My Husband's Lies

by Caroline England

Genres: Crime Fiction; Psychological Thrillers; Suspense

Synopsis

Tense, disturbing and clever, My Husband's Lies is the second domestic noir from Caroline England, perfect for fans of C. L . Taylor and Apple Tree Yard.

Known since school as 'The A Team,' Nick, Dan, Jan and Will have been best friends for years. But now they're older, and their bond is stretched by partners, children, and the tightening net of secrets that are threatening to emerge.

On the morning of Nick and Lisa's wedding, their friend Penny is found poised on the hotel window ledge, soaking wet and ready to jump. As the A Team rally around her, they soon realise that none of them are being as honest with themselves—or with each other—as they think they are...

Why does Will look at Jan's daughter so strangely? What is Dan really doing on his long lunch breaks? And what is the real reason that Penny was found on that ledge?

Sample

MY HUSBAND’S LIES by Caroline England

The champagne cork cracks like a firework. Covering her ears, she shrinks away from the hotel bar, trying to remember why she’s there. A reception, yes a wedding reception; she went to the ladies’.

‘There you are! You disappeared. They’re taking the photo­ graphs now. Are you coming outside?’

She puts down the glass and turns. It’s him, it’s the husband she loves far too much. His jacket is missing, his aftershave’s strong.

Holding her breath, she listens. Pitter patter, pitter patter. ‘But it’s raining.’

Staring as though he knows, his eyebrows knit. ‘It stopped ages ago. Everyone else is outside. Are you coming?’

His tone is too loud, his waistcoat too bright.
He’s lying, he’s lying, she knows when he’s lying.
And the voice is still there; she can hear it quite clearly. Pitter patter, pitter patter, listen to the rain!
Pitter patter, pitter patter, on the windowpane.
God, she hasn’t heard that rhyme for years. Not her mum, surely? Yes her mum, before she grew bad: holding her close, singing softly and stroking her hair. ‘My perfect little poppet. Such a very good girl!’

‘Hey dreamer, are you—’

She jerks at the sound. It’s her husband, still gazing, his eyes telling lies. She just needs a few moments to make herself perfect. ‘You go ahead. I need the loo. I’ll be out in a minute.’

She watches his strides, then straightens her dress. Oh God, what the hell? Marks on her skirt, splatters on the silk. Holding her breath, she crouches down to inspect them. They dilate, creep and grow as she stares. Surely not blood? It wasn’t her fault; she didn’t mean to hurt anybody.

After a moment she blinks. No, silly! Just water from the ladies’ tap. Or the spray of champagne! More likely the down­ fall. Pitter patter, pitter patter. She told him it was raining.

Her mind focusing, she breathes. Everything’s fine, it really is. The room key is in her handbag, she can go up and change. Not a problem, absolutely! If she hurries, she’ll be back before anyone notices. Like rabbit running! Run rabbit, run!

Removing her shoes, she darts up the stairs, counting each riser until she’s on the third floor. With a loud clatter and clang, she leaves the fire door behind, her feet smacking the carpet as she sprints to the room.

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run!

With the swipe of a card she’s in, almost giddy with purpose.

She sits on the bed and time slows. Sees her heels in her hand and tries to focus, to think. That’s right; she came inside for the toilet. Washed her hands at the sink, watched the water drip from her fingers to avoid looking at her face. The dress, yes the dress; she needs to change it.

Her breathing shallow and fast, she brushes her hair, lines her shoes neatly, takes off her jacket, then slips off her dress.

‘So I feel the benefit,’ she remembers. Her mum’s words. Like the rhyme, the lovely rhyme, before she went bad. Pitter patter, pitter patter. Listen to the rain. She looks to the window. There it is, the windowpane! And she can hear it, it’s raining.

Striding to the window, she feels the heat rising. She knew he was lying; she always knows when he lies. She has to tell him, she has to tell him. He has to know that she knows!

