Black Widow
It all began with Alice clever, charming, and in her final year of journalism at Oxford. She met William, who was considerable older, a local celebrity in Manchester and well-known for writing the sort of songs that played on the radio whenever you walked down the Market Street. It was William who noticed Alice first, her slender figure gliding through the crowds, her gentle eyes half-lost in dreams. William Arthurson, the city’s darling, almost everyone at the BBC in town knew him by sight, and he rarely paid for his own pint.
With his connections, it was only natural that William found Alice a spot on television as the host of his favourite segment. Not long after, her first programme aired, called Heart to Heart. The format was simple: questions and answers, with real-life stories and a city-famous psychologist.
“Splendid job, Alice,” William cheered, reviewing her show with a boozy grin. “We ought to celebrate this.”
William, moving through his forty-fifth year, had been married thrice. His lively, social ways and raucous gatherings at The Red Lion or the Turkish baths werent made for the domesticated comforts of family life. He wrote music, saw himself as the citys treasured composer, and had a habit of rolling into restaurants and clubs, drinking more than was strictly necessary.
Time passed. Alices popularity soared, and she married William. Her show became a local staple, lovers of heartfelt stories and kitchen-table wisdom. She dressed with impeccable taste and greeted everyone with a disarming politeness. The people spoke of her as the television beauty no hint of devilry, all English roses. Yet married life did not unfold as expected. Soon enough, she twigged that William rarely went a night without whisky, his talent for tipsiness almost legendary.
“William, don’t make a spectacle,” his friend Simon remarked one evening, as William slurred at Alice, trying to belittle her for no good reason.
Simon, with a dry humour, nudged, “Mind you, mate, this girl might outsmart you yet.”
“No chance, Simon. Ive never gone for clever wives,” William retorted, pinching Alices cheek in the corner of their favourite café.
While courting her, William was chivalrous and attentive gifts, flowers, even penned two ballads for Alice. But after the wedding, the romance evaporated like morning mist over the Thames. He treated her with no more attention than his aloof tabby, shouting occasional demands.
“Oh, how naïve I was,” Alice mused, “thinking hed make me a star.”
Life had its own plans. At Oxford shed studied French utterly useless on holiday, William insisted. “Why not learn English properly? Abroad, you sound like a country bumpkin. No point in the gym, time wasted, when you should be learning English.”
Undeterred, Alice defied him by refusing to take English lessons, just out of spite. But when Simon, knowledgeable and quick-witted, proclaimed at dinner: “Proper English is as natural for a striking woman as walking in heels,” Alice enrolled with a top tutor the next morning.
“Youve worked wonders, Simon,” William chuckled. “Now my wifes buried in textbooks, practising verbs in the car instead of listening to music.”
They lived in a large flat William inherited from his grandfather, a professor in medicine. Their housekeeper, Vera a solitary woman of forty-three, well-skilled in the art of false sympathy knew all their secrets, present almost every day.
One bleak morning, Alice awoke to find William absent from bed, only to discover him passed out on the settee in his study, having staggered home drunk. Vera was already in the kitchen, clutching an empty brandy bottle.
“Full last night. Whatll he want for breakfast when he wakes?” she snarled.
“Pickle juice,” Alice replied, withdrawing to her shower.
After seven years married, she hadnt had a child William didnt want one, already having a son from his first marriage. Disenchanted with this marriage, Alice focused on her career. After breakfast, she dispatched Vera to check on William. He lay face-down, a crimson stain blooming on his pillow.
“Alice!” Vera screamed, “Call an ambulance!”
“Is he?”
“I dont know!”
Within fifteen minutes, Alice was in the back of an ambulance, William silent beside her. He was whisked from admissions straight into intensive care.
“Its complicated,” the consultant offered quietly. “No promises yet.”
That evening, the phone rang: “Mrs. Arthurson your husband has died.”
She whispered, shattered, “I simply I cant believe it. He wasnt even old.”
The funeral was stately. His friend Simon orchestrated everything, half the city came, William was well-loved. Simon delivered a eulogy at the wake:
“Let us not grieve. William led a rich, extraordinary lifenow hes earned eternal rest, free and easy.”
A voice in the huddle: “He really had it all.”
