The Soulmate(56)

The next day, I called Dr Ravi.

It wasn’t just the bloody boot prints, which Gabe explained away. (A dead animal on the road, he said.) It was everything else. The compulsive online shopping. The fact that he’d recently told me he wanted to start an Uber service on the moon. I’d laughed, but he stayed serious. Lately I found it difficult to tell when he was joking. The line between normal and not normal had always been so thin for Gabe; sometimes I didn’t know if I was talking to a genius or a madman.

I’d been having my doubts about Gabe’s ADHD diagnosis. Yes, there’d been a brief period when he’d seemed to improve, but those days were long gone.

‘Thank you for your call, Pippa,’ Dr Ravi said. ‘But before we chat, I need to be clear that I can’t talk specifically about Gabe or anything he has divulged to me, as it would breach doctor–patient confidentiality.’

‘I understand,’ I said. ‘But I’m not sure who else to talk to.’

‘What’s been going on?’

I told Dr Ravi about the compulsive spending, the Uber on the moon. I told him everything else I’d stored up, details that seemed insignificant on their own but were worrying when presented side by side. The fight I’d overheard between Gabe and a workmate, in which Gabe had accused his colleague of spying on him. The poetry he’d written about grief, and how it was the only path to true spiritual enlightenment. How he sometimes cried because he was so happy, and it frightened the girls.

When I finished talking Dr Ravi was silent for a long time. Finally he said: ‘I agree that sounds concerning, Pippa.’

There was something so gratifying about hearing that, after thinking for so long that I was making a big deal out of nothing, I felt a lump in my throat.

‘And he’s been taking his medication?’

‘Every day.’ I swallowed. ‘I’ve checked.’

I could hear Dr Ravi tapping at his computer. ‘I’d like to see him, today if possible.’ He paused. ‘I see he missed his last two appointments. He didn’t even call to cancel. Do you think you can persuade him to come in?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. But I did. I already knew he wouldn’t come. Why would he? According to him, he’d never felt better.

The tears started to flow now. They filled my throat and blocked my nose until it felt like I was drowning.

‘Unfortunately, I can’t do anything if I don’t see him myself,’ Dr Ravi said. ‘Unless I have reason to suspect that Gabe is a danger to himself or to others. Do you think that’s the case, Pippa?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘He’s not dangerous.’

But then I thought of that bloody boot print, and I wondered if I’d told the truth.





57


AMANDA

AFTER



Max has only just got the heating going when his phone rings. He takes a seat in an armchair before answering the call.

‘Max Cameron,’ he says.

Gabe is at home, pacing the living room. Pippa is sitting on the couch watching him. Her hands are steepled in the prayer position. I wonder if she’s actually praying.

‘Max. It’s Gabe.’

Max is as impressed as I am by how quickly Gabe called, but he waits several moments before responding. It is, I assume, a strategy designed to unnerve the other man. Judging by the look on Gabe’s face, it is successful. ‘Gabe. Thank you for calling.’

‘Pippa said you wanted to talk to me.’

A number of emotions are evident in Gabe’s voice. There is the hot tone of protectiveness for his wife. Irritation that he has been put into the position of having to make a call he doesn’t want to make. Also, fear. Max holds the cards here, and Gabe knows it.

‘Pippa is correct,’ Max says. ‘I want to know what happened to Amanda.’

Gabe stops pacing. He looks through the glass sliding doors out to The Drop. ‘I assumed the police would have told you.’

‘They did.’ Max’s voice is slow and careful. ‘But it’s extraordinary what the police don’t know.’

He lets that hang there for a moment. I’d forgotten how good Max was at creating an air of tension to give himself the upper hand.

‘Look,’ Gabe says. ‘I’m really sorry about Amanda. I can’t even imagine what you are feeling. But I don’t have any information that you don’t already know.’

‘You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you.’

‘It’s true. Honestly, it was as much of a surprise to me as it was to you that Amanda came here. I didn’t even recognise her at first.’ Gabe pauses, changes tack. ‘She told me she knew what had happened between you and Pippa. She’d found a video on your computer. There was nothing I could do.’

Max rubs his temple with two fingers and drags in a breath. ‘All right,’ he says. ‘Now tell me what really happened.’

‘That is what really happened,’ Gabe says, but with a little less conviction.

‘Bullshit.’ Max’s voice is strained. Powerful, and yet threaded with something vulnerable. His chin, I notice, wobbles. ‘My wife wasn’t suicidal, Gabe. She would never have taken her own life. She knew how much suicide has taken from me already.’