The sash window protests, but she pushes and tugs and eventually it relents, yawning wide enough for her to see him and shout.

‘Stop pretending! I know the truth! I know when you’re lying!’

He doesn’t turn, he doesn’t hear, so she climbs on the ledge, swaying for a moment as she straightens her legs. Closing her eyes, she stands tall. Feels the breeze, a lovely breeze. And the refreshing splatter of rain on her bare arms and belly.

Ah, there’s the voice again, soft and reassuring.

Pitter patter, pitter patter.

She leans forward to listen.

Listen to the . . .

But a shriek spoils the moment, too loud in her ears. She looks down and teeters.

‘Oh my God, look! There’s someone at that window. Oh my God, quick, someone help! I think she’s going to jump!’

 

Five Hours Earlier

Dan

CHAPTER ONE

Dan Maloney smiles wryly, a puff of air through his nose. ‘A church, another bloody Catholic church.’

Unsure if the words emerge out loud, he stares at the hoary building through the spattered windscreen. Its arched windows are dark, the only sign of life a single clump of early daffodils beside its black door.

The pelt of rain brings him back. It’s bouncing off the bonnet like crystal ball bearings. ‘Poor bastards,’ he says. ‘I thought it might ease off.’

‘Yeah.’

The tone of Geri’s voice makes him turn with a jolt. A small furrow mars her glowing face as she rubs her rounded belly. His baby’s in there. He’ll be a dad, a bloody dad! Six and a half months on and he’s still struggling to believe it.

Trying to breathe away the flash of terror, he smiles. ‘Little Nutshell playing up?’ he asks lightly.

‘Just an angry kick,’ she replies. The usual beam replaces the frown. ‘Yeah, I know. Poor Nick and Lisa. But I guess this is what you get in mid­January. Rain and more grey rain! Aberystwyth or Manchester, same difference.’ She leans across to straighten the white rose in his buttonhole. ‘Should I change into my flats?’

‘Nah, I like the killer heels. We’ll walk slowly. Stay there and I’ll come round with the umbrella.’

As he opens the door, a sleek red car hurtles towards him through the deluge, then swerves at the last moment, pulling up next to his.

Will Taylor opens his window and grins. ‘Careful, Danny Boy, might get a few drops of rain on your head and spoil the lovely locks. Then you’ll be banned from the wedding photo­ graphs, leaving just handsome me.’

Dan laughs. ‘Good try, William, but no contest. I’m so the best man,’ he replies.

Inhaling the briny tang in the air, Dan links arms with Geri and they slowly negotiate the gritty puddles in the car park. They are overtaken by Will and Penny and another man in a suit, his face hidden by a black umbrella.

Dan steps into the dimly lit porch. The fusty smell strikes like a familiar soft slap. A blend of incense and aged parchment, taking him back. ‘Reminds me of when I was an altar boy. Every bloody time.’

Will shakes his umbrella and grins. ‘You were an altar boy? You’re joking, Dan. What about the opium of the masses? And the bloody rest. Think you owe me a few pints for all those pub rants I had to endure.’

Dan wonders why he mentioned it. ‘Strange but true. At primary school. Before we went to St Mark’s.’

‘Pretty boy with dark curls in a cassock? Yup, I can picture that.’ Will stretches his wide shoulders and wipes the drops of rain from his close-­cropped brown hair. ‘It’s bloody freezing in here. Think we’re the first to arrive. Where the hell is Nick? His brother’s old Merc was right behind us when we left the hotel.’

Geri tucks a soft afro curl behind her ear and steps towards Penny. ‘Hi, Penny,’ she says, kissing her cheek. ‘You look nice; red is definitely your colour. Love the dress coat, bet it’s silk. I had intended to take off this ugly old thing, but . . .’

Penny blinks and shakes her head almost imperceptibly. ‘Maybe it’ll be warmer inside.’ Then after a moment, ‘Great hat; it suits you.’

