The Life She Wants Read online

  The Life She Wants

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5 Before

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9 Before

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13 Before

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16 Before

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19 Before

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22 Before

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25 Before

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27 Before

  Chapter 28

  J.M. Hewitt’s mailing list

  A Letter from J.M Hewitt

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Cover

  Table of Contents

  Start of Content

  For Joan Daly

  With love

  Prologue

  It was a terrible shock to her body, being plunged into the icy water of the lake. At first, she was numb, sinking lower and lower, the weight of her clothes dragging her down into the freezing depths. Moments later, she gasped, her body demanding air but finding water instead. It burned in her lungs, a deep, screaming, searing pain in her chest.

  I’m drowning.

  The thought was the only clear thing, the knowledge that this was it, this was the end. She relaxed, drifted for a moment, before her body protested.

  She kicked her legs and punched out her arms, something deep inside her instructing her to head up to the surface, to find air so that she could open her mouth and breathe. The rest of it could wait: the cold, the wet, the snow, even her attacker up there on the lake.

  Up, up, UP!

  The persistent thought was like a chant in her head. She reached out with fingers that were turning blue and grasped the mantra as though it were a rope that could pull her up to the surface.

  It was pitch-black in here, in the hole, underneath the water, but a tiny pinprick of light guided her. It was hope instead of hurt that bloomed in her chest now.

  One last push. She felt her body engaging every muscle to propel her forward. She could sense that the air that had eluded her so far was within touching distance.

  She was already gleeful, teeth showing in joyful gratitude, not caring about the water that seeped into her mouth through her smile. She was ready to burst through the surface of the water and gulp in great breaths. She had made it.

  Smash.

  She cried out in pain, letting even more water into her mouth as her fingertips came into contact with something solid. Realisation hit her hard, and she clawed at the ice above her head, frantic, her whole body rolling until she wasn’t sure if it was the world that was upside down or herself.

  A shadow fell, cutting off the light that came from outside and above. It turned her mounting panic into something akin to a survival instinct. She tilted her head back and forced herself to watch through eyes that were stinging painfully.

  Through the thick ice she saw boots, legs, the person they belonged to moving steadily over her.

  The person who had attacked her.

  They were still out there, waiting and watching.

  Time – and air – had run out.

  She closed her eyes. She felt her breathing slow. Her body was shutting down.

  It was over.

  Chapter 1

  Paula Ellis paused by the window on the first floor of her home and looked outside. Leaves carpeted the tree-lined avenue, the street a kaleidoscope of red and gold. Yellow rose bushes bordered perfectly manicured front lawns. The flowers were thinning out now, their duty done for the summer, but no wilted brown petals littered the grass. Here in suburban heaven, everything was crisp and clean. With a smile, she pulled up the sash and leaned out, breathing deeply.

  Autumn. Changes. It was the time of year when Paula always felt the potential for transformation.

  She put down the pile of clean washing she had carried upstairs and sat on the windowsill, deep in thought. It was invariably during October that Paula and her husband, Tommy, would begin talking about making alterations in their home life. She imagined finally getting a dog, the same dog they had been talking about for the previous four autumns as the evenings drew in. Somehow, the cold blue sky and the piles of leaves made it easy to imagine them wrapping up and taking family walks in the countryside that bordered their Essex home. Often, the talk would then turn from a puppy to a baby. The conversation was always started and led by Paula, with her pointing out that if they were going to do it, then it should be soon. After all, they were both thirty-five, and Paula didn’t want to be a forty-plus-year-old mum at the school gates.

  Tommy’s face, open and eager when the talk had been of a dog, would shut down. Usually they would then argue. Or he would. She would sit there on the lovely three-piece suite, her head nodding lower and lower, until he had patiently explained all the reasons why it wasn’t a good time.

  He’d had a lot of reasons to hesitate, the last four years of ‘new changes, new life’ conversations. He was moving on up in his workplace, having started at the bottom as a foreign exchange junior back when he graduated. He ticked off every box every year, and the rewards came in annually: a car for each of them, Paula finally able to quit her job and practise becoming a stay-at-home mum. Two years ago had come the biggest bonus so far: the five-bedroom, three-storey town house in the new Wickford development of Riverside. Views of the River Crouch out the back, meadows and wooded areas at the front, and just a forty-minute commute to London for Tommy. It was perfect. It was a home too big for two, and Paula had moved in with a sense of positivity and hope for the future.

  But that January, just like the ones before, there was a promotion on the table, and once again it wasn’t the time to start a family. Inevitably they would leave it there, Tommy full of promises to pick up the conversation again towards Christmas. But the next year there would be another reason, another job that had opened up, another box he had to tick as he rocketed towards the top. Not the best time. Maybe next year.

  She appreciated that she didn’t understand how hard his work was, not really. After all, she had all the time in the world; all the hours in the day were hers to do with as she wanted. As long as there was a nice dinner on the table for him when he got home.

  Paula drummed her fingers on the windowpane. Could this year be different? After all, Tommy had gone as far as he could go, having landed the top job of director of accounting in the summer.

