Her Perfect Life: A gripping debut psychological thriller with a killer twist. Sam Hepburn

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      ‘No.’

      ‘You need to. Maybe he can keep a lid on it.’

      ‘He does PR, not miracles. See it from her point of view. She’s angry, she wants revenge.’

      ‘At least it proves it’s over.’

      ‘Oh, yes. It’s over for her and Tom. Not for me. It’s never going to be over for me.’

      ‘Oh, come on.’

      ‘He says he hates himself, that she meant nothing and I believe him. But—’ Gracie’s hand moves to her lips but the words come spewing out. ‘It feels as if Louise has done this to punish me.’

      It’s a shocking moment. Daphne stares at her. And goes on staring, as if she’s seen something disturbing and can’t tear her eyes away. ‘Punish you?’

      ‘For being alive. For daring to marry her husband.’

      ‘Fuck’s sake, what’s the matter with you? Tom screwed up. That’s what men do.’

      ‘He’d never have cheated on her.’

      ‘Stop this.’ Daphne moves aside and points to the speckled Campari mirror on the wall behind her. ‘Look at yourself. You’re gorgeous, funny, smart and you’ve got more sex appeal in one toenail than that po-faced ice queen had in her whole body.’

      Gracie catches her reflection in the mirror and looks away. ‘She was the love of his life.’

      Daphne bites on the breadstick and points the broken end at Gracie. ‘He was a wreck when you met him, still would be if you hadn’t married him. He knows that.’

      ‘I just happened to be there – good old Gracie picking up the pieces.’

      ‘Paying for his sodding house.’

      ‘Not all of it.’

      ‘Oh, come on. If it wasn’t for Cooking with Gracie it’d still be a building site.’

      ‘I never cared about the money. I just wanted him to be happy.’ She twists away, struggling to breathe.

      Daphne grabs her wrist. ‘You’ve got to let this go.’

      ‘I can’t.’

      ‘Because you want the impossible.’

      ‘I don’t.’

      ‘You do. You convince yourself that men are something they’re not and when it turns out they’re pathetic and human you fall apart. Look at the state you were in after that tosser Harry Flynn. All over the place for months. Right up until you started seeing Tom.’

      Gracie presses her lips together, this talk of Harry loosening more pain than she can bear.

      Daphne’s voice softens. ‘Tom loves you, Gracie. Anyone can see that.’

      ‘Not the way he loved Louise. Oh sure, he wants things back the way they were and he thinks if I let him convert some crappy old church into my new café everything’s going to be fine. But I can’t trust him. Not any more.’

      ‘It’s over, Gracie. You said so yourself.’

      ‘Over with Alicia. But it wasn’t just a fuck. If it had been then maybe, eventually, I could have dealt with it. But Alicia’s like Louise. She understands his world. She can talk to him about architraves and bloody elevations and when she told him he was a genius and the Bristow’s client was an idiot, it actually meant something.’

      ‘Is that what he said?’

      ‘No. But think about it. It happened the night he lost the tender. He brought her home so she could rave about his prizewinning masterpiece and bolster his ego in ways I never could. You know what he’s like about his work. He needs constant validation. Sooner or later he’s going to leave me for someone who can give it to him.’

      The waiter appears with their food. Gracie blots her eyes with a napkin while he spoons parmesan from a steel pot and waves his ridiculous pepper mill. Daphne glares at him. He retreats. ‘Eat.’ She forks up a mound of pasta. ‘You two are the perfect couple. It’s never going to happen.’

      ‘Like Tom screwing an intern was never going to happen?’ There’s a fevered desperation in her voice, a shudder when she breathes.

      Daphne looks her in the eye. ‘You’re not going to leave him?’

      For a moment Gracie is hyper-aware of everything: the fragility of the glass in her hand, the murmur of voices, the crash of plates in the kitchen. ‘Think what it would do to Elsie.’

      ‘Is that the only reason you’re staying?’

      Gracie blinks at her. ‘I love him. I loved our life together but now, every time I see another woman, I hate her because she could be the one who takes him away and then I go home and it’s … like I don’t belong there, like I’ve got no right to …’

      Daphne’s eyes drill into hers. ‘No right to what?’

      ‘Live in Louise’s house.’

      ‘Yeah, well you know my feelings about that.’

      ‘I swear it didn’t bother me before. Not really. Not when everything was OK. But now—’

      Daphne throws aside her napkin. ‘Tell him to sell it.’

      ‘I can’t. You know I can’t.’

      ‘After what he’s done?’

      Gracie’s face sags with wretchedness. ‘That house is a part of who he is. I can’t ask him to give it up. Specially not now.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Losing the Bristow’s tender has totally crushed his confidence. The house is his reminder that he’s got what it takes.’

      ‘What’s more important to him – that bloody house or his marriage?’

      ‘If I made him leave it he’d end up hating me.’

      ‘What about you? What do you want?’

      Gracie grows still. ‘Certainty, I s’pose.’ She stares across the restaurant. ‘Certainty that I’m not building my life on something Tom can snatch away next time some intern bats her eyes at him.’

      ‘Well dream on. No one gets that. Why do you think I’m still single?’ Daphne pours herself more wine. ‘You look like shit.’

      ‘Thanks.’

      ‘Are you sleeping?’

      ‘Not really. I lie there for a couple of hours then I get up and wander round and …’ her face crumples ‘… I see Alicia in every room. It’s like I can smell her, like she’s СКАЧАТЬ