Geri rubs her stomach. ‘Thanks, thought it would distract from, well, this,’ she replies with a happy grin.

Penny nods but falls silent. ‘Oh, do you know . . . ?’ she starts eventually, turning to the tall man reading desiccated messages on a cork noticeboard.

‘Sorry!’ Will says. He unbuttons his jacket, which looks a little too tight. ‘I forgot you two hadn’t met. This is Sebastian, my little bro. Seb, this is Geri, Dan’s much better half.’ He looks at Dan. ‘You remember Seb, don’t you?’

‘Yeah, of course.’ Gazing for a moment, Dan takes in Seb’s sharp cheekbones and shock of brown hair. Bloody hell, time flies. The fair­haired slender youth’s now a broad handsome man. He shakes his hand. ‘Long time, though. The swimmer!’

‘Yup, that’s me. Shall we go in?’

Though the church is dank and cold, a surge of heat sweeps Dan’s chest. The empty silence is broken by the echo of their heels and muffled barking from outside. Will strides noisily ahead, lowering his body by the knee at the altar and making the sign of the cross with a flourish. He looks back with a grin. Seb follows with Dan bringing up the rear, shaking his head, but smiling.

Thrown back to the pretty boy with dark curls in a cassock, Dan listens absently to the two brothers banter for a while. When his racing heart finally steadies, he joins Geri and Penny. Penny is taking off her thin coat and folding it carefully on her lap. ‘So I feel the benefit, as my mum always says,’ she says quietly. ‘And mums are generally right about everything, aren’t they?’ she adds with a small smile.
Geri laughs brightly. ‘Heard that one too. I’ll be saying it soon! God, Penny, you’re so slim. You make me look like an elephant. It would’ve been nice to splash out on a new outfit, but there isn’t much point until this little monster makes an appearance.’ She holds out a patent-­clad foot. ‘I bought shoes to die for, though. Now, they are compulsory for a wedding! Dan loves them, don’t you, Dan?’

‘Yup, guilty as charged.’

The hum of conversation around them increases, but they lapse into silence, turning each time a blast of moist air alerts them to a new guest’s arrival.

‘He’s very dishy,’ Geri eventually comments, nodding towards Seb. ‘Your brother­-in-­law. Sebastian, is it? He’ll make Nick look bite­size! Surely he’s spoken for?’

Penny doesn’t answer, her large eyes are glassy and far away. Then she turns to Geri with a small jerk. ‘Oh, sorry, no, they’ve just split up. She’s French.’

‘French, eh?’ Dan says with a grin. ‘I’d better find out more.’

Shaking himself back to today, Dan returns to the chancel step. Standing next to Will, he studies the damp people slowly filling the church. His gaze catches the photographer. Almost invisible, he’s taking snaps of the guests, some standing in groups, wearing heels and hats, hushing greetings and discussing the rain, he supposes, others hitching along the wooden pews and studying the Order of Service as they wait for a familiar face. His eyes rest on Seb Taylor sitting on the front bench. His arms are folded, his long legs stretched out. He’s looking back at him through striking blue eyes.

‘So, you remember the swimming at St Mark’s?’ he asks.

Dan feels himself flushing from the intensity of Seb’s gaze. ‘Not much,’ he says with a small laugh. ‘The disgusting pool mainly. Full of urine, sweat and sh—’ Bloody hell, he’s sounding like his dad. ‘Other things one doesn’t like to dwell on!’ Seb’s stare is still steady, as though reading his mind. ‘Yeah, and those grubby changing rooms; no wonder everyone dived in the showers so quickly, bloody freezing in there and—’

But he’s saved from his blather by a slap on his shoulder and Will’s deep voice. ‘Bloody hell, look at the time. No priest! We’ll be relying on you to don your little cassock, Dan.’ He looks at the door and laughs. ‘And where’s the bloody groom? His mum isn’t here either. We’ll know who to blame if Nick’s done a runner.’

