THE LAST WIFE
Author: Karen Hamilton
ISBN: 9781525831744
Publication Date: July 7, 2020
Publisher: Graydon House Books
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Book Summary:
In Karen Hamilton’s
shocking thriller, THE LAST WIFE (Graydon House, July 7, $17.99) Marie Langham is distraught when her childhood friend, Nina, is diagnosed
with a terminal illness. Before Nina passes away, she asks Marie to look out
for her family—her son, daughter,
and husband, Stuart. Marie would do anything for Nina, so of course, she
agrees.
Following Nina's death, Marie gradually finds herself drawn into her
friend's life—her family, her
large house in the countryside. But when Camilla, a mutual friend from their
old art-college days, suddenly reappears, Marie begins to suspect that she has
a hidden agenda. Then, Marie discovers that Nina had long suppressed secrets
about a holiday in Ibiza the women took ten years previously when Marie's
then-boyfriend went missing after a tragic accident and was later found
dead.
Marie used to envy Nina's beautiful life, but now the cards are up in
the air and she begins to realize that nothing is what it seemed. As
long-buried secrets start surfacing, Marie must figure out what’s true and who
she can trust before the consequences of Nina’s dark secrets destroy her.
PROLOGUE
Clients trust
me because I blend in. It’s a natural skill—my gift, if you like. I focus my
lens and capture stories, like the ones unfolding tonight: natural and guarded
expressions, self-conscious poses, joyous smiles, reluctant ones from a teenage
bridesmaid, swathed in silver and bloodred. The groom is an old friend, yet
I’ve only met his now-wife twice. She seems reserved, hard to get to know, but
in their wedding album she’ll glow. The camera does lie. My role is to take
these lies and spin them into the perfect story.
I take a glass
of champagne from a passing server. I needn’t be totally on the ball during the
latter half of the evening because by then, people naturally loosen up. I find
that the purest details are revealed in the discreet pictures I snatch during
the final hours, however innocuously an event starts. And besides, it seems
this event is winding down.
The one
downside of my job is the mixed bag of emotions evoked. I rarely take family
photos anymore, so normally, I’m fine, but today, watching the wedding
festivities, the longing for what I don’t have has crept up on me. People think
that envy is a bad thing, but in my opinion, envy is a positive emotion. It has
always been the best indicator for me to realize what’s wrong with my life. People
say, “Follow your dreams,” yet I’d say, “Follow what makes you sick with envy.”
It’s how I
knew that I must stop deceiving myself and face up to how desperately I wanted
to have a child. Delayed gratification is overrated.
I place my
camera on a table as the tempo eases and sit down on a satin-draped chair. As I
watch the bride sweep across the dance floor with her new husband, I think of
Nina, and an overwhelming tide of grief floods through me. I picture her
haunted expression when she elicited three final promises from me: two are easy
to keep, one is not. Nonetheless, a vow is a vow. I will be creative and
fulfill it. I have a bad—yet tempting—idea which occasionally beckons me toward
a slippery slope.
I must do my
best to avoid it because when Nina passed the baton to me, she thought I was
someone she could trust. However, as my yearning grows, the crushing
disappointment increases every month and the future I crave remains elusive.
And she didn’t know that I’d do anything to get what I want. Anything.
ONE
Ben isn’t at
home. I used to panic when that happened, assume that he was unconscious in a
burning building, his oxygen tank depleted, his colleagues unable to reach him.
All this, despite his assurance that they have safety checks in place to keep
an eye out for each other. He’s been stressed lately, blames it on work. He
loves his job as a firefighter, but nearly lost one of his closest colleagues
in a fire on the fourth floor of a block of flats recently when a load of
wiring fell down and threatened to ensnare him.
