The Man She Married: A gripping psychological thriller with a heart-pounding twist(8)

‘Thanks, Ally.’ His tone was non-committal. ‘After Christmas, maybe.’

We spent Christmas apart; me with my brother David and his girlfriend in Surrey, and Dominic up north with his mother. He messaged me frequently, claiming to be bored to death, and that his mother’s cooking was horrible. Our first meeting after the festive break was on the rooftop at New Year’s Eve.

The night Dominic proposed.



‘Bloody hell, he’s a quick worker,’ JoJo says when I summon her to an emergency debrief at Bean & Beaker. ‘You guys only met a few weeks ago!’

‘We’ve been dating three months, actually. And we first met a month before that.’

She scrunches her nose. ‘Even so, that’s pretty quick work.’

I shrug. ‘I suppose so. I certainly wasn’t expecting it.’

I hold up the square-cut diamond, turning my hand this way and that as if to demonstrate that I, the affianced woman, can’t quite believe it.

‘But you said yes, though,’ JoJo observes. ‘So presumably you want to marry him?’

‘I do…’

JoJo takes a mouthful of coffee, setting her cup down in the saucer and leaning forward to force eye contact. ‘I’m sensing a “but”.’

‘I don’t know, it all just…’ I flutter my hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘Meeting him… everything… it all just came out of nowhere. Literally. I stepped into a lift and there he was. How crazy is that?’

‘Pretty crazy,’ agrees JoJo, skimming the foam off her coffee and licking the spoon.

‘I mean, after years of being with Alex, thinking I’m going to marry him, getting almost to the altar and my whole future falling away, then one day a lift breaks down and I get talking to someone who turns out to be my future husband. Just like that.’ I drink some of my cappuccino. ‘I feel like I’m in a weird time lag where my brain is failing hard to keep pace with events. I mean me, actually planning another wedding. I don’t know, it’s all so… unlikely.’

JoJo’s brow furrows. ‘But isn’t this what you always wanted? To walk up the aisle in a beautiful white dress? By the way, you could totally recycle the dress you bought before; I won’t tell anyone.’

I laugh, picking up a teaspoon and stirring rhythmically, even though I don’t take sugar. ‘I think that’s considered a bad omen. Shame, because it’s such a beautiful dress… I suppose I’m freaking out because it’s all happened so fast. Call it romantic imposter syndrome.’

‘Listen,’ JoJo reaches out her hand and squeezes mine. ‘I’d be the first to agree that it’s been a whirlwind. But when you think about it, why should that matter? Is it just because you met someone the old-fashioned way, rather than via online dating? Surely that’s better?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘And if the sex is great…’

I give a coy smile into my coffee cup.

‘And he’s nice to you…’

‘Oh he is,’ I affirm with a contented sigh. ‘He’s lovely to me. And great fun.’

‘Then don’t spook yourself because someone let you down in the past. That was then, this is now.’

I’m silent for a beat as I take this in. ‘I think that’s it, you know, JoJo. For so many years I assumed Alex was my forever person, but he wasn’t. Dominic is. I think it’s just hard getting my head round that. That’s what’s unsettling me.’

JoJo gives an ‘I told you so’ shrug.

‘So… two questions: will you be my maid of dishonour?’

‘Of course.’ JoJo grins. ‘Is there payment involved?’

‘Only alcohol.’

‘Deal.’ She thrusts out a hand.

‘And the second thing is… will you help me choose my dress?’

‘Of course I will, you eejit. It’s part of the maid of honour job description. When are you going to start looking? I guess these things are seasonal… spring brides, and all those clichés.’

‘Exactly. The spring stuff will be in the shops now. So it’s perfect.’

JoJo frowns at me. ‘You’re talking about spring next year, right? 2017?’

I’m shaking my head. ‘No. This spring. Dom says he doesn’t want to wait.’

I drain the remains of my coffee, pretending not to have noticed JoJo’s look of dismay.



‘I may as well properly move in; don’t you think?’

‘What – you mean before the wedding?’ I stare at Dominic, not even trying to hide the fact that I’m taken aback. We’re in our favourite gastropub in Fortune Green, on the first Sunday after New Year’s Eve. A fire is blazing in the grate and we’re enjoying a glass of hot punch while we peruse the menu. It consists chiefly of roasted meats of one type or another, and I can never decide between them.

‘Yes, of course before the wedding. It’s not the 1950s – no need to wait until you’ve walked down the aisle.’ Dominic looks up from the menu. ‘It’s got to be the roast beef, hasn’t it? Every time.’

I sip my punch. ‘I was thinking the guinea fowl…’ I focus on the food, unable to explain to my fiancé exactly why I don’t want him moving in straight away. Eventually, yes. But not yet. I need a bit more time to get used to the engagement.