Gill Paul

The Secret Wife


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       Chapter Forty-Four

      

       Chapter Forty-Five

      

       Chapter Forty-Six

      

       Chapter Forty-Seven

      

       Chapter Forty-Eight

      

       Chapter Forty-Nine

      

       Chapter Fifty

      

       Chapter Fifty-One

      

       Chapter Fifty-Two

      

       Chapter Fifty-Three

      

       Chapter Fifty-Four

      

       Chapter Fifty-Five

      

       Chapter Fifty-Six

      

       Chapter Fifty-Seven

      

       Chapter Fifty-Eight

      

       Chapter Fifty-Nine

      

       Chapter Sixty

      

       Chapter Sixty-One

      

       Chapter Sixty-Two

      

       Chapter Sixty-Three

      

       Chapter Sixty-Four

      

       Chapter Sixty-Five

      

       Chapter Sixty-Six

      

       Chapter Sixty-Seven

      

       Chapter Sixty-Eight

      

       Historical Afterword

      

       Sources

      

       Acknowledgements

      

       Enjoyed This Book? Read on for the Start of Gill Paul’s New Novel, Another Woman’s Husband.

      

       About the Author

      

       By the Same Author

      

       About the Publisher

       Prologue

       Lake Akanabee, New York State, 19th July 2016

      It was twenty-nine hours since Kitty Fisher had left her husband and in that time she had travelled 3,713 miles. The in-flight magazine had said there were 3,461 miles between London and New York, and the hire car’s Sat Nav told her she had driven 252 miles since leaving the airport. A whole ocean and half a state lay between her and Tom. She should have been upset but instead she felt numb.

      Back in the UK it was four-thirty on a Sunday afternoon and she wondered what Tom was doing, then grimaced as she pictured him pottering around the house in his jogging bottoms and t-shirt. He would no doubt have called her closest friends, all innocence, asking if they knew where she was. How long would it take him to work out she had flown to America to look for the lakeside cabin she’d inherited from her great-grandfather?

      She had been careful not to leave any paperwork behind so he didn’t have the address. Let him stew for a while. It served him right for his infidelity. She shuddered at the word, an involuntary image of the messages on his phone flashing into her brain. She was still in shock. Nothing felt real. Don’t think about it; stop thinking.

      The woman on the Sat Nav was comfortingly sure of herself: ‘In two hundred yards take a left onto Big Brook Road.’ It felt nice to be told what to do; that’s what she needed when the rest of her life was falling apart. But a few minutes later the voice-lady seemed to get it wrong.