For a while, Alice couldnt grow accustomed to the silence now filling her flat. Vera eyed her warily, unsure if shed be dismissed. Her colleagues had their say:
“Alice, really, youve no cause for sorrow. Young, single, and loaded. Two tidy accounts split between her and Williams son. Alice earned well on her own, too. She sought out acquaintances, avoided the lonely house, browsed the citys cafés now and then.
She popped into a café near her flat one evening after filming another episode, lost in thought, sipping Spanish wine from a crystal glass. A burly man approached her, smiling, asking to join her table politely.
“May I?” She nodded. “Kenneth,” he introduced, and she, in turn. “Why the gloomy face? A beauty like you shouldnt be so blue.”
“Just feeling low,” she admitted.
Kenneth, around forty, large, chestnut-haired, not handsome by classic standards, reminded Alice instantly of a cuddly teddy bear, which made her chuckle.
“Let me treat you. Wine, cocktail, cakea sweet thing for a sweet girl?”
“A slice of cake is plenty, thanks,” she replied, indifferent to sweets.
Kenneth, despite his rugged looks, proved himself impossibly charming, a witty raconteur of absurd stories. He caught Alices attention utterly; she found herself laughing more than she had in ages. He walked her home and asked for a date.
The next morning Alice told Vera:
“I no longer require your services. I can cook and clean myself.”
“But Alice, darling, after all these yearsIve been loyal and true, and now youre putting me out. Where will I go?”
“Youll find another family, maybe as a porter.”
“Youre sending me away,” Vera wailed. “Ive grown attached.”
“Honestly, it wont ruin me. At least I shant have to mop windows and toilets,” Alice thought.
Seeing Vera in tears tugged at her conscience.
“Oh, all right, Vera. If you insist, stay on,” she conceded, and Vera beamed, planting a kiss on Alices cheek.
“I really did grow fond of you and William like family. Lost William in a flash, you want rid of me.”
Life returned to its curious rhythm. Kennethnicknamed Kenny by Alicebecame a frequent guest, adored his glamorous love. Alice agreed to marry him after three months, determined to keep it modest. Instead, Kenny whisked her away for their honeymoon to the Maldives. He could afford it he was in business.
Alice anticipated a standard trip: direct flight, decent hotel, predictable tourist entertainment. But Kennys idea of luxury was something else. First class flight, a personal guide met them at the airport and escorted them by private boat. On the island, they were welcomed like royalty, with fireworks, cocktails, and traditional dances.
The villa was sumptuousfour rooms, two baths, a pool, their own private beach.
“My word, what did my teddy bear pay for this?” Alice wondered.
Shed never cared how wealthy her husband was, only knew he was comfortable. Kenny was soft-heartedhe fussed over her, tucked in her blanket, ruffled her hair gently. He ensured she had a proper breakfast, never just coffee.
“William was sharp-tongued, always demeaning, raising me up to his own level. Kenny, not a beauty, lives for me, not himself. Always ready to listen, and I love that,” she mused.
Even Vera sang Kennys praises, joyous to be living in his grand country house. But Alices peace was disturbed when she caught Kenny injecting himself with a slender syringe.
“Whats that?” she gasped.
“Only insulin. Im diabetic, but its fineI live life to the full.”
Lounging in the Maldives, Alice thought lazily, “Is this my cup of luck?”
The high standard suited her, though sometimes she wished she was with a rugged surf instructor or a blue-eyed tennis coach, not her soft, awkward husband.
“I really must put my teddy on a diet and get him into the gym,” she resolved.
She addressed it with Kenny, who went glum:
“Ill do my best for sports, but my metabolisms off. Apollo was never in the cards. I rely on insulin.”
“Fair enough, then,” Alice decided.
After their trip, Alice returned to her work, but melancholy settled over her. “Will I ever know real love? What is passion? I want to feel it, know what it means. To share my nights with a tall, strong beauty, not a teddy bear.” Her colleagues joked at the New Years office party:
“Dont tell me youre not cheating on your Kenny, are you really so prim?”
But Alice wasnt as proper as they thought; she just couldnt bear hurting her gentle husband. At the party she drank too much, and her colleague Christopher summoned his friend Adam to drive her home.
“Alice, care for a lift?” offered Christopher, slurring.
