The Ex-Husband: An absolutely gripping psychological thriller with a killer twist Page 2

  ‘Which is exactly why I bought it,’ she chirped to herself as the warm feeling inside grew again – the feeling that she was still getting used to since the divorce. In the last few months, her life had changed beyond recognition. ‘And nothing,’ she said, bending down to stroke Cecil, her tabby cat, ‘is going to take my happiness away from me.’

  From us, she added in her head, knowing that her children had also gone through enough upheaval to last a lifetime – or at least a childhood. At fourteen, Zoey appeared stoic and impassive, as though she didn’t care one way or the other if her parents were together or not. Though Leah knew this was a front – a ‘too cool for school’ attitude that occasionally got her into trouble at actual school. Seven-year-old Henry on the other hand, to her dismay, had become withdrawn and anxious since the split, taking the weight of the divorce on his shoulders even though she’d tried to protect the kids from the gory details and legal battles. It was high time her children finally felt settled and able to look forward to their futures. Even if their father refused to be a stable presence in their lives, one thing was for certain: she was going be.

  While she waited for the kettle to boil, Leah opened the back door to let in some fresh air. It had been a warm start to the autumn so far, but the last week had seen constant rain, only brightening up this morning. It was why she’d abandoned work in the vegetable plot and begun tackling Zoey’s bedroom. The secret vegetable garden was one of the main reasons she’d bought the Wash House.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she’d asked several times when the young estate agent had shown her round several months ago. An incredulous expression had spread over her face as she’d stood in the arched gateway in the brick wall of the little courtyard directly behind the house, her mouth hanging open as she’d set eyes on it. A sharp shove of the old, warped door and it burst open, as though it was revealing a new world beyond in the form of the overgrown plot. ‘Like, all of this belongs to the property? Really?’ She couldn’t believe it. The potential was huge.

  The agent, a woman in her early twenties, had nodded, tapping something into her phone. ‘Think so,’ she’d said in a way that made Leah wonder if she was listening – or if she’d fallen foul of Craig’s maligning of her. They were in the same business, after all. She shuddered at the thought of her ex getting wind of her house-hunting. She didn’t want him to know anything about her. As far as she was concerned, the only reason they ever needed to communicate was about the children, and unless it was an emergency, then that could be done by email.

  Leah had viewed so many houses over the last few months that the local estate agents probably all thought she was a time-waster by now. Her house-buying endeavours had become a standing joke with her friends as well as her parents – though they were entirely good-natured about it.

  She and the kids had been staying with her mum and dad since they’d moved out of the family home twelve months ago when things had become intolerable with Craig. Over the years, he had refused to be the one to leave, making threats that she’d never see a penny from the house, that he’d go for full residency of the kids, that she’d never get to see them because she was mentally unstable. At the time, she’d believed him.

  While her mum and dad had been lifesavers, she couldn’t deny that the five of them living in their small two-bedroomed semi was beginning to have its drawbacks, not to mention that all their stuff was in storage. But once the gruelling rounds of court hearings and financial battles had come to a head, and the sale and split of the family home was ordered by a judge, buying a place for her and the children had become critical.

  ‘So you’re definitely sure?’ Leah had checked again with the young estate agent, knowing that by the end of the day she’d be making an offer. The place did something to her – something inexplicable that none of the other properties she’d viewed had. It was as though its wonky walls and leaky roof were giving her a hug, drawing her in, telling her it was home. And the Victorian walled garden being part of the property was most certainly the cherry on top. She knew she had to have it.

  ‘I can phone Barry at the office to confirm if you like?’ she’d said, glancing down at her heels as they sank into the soft earth. Leah had walked on into the large muddy plot beyond the courtyard garden of the Wash House, her practical trainers making light work of the uneven ground. It didn’t look as though anything had been grown in the garden for several decades, though she could vaguely see the outline of where raised beds once were, the wires along the mellow, south-facing brick wall where cordons of fruit trees would once have sunned themselves.

