The Wives, page 12
She laughed and pushed him away, feeling, as she often did these days, guilty for having been tempted by that worthless piece of garbage, Daniel. ‘Go, we’ve time for that nonsense later.’
‘Promise?’
‘I promise.’ And she did, she promised to love him, to make it clear he was the only man she’d ever love, to prove that she was a good, faithful wife, that what she’d done was done in a moment of madness that would never happen again.
If she could believe Daniel – if she could trust him – then she’d be tempted to do what he asked. She could. Easily. Once they were back home. One of their spare bedrooms was used by Blake as an office. Tracy Ann had a laptop, of course, but when she’d had trouble with it the previous year, she’d used the office desktop computer. Blake had given her the password then. There was no reason for him to have changed it. When the two boys were home on holidays, they never went into the office, having learnt at a young age it was out of bounds to sticky fingers.
But it was never out of bounds to Tracy Ann. Blake trusted her absolutely. He shouldn’t have done.
She could wait until he’d gone to work, open his computer, search his files for the information Daniel wanted. And that would be it. He’d delete that incriminating video, and that would be the end of it.
She was stupid, but she wasn’t gullible. If she did what was asked, if the information she provided proved successful and made Daniel a shitload of money, he’d be back for more. She couldn’t trust him, couldn’t believe a word out of his lying, cheating, devious mouth.
But she’d seen it in his eyes. If she didn’t do what he asked, he’d send that awful, awful video to Blake. And that would be the end of them. She knew her husband; it would break him, and he’d never be able to forgive her.
There was no space between the rock and the hard place. It was crushing the breath from her. Soon she’d have to make a choice.
Kill or be killed.
27
NATASHA
Barbara and Natasha were still sitting by the pool. Their glasses were empty but neither woman suggested ordering another drink.
Neither spoke for a long time, Natasha still reeling from Daniel’s deception, Barbara wishing she could turn back time and keep her mouth shut.
It was Natasha who finally spoke. ‘Come on, let’s investigate the cakes in the buffet.’ She didn’t wait, getting to her feet and walking towards the double doors leading to the twenty-four-hour buffet. It took a few minutes to locate what she wanted. A station serving only pastries. Enough to satisfy any taste.
Picking up a plate, she stood undecided for a moment before choosing a small chocolate profiterole, a strawberry mousse slice, and just because they were there, a macaroon.
‘You’ll never eat all that.’ Barbara reached for a fruit tartlet.
‘I will, plus this,’ Natasha said, adding a tartlet to her plate. ‘Coffee and tea are over there.’ She nodded to a station a little further along.
With their plates and drinks, they searched for somewhere to sit. Luck was with them; a couple were about to leave a cosy seat by the window. ‘Perfect,’ Natasha said, moving to take it with a smile for the departing diners.
Eating delicious pastries, sitting looking out at the sea, being completely spoilt, it was almost hard to believe her life had suddenly descended into chaos. And yet, despite what were probably the best pastries she’d ever tasted, here she was. Chaosville. She truly didn’t know what she was going to do. Confront Daniel? Tell him she knew about the vasectomy? He’d ask how. Natasha had no compunction about dropping Barbara in it. Would have done if it had made any difference. It wouldn’t. There was no way he could lie his way out of this.
Better that she kept quiet until she could figure out what to do. If she left him before two years, she’d get nothing. Barbara was right. She’d have to go back to nursing. She didn’t know anything else. The thought made her skin crawl. It wasn’t an option, but what was the alternative? Staying with the lying bastard to fulfil the conditions of the prenup?
She looked across the table to where Barbara was nibbling at the fruit tartlet she’d chosen. She didn’t know Natasha at all. Or rather, she didn’t know the woman she was now. Life changes alter people; dramatic life changes alter some people completely.
She picked up the chocolate profiterole and bit into it, sending cream dribbling down her chin. She scooped the leakage into her mouth with her finger, then popped the remainder of the profiterole in on top.
