My name is Edith. I am 43 years old. I

work as a teacher at a girl's school.

After my father died, I was alone. Then

I met Ronald at a big hotel. He was 47

years old. He sat at a table and smiled

at me. Ronald was kind, smart, and

polite. He asked about my life. I told

him I had no family, no friends. He

listened. I was lonely and I thought

Ronald was a good man. We married 5

weeks after we first met. We were

strangers in the town. Nobody knew us,

and that made everything feel quick and

simple. The same afternoon, we made

wills for each other. I remember that

day clearly. It felt like a dream at

first. After our marriage, we moved into

a rented house. I was shy. I did not

make friends quickly.

New people had moved into the house next

door. I did not know them well. I liked

my own life and my work.

Sometimes I sat in the garden and read.

Ronald did not like me to be alone

there. He watched small things. He

watched where I went. Ronald said he

worried I might make friends with other

women. He called them silly women. When

I spoke to a neighbor, he did not like

me to visit his office either.

Ronald told me he was a partner in an

engineering company and that he would

travel a lot.

I asked once to see his office. He

looked at me with cold eyes and changed

the subject. Ronald did not want me to

know too much.

At first, I did not notice everything.

Ronald was clever at being gentle.

He smiled. He liked to look at himself

in the mirror. Later, I saw a photograph

of Ronald in an old paper, and I

understood how many times he had done

this. I was not Ronald's first wife. He

had been married two times before. I

learned that each of his marriages had

followed the same pattern.

Ronald used a false name. He went to a

holiday place where no one knew him.

There he would meet a middle-aged woman

who had money and no family. Ronald

dated her until she was in love. Then he

asked her to make a will in his favor,

leaving her money, her house, everything

to Ronald.

Then I learned these women had accidents

in their baths. Mary, [snorts] his first

wife, had died in a bathroom in a house

like ours. The police found nothing

wrong. A reporter wrote, "Death in the

middle of happiness," and printed

pictures of Mary's wedding and funeral.

Dorothy, Ronald's second wife, gave him

more trouble. Her brother came to the

funeral and asked hard questions about

the money. There was a court case, but

Ronald won and the insurance company

paid him all that had happened years

before I met him. I did not know the

truth at first. I only saw a good

husband. Ronald spoke about our future.

He called me smart and beautiful

and sometimes told me I was being

foolish for thinking a man could love at

first sight. I wanted to believe him.

After a few months in our rented house,

I began to feel uneasy. Ronald painted

the bathroom.

The only room we had painted in the

house. He put up a little shelf over the

bath for bottles and creams.

Ronald fitted a small electric heater on

the shelf. There was no electric point

in the bathroom.

But Ronald had found a way to connect it

to a point just outside the door. He

told me it was a beauty heater, cheap

and useful. Ronald liked the bathroom to

be perfect. I trusted him and I let him

do small things.

But then one day I found an old

newspaper cutings in the drawer where I

kept my blouses. I saw them by chance.

They were about women who had died in

baths

not long after their weddings. The

pictures were small and blurred,

but the men standing at the funerals

looked very much alike. I froze. It was

my husband, Ronald. My heart stopped.

For the first time, I felt afraid. I

took the clippings to the police. My

hands were shaking when I spoke to them,

but I told them everything I remembered.

They listened carefully. The inspector

told me they needed proof. He said, "We

cannot arrest a man on a fear alone. We

must be sure." He asked me to be brave.

He told me that sometimes a woman in my

position must play a part so the police

can watch. At first, I wanted to run. I

wanted to leave, but I also wanted to

live. I agreed to help. The inspector

and a police woman moved into the house

next door. They said they would watch.

They told me they wanted to give Ronald

the chance to show what he would really

do.

The inspector said, "We will make sure

you are safe. We will have eyes on the

house. We will be ready.

That night, I put my important papers in

the drawer and locked it. I wrote a

letter and put it in the case. In that

letter, I told him the truth. I wrote,

"Dear Ronald, if you ever read this, I

am afraid it will be a terrible shock to

you. I know the truth now. When you

asked me to make my will, I began to

worry. When you changed the bathroom, I

acted quickly. I knew what you planned

for me. I went to the police. The new

people next door are not husband and

wife. They are a police inspector and a

police woman. The policewoman showed me

an old newspaper pieces about women who

died in Bath soon after marriage.

I could recognize you in those

photographs. The inspector told me they

are looking for the man. He said he

needed proof.

He asked me to play my part. If you are

reading this letter, it means you have

tried to hurt me.

You will not find me in the bathroom. I

have gone out through the roof into the

house next door. The police is waiting

for you. I am not your victim. I am safe

now. I was stupid to marry you, but not

quite as stupid as you think. Yours,

Edith. I folded the letter and I put it

in an envelope. I planned the rest with

the inspector. He told me the time to go

out on the roof.

He told me where the ladder would be. He

told me the police would be ready when

Ronald opened my drawer and read that

letter. The day came. Ronald had bought

a bottle of liquid and told me it was

expensive and good for the skin.

Ronald poured it into the water. He

said, "Hurry up, dear. The bubbles don't

last."

Ronald wanted me to lock the door. He

wanted me in the bath. I climbed the

ladder in the garden. I wanted him to

see me there. Ronald said, "What are you

doing there, dear?" I said, "Just a

small job before my bath." Ronald

laughed. I went in and locked the door.

The water was warm. The bubbles smelled

of roses. I lay down in the bath and

pretended to relax. I could hear Ronald

moving outside.

He pulled the handle of the electricity

switch to turn the power off so the

heater would fall. I heard the heater

click and then a loud noise in the

kitchen.

The house went quiet. For a moment, I

felt trapped, but I kept very still. The

inspector had told me to wait.

He told me not to panic because Ronald

must be given the chance to show what he

would do. Ronald did exactly as the

inspector expected. He waited. Then he

walked into the bedroom. He opened the

drawer where I kept my papers.

He found out my letter and the savings

book. Ronald opened the savings book. He

read the figures.

His breathing changed when he saw that I

had taken all my money out 5 days ago.

His eyes moved quickly over the

envelope.

He pulled it open and read the letter. I

could not see him, but I knew he was

reading my words because I heard his

breath catch. I heard heavy steps on the

stairs and a voice. Mr. Ronald, you are

under arrest. The inspector and the

police woman were there. They had been

ready. They came straight in and they

found me in the bath. There were wet

bubbles on my face, but I was alive.

They found the heater, the wires, and

the electric point. They found the cloth

Ronald had used to hide his

fingerprints.

Ronald could not speak. He could not

move. Later, the police opened their

files and looked at the old cases.

The police woman had the photographs

that matched the men at those funerals.

Ronald could not hide.

He was careful, but he had been too

clever for his own good. After that

night, there were court papers and

questions.

I had to answer many questions. It was

hard, but I felt stronger than I had

before. I kept my job at the school. My

colleagues were kind and they helped. It

took time before I could sleep well.

Sometimes I still wake up in the night.

But I am alive. I learned that being shy

is not the same as being weak. I do not

say I am happy. I say only that I am

safe and living. If you ever feel

fearful about someone close to you, tell

someone. You must not keep it inside. It

could save your life. If you liked this

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