My Husband's Wives by Faith Hogan Page B

probably too warm for today. But it deepened the colour of her eyes, straightened her stride and made her feel there was purpose to her movements.
    â€˜Well, we’re here,’ the officer said with a forced geniality neither of the women could feel. It felt as though they were in the hospital’s belly, though they hadn’t descended any stairs that Evie could remember. There were no views here, none worth hacking out a window for, it seemed. They made their way to what passed for a chapel of prayer, but Evie suspected that it was a place kept only for the dead. The youngster who showed them through had been respectful. She asked them to wait. They needed someone else, someone more official for this business. In a small room, an antechamber more than a waiting room, Evie sat with Grace while a clock ticked noisily overhead.
    â€˜This is going to be hard,’ Grace said needlessly and Evie thought, for just a fleeting moment, that she was glad she was not alone. They walked together, stood composed above the long and narrow form that lay beneath the heavy starched sheet.
    â€˜He looks…’ Evie sought the word, but it eluded her.
    â€˜Peaceful?’ Grace twirled a strand of her long dark hair between nervous fingers. There were no prayers, no sign of the cross from either woman. Evie did not believe in that mumbo jumbo. ‘Maybe, he’s gone to somewhere better?’
    â€˜Maybe.’ Evie stopped herself from adding that, in her opinion, it could not have got much better for him than what they had all those years ago, and he knew it too. They stood for a while, taking in his face. He had transformed into a younger version of himself, the lines and cares and stresses waxed away from his brow. Hard to imagine, one sharp blow and it was all over. She almost envied him. The life he chose, the life she pushed him into, had led to this, where at least he seemed to get some peace. She turned on her soft kitten heels, nodded to the official summoned to take her signature. ‘Yes. It’s him; it’s my husband. Paul Starr.’
    *
    There was so much to do. Walking away, leaving him there was less terrible when she thought of all that had to be done. To be sure, she would rather stay here, cold and empty as it was, sit and look at him for as long as they would permit. At some point though, she would have to leave. Someone, she wasn’t sure who, handed her a large brown envelope. She held it tightly, instinctively aware that it contained the last things Paul touched while he was alive. She would open it later, when she was alone. She held it with a mixture of dread and longing.
    â€˜Will we go and see how Annalise Connolly is?’ Grace whispered as they turned from Paul.
    â€˜No. She will have her family at her bedside. I have a funeral to organize. There is too much to do. Please, take me back to Carlinville.’ Evie nodded at the detective who stood by the door.
    It was as they were making their way through the corridor away from ‘the chapel of peace’ that Evie noticed a striking blonde woman stalking towards them with a hint of malice as she carefully picked out each step.
    â€˜Annalise? Annalise Connolly? You’re okay?’ Grace said in surprise, as the woman approached.
    â€˜Of course I’m okay; why wouldn’t I be?’ She gawped at the two women with hostility. Evie felt herself take a step back. She knew that the girl was a beauty queen, but she hadn’t expected the stunner that stood before them – grief-crazy, dishevelled, but still arresting.
    â€˜They said on the news that your condition was critical?’ Grace kept her voice low, maybe out of respect for the dead who remained sealed in the rooms close by.
    â€˜Yes, I heard that. I was on my way into town when I heard the news on the car radio. Can you imagine how that feels, hearing that your husband is dead and you’re at death’s door? I mean, I haven’t