The Man She Married: A gripping psychological thriller with a heart-pounding twist

The Man She Married: A gripping psychological thriller with a heart-pounding twist

Alison James




Prologue





I approach the open coffin, balanced on trestles at the centre of the silent room. Heavy velvet drapes are drawn discreetly over the window, and in the corner a lamp is lit, next to an arrangement of silk flowers on a tall stand.

As I draw closer, I glimpse the tip of his nose against the pleated white satin of the coffin lining. The sight is so odd and other-worldly, it makes my head swim and the carpeted floor feel unsteady under my feet. My heart is pounding as I get close enough to see him; all of him.

I have no idea who gave the undertaker the suit and tie he’s wearing; I only know it wasn’t me. I take in the curve of his mouth, the sweep of hair from his forehead, the angles of his profile. On his left hand is a wedding ring. I remove my own wedding ring and drop it into the coffin.

The only thought in my mind is how this is like one of those riddles you find inside a Christmas cracker. Because the man lying inside my husband’s coffin is not my husband.

He’s a total stranger.





Part One





One





Alice





Now





‘Of course, you know it’s all a bunch of total bullshit?’

‘What is?’ I ask, although I already know the answer to my question.

‘Valentine’s Day.’ My friend JoJo speaks with the gusto of the true non-believer. ‘It’s just a retail con to make you buy a load of pink and red tat.’ She takes a triumphant slurp of her latte. ‘The original St Valentine was struck off the list of saints by the Vatican anyway.’

‘I don’t think people give a toss about the facts,’ I retort, placing my own coffee cup in its saucer and admiring the gleaming surfaces of my freshly manicured scarlet nails. ‘They just relish the excuse to ramp up the romance.’

‘And is that what you’re doing?’ JoJo gives me a sharp look. ‘Ramping up the romance? Even though you’re an old married lady these days?’

I’m snatching a quick half-hour with my best friend at Bean & Beaker, our favourite coffee shop on Chamberlayne Road. I’ve taken the afternoon off work to shop for and cook a special Valentine’s Day supper for my husband. Since I’m the owner of a company – a rapidly expanding catering business covering corporate events and weddings – I can take time off whenever I like. That’s the theory, at least. In practice, it’s difficult when we’re so busy. The approach of spring means a flurry of weddings, on top of our work for the media awards season.

I smile, aware I must look coy. ‘We’ve been through our ups and downs, but since… you know…’

‘That crazy woman,’ JoJo interjects.

‘Yes. Since then… things have been great. Really great, in fact.’ I can’t stop the flood of colour rising to my cheeks.

JoJo notices. Of course she does. ‘Aliiiiice?’ she draws out my name. ‘Anything you care to share with Auntie JoJo?’

I look down at my vermilion fingertips again, picking up the teaspoon from my saucer and turning it over and over. ‘Don’t say a word. To anyone. Promise.’

‘Of course I promise. Go on – spit it out!’ JoJo’s excited grin makes it obvious she’s guessed what I’m about to say. She knows me only too well.

I glance round the coffee shop, crowded with school-run mummies and their Bugaboos, lowering my voice to a stage whisper. ‘I think I might be pregnant.’

‘You think?’

I open my bag wide enough for JoJo to get a glimpse of a pregnancy test box. ‘I’m going to do the test this evening, before Dom gets home.’ I see something cross her face; a look of concern. ‘What?’

‘Are you sure you’re ready for this?’

‘Of course! I’m nearly thirty-four.’

‘I mean “you” plural. Is Dom ready to be a dad?’

‘Of course he is.’ I’m aware I sound defensive. ‘He’s the same age as I am.’

‘I don’t mean his age. Look, we both know I’m no expert.’ At thirty-six, JoJo is defiantly single, her longest relationship having not quite made it to the twelve-month mark. ‘But you’ve been married… how many years is it now?’

‘Coming up to three.’

‘Exactly. Not that long. And you’d only just met when you married. Since then there have been some challenges, to put it mildly.’ She reaches across the table for my hand. ‘Sweetie, I’m delighted for you if you are pregnant; of course I am. I’m just saying, having a child places extra stress on a relationship.’

I give her a beatific smile. ‘It will be a fresh start. A joint project. That’s how I’m looking at it. And we did put off having a baby for a while, in the early days of our marriage when Dom wasn’t ready. But with me hitting my mid-thirties… well, we can’t put it off forever, can we?’

We pay for our coffee and JoJo sets off to her flat in Notting Hill Gate to pick up her work as a freelance editor with a cheerful, ‘Back to the grindstone for me, chick!’

I wander over to Kilburn High Road, buying a selection of cheeses, salad and artisan bread from the deli, some sea bass from our favourite fishmonger, a bottle of pink champagne and some overpriced chocolates in a heart-shaped box from the supermarket’s express branch. JoJo would scoff at this last purchase, but I see it as a poignant symbol of the new life in our marriage. A heart, just like the tiny new one that could be beating inside me. And Dom has always been a closet chocoholic. I know the best way to sweeten him up.