  ‘Yes, yes, please do,’ Leah had excitedly called back over her shoulder, marvelling at the potential. She envisaged asparagus beds and free-range hens, fruit cages and a strawberry patch. The kids would help her, and they’d grow everything organically. In an instant, she had a dream firmly wedged in her mind. When she’d booked the viewing, she assumed the Wash House only came with the little courtyard garden shown in the details and now, standing here, she couldn’t understand why the agent hadn’t included pictures of the walled garden. It was surely a selling point. But now she was relieved that they’d overlooked advertising it. She didn’t want any competition or to be outbid.

  ‘Yes, Barry says as far as he knows it definitely comes with the house,’ the young estate agent said, hanging up from a phone call to the office. ‘Though if you go ahead, he says you’ll need your solicitor to check and confirm this. Apparently, the state of the garden has been putting people off, so that’s why we haven’t made much of it in the sales particulars. The wall is listed and will probably need rebuilding in the near future. It’s an expensive job.’

  ‘Yes, yes, it would be, as well as getting the garden under control,’ Leah had said, trying to tone down her enthusiasm. ‘Not to mention all the work on the house that needs to be done.’ She’d shaken her head, but beneath her poker face her heart was doing cartwheels and her mind whizzing at a thousand miles an hour as she imagined making the little house into a forever home for her and the kids.

  By the end of the day, she had an offer on the table; twenty-four hours later, the offer was accepted and the property removed from the market.

  Mug of tea in hand, Leah went into her living room before heading upstairs to continue with the wallpaper stripping. The room seemed darker with the huge removals van parked directly outside – as though thunderclouds had gathered. Unlike the big house next door, her sliver of the original building only had a small front garden. As it was, the magnolia tree blocked out some of the light but, having noticed the creamy, hand-sized blooms when she’d driven down the street in the past, there was no way she would ever chop it down.

  She peered out of the paned window, craning her neck to see if there was any sign of the new neighbours yet. The removals men lugged box after box of possessions up the front path like giant ants, occasionally stopping for a swig of water. But there was no sign of the occupants. She wondered if she’d have time to whip up some chocolate brownies to take round as a welcome gift later. She’d been touched when the previous people next door had done the same for her when she’d moved in. It was a shame that she’d barely got to know Josh and Carrie before they suddenly moved away. They’d seemed like good neighbours.

  Back in Zoey’s bedroom, Leah filled the wallpaper stripper with more water and waited for it to heat up. She sipped on her tea as she gazed around the room, mug in one hand and paint colour chart in the other. Zoey had taken only a minute to choose the colour when Leah showed her the samples.

  ‘That one,’ she’d said, jabbing her finger at the little square of sage green. She’d gone back to watching Netflix then.

  ‘Good choice,’ Leah had agreed. ‘It’ll look lovely with some crisp white bedding and all your plants.’

  She smiled as she thought of her daughter, straight-talking and no-nonsense, though Leah knew that deep down things had affected her more than she’d ever let on. Such as her dad not always bothering to turn up for t
heir arranged contact time.

  A car horn blared in the street below, sending Leah to the window again. An expensive-looking grey four-wheel drive vehicle was reverse-parking, albeit badly, in front of the removals van. The driver of another passing car slowed down and shook his fist as the door of the grey vehicle opened. Leah watched as a woman with blond hair got out, seemingly impervious to the abuse yelled out by the other driver as he sped off. In fact, there was a big smile on the woman’s face as she stared up at the Old Vicarage, one hand on her hip and the other sliding her huge dark sunglasses onto the top of her head.

  Leah was expecting the other door of the car to open and perhaps a husband or partner or some kids to get out – but it seemed to be just the woman. ‘My new neighbour,’ she whispered to herself, pulling back from the window so she wasn’t spotted. The rest of the family must be following on, she thought, waiting for another car to pull up. But in the next few minutes at least, as Leah peeked between the curtains a couple more times, no other car arrived. It was just the blond woman standing there, directing the removals men as they lugged boxes from the van.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘Hel-lo…’ Leah said an hour later, brushing sticky flakes of woodchip off her overalls as she trotted out of her front gate and onto the street. ‘And welcome!’ she added brightly, giving the new neighbour a wide grin as she turned at the sound of Leah’s voice.