No, the
reality is that he is punishing me. He doesn’t have a shift today. I understand
his hurt, but it’s hard to explain why I did what I did. For a start, I didn’t
think that people actually sent out printed wedding invitations anymore. If I’d
known that the innocuous piece of silver card smothered in horseshoes and
church bells would be the ignition for the worst argument we’d ever had, I
wouldn’t have opened it in his presence.
Marie Langham plus guest…
I don’t know
what annoyed Ben more, the fact that he wasn’t deemed important enough to be
named or that I said I was going alone.
“I’m working,”
I tried to explain. “The invitation is obviously a kind formality, a
politeness.”
“All this is
easily rectifiable,” he said. “If you wanted me there, you wouldn’t have kept
me in the dark. The date was blocked off as work months ago in our
calendar.”
True. But I
couldn’t admit it. He wouldn’t appreciate being called a distraction.
Now, I have to
make it up to him because it’s the right time of the month. He hates what he
refers to as enforced sex (too much pressure), and any obvious scene-setting
like oyster-and-champagne dinners, new lingerie, an invitation to join me in
the shower or even a simple suggestion that we just shag, all the standard
methods annoy him. It’s hard to believe that other couples have this problem,
it makes me feel inadequate.
One of our
cats bursts through the flap and aims for her bowl. I observe her munching,
oblivious to my return home until this month’s strategy presents itself to me:
nonchalance. A part of Ben’s stress is that he thinks I’m obsessed with having
a baby. I told him to look up the true meaning of the word: an unhealthy
interest in something. It’s not an obsession to desire something perfectly normal.
I unpack, then
luxuriate in a steaming bath filled with bubbles. I’m a real sucker for the
sales promises: relax and unwind and revitalize. I hear the muffled sound of a
key in the lock. It’s Ben—who else would it be—yet I jump out and wrap a towel
around me. He’s not alone. I hear the voices of our neighbors, Rob and Mike.
He’s brought in reinforcements to maintain the barrier between us. There are
two ways for me to play this and if you can’t beat them…
I dress in jeans and a T-shirt, twist
my hair up and grip it with a hair clip, wipe mascara smudges from beneath my
eyes and head downstairs.
“You’re back,”
says Ben by way of a greeting. “The guys have come over for a curry.”
“Sounds
perfect,” I say, kissing him before hugging our friends hello.
I feel smug at
the wrong-footed expression on Ben’s face. He thought I’d be unable to hide my
annoyance, that I’d pull him to one side and whisper, “It’s orange,”
(the color my fertility app suggests is the perfect time) or suggest that I
cook instead so I can ensure he eats as organically as possible.
“Who’s up for
margaritas?” I say with an I’m game for a big night smile.
Ben’s demeanor
visibly softens. Result. I’m forgiven.
The whole
evening is an effortless success.
Indifference
and good, old-fashioned getting pissed works.
Excerpted
from The Last Wife by Karen Hamilton, Copyright ©
2020 by Karen Hamilton
Published
by Graydon House Books
MY REVIEW:
The Last Wife by Karen HamiltonMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
This was a roller coaster of a read. Nina and Marie had been best friends for many years. On Nina's deathbed she asked Marie to watch out for her family and be there for them. Marie had always wanted to be like Nina and have Nina's life. A husband and children. As she gets close to Nina's husband and some of their friends then some lies come out and things that Nina had been hiding. I wasn't sure what to think as we kept finding out something that had happened and who was really involved and who really knew. I couldn't put it down as I needed to know more and finding Marie is unstable is putting it mildly.
I received this from Harlequin and NetGalley for review.
View all my reviews
Author Bio:
Karen Hamilton spent her childhood in Angola, Zimbabwe, Belgium and Italy and worked as a flight attendant for many years. Karen is a recent graduate of the Faber Academy and, having now put down roots in Hampshire to raise her young family with her husband, she satisfies her wanderlust by exploring the world through her writing. She is also the author of the international bestseller The Perfect Girlfriend.
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ReplyDeleteSounds intriguing though I had to read the blurb twice as I was confused the first time. Great review.
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