  She felt a thrill run through her and she shivered at the fresh realisation. There were no more reasons to delay. No more excuses.

  She inhaled deeply, the scent of change in the air, and suddenly she couldn’t wait for Tommy to get home.

  She abandoned the pile of washing, skipping past it and into their master suite. Peering in the mirror, she pulled her hands through her shoulder-length brown hair, teasing it up and pinning it. Quickly, she moved over to her wardrobe and flicked through the hangers.

  She would make an effort tonight. After ten years of marriage, it was important to keep things good for her husband, who worked all the hours. She would nip down to the butcher’s on the high street and buy a couple of nice steaks for dinner.

  Candles and wine; she made a mental note as she pulled out a woollen dress the same shade as the leaves outside. Music and a great dinner, and maybe an early night.

>   Paula smiled, bathed in hope. Could this be it?

  * * *

  ‘I was only going down to the high street, the local butcher would have been okay,’ said Paula as she jostled her shopping into the booth and sat down opposite her best friend, Julie.

  Julie appraised Paula’s Waitrose bags. ‘It wouldn’t have been organic, though, would it? And if you’re going to start a family, you want only the best. Start as you mean to go on.’

  Paula shushed her, glancing around furtively. ‘Nobody knows!’ She giggled. ‘Even Tommy doesn’t know yet.’

  Julie raised her eyes. ‘I don’t know why you’ve waited so long. I mean, why don’t you just go ahead and get pregnant anyway? You’re married, for Christ’s sake!’

  Paula said nothing as she picked up the menu. It was an area where she and Julie differed. As soon as Paula had started dating Tommy, well over fifteen years ago now, Julie had spotted his potential, and had warned her friend not to let him slip through the net. After all, she reasoned, how many opportunities came along in a lifetime to get with a man who would never, ever be poor?

  For Paula, it had been different. She had seen a good man in Tommy, one who peppered her with kindness and wasn’t stifling in his love. She had never needed the annual bonus that his work brought in, nor the big house, nor the two cars, or the once-in-a-lifetime holiday taken every year.

  She’d just wanted a man to love, one who would love her back.

  Now, she had everything she could possibly want, except for the easiest thing of all – a baby. Tommy was still there, though, and she smiled at the thought of him.

  ‘It’s not right, doing something like that behind his back,’ she said. ‘We have to discuss something as big as starting a family.’

  Julie snorted. ‘Discuss it long enough, sweetheart, and the decision will be taken out of your hands.’ And in case Paula didn’t get her meaning, she leaned forward, her ample bosom resting on the tabletop. ‘You’ll be too old.’ She sat back, crossed her arms. ‘Maybe that’s what he’s stalling for.’

  Paula rolled her eyes, taking no offence from her best friend’s straight talk. ‘Shut up, Jules. If he didn’t want a family, why would he have bought us a five-bedroom house?’

  ‘For show!’ Julie said. ‘People like Tommy Ellis need the big house, the flash car. It’s all about appearances.’ She pointed her finger at Paula. ‘Just don’t wait another year.’

  ‘I need to lose weight if I’m having a baby. God knows I don’t want to be shifting baby weight and pre-baby weight afterwards,’ Paula said. She slammed the menu closed. ‘Salad for me, and a mineral water.’

  Julie raised her eyebrows. She said nothing, but it spoke volumes.

  ‘What?’ asked Paula.

  Julie sighed and shut her own menu. ‘Do you ever do anything for yourself?’

  ‘What?’ Paula laughed, but at the sight of Julie’s face, it trailed off into nothing.

  ‘It’s just everything you do or say is for Tommy. I can’t remember the last time we did something that wasn’t ultimately for him.’

  ‘What do you call this shopping trip?’

  ‘It’s not for you, we’re here for steaks for Tommy!’ Julie said. She took a deep breath, then reached over and covered Paula’s hand with her own. ‘Just… don’t lose yourself. You’re a person too, and a pretty damn good one. It shouldn’t be all about him.’

  Paula wrenched her hand from underneath Julie’s. Of course it was all about Tommy. He was the important one in their relationship. Without him, they’d have nothing. She would have nothing.

  ‘I’ve been where you are, remember, and nothing you can do will stop whatever’s going to happen,’ Julie continued.

  Paula’s blood ran cold. ‘But your husband cheated on you! Multiple times!’ She stared at Julie. ‘Are you saying Tommy’s going to do that?’

  ‘No, Christ!’ Julie flapped her hand at her friend. ‘I just meant—’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ With tears threatening, Paula grabbed her bags and stood up. ‘I don’t want lunch any more, I’ve lost my appetite.’

  Julie’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits, and she sat back and crossed her arms. ‘Fine. You go. I’m staying. I am hungry, and I’m not starving myself for anyone, certainly not a man.’

  The words bubbled up and out before Paula could stop them. ‘And don’t we know it,’ she snapped spitefully, tearfully, and turning on her heel, she stalked out of the restaurant.