‘You look like you’re enjoying that,’ Barbara said.
‘It’s lush. I might be coming back here every day.’ She picked up the tartlet and took a bite. ‘Seriously good, you should get some more.’ When Barbara shook her head, Natasha shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’ She finished everything on her plate, then sat back cupping the mug of tea in her hand. ‘What did you think of Tracy Ann at lunchtime?’
‘Tracy Ann?’ Barbara sounded surprised by the change of direction. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The bruises on her hand, and on her thigh according to Blake.’
‘She said she fell getting out of the hot tub.’
‘Yes, that’s what she said. But she didn’t, did she?’
Barbara lifted her mug and took a sip of her tea. ‘I don’t remember… I don’t think… Maybe she stumbled.’
Natasha shook her head. ‘I forgot, you weren’t looking at Tracy Ann because you were staring at Daniel swimming up and down. Well, I was, and I saw her stepping from the hot tub. She didn’t fall or stumble. Not once. She got out, grabbed a towel, wrapped it around herself and walked away.’
‘Right.’ Barbara shrugged. ‘I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Tash.’
‘Tracy Ann has bruises on her hand. According to Blake, she also has one on her thigh. If she didn’t fall getting out of the tub, how did she get them?’
‘Maybe she slipped on her way back to her cabin.’
‘Then why would she lie about it?’
‘No idea.’
Barbara was sounding a little bored, as if Tracy Ann’s bruises weren’t of any importance. Maybe they weren’t, but maybe they were. Natasha wasn’t sure why she cared. Was it because she preferred to think of Tracy Ann as a victim, rather than the woman who kissed Daniel? Maybe she really wanted her friend to have an excuse for behaving inexcusably. ‘Have you noticed she’s been a little quieter recently?’
‘Not really, but then I have other things to worry about.’
Like ogling and flirting with your friend’s husband? For one horrible moment, Natasha thought she’d said the words aloud but Barbara’s expression never changed. Natasha stifled a giggle, then took a breath. She was sure she was right about this. It made sense and explained Tracy Ann’s recent behaviour. ‘There’s one reason a woman lies about bruises.’
Barbara looked at her, then snorted a laugh. ‘Is that what you’re getting at? You think Blake is hitting her? Come on, Tasha, he adores her, always has, always will.’
‘Domestic violence is more complex than loving or not loving someone. You know that, Barbara.’
‘Of course I do, but I still think you’re adding two and two together and getting the wrong answer.’
‘He was quick to add that she had a bruise on her leg too, wasn’t he? Why did he want that out there, eh? So that if we saw her by the pool, or in the spa and saw the bruise, we wouldn’t question it.’ She nodded, as if realising how clever a move that was. Because they wouldn’t, except maybe to commiserate or ask if it was painful. They wouldn’t query the cause.
‘Now that you mention it, I did think he was being very careless about her bruises. He’s normally so protective of her.’ Barbara’s eyes widened. ‘You really think he could be hitting her?’
‘He always seems so calm, so laid-back, but he has a very high-powered job, doesn’t he? Maybe with the changing political scene in London, his job is at risk.’
Barbara shook her head. ‘He’s a civil servant; his job doesn’t depend on who’s in power.’
‘Okay. Well maybe it’s something else. But I think we should keep an eye on Tracy Ann.’
Barbara suddenly sat forward. ‘Maybe he knows about the kiss! Or maybe the stupid cow told him; after all, she told you!’
Natasha groaned. ‘She wouldn’t be that stupid, would she?’ She lifted a hand. ‘No, don’t bother answering that. If she was stupid enough to have told me she kissed my husband, she’d possibly have been stupid enough to have told Blake.’
‘Doesn’t excuse him for hitting her though.’
‘No, of course not!’ Natasha sighed. ‘They might have had a row that got physical. Maybe we won’t say anything just yet but keep an eye on them.’ She met Barbara’s eyes. ‘What do you think?’