  ‘That one is for the living room,’ the woman said to a removals man as he came down the ramp with a box. ‘And be careful, please, there are fragile ornaments in it.’

  ‘I’m Leah,’ Leah said, holding out a hand as she approached. ‘I live next door and thought I’d just come out and say hi quickly. Excuse the state of me, I’ve been decorating.’

  ‘Hi… hello, Leah,’ the woman said, giving her a look up and down. The smile seemed like an afterthought. ‘And thanks so much for the kind welcome. Looks as though you’ve been hard at it.’ The smile turned into a grin.

  She seems nice enough, Leah thought, even if she is a little overdressed for moving-in day. Cream-coloured patent court shoes and a pale-grey pencil skirt didn’t seem very practical.

  ‘I’m Gillian. Pleased to meet you.’ She smiled again, easier this time. ‘I hope the van isn’t in your way – it’s taking up half the street. Lucky they didn’t hit that old car behind it when they parked. It looks as though it would fall apart!’ Her eyes flicked down the street, past the end of the lorry.

  ‘Oh, that’s my Min—’

  ‘I was hoping to get into the office later, depending on how long this lot takes to unload,’ Gillian went on, sweeping a hand up and down herself to explain what Leah had already been thinking about her clothes. ‘A bit ambitious of me to think there’d be time on moving-in day.’ She laughed again – a slight nervous edge to her tone.

  ‘Looks like you’ve got a whole load of stuff in there,’ Leah continued, deciding to ignore the comment about her car. Her dad had kindly given her his Mini when her previous one had packed up and, while it was old and almost a classic, it still ran well enough. Instead, Leah peered through the wide opening in the side of the huge van, seeing it was tightly packed with boxes and various pieces of furniture wrapped in grey protection blankets. ‘That’s the biggest game of Jenga I’ve ever seen. Could take a while to get it all out.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Gillian said with another laugh. ‘They’ve been packing boxes for several days. Mind you, it was from two homes, so…’ She trailed off, catching sight of a glass-fronted cupboard coming down the ramp. ‘Oh, do be careful,’ she called out. ‘That was my grandmother’s. It’s an antique. She’d turn in her grave if anything happened to it.’ She covered her eyes briefly.

  ‘Moving’s so stressful,’ Leah said, feeling she ought to leave her to it. She seemed rather on edge. ‘I’ve only been here a short while myself, so I know what it’s like.’

  Gillian turned back to Leah then glanced over at her little place. ‘It’s… cute,’ she said, her eyes flicking back to her own, much larger and grander house. ‘It would have all been one property once upon a time, of course.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Leah replied. ‘Mine used to be the old wash house. It’s where the servants did the laundry for the family living in your new home, as well as some of the other big houses in the area.’ She pointed to the slate name plaque next to her rickety old wooden gate. Whenever the postman came through it, she heard him cursing to himself as he tried to stop it falling off its hinges completely. Another job for Jimmy, she thought.

  ‘I’ll be bringing all our dirty clothes round, then,’ Gillian said with a laugh, pulling her sunglasses back over her eyes again. ‘Well, I’d better get on with supervising this lot, but nice to meet you, Leah. My partner is away on business at the moment, but when he’s back, we must all get together. Do you have children?’ Gillian cleared her throat and briefly looked away.

  ‘Yes, yes, two little mischief-makers,’ Leah said with a laugh as a removals man huffed past them. ‘Not that they’re that little any more. But don’t worry, they’re not noisy. They’re as good as gold, in fact. And I don’t have any yapping dogs either,’ she added, wanting to make a good impression.