CHAPTER FOUR

Dan

Will throws back his champagne. ‘Rain’s stopped; everyone smiling. All’s well that ends well.’ He slaps Dan on the back. ‘I’ll get us a top-­up. Not so bad, eh? This wedding malarkey. Mark my words, you’ll give in like the rest of us poor bloody . . .’ But abruptly he stops and turns around with a frown. ‘Was that . . . ? Did you hear that?’

Dan turns too. Two women in work uniforms are pointing to the main hotel building, their faces aghast.

‘Oh my God, look! There’s someone at that window. Oh my God, quick, someone help! I think she’s going to jump!’ one of them shouts.

Snapping his head to the scene, Dan stares. What the fuck? What the hell? Dressed only in her underwear, Penny Taylor is standing on the window ledge, her pale body and buffeted blonde hair framed like Botticelli’s Venus. He gazes for a moment before adrenaline kicks in. Will is just gawping, clearly gobsmacked. Grabbing him by the shirtsleeve, Dan propels him towards the hotel door. ‘Will, move! Now, Will, go now. I’ll be right behind you.’

 

His body tingling with energy, but his mind strangely detached, Dan scans the scene. Lisa and Nick are turned away in a group with her dad and his parents, listening to the photographer’s instructions. Two of Jen’s kids are watching the newly­weds and not Penny, thank God. And Will’s jacket, he’s still holding it; the key card is there in the pocket.

Grasping Geri on the way, he spins her to the window. ‘Look, it’s Penny,’ he says quietly. ‘Tell those bloody women to go in without making a fuss. Tell them everything’s in hand. I’m following Will.’

The grass squelchy under his feet, he sprints to the hotel, the thought of the A Team school relays stupidly popping into his head. As he bursts through the door, the lift closes on Will, so he opens the fire door and belts up the stairs two by two, the urgency pounding in his ears but his mind still clinical: the third floor, two doors down from theirs. He has the key. Catch up with Will. Tell him to be calm; warn Will not to lose it.

He fires through the exit, but Will is already there, thumping the door with his fist. ‘Penny? Answer the door. Answer the bloody door!’

Handing Will the key, Dan lifts his finger to his lips and shakes his head.

Will takes the card and with a trembling hand he swipes and swipes again. ‘It’s not working.’ He tries once more. ‘It’s not fucking working!’

Dan takes it from him. ‘Here, let me try.’

Fuck, Will is right. The key card doesn’t work. Time is the thing. He doesn’t want to alarm Penny, but she could jump. Fucking jump!

Staring at the woodwork, he remembers what his dad said about the sweet spot to bust open a door. Without thinking about it too deeply, he steps back, lifts his leg, and with as much momentum as he can muster, he drives the heel of his foot towards the lock. With a sickening noise the wood cracks and splinters. Kicking again, then again, the door ricochets open.

Time slows as he takes in the picture. The window is gaping, the curtains flapping in the breeze. But Penny is still there, thank God. Her narrow back towards them, she’s gazing at the trees, lightly swaying and humming a tune.

Dan lets out his breath. She’s sitting now; she’s sitting on the ledge. Though not looking at Will, he instinctively grabs his arm. ‘Easy, Will. Take it easy.’

Will clears his throat. ‘Penny? Pen? Are you coming in?’ he asks, moving slowly towards her.

Penny turns, surprise flashing on her face. ‘Oh, Will! I wanted to tell you something.’ Her forehead furrows, as though trying to remember.

His face pale and sweaty, Will’s voice is hoarse. His fear is palpable; Dan can feel it. ‘Just come in, Penny.’

‘In a minute, let me show you . . .’ Pushing down her skinny arms on the sill, she draws up her legs to stand.

Will steps forward, raising his arms. ‘For God’s sake, Penny, please just . . .’

But she’s already standing. Then suddenly she’s wobbling, her arms flailing like small propellers.

