The Innocent Wife by Amy Lloyd

Author:Amy Lloyd [Lloyd, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
ISBN: 9781780898117
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2017-10-05T23:00:00+00:00

Twenty-two

Sam was OK on the empty roads leading out of Red River but when they came to the traffic that surrounded the megastores and strip malls outside of town she felt overwhelmed by all the colours and movement. She started to panic, the world blurring behind tears that she tried to hide from her husband.

Once they’d parked, Sam went to the Walmart restroom to gather herself and came back to find Dennis missing. After several stressful minutes pacing the aisles she found him in the home section, throwing pillows and blankets into two shopping carts.

‘What’s all this?’ she asked.

‘For while we’re staying here. I don’t think there’ll be any spare stuff. Where are the inflatable mattresses?’

‘We’re staying in the house?’ Sam tried to keep her voice light but it came out shrill with anxiety.

‘What’s wrong? It’s only for a couple of weeks. Besides, I thought you were sick of living in hotels.’

Sam didn’t know how to respond. She remembered what it was like in that house, the smell of illness and rot. She wondered where Lionel had shot himself, whether they had people who cleaned it up or if the floor would be stained with the contents of his skull.

‘It’s kind of … messy there,’ she said. She felt embarrassed, as if she were criticising him somehow, even though he hadn’t been to the house in twenty years.

‘It was always messy,’ he said, turning back to the shelves.

‘No, I mean … it smells weird and …’ She didn’t know how to ask about his father’s suicide without sounding offensive.

‘And …?’

‘Nothing,’ she said.

‘We’ll clean up a little. It’ll be fine. We’ll be gone before you know it.’

Sam already felt the same itchy unease she’d felt the first time she went to the house, but she wanted to be supportive, even if she couldn’t understand why he would want to go back there. Maybe, she thought, he’s in denial. Sam bet as soon as they arrived he’d want to got to a hotel. He didn’t realise, yet, how bad it was.

‘Can you cook?’ Dennis asked her, swinging the shopping carts around and pushing one to her.

‘What?’ Sam was hardly paying attention, daydreaming of the hotel she hoped they’d be staying in that night.

‘Cook. Can you?’

‘I suppose,’ she said. ‘I mean, basically, yes.’

‘You’re not filling me with confidence here,’ he said, laughing.

‘You know what I mean,’ she said, pushing him playfully. ‘I’m no Gordon Ramsay but—’

‘Who?’ he asked.

Sam linked her arm through his and talked about Gordon Ramsay as he filled the shopping cart with food. Would they have to throw all this out when they got to the hotel? She told herself it didn’t matter. For now, she was happy that they weren’t arguing. If he wanted to believe that they would stay in the house that night, she would let him.

The house was surrounded by more mess than there had been the last time she was there. In the short time that the house had sat empty, unguarded, the peeling white walls had been sprayed with red words: ‘MURDERER’, ‘CHILD KILLER’.

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