Page 73 of Perfect Wives
THIRTY-EIGHT
TASHA
INTERVIEW ROOM 2
The door opens and I jump, my breath coming sharp. Detective Sató steps inside the small grey room.
We’ve been at this for hours, but the detective is still so calm. She has a folder tucked under one arm and another bottle of water she places on the table for me. I flinch at the soft clunk it makes. My nerves are frayed, completely unspooled.
Time has lost all meaning in this awful place. Minutes have felt like hours. My stomach churns with hunger. I haven’t eaten since I finished Matilda’s half-eaten Weetabix this morning. Sweat has dried on my skin, leaving me feeling dirty. Stale.
I want to ask if she’s been speaking to Beth and Georgie? What have they said? But we made a pact: no mention of each other. Solo confessions will only work if we stick to the plan. But Beth didn’t tell me what to do if the guilt inside me feels like it’s eating me alive. She didn’t think about what it would be like sitting in this room hour after hour while our children were out there somewhere with that woman. A sob catches in my throat.
Please, please, please let them be safe by now. And what of Marc? Is he home from golf? Did he walk into an empty houseand think I left him? I wish I could see him. To tell him I forgive him. That I understand why he lied. Why he bought the vineyard for us. That he’s right – it’s more than a dream. It’s our future. Silent tears track two lines down my cheeks. I have nothing left in me. It has to be time to end this.
Sató settles into the chair across from me, folding her hands on the table. ‘Thank you for waiting, Tasha. How are you feeling now?’
‘I’m OK,’ I lie. I’m not, and we both know it.
‘If it’s all right with you, I’d like to talk about the night of Jonny Wilson’s death. The PTA quiz night,’ Sató says, like we haven’t spent this entire time talking about exactly that.
I nod, biting back a protest. There’s something like a razor’s edge to Sató’s voice.
My muscles tense.
‘We’ve continued our door-to-door enquiries from the night of Jonny’s murder,’ she says, sliding open the folder. ‘And someone’s come forward today. A woman walking her dog around eightp.m. She said she saw a woman in a yellow top matching your description running down Magnolia Road heading in the direction of Magnolia Close. Not dressed for exercise. Looking distressed.’
Cold dread twists in my gut.
‘I was in the kitchen helping with food prep,’ I say quickly, needing to explain. Needing her to see the truth behind what she’s discovered. The detail of the night of Jonny’s murder I’ve not told anyone. ‘But there wasn’t much to do so I thought I’d nip home to check on the girls.’
It’s not quite true, but my real reason for leaving that night doesn’t matter now.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I should’ve said straight away, but I knew it looked bad. I was only gone a few minutes. Matilda – that’smy oldest – she gets upset easily. I was worried about her and wanted to check she was OK.
‘I got to the gates of Magnolia Close and realised how silly I was being, so I just called Florence, our babysitter. She said the girls were asleep, and I returned to the school. No one knew I was gone.’
‘Would you say you were at breaking point that night, Tasha? Your parents needed to live with you, but Jonny had blocked planning permission for your extension. You couldn’t find a way out.’
‘I was stressed, yes,’ I admit. ‘But?—’
‘You needed something to change. You needed that extension. And Jonny was standing in your way.’
Sató is right. She knows it. I know it. I think of how desperate I felt the night in the pub when we met Keira. There was no way forward, no escape from the relentlessness of my life. And I realise I don’t feel that way anymore. That even though I’m living in a nightmare, there’s hope. I’m no longer buried alive. I can breathe. And it’s all down to Marc and the plans he’s made for us.
Sató doesn’t blink. ‘Did you leave the quiz night with the intention of murdering Jonny Wilson?’
I open my mouth, but no words come. I’m supposed to be confessing to Jonny’s murder. I’m supposed to convince Sató, and now I have and I can’t follow through. I feel myself split in two. Cracking, like the shell of an egg squeezed too tight inside a fist.
I can’t carry on.
A guttural sob heaves through my body. I’m trembling all over. Can’t get the air into my lungs. I close my eyes and pray Alistair has found the children. That my girls are safe.
‘I didn’t kill Jonny,’ I whisper.
‘Excuse me?’ Sató replies. ‘Could you repeat that please?’
‘I said…’ I swallow, forcing my voice louder. ‘I didn’t kill Jonny. I’m not really here to confess.’