  Chapter 2

  In the booth behind Julie and Paula, hidden by the high-backed seat, Anna Masi listened with interest and growing anger. White-hot heat simmered inside her.

  How were there women in the world like those two? Women who seemed to have everything – a car, a house, the capacity not to have to work – and yet still were not happy.

  Anna appraised her own reflection in the mirrored wall of the coffee shop. She sucked in her cheekbones, angled her face so the harsh lighting bounced off her porcelain image.

  ‘Elfin’ was what the magazines called people like her. She embraced the description, wearing her hair short, highlighting it carefully so it had a surfer look to it. William called her his little elf too, even though he was far too old to know about it from the fashion magazines she coveted.

  Thinking of William made Anna glance at her watch. Time to go. Time to head back to the old boy, cook him his dinner: pie and chips; no organic meat for him, not like the women whose conversation she’d spent the last half-hour listening to.

  As she got off the bus and crossed the street towards William’s little terraced house in Ilford, she spotted his neighbour coming out of the house next door. Pausing, she took her beret out of her handbag and pulled it on, pushing her short hair up inside it.

  ‘Afternoon, love,’ called Mr Henderson as she strode up the path.

  She smiled and gave him a friendly wave before hurriedly inserting her key in the lock. The bags she was clutching slowed her down, though, and Mr Henderson held out a hand.

  ‘Got William’s dinner in there, have you?’ he asked, craning over the waist-high fence. ‘When you going to start looking after me?’ He smiled, though it was really a leer.

  She gave a barely concealed sigh. The constant battle against men and their proprietorial nature. All the words she really wanted to say to him ran through her head, but she bit them back. If she spoke them, he would tell William that she had been rude to him, and she would lose her job. That couldn’t happen. To further help her keep the cascade of abuse inside, she allowed herself to imagine returning to the place that had taken her so long to escape from.

  No. She couldn’t lose this job, this home. It was everything. It had saved her.

  She fixed a smile on her face, bright on the surface, icy cool beneath if one looked hard enough.

  ‘Oh, you,’ she said. ‘Have a nice day, Mr Henderson.’ And she slipped inside before he could delay her further.

  Inside the dim, dark hallway, she let the carrier bags drop to the floor as she leaned against the door.

  ‘That you, dear?’ called a tremulous voice from the kitchen. ‘Come in, I’m just putting the kettle on.’

  Anna paused. William hardly ever felt well enough to make a cup of tea. That was why he employed her. Cautiously, she picked up the carrier bags and moved through to the kitchen.

  The first thing she noticed was that he was dressed. And not just in his old T-shirt and pyjama bottoms, but actually dressed, in a shirt and a suit and even a tie! Her gaze went to the doormat, and the pair of shiny black shoes that sat there, the edges crusted with blades of grass. A brown leaf was stuck to the sole of the left shoe.

  ‘William, have you been… outside?’ she asked suspiciously.

  Unable to hold it in, he beamed at her. ‘I have,’ he said. He held his arms out wide and turned in a circle, gripping the edge of the worktop as he moved painfully slowly. ‘I don’t scrub up too bad for an old git, do I?’

  Anna felt as unsteady as Willia
m looked. He never went outside. Not even into the garden in the spring or summer, and definitely not when it was a cold, wet autumn day like today.

  He wobbled, and Anna threw the bags on the old wooden kitchen table and dashed to his side.

  ‘You need to sit down,’ she said. ‘Come on, I’ll finish the tea.’

  He allowed himself to be led, and Anna put an arm around his waist, taking almost all of his weight upon her slight frame. In the living room, she lowered him into his chair.

  ‘Did you get my things?’ he asked.

  She nodded.

  ‘And what did you buy for yourself?’ he asked, resting his head back and smiling up at her.

  Anna smiled back. ‘A dress,’ she said, and then, coyly, ‘Would you like to see it?’

  He raised a liver-spotted hand and patted her arm. ‘You know I would.’ His eyes gleamed, cobalt-blue chips that pierced her. ‘Put it on, I don’t want to see it on the hanger.’

  Obediently she left the room, grabbing the bags off the table as she went upstairs. In the room that had become her own, she stripped down to her underwear and emptied the bags on the bed. A dress, she had told him, when in fact she had purchased five. Always, when he sent her out on shopping errands, he told her to get something for herself. After a while it had become clear that he never checked his credit card bill or receipts. In fact, when she had been caring for him for just three weeks, he asked her if she would mind taking over the paying of the bills. Anna had obliged, realising very quickly that William had more than enough in his bank accounts to cover any amount that she spent on his card.

  She selected one dress and pulled it on. It was a body-hugging woollen winter number that skimmed her thighs. Appraising her reflection, she shook out her hair. For some unknown reason, the women in the coffee shop came to mind.

  Neither of them could wear this, she thought with a sense of satisfaction. Definitely not the heavier of the two, but even the other one, the married, spoiled one, was the wrong side of thirty and the wrong side of size 10 to carry off a dress like this.