Sue Fortin - The Dead Wife

HarperCollins Publishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by Harper Impulse 2019

Copyright © Sue Fortin 2019

Cover design by Ellie Game © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2019

xxxxxx

Sue Fortin asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008348069

Ebook Edition © July 2019 ISBN: 9780008294526

Version: 2019-07-08

To Ged and our first trip to the Lake District back in the 1990s when we toured the area on a motorbike. It rained a lot. We got very wet. But, despite rotten weather, we still had great fun and fell in love with the area and the fantastic scenery.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Also by Sue Fortin

About the Publisher

Everyone who visited, worked or lived at Conmere knew the lake to be both beauty and beast all at the same time. A water with two faces – the south shoreline the beauty, bathed in sunlight, the water sparkling and glistening as it gently lapped the pebbles around the edge. It was the jewel in the crown of the Conmere estate. By contrast, the north side was where the waters were dark and shrouded for most of the day in shadow cast by the Con Point Hills, which loomed large and jagged over the water. This was where secrets were drowned and silence prevailed.

It all happened in a matter of seconds, but to her, time stretched as her brain registered her body falling towards the water. So many more impressions filled her mind. The blackness of the water, that it was particularly deep at this point of the lake, that there was no gentle slope from shallow to deeper depths, and there was a tangle of weeds. She wondered if the weeds would soften her fall but then remembered she was wearing a heavy Barbour coat – one that Harry had insisted she wear that morning because the weather had taken a turn for the worse overnight. Then, of course, there were her wellington boots – she wished she’d had time to kick them off before they filled with water.

Turning her face to the side, she impacted the lake with first her shoulder and then her hip and her feet. For a moment she thought the weeds had acted as a safety net but then her head went under the water and the cold water swamped her face, rushing up her nostrils. She kept her mouth closed, squeezed her eyes tight shut and blew out from her nose. Automatically her arms flew out as she tried to paddle water, but her limbs were heavy and it was difficult to move in the thick coat. The water had already soaked through her clothing and the cold and wet wrapped itself around her arms. She kicked her feet, but her boots had gulped in the water, making it impossible for her to move.

She flung her head up and her face broke through the surface. She gulped in fresh air. A deep, huge lungful before being dragged down again. She had to get the coat off and frantically she grappled with the press studs. She must remain calm. One press stud undone. She must concentrate on what she was doing. Two press studs undone. She mustn’t panic. Three press studs undone. Her lungs were ready to burst. Four press studs undone. She grabbed at the zipper pull and yanked it down and, releasing the pin, with a Herculean effort managed to shrug the thick, waxy garment from her shoulders. Instead of falling away, it drifted almost motionless in the water. Her arms began to flap, trying to force her body upwards to the surface. The panic was taking hold now. She needed air. Lots of it. Her lungs were stinging – so painful. She mustn’t take a breath. It was an automatic bodily reaction but she knew she would only take in water if she did.

For the second time, she broke through the surface and gasped for air. She managed another lungful before she felt the pull of the water in her boots. She had the fleeting image of a figure standing on the bank. Her brain registered the sound of a dog barking.

Down again into the depths of the lake she sank. Her arms and legs were so tired and heavy, now starved of oxygen, she couldn’t move them. Didn’t they say that when a person drowned, their life flashed before them? Her lungs were once again at break point. In one last attempt she tried to move her arms to push herself to the surface but it was futile. She needed oxygen. She could no longer fight the urge not to breathe in and she felt the rush of water into her body.

Her last thought was, why hadn’t anyone tried to save her?

Instagram Story

Well, today I have been tasked by my illustrious boss at Vacation Staycation to spend the weekend in the Lake District at Conmere Resort Centre, which has been revamped by the Sinclair family – Pru and her three sons, Dominic, Harry and Owen. And, best of all, I get to meet them and sample the new facilities – can’t wait! #BestJobEver

‘What do you think?’ asked Steph, as her friend read her Instagram post.

‘I must say, you sound far more enthusiastic on Instagram than you do in real life,’ said Ria, putting down her phone. They were sitting in the office at the back of the gallery, Steph having called in to her friend in her lunch break.

Steph looked at her across her cappuccino. ‘I’m looking forward to it. I remember Conmere House from when I used to live up there. You know, my dad was a delivery driver for the Sinclair family for quite a few years, up until he died, actually, which was soon after the three sons took it over.’