Dan dives. Like a rugby tackle, he lunges forward, holding out his hands to grab Penny’s legs, or her waist, anything, please God, other than thin air.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

Dan

Trying to block out thoughts of his bizarre mission earlier, Dan piles from the lift with Seb, Geri and Jen. Though unsteady on her feet, Jen takes the room key off Seb and opens the door. Almost holding his breath, he watches her close the sash window. Then she piles cushions behind Geri’s back, throws off her shoes and curls her plump legs under her bum as though the bedroom is hers.

Not sure where to sit, he takes the regency armchair and Seb sits opposite, his fringe flopping forwards as he pours brandy into glasses purloined from the bar.

‘I know I shouldn’t,’ Geri says, inhaling the honey-­coloured liquid before sipping. ‘But this smells so expensive that a small taster won’t hurt.’

Jen’s grin shows the dimples on her affable face. ‘Double for me.’ Tucking her dark bob behind her ears, she looks pensive. ‘I wonder how Will is. Nick and Lisa too. The wedding planner had anticipated rain, I’m sure, but that must have been a surprise.’

Dan swirls his brandy, the prickle of amazement still there. ‘Shock, you mean. Thank God we were outside. I still can’t believe she did it. At a wedding of all—’

‘Change the record, Dan,’ Jen snorts. ‘We’re all pretty stunned. It’s not every day—’

‘Stop, for God’s sake, just stop!’

They all turn to Seb. There’s a crack in his voice and he’s glaring at Jen. ‘You seem to be forgetting about Penny. How she must be feeling.’ He rakes back his hair. ‘Can any of us imagine? To do something so extreme. In public too.’ He puts down the bottle and pinches the top of his nose.

Dan stares, astonished. Seb had seemed so passive up to now, but his features look broken.

A burst of guilt spreading, he drops his gaze quickly. Penny has only been married to Will for a year or so, but of course she’s still Seb’s sister­-in­-law. Feeling he’s seen that shattered look before, he automatically stands and puts a hand on Seb’s shoulder. A memory from long ago surfaces, replaced moments later by Penny’s pale face, her strangely glazed eyes. Thrown back to the sensation of freezing flesh in his arms, he abruptly pulls back, his heart galloping. ‘You’re right, Seb. I can’t imagine.’

With difficulty, Geri sits forward and stretches her fingers towards Seb. ‘We’re all with you there, Seb. I guess it’s just so surreal. You’re right, absolutely, poor Penny.’

‘Sorry, Sebi.’ Jen climbs off the bed and though so much shorter than him, she manages to fold him in her arms. ‘Me and my big mouth. You know what I’m like. Of course I’m worried about Penny too. We all are.’

The four of them change the subject eventually, even manage a laugh as the brandy is poured and time drifts.

‘You did a great speech, Dan,’ Seb says, sitting forward. ‘Really funny. I thought Nick’s mum might faint, though.“What happened in Amsterdam should stay in Amsterdam. However . . .” You should have seen her startled face; I doubt she’s previously heard of a ladyboy.’

Dan lifts his glass. ‘Cheers, Seb. I was pretty nervous. You know, without my straight man. Had to improvise.’

Geri stands and yawns. ‘God, I’m shattered,’ she says. ‘I need my bed.’ She pecks Dan on his cheek. ‘You stay and enjoy that delicious brandy while the going’s good. Try not to wake me when you get back.’ She pats her stomach. ‘One lot of kicking is enough!’

Catching her hand, he squeezes and smiles. ‘Quiet as a . . . goldfish, I promise!’

‘Night, Geri,’ Jen mumbles as the door clicks to. ‘I’m closing my eyes but I’m not asleep.’

Dan lifts his legs, stretching them onto the bed. The dent left by Geri’s body is still warm. He briefly wonders what life will be like when two becomes three, before parrying the thought and turning to Seb. ‘So, where are you living now, Seb?’ he asks, holding out his tumbler for a refill. ‘You were probably ten when I last saw you.’