Adam sat her by his side in his gleaming car, gaze never leaving her. He dropped their friend, then Alice; on arrival, he asked for her number. Outside her flat, he helped her out, then, without warning, pinned her against his Land Rover, kissing her with a brash, burning passion. She didnt push awayshe liked Adams rough, muscular energy.
Adam was the perfect lover. With Kenny, she played the sweet wife; Adam wasted no time with tenderness, greeting her in his swish bachelor flat, all heat and urgency. Afterwards, hed sigh, “Youre remarkable,” and that was enough.
Both were satisfied. Kenny returned late from business, never suspecting a thing. One afternoon, Alice sped to Adams, already in bed, as he shed his robe, emerging from the shower. Suddenly, the insistent buzzing of the front bell. Adam cursed and trudged to the door.
Alice recognised two familiar voicesAdams and Kennys. Panic struck; she threw on her clothes. Kenny appeared in the doorway, silent. It would have been easier if he’d shouted.
“Kenny Kenneth its not what”
Adam stood quietly. He might have kept Kenny out.
“Who betrayed me?” Alice demanded.
“Does it matter? I doubted, but had to check.”
She saw Kennys pallor, sweat beading his browthen he collapsed. She rushed over, breathing laboured.
“Call for helpnow!” she cried.
Adam phoned. Alice searched Kennys pockets, finding the slim insulin pen. She injected him, knowing from habit it was right. “This will save him.” But he didnt recover. Paramedics arrived, and the doctor confirmed:
“Hes gone.”
Alice was numb. Adam drove her home. Vera greeted her.
“Alice, whats occurred? You look like death.”
Suddenly, suspicion crept inperhaps Vera had betrayed her. She never liked Adam, always probing about him. But Alice stayed silent; Vera would never confess.
After the funeral, Alice struggled for weeks. Soon, Kennys daughter from his first marriage appeared with her lawyer-husband, ordered Alice out, threatening court action if she resisted. She threw a thick envelope of pound notes onto the table, giving Alice three days to move out with Vera.
Alice didnt fight; she surrendered it all. She and Vera returned to the vast flat left behind by William Arthurson.
Time passed, and Alice healed a little helped by Adam, who saw her, but never proposed marriage. Alice realised hed never be a husband, but kept meeting him. Then, one day, her colleague Christopher rang:
“Alice, sit downAdams dead. Car crash. Instant.”
Suddenly, Alice reconsidered her fate.
“Why do all my men die? Im like a black widow; thats my nickname now. Maybe I have a cursed aura.”
Some time later, a fresh guest appeared on Alices show a young man called Mark. He couldnt take his eyes off her and afterwards asked her to chat in a café.
“All right,” she agreed, “time to live again.”
Mark stole her heart. Alice was swept up in the heights of love, brimming with joy.
“So this is love after all. I cant breathe without Mark, let alone live. Yet Im afraid for him.”
Mark was equally besotted, every day together was effortless. Alice hardly cared who he was or where he came from, only knew he had no siblings, some estranged father somewhere. Mark stayed with Alice in her flat; she wondered about himnever married, no children.
Out of idle curiosity, Alice Googled Marks full name. The very first link stunned herher Mark, the gentle ordinary man, was among the top thousand richest people in the UK. Frozen with shock at his immense fortune, she burst out laughing, hysterical.
“I dont believe it! Just my luck. But what if something happens to him too?”
She calmed down and went to work. That evening, Mark didnt answer his mobile, so she rang his office.
“Good afternoon, could I speak to Mark, please?” she asked the secretary.
“Whos calling?” came the reply.
“This is Alice.”
“Ohhes been taken to hospital,” the secretary informed her, naming which one.
Alice dashed to the hospital.
“What happened?” she demanded upon arrival.
The doctor soothed her:
“Dont worry, nothing serious. Hell be fine, just a scare with his heart. Alls under control.”
“May I see him? Please…”
“Ten minutes,” the doctor allowed.
Alice entered silently. Mark was waiting with a smile, took her hands.
“Itll all be all right, I love you. When Im better, will you marry me?”
“Of course I will,” Alice whispered, kissing him. “Ahead of usreal love, and happiness. At last.”
Thank you for reading, subscribing, and your support. Wishing you all the best in life!
