my homeland has nothing to do with missing the place. It’s about running away from my problems. ‘Forget about it,’ I reply. ‘I know you’ve got commitments. It was unfair of me to ask.’

  ‘We will go, though,’ he says. ‘Soon as I get the time.’

  ‘No way!’ I reply, smiling. ‘Not now we have this little cutie. I’m not leaving him.’

  Will grins. ‘Dad said he’d look after him whenever we want, so there’s no problem there.’

  ‘What’s his name?’ I ask, nuzzling the top of his furry head with my nose.

  ‘He doesn’t have one,’ Will says. ‘I thought you could name him.’

  ‘Hm . . .’ I stare down at him and ponder for a moment.

  ‘Any ideas?’ Will asks taking the little fella from me and kissing him.

  ‘How about Bo?’ I ask. ‘He kind of looks like a Bo, don’t you think? And it sounds good in English and in Swedish.’

  ‘Bo.’ Will stares down at the puppy on his lap. ‘What do you think, Bo? Like your new name?’

  Bo gives a little yip, making Will and I laugh.

  ‘Bo it is,’ Will says.

  Will and Bo are d
oing a good job of taking my mind off darker things, but fear still boils away beneath the surface, and I know I can’t go on like this for too much longer. I’ve lost my appetite and my stomach is constantly swirling with anxiety. This isn’t something that’s going to go away on its own, but my mind doesn’t want to register what’s happening. Even the thought of replying to those texts makes me queasy. I’m burying my head so deep in the sand that I’m in danger of suffocating.

  ~

  After a lovely day of playing with our new puppy, Will has left to go to the bistro, leaving me and Bo curled up on the lounge sofa. It’s only six o’clock, but night is already drawing in, darkness spreading across the sky like ink on blotting paper. Bo snores lightly on a cushion by my side, tired out by the day’s events. I already feel protective towards him – his first night without his mum.

  I think I might watch a chick flick this evening. I’ll see if there’s anything On Demand. I stretch and rise to fetch the remote control which has been tidied away next to the TV by our cleaner. While I’m on my feet, I head over to the window to close the curtains. Our front driveway is mainly screened by tall bushes, but the road is still visible through our electric gates. I give a start as I see something out there. Fear crawls over my scalp as I make out the silhouette of a man standing beneath the street lamp. It looks like he’s staring this way, right at me, but I can’t be sure. I jerk back from the window, bashing my shin against a side table and swearing loudly. Bo wakes and gives a whimper.

  Gathering up my courage, I peer around the edge of the curtain, staring hard at the space beyond the gates. But there’s no one there. Did I imagine it? Should I go out and check? The thought of leaving the house on my own to go out into the empty darkness is not an appealing prospect. Do I want to know who’s out there? No, I do not.

  I yank the curtains closed, making sure there’s no gap. I glance around for my phone. It’s not in here and anyway, who would I call? I can’t ring the police. Scooping up Bo in my arms and kissing his head, we make our way back into the kitchen, closing blinds and curtains, and turning on lights as we go. My phone is on the counter top. I set Bo down on the floor before pressing the power button. I see that I have a new message. I tap it.