My husband's wife

Review by Booklist Review

*Starred Review* Lies fester and multiply, undermining intimate relationships in this psychological thriller. Newly minted lawyer Lily Hall is surprised at the attention paid her by handsome artist Ed McDonald, and within months they're married. It turns out he's concealed information about his former fiancée and the terms of a family trust, while she's withheld the details of her brother Daniel's death. As Lily works tirelessly to defend accused murderer Joe Thomas, who reminds her of Daniel, Ed begins sketching nine-year-old Carla Cavoletti. Carla, a deceptive and manipulative child whose portrait one day will bring Ed artistic fame, is left in the McDonalds' care occasionally while her single mother in a neighboring flat supposedly goes to work but actually meets with her married lover. Fifteen years later, with Lily at her peak personally and professionally, and Ed trying to regain his reputation, the McDonalds are struggling with their difficult son and working to keep their marriage together. Then Carla, now a beautiful young woman, comes back into their lives. The opening pages detail Ed's probable murder, but only the final pages reveal the whole story as plotlines intertwine and tension builds. Corry's suspenseful debut novel is already a best-seller in the UK and is likely headed for similar success here.--Leber, Michele Copyright 2016 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

---

Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Newlywed London lawyer Lily Macdonald's best intentions land her in some of the worst predicaments in British author Corry's devilishly devious U.S. debut, in which almost no one proves totally trustworthy. For instance, Lily's generous impulse to befriend nine-year-old neighbor Carla Cavoletti, a bullied Italian immigrant with whose vulnerability she identifies, will eventually change the course of the lives of Lily and her artist husband, Ed, unfortunately not for the better. Similarly, Lily's drive to champion clients she views as underdogs, which stems in part from experiences with her autistic brother, blinds her to the fact that some are dangerously manipulative liars who actually belong behind bars. But well-meaning as Lily is, readers will discover she isn't above hiding some rather unsavory secrets of her own. As twisty as little Carla's glossy curls, which inspire Ed's best work, this swiftly moving psychological thriller offers surprises right up to the finish. Agent: Kate Horndern, Kate Horndern Literary Agency (U.K.). (Jan.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

---

Review by Library Journal Review

[DEBUT] Corry's character-driven and methodically written debut thriller features a narrative that spans 16 years and is told from alternating perspectives. Lily is a newlywed and aspiring criminal lawyer, and her neighbor, nine-year-old Carla, is a bullied girl in need of a babysitter to help out her single mother. Lily and her husband, Ed, agree to watch Carla as a distraction from their problems. Ed uses Carla as a muse for his budding art career, while Lily tries to forget about her newest case involving freeing a man (wrongly?) convicted of murder. Secrets are a big theme throughout the novel, and Carla's secrets soon require her to move away. Sixteen years later, she thrusts herself back into Lily's and Ed's lives. This time, she won't be used; she'll be the one doing the manipulating. Verdict The author's bold writing choices, including a huge jump in time, benefit readers with two almost separate stories told years apart; their patience is well rewarded when the disparate threads are resolved and details are revealed. Fans of Clare Mackintosh and Tana French should add Corry to their must-read lists.-Natalie Browning, J. Sargeant Reynolds Community Coll. Lib., Richmond © Copyright 2017. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

---

As I enter the gallery, I see the back of Ed's head. "Lily!" He swivels round, saying my name as though it is fresh in his mouth. As if I am an acquaintance he hasn't seen for a long time instead of the wife he kissed good-bye this morning. "Guess who walked into the gal­lery an hour ago?" As he speaks, a petite woman with a sleek black bob slides out from behind the pillar. Her hairstyle, apart from the color, is almost identical to mine. But she's young. Early twenties, at a guess. Big, wide, sunny smile with glossy bee-stung lips and a wide smooth forehead. She's stunning without being conventionally beautiful. Her face is the sort that makes you stare. I twist my silver bracelet--the one I always wear--with inexplicable nervousness. "Hello, Lily!" she sings. There's an unexpected kiss on both my cheeks. Then she stands back. I feel cold slice through me like a carving knife. "You don't remember me? It's Carla." Carla? Little Carla who used to live in the same block of flats all those years ago, when Ed and I were first married? Carla, alias  The Italian Girl ? Is it really possible that this is the confident young woman who stands before me now with her immaculate complexion, her sharp, cat-like eyes accentu­ated with just the right touch of eyeliner is Carla? It has taken me years to achieve a confidence like that. But of course it's Carla. She's a mini-Francesca, minus the long curls. "How have you been?" I manage to say. "How is your mother?"    This beautiful colt-like creature dips her chin and then tilts her head to one side as if considering the question. "Mamma, she is very well, thank you. She is living in Italy. We have been there for some time." Ed breaks in. "Carla's been trying to get hold of us. She wrote to us." I breathe steadily, just as I do in court when I need to be careful. "Really?" I say. It's not a lie. Just a question. "Twice," says Carla. She is looking straight at me. Briefly I think back to that first letter with the Italian stamp, which was sent to our old address last year but forwarded to us by the current occupants. My first instinct had been to throw it away like all the other begging let­ters we received around that time. People assume, rightly or wrongly, that if an artist has one big success, he or she is rich. The reality is that even with the portrait sale and Ed's trust money and my salary, we are still not that well off. Our mortgages on both the gallery and the house are huge. And of course we also have Tom's expensive therapy and his unknown future to think of. I want to help people in need like any other decent person. But if you give to one, where do you stop? Yet Carla was different. She was right. In a way, we did owe our success to her. I would talk to Ed, I decided. But a critic had just written yet another snide review, questioning why anyone would want to pay so much for a "brash acrylic work that was worthy of a Montmartre street artist." My husband had been hurt. It was all I could do to assure Ed that this reviewer was wrong. Better to leave Carla's letter, I decided, until things were calmer. Then came the second one, sent to the gallery where Ed had been exhib­iting temporarily before it had been forwarded to our home. Luckily, I happened to bump into the postman on the way to work. Recognizing the handwriting and foreign stamp, I slipped it in my briefcase and opened it in the office. The tone was angrier this time. More demanding. I sensed Fran­cesca's hand behind it. If we gave them some money, I thought, they might ask for more. So I put it away, pretending to myself that I would deal with it at "some point." And then I conveniently forgot about it. It wasn't the right thing to do. I can see that now. But if I had written back to Carla explaining our financial situation, she might not have believed it. "We were worried when you left so suddenly all those years ago," Ed is saying now. "Why didn't you tell us you were going?" His question takes me back to the last time I saw Carla. That awful row between Tony, Francesca and me. On top of that, I was trying to work out if Ed and I should stay together. "Yes," I say, gritting my teeth, "we were very worried about you." Then my eye falls on the painting behind her. It's hard not to. There are paintings of Carla as a child all over the room. "What do you think of your portraits?" I ask. Might as well play devil's advocate, I tell myself. Try to draw Carla out. It would also make me look more innocent in the matter of those unanswered letters. The young woman in front of me flushes. "They are lovely." Then she flushes again. "I do not mean that I am lovely, you understand--" "Oh, but you are," breaks in Ed. "Such a beautiful child. We both thought so, didn't we, Lily?" I nod. Excerpted from My Husband's Wife by Jane Corry All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

---