CHARACTER
Sometimes I Lieby Alice Feeney

Edward Clarke

Edward Clarke

Quick Facts

Who They Are

Edward Clarke is the novel’s elegant nightmare: a polished ex-boyfriend whose surface charm disguises a long-nurtured fixation. He engineers Amber’s isolation—keeping her sedated, visiting in disguise, and steering suspicion toward her husband—while telling himself he’s restoring a great romance. He isn’t a character who grows; he’s a character who is uncovered, his genial mask flaking away scene by scene until the predator beneath is plain.

Personality & Traits

Edward’s defining trait is the seamless fit between his respectable exterior and his appetite for control. He brandishes credentials, manners, and money like props, then uses procedural knowledge and social confidence to trap Amber within his narrative of “second chances.” The more he speaks, the more his self-pity fuels cruelty.

  • Charming, purpose-built deception

    • Evidence: He appears “healthy, clean… clothes look new, expensive,” presenting an immaculate facade that invites trust—an aesthetic embodiment of deception.
    • Function: His attractiveness disarms Amber and readers alike, priming the novel’s misdirections.

  • Calculating impersonator

    • Evidence: He poses as a doctor and a porter to move freely through the hospital and Amber’s case file.
    • Function: Expertise lets him weaponize institutional blind spots—classic manipulation masquerading as competence.

  • Obsessive possession

    • Evidence: A shrine of photographs and years of tracking Amber’s movements; his claim, “I didn’t know what I had back then… and I want it back.”
    • Function: Reframes Amber as property, justifying intrusion as restitution.

  • Vindictive grievance

    • Evidence: He blames Amber for his derailed medical career, savors her helplessness, and seeks to punish her by framing Paul.
    • Function: “Justice” becomes revenge in a self-authored courtroom where he’s judge, jury, and executioner.

  • Delusional romanticism

    • Evidence: His insistence that they can “start again” after removing obstacles.
    • Function: He scripts abuse as reunion, collapsing consent into fantasy.

Character Journey

Edward’s arc is a slow reveal, not a transformation. He re-enters as the alluring “what if,” then trespasses into Amber’s present: turning up at her work lunch, manipulating contact, and folding himself into her life as if invited. The discovery of his photo shrine punctures the nostalgia. In the hospital, he becomes the inescapable voice in the room, confiding motives, dosing medications, and rewriting events to center his pain. His violence escalates—from covert sedation to sexual assault—before climaxing in abduction and the grotesque domesticity of his flat. The final beat, his disappearance, leaves a moral residue rather than catharsis: the past can be fought off, but it rarely stays buried.

Key Relationships

  • Amber Reynolds

    • Amber is the object around which Edward constructs identity and purpose. He turns her into a story he can control—first by nostalgia, then by sedation, finally by coercion—so that loving her and harming her become, in his mind, the same act. Amber’s resistance exposes his narrative as a lie, not a romance.

  • Claire

    • Claire’s protective letters drove him from Amber years ago, and he recasts that intervention as a life-ruining injustice. The enmity is ideological: Claire reads Edward accurately and acts decisively, while he mistakes her clarity for malice. The implication that Claire engineers his end mirrors his own ethos of retributive “justice,” but in defense of the living rather than the self.

  • Paul Reynolds

    • Edward treats Paul with sneering contempt, both as rival and scapegoat. By framing Paul for Amber’s accident and assault, he attempts to erase the husband to resurrect the ex—revealing that his endgame is not love, but control over who gets to exist in Amber’s life.

Defining Moments

Edward’s key scenes escalate from performance to predation, each stripping away one more layer of charm.

  • The “chance” meeting on Oxford Street

    • Why it matters: Launches the endgame under the guise of fate, inviting Amber into a story that’s already been scripted by him.

  • Intrusion at Amber’s work Christmas lunch

    • Why it matters: Turns public space into his stage, normalizing his presence and testing how far he can push boundaries without consequence.

  • The hospital confession

    • Why it matters: He names his grievance, flaunts access, and declares control over Amber’s body and timeline—transforming suspicion into certainty.

  • The rape of a comatose Amber

    • Why it matters: The nadir of his cruelty, collapsing all pretense of romance and exposing his need to convert violence into proof of love.

  • Abduction to his flat and the photo shrine

    • Why it matters: His domestic space functions as a reliquary of obsession; the shrine literalizes surveillance and delusion.

  • Disappearance after Amber’s escape

    • Why it matters: The unresolved aftermath—blood and burned skin in a sunbed—suggests vigilante closure without the relief of a body. The past exacts a price but refuses neat endings.

Essential Quotes

“I’m not stalking you, I promise. You said last night that you were coming here for your Christmas lunch today.”

  • Analysis: Edward reframes surveillance as attentiveness, using Amber’s own words to legitimize his intrusion. The sentence is a study in gaslighting: denial (“I’m not stalking”) paired with evidence that only a stalker would have.

“We both messed up before, but we can move on from that. I didn’t know what I had back then, but I know now, and I want it back. I think you do too. That’s why you came.”

  • Analysis: He scripts a mutual history to erase power imbalance, converting coercion into destiny. The refrain “I want it back” reveals that he treats Amber as a recoverable possession, not a person who can refuse.

“You broke my heart, destroyed my career, and thought you'd get away with it, didn’t you.”

  • Analysis: A grievance manifesto: emotional hurt and professional failure are pinned to Amber to justify punishment. By externalizing blame, Edward licenses revenge as righteous restoration.

“You were begging for it... Begging me to fill up every one of your dirty little holes.”

  • Analysis: Dehumanizing language reframes sexual violence as consent, exposing the depth of his delusion and cruelty. The obscenity functions as a narrative takeover—Edward tries to control not just Amber’s body, but the story of what happened to it.

“I’ve loved you for almost twenty years and you didn’t even remember me. Well, perhaps you'll remember me now.”

  • Analysis: His love is indistinguishable from a demand to be unforgettable, even through harm. The line turns recognition into threat, revealing how obsession transforms memory into a weapon.