Sweet Little Lies (Cat Kinsella #1)(18)

‘Masterchef,’ offers Parnell. I raise my eyebrows.

‘Yes, yes, that’s it,’ he replies, animated, eager to open up for the first time. ‘I had it all planned out. Cocktails in the bar, dinner in the restaurant, a suite at the Langham.’ He pauses, screwing his face up in fresh confusion. ‘But she just wouldn’t go. Refused point-blank. Said it was a waste of money, she didn’t like the crowds, or the tube, or fancy restaurants for that matter, which was news to me, as we’d eaten in plenty when we lived overseas. And the waste of money comment, well, that was just nonsense. God knows how much she spent on food every week, buying rare ingredients for recipes she’d seen on the TV.’ He lets out a brittle laugh. ‘Do you know what she said in the end? “Buy Roux’s cookbook instead and I’ll make dinner at home.” Can you believe that?’

Keen to keep him in full-flow, I say. ‘Mr Lapaine, how did you and Alice meet?’

‘Please, call me Thomas, Tom even. We met in Brighton, late 2001. Alice lived there and I was on a Stop-the-War march. I think she liked that I was principled.’ A shy smile. ‘I just fancied her rotten.’

I scan the room for a wedding photo but there’s none. None of them at all, in fact. Just one small photo on the windowsill of an older couple sagging in the heat standing next to two camels.

‘And when did you marry?’

‘In 2003,’ he says, twisting his wedding ring. ‘Young by today’s standards, I suppose.’

Parnell interjects. ‘You mentioned earlier that you lived overseas?’

He nods. ‘Yes, we lived in Brighton for a while after we married, but then I got a job offer in Sydney and after that, Perth. Then Hong Kong for quite a while. Cape Town, for nine months.’ Parnell opens his mouth but Lapaine second-guesses the question. ‘I know a lot about boats.’

‘When did you come back to the UK?’ I ask

He slumps back in his chair, exhausted. ‘In 2010. My parents were getting older. My father was struggling with the business and he was keen for me to take over. It just felt like time to come home. Alice wasn’t keen at first, but we wanted to start a family and she understood that it would be nice to have grandparents close by – Alice’s mother died when she was a teenager and she never knew her father – so we agreed to move near to my parents. I said she could choose the house, that was the deal. She chose here.’

He sweeps a hand towards the shimmering river, presenting it like Alice’s own personal masterpiece.

‘The location obviously made it rather expensive so we haven’t done much to the house, but it’s quiet and it’s by water and that’s all she wanted.’ He thinks on this, briefly. ‘Sums Alice up really – “quiet and always by water”.’

Parnell tackles a tricky observation. ‘So, er, you didn’t end up starting a family?’

There’s a silence for a few seconds while Thomas Lapaine pushes his sleeves up and leans forward. Legs spread wide, forearms on thighs. It’s a staunchly masculine pose that tells me everything before he even says it. ‘We tried for a few years but it didn’t happen. We had all sorts of tests and then we started IVF. Several rounds of IVF. It was tough. We’d actually just decided to give—’ He stops suddenly, pulled up sharp by a memory he’s not sure whether to share.

I keep my voice gentle. ‘Tom?’

He stares at me, slightly baffled. ‘Well, it’s just, I’m so sorry – I’ve been telling you how she never went to London but – how could I have forgotten – we did go to London, once, a few months ago. But it really was the only time. It was to see another consultant, someone who’d been recommended to my mother. The price was sky-high, about ￡15,000 per go plus extra for blood tests and all the other indignities you have to go through, but he claimed to have a sixty-five per cent success rate. Alice found that hard to resist, even if it meant going into London.’

I nod, not sure what this tells us. ‘You must have been excited?’

That brittle laugh again. ‘I was. But shortly afterwards Alice said she wanted to give up, just like that. She said she’d come to the conclusion that it wasn’t meant to be.’ He scratches at his wrist, frowning. ‘She seemed quite philosophical about it really.’

‘When was this?’ says Parnell

He thinks for a minute. ‘We saw the consultant around the end of October. I’m sure you’ll find the exact date when your colleagues rifle through my wife’s things.’

‘What exact date did Alice leave?’ I ask.

‘Thursday 19th November. I came home from work and she was gone. She’d left me a note. A note and some home-cooked meals in the freezer.’

‘Do you have the note?’

A deep slug of scotch. ‘No.’

Parnell resists the urge to roll his eyes. ‘Can you tell us what it said then?’

‘Just that she needed some time alone and that she’d call soon.’ His voice wavers. ‘And that she loved me, very deeply.’

And that she was heading into space with Elvis on a solar-powered unicorn. That’s how much credence we can give this note.

I throw him a bone just to see how eagerly he takes it. ‘Do you think she needed time away to come to terms with the IVF decision?’