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Back The Widow Save as PDF
Chapters (92)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. PART I
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. PART II
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. 74
  79. 75
  80. 76
  81. 77
  82. 78
  83. 79
  84. 80
  85. 81
  86. 82
  87. 83
  88. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  89. MORE FROM VALERIE KEOGH
  90. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  91. The Murder List
  92. About Boldwood Books

Ignoring her, Allison stood, went into the kitchen and returned with another glass. She filled it and put it in front of Portia before filling the other glasses. ‘Now, we’d like some answers, please.’

Portia took a mouthful of her drink before replying. ‘Okay. You want to know why I’m leaving Stuart. That isn’t the question you should be asking, though; you should be asking why I stayed so long.’

76

Portia lifted the glass to her lips again and took a mouthful of the whisky, swirling it around her mouth before swallowing with a gulp. ‘I met Stuart when I was sixteen and he was ten years older, a sophisticated, incredibly handsome, charming man who swept me off my feet. I was pretty, maybe even beautiful, but gawky, unsophisticated, clueless when it came to fashion. I was thrilled when he bought me stylish clothes, fancy handbags, high stilettos I could barely walk in. He took me for a haircut, told the stylist how he wanted me to look, bought me make-up, sent me for classes so I learnt how to apply it the way he liked. Sent me for a termination when I got pregnant because he didn’t want a baby to spoil my figure. Something went wrong, though; they couldn’t stop the bleeding and I had to have a hysterectomy.’

Allison met Jo’s gaze across the table, saw the acknowledgement in her eyes. A malleable, gauche sixteen-year-old, an older, obviously wealthy man… coercive control might be relatively new terminology, but it was a very old concept.

Portia took a couple of quick sips of her drink. ‘Apart from that, it was good in the early days. Stuart had sold an innovative tech company to Microsoft just before I met him, and he invested wisely over the years so there was never a shortage of money.’

Allison, watching Jo shuffle restlessly in her seat as the silence lingered, decided to ask a question before she made some caustic remark. ‘Good in the early days… when did it start going wrong?’

‘When I got my first grey hair, I think.’ Portia ran a hand over her hair. ‘I was only twenty-eight and it was only one, maybe two, but it repelled him. He started looking at me more closely, commenting on the little wrinkles that had started to appear around my eyes, criticising me if I put on weight, then more criticism if I grew too gaunt. I spent more money at the hairdresser, the beautician, the gym, bought that awful wig, had some cosmetic surgery. I had no more success than King Canute did holding back the tide.’

‘You would have been better off to have left him,’ Jo said.

‘Leave him?’ She drained the glass, held it out for more. ‘No, I couldn’t do that. By that stage, I no longer knew who I was without him.’