‘I wasn’t planning on saying anything anyway. I mean, what could you say? Is Blake beating you up? If she says yes, what do we do? If she says no, do we believe her?’ Barbara shook her head. ‘Anyway, I’m not sure why you’re so bloody concerned about her. She kissed Daniel, remember?’
‘It’s not exactly something I’d forget.’ Natasha’s voice was as sharp as the thoughts that were jabbing inside her skull. How could she explain to Barbara that she took pleasure in the bruises that she saw marking Tracy Ann’s skin? Her only regret was that she hadn’t put them there. Natasha mightn’t love Daniel, but he was her husband and should have been off limits. But Tracy Ann was her friend. It was the conflicting thoughts that were causing her such anguish. ‘Maybe Michele was right: Tracy Ann had too much to drink and behaved stupidly. I’m not going to hold it against her forever. And anyway, since I heard about the…’ Her voice faded away.
‘The vasectomy?’
‘Yes, that. Everything is changed now.’ And behind all the conflicting thoughts, it’s that damn prenup drilling a hole in her head, in her life, making big holes, letting the water in. She could drown.
28
NATASHA
There was no drama at dinner that evening. In fact, everyone was subdued and the conversation came in fits and starts rather than flowing as it usually did. That night, even the men were quiet.
Natasha kept darting glances between Blake and Tracy Ann, but it wasn’t obvious that their relationship was cracked any more than it was obvious hers was. Cracked. She squeaked a laugh, turning it quickly into a cough. Her marriage wasn’t cracked; it was shattered, the shards ground down to dust and blown away.
Once again, the food was excellent. And as expected, Daniel ordered the most unusual item on the menu: a Zanzibar seafood dish. When it arrived, they all looked at it in horror.
‘I think some of it is still alive,’ Michele said.
Maybe it will climb from the plate and eat him. That would be a solution to her problem that Natasha hadn’t considered. It was good to be able to see the funny side of things. She tried to relax and eat her dinner, a filet steak that was probably delicious. Unfortunately, her appetite seemed to have gone the same way as her marriage.
Looking around the table, she saw she wasn’t the only one struggling. Tracy Ann had barely touched her meal, Barbara was pushing food around her plate but didn’t look to be eating anything, and Michele, although she appeared to be eating, didn’t finish even half what was on her plate before she put her cutlery down, positioning her knife and fork neatly together and muttering a barely distinguishable, ‘Very nice.’
Very nice. Such a nothing compliment. Was Michele referring to the cutlery, the plate, or the food?
Tracy Ann, Barbara and now Michele – in varying ways they’d all succeeded in upsetting Natasha. Tracy Ann’s kiss, Barbara’s revelation, Michele’s irritating personality. Natasha knew she was being unreasonable and perhaps it was simply that being in such close proximity for an extended period of time was too much. The ship, although big, wasn’t big enough. She glanced across the table to where Tracy Ann sat, the bruises on her hand more prominent in the glow of the wall lights. They looked painful; Natasha hoped they were. She glanced at Blake. Was he really capable of such violence?
Tracy Ann had definitely lied about falling.
And Barbara… Natasha was watching her surreptitiously and had seen the sideways glances she’d given Daniel, the softening of her eyes, her mouth, the longing that was written clearly… Why had she chosen to tell Natasha about Daniel’s vasectomy?
Even Michele was hiding something. She possibly wasn’t even aware, but every time she looked at Daniel, her expression hardened. As if she hated him. But she’d no reason to, had she?
Her friends. Natasha had thought they were good women who were ever so slightly boring, dull even. Now she wondered if she knew them at all. It appeared they were all keeping secrets of some sort and now, thanks to Barbara, so was she.
She saw Daniel looking at her questioningly and turned to beam a smile at him. Years of dealing with the patients in her care and their relatives had taught her how to switch on a reassuring façade.
It had splintered and fallen away in the last couple of years so that she was no longer able to offer the lies that were expected of her. That was the final nail in the coffin of her career. She could no longer pretend.
