The Second Marriage: An utterly gripping psychological thriller by Jess Ryder

Author:Jess Ryder [Ryder, Jess]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bookouture

Twenty-Three

I walked out of Leyla’s feeling angry and upset, but most of all confused. I’d spent the last few weeks adjusting to my new, honest and open relationship with Edward. We’d virtually had to go back to the beginning and start all over again. I’d listened to him for hours, talking about Francesca and recounting what had happened around the time of her disappearance. I’d searched my heart and finally concluded that he was telling me the truth. If he had killed her, I would have sensed it, wouldn’t I? I would have seen it in his eyes, tasted it in his kisses, felt it in his touch…

But now Marsha had thrown all my beliefs into the air, and I realised how fragile some of them were. She must have known that a best friend’s account of what had been going on in Edward and Francesca’s relationship would have a powerful impact on me. I was annoyed with her for going behind my back, but I also knew that she loved me and had my interests at heart.

My mind was in turmoil. After leaving the café, I walked around Bloomsbury for ages, not really looking where I was going, just taking random turnings this way and that, until I realised I was totally lost. I took out my phone and reorientated myself on the map, then threaded my way back in the direction of Oxford Street.

The pavements were seething with shoppers, mostly tourists by the sound of their conversations. I tried to lose myself in the crowds, wandering in and out of boutiques and department stores, flicking through rails of clothes, staring at displays of kitchenware and home accessories, sitting on sofas and beds in the furniture sections and trying not to catch any assistant’s eye. After I’d exhausted Oxford Street, I walked to Regent’s Park. It was a warm afternoon, so I found a bench under the shade of a tree and sat there just staring into space. School was out and the park was filling up with children. I picked up a tabloid newspaper that somebody had left behind and flicked through its pages. It was littered with sensationalist stories.

In the past, I would have believed the old adage that there was no smoke without fire. In cases of murder, I would have automatically taken the woman’s part, condemning the man without a second thought. Now I realised that it was all too easy to judge strangers; once you knew the actual people involved, it became far more difficult. The truth was far more nuanced than it seemed, if it existed at all. In the final analysis, the only person who knew what had happened to Francesca was the woman herself. I was still clinging onto the hope that she was alive after all; that she was out there somewhere, holding the key to Edward’s freedom tightly in her fist. If only I could entice her out of the shadows and encourage her to let it go. But how?

I stayed in the park until the light softened and I felt chilly in my light jacket.

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