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

‘He’s gone off on secondment. They sent this other guy, Jamieson.’

‘Cute?’

‘Kind of creepy.’ Gracie picks up the menu, the red plastic cover slightly sticky beneath her fingers. ‘Tom thinks it’s a copycat. Jamieson thinks it’s the old stalker back to his,’ she takes a breath, ‘or her, old tricks.’

‘What do you think?’

Gracie keeps her gaze on the blurring selection of pizzas. ‘I think it might be a new her,’ she says. ‘And new tricks.’

‘Really?’ Daphne presses send. ‘Why?’

‘Tom slept with one of the interns in his office.’ Saying the words out loud is like kicking off a crippling pair of shoes and pressing her aching feet against a slab of marble. She looks up slowly, a pained expression on her face. Daphne is Tom’s friend too, her rackety affairs and caustic observations part of the fabric of their lives.

‘You’re kidding.’ Daphne drags her eyes from her phone. ‘When?’

‘While I was in New York.’

‘Christ! What a shit.’ Daphne fills Gracie’s wine glass and lowers her voice. ‘You think it’s her who sent the earring?’

Gracie nods. ‘Tom told her it was a mistake and she went off on a crazed power trip, threatening to tell me and the board if he didn’t let her work on one of his projects.’

‘Good for her.’

‘Daph!’

‘Well honestly, it serves him bloody well right. It’s not 1972.’

‘And she’s not some poor little innocent. She practically jumped him when he was drunk.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake. No one forced him to screw her.’

Gracie grows still. Imagining Alicia. Imagining Tom.

‘How did she get hold of your earring?’ Daphne’s voice is sharp, wrenching Gracie back from the vision of her husband and his lover.

‘He … he slept with her in our house.’ Gracie drops her head as if she is the one who should feel ashamed. ‘In our bed.’

Daphne sucks her breath. An elderly red-faced waiter arrives. Daphne orders two plates of rigatoni with ragu and pushes him away with the menu. ‘Do you really think it was her?’ she says when he’s gone.

‘Oh, I don’t know. Tom says it’s not her style. We’re not telling the police why she was in the house but she’s on the list of “visitors” they’re going to interview.’ She lifts her fork and stares bleakly at the prongs. ‘If I’m honest, I think I’d rather it was her than the faceless weirdo.’

‘Sure. And why would he stop for months on end then suddenly start up again?’

‘Jamieson thinks it’s to keep me on edge.’

‘Bollocks.’ Daphne dips a breadstick into her wine. ‘It’s obviously this intern trying to get back at Tom. How did you find out about her?’

‘He confessed. The night I got back.’

‘Why?’

‘How about because he loves me and he can’t bear keeping secrets from me?’

Daphne watches her and waits, her head tilted a little on her neck. Gracie keeps her eyes fixed on the fork in her fingers. ‘Apparently it wasn’t just about enhancing her CV. She thought she and Tom had a “future” and now she’s threatening to go to the press.’

‘Have you talked to Daley?’

‘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.’