But now, she had to. Until she could figure out a course of action.
It would be a relief to get off the ship.
It didn’t seem big enough to contain all their secrets.
29
TRACY ANN
After dinner, they went to a variety show in the main theatre.
‘Do you know the way?’ Tracy Ann asked as they left the restaurant together. She was looking at Blake, but it was Daniel who replied with the certainty of a man who always had an answer.
‘It’s one deck up. Deck seven, forward.’
She waited for him to explain which direction forward was and almost smiled when he turned and did just that in the supercilious way he had.
‘The front of the ship, in case you’re wondering.’
How had she ever considered him charming, charismatic and irresistible? He was evil incarnate. ‘I wasn’t,’ she said, sharp enough to attract a puzzled glance from Blake. She slipped her hand into his and gave him a reassuring smile. ‘This should be a good show; I’m looking forward to it.’
They were later than they’d wanted to be though, and the theatre was already filling. To Tracy Ann’s relief, they weren’t able to sit together. She and Blake slipped into two vacant seats in the middle of a back row. She watched the others finding spaces in different parts of the large theatre. It would be easy for herself and Blake to make a quick exit at the end; her friends would be caught up in the crowd. She could relax knowing she’d not have to see them again that evening.
She slid her hand into Blake’s and felt his warm fingers close over it. He leaned closer and whispered, ‘You having a good time?’
Sitting there with him, as the lights dimmed and the spectacle unfolded on the stage in front of them, she could believe she was having a good time, that everything that was happening outside could be dismissed. In the half darkness of the theatre, she felt cocooned. But when Blake took his hand away to applaud the cast, she felt bereft.
Taking her hand back, she pulled away from him and from the large woman who sat on her other side, curling in on herself, suddenly wary of the darkness that surrounded her. It suddenly felt less friendly, as if it recognised something in her it could identify with. On the stage, the cast were wearing masks. She was in the wrong place. She should be on the stage with them. After all, she was wearing a mask too. The one of the loving, faithful, supportive wife.
Daniel should be up there too. Maybe he’d take his mask off and show the world what an evil bastard he was.
He wouldn’t, of course. If she was brave, she’d do it. Walk up to him in a public place and expose him for what he was. And she’d do it, she would if it was only herself to consider, but there was this man beside her. A man she loved, a man the truth would destroy.
No, she’d not expose Daniel. But one way or another, she’d put a stop to him.
30
NATASHA
When they returned to their cabin after the show, Natasha switched on the TV and located the channel that gave information on Kigomasha where the ship would drop anchor the following day. It was their first excursion. All of the friends and their husbands were going.
‘It looks fabulous,’ she said, nodding to the screen as Daniel crossed to the bar.
He opened the bottle of whisky and poured a healthy amount into a glass. ‘You want one?’
‘No, thanks, I’ve had enough.’ It was tempting to say, she didn’t want to drink more in case she was pregnant but she couldn’t bring herself to utter that lie. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to get it out without running over and tearing scratches down his handsome face. ‘You should watch this,’ she said, her eyes fixed on the screen.
‘Why?’ He tilted the whisky into his mouth and swallowed noisily. ‘We’re going to see it tomorrow and no doubt there’ll be someone droning on when we’re in the coach to the other place.’
‘Makangale Beach.’ She sighed, reached for the remote and switched the TV off. Since Barbara’s disclosure, everything seemed soiled. Spoilt. Meaningless. She wished she were at home. There, maybe she could make sense of everything and come to a decision about her future. But there were five more days and nights on this ship. Trapped. She crossed to the balcony door and slid it open, suddenly needing to be outside, to breathe fresh air rather than the air-conditioned, heated, stinking fug of the cabin. She gripped the railing, leaning forward to stare down into the water far below. In the light cast by the ship, the sea was a dark nothing topped with white crests. Nothing. Wasn’t that exactly what she needed. The calmness of nothing.
‘Are you okay?’