‘Thirteen. Swimming gala.’

‘Of course.’ Dan pictures the boy clutching his bronze medal, his face broken. He pushes the uncomfortable image away. ‘Did you keep it up, the swimming?’

Seb rocks his head and stares at the ceiling. ‘For a while. All good things come to an end though.’ Then after a moment, ‘I’m living back home in Withington with my mum, just for now. I was living in France with—’

He’s interrupted by a knock at the door. It’s Ian Kenning, his pale ginger hair sticking out on one side. ‘I’ve come for my wife . . . Ah.’ He laughs, looking at the bed. ‘As I suspected! Ready to go, love?’ He picks up Jen’s shoes, pulls her gently to her feet and guides her from the room, her eyes almost closed.

Clearly too gone, Jen doesn’t speak. ‘See you tomorrow at the walk,’ Ian says, closing the door behind him.

Seb pulls off his shoes and socks, then his waistcoat and cravat and lies in Jen’s place. He puts his arms behind his head. ‘The funny thing is that I can’t work out if I dumped her or if she dumped me. Claudia,’ he adds. ‘Fucking beautiful, hot­tempered, impossible.’

Dan laughs. ‘Not all bad, then.’

‘Fantastic sex. Course that’s what I’m remembering. Not the tantrums, the viciousness, the lack of support. She’s a cunt, Dan. I just need to remember it.’

‘Fair enough.’ Dan stretches his arms, still feeling the muscular pull from yesterday’s brutal game of squash with Will. Or perhaps from his fall backwards earlier, his best friend’s wife like a cold mannequin on top. Surreal. He really needs a piss but his legs seem paralysed by brandy, though his head feels surprisingly fine. ‘Sex?’ he says after a moment. ‘What’s that then?’

Seb looks at him and smiles. ‘Timing,’ he says.
‘What, with women?’
‘No, your jokes. You have good timing.’
‘Like the swimming,’ Dan replies, thinking how different Seb looks when he smiles. From chiselled moody to an easy white grin in an instant.

They chat about sport for a while, Dan remembering Seb was a great sportsman at school. Like the A Team at St Mark’s, each sport came easily, though swimming was his forte. He had a place at the University of Edinburgh to read Biomedicine, but his father died unexpectedly.

‘I’m beat,’ Seb says abruptly. Scraping his hair from his fore­ head, he stands. ‘I need sleep.’ He heads for the bathroom. ‘Kip here if you want.’

Raking the dark stubble already appearing on his chin, Dan nods. I’ll go in a minute, he thinks, closing his eyes. When he opens them again, Seb’s back in the room, rubbing his angular face with a towel. Broad shoulders, hairless toned chest, he’s just wearing briefs. Swimmer turned model, he now remembers, his mind far too sluggish. Of course Will had mentioned it. But things had gone sour, hadn’t they?

Trying to remember the story, he gazes at Seb, then pulls his legs off the bed. ‘I’ll just have a piss and then go.’

In the bathroom, he puts a hand against the wall to steady himself. The pee doesn’t come for a while. Then he stands at the sink, drinking water, briefly catching his tousled hair in the mirror, which he rakes into place.

The room is dim when he returns. The glow from a bedside lamp accentuates Seb’s sculpted face. He props his head on his hand and gazes at Dan languidly. ‘Do you want to stay?’ he asks. The sheets are pulled away and he’s naked; his long limbs and tight torso are bathed in soft light.

Dan’s impulse to make a joke is overridden by outrage. ‘What the fuck? You’ve got this all wrong.’ Backing away from the bed, he grabs his jacket, then points a finger at Seb. ‘Totally fucking wrong. Do you hear me?’

His fringe falling forward, Seb sits. For a moment he stares, then shrugs and falls back. ‘Whatever,’ he says, pulling up the crisp sheet and turning onto his side.