The Dead Wife. Sue Fortin

Thirty-Nine

       Chapter Forty

       Chapter Forty-One

       Chapter Forty-Two

       Chapter Forty-Three

      Acknowledgements

      About the Author

      Also by Sue Fortin

      About the Publisher

       Chapter One

       Two Years Earlier, Conmere Resort Centre, Lake District, Cumbria

      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?

       Chapter Two

       Pallant Art Gallery, Brighton, Monday, 6 May, 1.16 p.m.

       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.’

      ‘And the sons have done the refurb?’

      ‘As I understand it. They offer all sorts of outdoor activities now but aimed at the high-end market. Pretty expensive, from what I’ve seen of the price list. Anyway, it’s not so much the resort I’m excited about, it’s the scenery. I’m hoping I’ll get a chance to take some photos for my portfolio.’

      ‘Oh, yes, do,’ encouraged Ria. ‘Lakes and mountains always sell. Soon you’ll be rich enough to leave your job at the travel agency.’

      ‘Yeah, in my dreams. Don’t get me wrong, I do like my job, but this is about as exciting as it gets. I’d like to get my teeth into something juicier.’

      ‘Like what?’

      ‘Oh, I don’t know. Something that’s a bit more serious and high profile. Current affairs or investigative journalism.’

      ‘I thought you were going to say you’d prefer to do photography.’

      ‘I would, but it doesn’t earn me a regular steady income. It’s hard-going being single. I thought after being divorced for over a year, I’d be more financially stable now.’

      ‘I think you were too easy on Zac; you should have pushed for more.’

      ‘Just because he had an affair? No, I was actually relieved when I found out. At least it prompted me to do something about it – to start afresh. We both knew our marriage was over long before that.’ Ria didn’t look convinced, but Steph had long since given up trying to justify her actions to her friend, as, no matter how well-intentioned Ria was, she hadn’t been in that marriage. Ultimately it had been down to Steph and Zac to sort things out, which they had done amicably. Privately, Steph had admitted to herself, if Zac hadn’t been the one to have an affair, it could so easily have been her. They had both been looking for love and affection, which sadly neither could provide the other with.

      Steph cleared her throat in a bid to clear her mind. Zac and their marriage and divorce certainly didn’t need revisiting. ‘Anyway, back to my new assignment. I’m sure I can get some great photos up there in the Lake District and any extra money will be most welcome, especially at the moment. I just had to spend out to get my car through its MOT.’ Steph’s gaze dipped as she concentrated placing her cup onto her saucer.

      ‘Hey,