She is almost out of the front door when she sees the envelope leaning against the blue glass vase on the sideboard. It’s addressed to her.
Dear Caroline, I’m not going to be here for Christmas after all. They want me in before the New Year. Some “on-boarding” guff.
Anyway, I’m sure you’ll find plenty to amuse yourself with. You always do. I’ve hidden your present in the house.
This is the first clue. Have fun. Geoff Caroline frowns. There’s a squiggle after her husband’s name that looks like a kiss that’s he’s tried to erase.
Or maybe it’s just a splodge of ink. Either way, it’s the last thing she expected to find out today. Away over Christmas? Keep herself amused? She sighs and pulls off her boots.
She’s not going anywhere now. Not until she finds this mystery “gift”. She has to admit, even the thought of a mystery gift is better than Geoff usually manages.
He has always been a notoriously bad chooser of gifts.
Any man who thinks his wife would like a recycled crisp box filled with a NutriBullet and a pair of two-sizes-too-small, red lacy knickers and a note saying, “Get yourself into these and I’ll get you out of them ‘wink’” doesn’t really know his wife at all.
Although Lydia next door was given a One Direction ironing board cover from her hapless husband last Christmas – so it could have been worse. In fact, even if she never finds the mystery gift, just the thought of it will be enough.
Besides, Geoff wasn’t wrong. She has many ways of amusing herself when he’s away for work. And none of them have ever complained about the size of her knickers. So. The first clue. She reads the letter again.
Not much to go on, other than telling her that it is a clue. Have fun… was that it? Where does she have the most fun in this house?
It’s not with Geoff, that’s for sure. But he doesn’t know that. She does enjoy cooking him a nice meal though. When she can be bothered. Kitchen? No.
She’d have seen it already. Wait. The bath. She loves soaking in the bath. Bubbles and candles and a nice glass of wine or two.
She races up the stairs and, sure enough, there’s an envelope wedged into the back of her bath pillow. She rips it open. Well done.
You do have a lot of fun without me, don’t you? So… what else do you get up to on your own, hmm? Something exotic and luxurious, perhaps? Exotic and luxurious. Too easy, Geoff.
She drops the note and walks back into the bedroom, throws back the duvet to reveal her 1,000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, the envelope poking out from beneath her pillow.
OK, I admit it. That one was far too easy. There’s a pattern here though, isn’t there? Your favourite things… baths and bed.
Never with me though, eh? You’re always after “me-time” and “beauty sleep” when I’m around. I suppose you do still keep up the one thing you’re good at… Caroline balls her hands into fists. Who does he think he is? If he wasn’t away so much, she wouldn’t be so bored.
She wouldn’t be so used to her own company. Her own ways. It’s like they live separate lives most of the time. She feels deflated. This game isn’t much fun after all. He’s just using it to goad her, and the present at the end is going to be something just as horrible as usual. “All right, Geoff,” she says to the empty room.
“I’ll keep playing… but not for much longer. When you come back, we’re going to have a serious talk about this marriage. We’re not getting any younger. I might as well go out and meet who I want without all the secrets and lies I have to concoct to get some damn affection.”
Downstairs in the kitchen, she sees it straight away, tucked in behind her magnetic pad on the fridge.
How had she missed it? As she reaches forward for the envelope, a noise startles her. A muffled whump, as if something has fallen over.
She glances around the kitchen, but nothing is out of place. She shrugs. Takes the envelope off the fridge. And what do we like to share with those lovely meals you cook me? Of course. The cellar. Geoff’s mammoth collection of fine wines. Perhaps he’s bought her some fancy champagne? A bottle of Cristal, maybe? She flicks on the light and heads down the wooden stairs, instinctively pulling the door closed behind her
. She’s halfway down before she sees what it is, and it takes her a moment to work it all out in her head. She realises what the noise was.
It was Simon, her latest young lover, tipping himself on to the floor, trying to get her attention. He’s bound and gagged, and a ball of paper has been stuffed into his mouth
. His eyes widen when he sees her, and she rushes towards him. “It’s OK, I’m here now,” she says, stroking his head. She pulls the note out of his mouth.
Surprise! Well, I thought it was the least I could do, love, with me being away.
Oh, just one more thing… I fixed the handle on the cellar door. It doesn’t open from the inside any more. Merry Christmas.
Susi Holliday’s new novel, The Deaths Of December (Mulholland, £7.99), has just been published.