Page 77 of Perfect Wives
FORTY
GEORGIE
She’s laughing.
This is funny to her.
My pulse is racing, and I feel out of my depth, washed out to sea like I did that night in the pub when we first met Keira. I wonder if I’ve been barely keeping my head above water since.
The living room is cramped. Too small for so many of us. It should be cosy in that way floral-print sofas and dark wood furniture can be, but all I feel is suffocated.
This isn’t how it was supposed to go. All the hours spent in that police interview room, lying to the detective, confessing to murder just like Keira told us to. All that time, I imagined the moment Sató would discover the truth, and she’d rush to Keira’s house and drag the woman away. Lock her up and throw away the key. Sirens and handcuffs and speed and we’d have our children back. Our lives back. This feels wrong. Just sitting here.
Keira leans back, arms crossed, gaze flicking between us with barely disguised irritation.
‘Look,’ she says, lips still quirking at the edges, ‘we had a laugh in the pub about killing your neighbour, but I’m not stupid. I knew it was a joke.’
Tasha is the first to jump in. ‘You threatened us,’ she says. Her voice is shaking. She looks one word away from breaking down completely. ‘Don’t deny it. In the school playground, you said, “Can you imagine if anyone found out?”’
‘That wasn’t a threat,’ Keira replies. ‘I was just commenting on how weird it was.’ Her gaze moves between us. Beth, then Tasha, then me, then the detective, watching everything unfold. ‘You talk about killing someone and then he dies. Of course it crossed my mind you might’ve done it. But then I realised how stupid that was. Look at you.’ She sweeps her hand towards us. ‘You’re all far too vanilla to commit murder.’
‘This is ridiculous,’ I say, straightening my shoulders. ‘I confronted you in the playground last week after you were talking to Nate. I told you to leave us alone and stop messaging us. You said you don’t stop doing things just because other people tell you to.’
Keira looks confused for a moment, already shaking her head slowly. ‘You were threatening me, Georgie. You didn’t mention any messages I was sending you. You basically accused me of trying to chat up your husband. Who, by the way, is cheating on you with any woman who swipes right for him.’
A flush of heat surges up my neck, burning across my cheeks, stretching all the way to the roots of my hair. I drop my gaze to the patterned carpet, unable to meet Beth’s or Tasha’s eyes.
I’ve spent weeks – months – telling myself I could fix this. Us. But Keira’s mocking voice shatters the last of the illusion I’ve been clinging to. My marriage is over.
The thought hollows out my chest. I let my shoulders drop, feeling myself sag into the chair, the fight draining out of me. A flash of memory dances into my thoughts – Nate laughing across the table on our first date, that sense of something magic sparking between us. How fast did that version of us disappear? How long have I been lying to myself?
The questions spiral, wild and dizzying.
What the hell have I been doing all this time?
Keira continues then. ‘I told you, I don’t let anyone control me. My ex always tried to put me in a box. I’m done behaving for anyone else.’
Across the room, Sató watches. Not interrupting. Not asking questions. She’s letting it play out. Letting us unravel, giving us enough rope to hang ourselves, I think.
Beth pulls out her phone. ‘This is crazy,’ she says, voice laced with desperation and frustration. ‘You can’t sit there and deny what you’ve done! You were messaging us then deleting the messages,’ she says. ‘You sent us the evidence from Jonny’s murder. You told us we had to kill your ex or you’d come back to the close and hurt our families.’
Keira rolls her eyes. Not laughing but still amused. ‘How was I messaging you? The only number I have is from someone claiming to be Georgie.’ She shoots a look to the detective I can’t decipher. ‘You’re wasting your time. I have no idea what they’re talking about.’ Then she turns to Beth. ‘Whoever was messaging you, it wasn’t me.’
‘We heard your voice notes,’ I say, remembering Keira’s voice in the messages. That mocking tone. Her Irish accent.
‘Again, not me,’ Keira says.
Beth taps her phone screen, then reads out the digits to the phone number from the group chat.
Keira looks vindicated, those lips lifting into an almost smile. ‘That’s not my number, but…’ She pulls her phone from the pocket of her hoodie and taps the screen. ‘It’s the same number I received a message from Georgie on to arrange this playdate.’
And even though I can’t explain what’s happening, can’t see through the mess we’re in to what’s really going on, when I look at Keira – so relaxed, so composed – I think she’s telling the truth.
Tasha looks at Beth then me. I look at DS Sató.
‘You could have a second phone,’ Beth says.
‘Call it then.’ Keira shrugs. ‘See who picks up because it won’t be me.’