  Gillian stared at her for a moment, making Leah wonder if she was talking too much. ‘Great. We’ll invite you and your better half around for drinks when we’re settled. Good luck with the decorating!’ she chirped before turning away and heading up her front path, calling out something to one of the removals men about where to put the piano.

  Leah wondered whether to stop and correct her, tell her that there was no ‘better half’, but decided against it. Gillian was out of earshot now and she didn’t want to broadcast her marital status to the entire street. Anyway, she was quite used to attending gatherings solo – not that she’d been to many of those since being single. After she and Craig first separated, socialising had been the last thing on her mind, and she’d enjoyed spending her evenings alone with her children. And once the divorce was finally over, she’d needed recovery time more than ever. It felt as though she’d been sucked dry with nothing left inside to give anyone.

  ‘Right, Cecil,’ Leah said to the cat when she was back inside. ‘Let’s crack on with this stripping. I want it finished before the kids get home from school.’

  ‘That’ll be your sister back,’ Leah said, hearing the front door bang as she washed her hands at the old Belfast sink later that afternoon. Henry had been getting on with learning his spellings since they’d walked home from school an hour ago, while Leah had scraped the last remnants of paper off the walls ready for rubbing down and then decorating. It was so tempting to call Jimmy to see if he had a few hours spare to finish the job, but every penny counted right now.

  ‘Hi, darling,’ Leah called out. There was a mumbled reply from the hallway then the sound of feet galloping up the stairs. ‘How was swimming club?’

  Silence.

  ‘When’s tea, Mum? I’m starving,’ Henry said, sitting slumped over his spelling book.

  ‘Coming riiight up, my dear boy,’ Leah replied in a silly voice, ruffling her son’s hair as she squeezed past the kitchen table. ‘You need a trim, young man. I’ll have to get you into the salon.’

  ‘It’s for old ladies,’ Henry mumbled, kicking his feet against the chair leg. ‘Can’t you just do it at home?’

  Leah laughed. ‘I dare you to say that to my customers, you cheeky monkey,’ she said, taking a packet of sausages from the fridge. She and Henry had popped into the local butcher on the way home and her son had chosen his favourite ones, with Leah promising to make toad-in-the-hole, though that seemed ambitious now. She was exhausted, but a promise was a promise. Her kids had seen too many broken ones in their lives recently, so if making what her son wanted for dinner helped him feel even an ounce more settled, then that was what she would do. ‘I’ll cut your hair at home instead,’ she added.

  ‘Watcha, Sprat,’ Zoey said, giving her brother a poke as she blustered into the room.
He squealed before throwing his rubber at her, which Zoey dodged, turning it into a silly dance move. Henry aimed his pencil at his sister then, his scowl breaking into a grin.

  ‘Enough, guys,’ Leah warned. ‘And no stabbing your sister, Henry.’

  Henry stared down at his exercise book again, covering his ears and mouthing letters to himself.

  ‘Good day?’ Leah asked her daughter. ‘How was swimming training?’

  ‘Fine,’ Zoey said, staring between her phone and the inside of the cupboard as she hunted for the biscuits. ‘Dad never replied to my text about coming to the end-of-term gala.’ Her tone was flat, her eyes heavy.

  Leah reached out to her, stroking her shoulder. She felt her strong swimmer’s muscles beneath, knowing how much it would mean to her daughter if her father was at the event to cheer her on.

  Twice, Leah thought, shaking her head.

  That was the number of times Craig had bothered to show up at Zoey’s races since she began training a couple of years ago. Both times she’d won. In fact, she always won. She had real talent, and dreamt of one day trying out for the Olympic swimming team. Whether it was realistic or not didn’t matter. What mattered was that her parents supported her.

  At the time, Leah simply couldn’t understand her husband’s lack of interest in Zoey’s achievements, especially something that was so important to her. But hindsight now told her that Craig’s mind had been on other things – or rather, other women – and knowing that Leah was tied up poolside for several hours in the evening cheering their daughter on had simply facilitated the deceit.