The Therapist(21)

I falter at this, suddenly unsure of what I want. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Sure I’m sure!’

‘I don’t need much, just some pyjamas, a toothbrush and a change of clothes. And my book and laptop.’

‘Come on then.’

On the doorstep, I hand my keys to Eve. She unlocks the door and goes into the house, while I wait on the doorstep, dread cramping my stomach. I don’t know what I’m expecting. For it to be different, I suppose. At least to feel different. But it doesn’t, it feels just the same, so I go in.

Eve stoops to pick up something.

‘Someone’s card,’ she says, handing it to me without looking at it.

‘Thanks.’ I tuck it in my pocket and wait while she takes off her cap, shoves it into her bag, then kicks off her trainers. I slip mine off and follow her upstairs to the bedroom. She walks straight in but I stop in the doorway.

She holds out her hand to me. ‘It’s just the same as before, Alice. Nothing has changed.’

I take a steadying breath and look around the room. She’s right, it is the same. The patterned curtains are still billowing in the breeze, just as they were this morning. My hairbrush is still on the dressing table, the clothes I wore yesterday are still draped over the chair. But—

‘I can’t be here,’ I say, overwhelmed by a feeling of mounting panic. Going over to the chest of drawers, I grab a pair of pyjamas and some underwear then run out of the room, away from the evil I can feel seeping into my pores.





Eleven


‘Here.’ Eve holds out a mug of tea. ‘Drink this, and then we’ll open a bottle of wine.’

‘Sorry. I don’t know why I made so much fuss about being in the bedroom.’ Curled up on the pale leather sofa in her sitting room, my feet tucked under me, I realise she deserves the truth. ‘Actually, I do. My sister’s name was Nina, so anything to do with anyone called Nina always affects me more.’

She gives me a hug. ‘Oh, Alice, I’m so sorry.’

‘If my sister had lived, she would have been the same age as Nina Maxwell. I know it sounds horribly dramatic but it makes me feel as if my sister has been killed twice over.’

‘That, coupled with Leo not telling you about the murder, would be enough to make anyone freak out,’ she says. ‘It’s a lot for you to cope with.’

A glass of Chablis later, I’m beginning to feel better. ‘What was she like?’ I ask.

‘Nina?’ Eve takes a sip of wine. ‘I didn’t get the chance to know her well because we only moved here five months before she died. She was lovely, quite spiritual. As well as being a therapist, she was also a qualified yoga instructor.’ She smiles. ‘She started our yoga group and after she died, we carried on with it, in her memory.’

I like that Nina Maxwell enjoyed yoga, because my sister had too. She had tried several times to get me to go to her class with her, but I’d always had something to do. After, I wished so much that I’d gone, even once. I also like that Nina Maxwell was a therapist; it seems she was a caring person.

‘And her husband?’

‘The nicest man you could hope to meet. From what I knew of him, anyway. But you never really know, do you?’

‘You must have been shocked when he was arrested for her murder.’

Eve reaches towards the low glass table that is neither round nor square but an indeterminate shape, and picks up her glass. ‘Everyone was.’ She takes a sip of wine. ‘We couldn’t believe it, we thought it was a case of “it’s always the husband until they find the real culprit”. But then we heard he’d committed suicide.’

I remember what the investigator said about a miscarriage of justice. ‘And that made you think he must have killed her?’

‘Yes.’

‘But why?’ Eve looks suddenly uncomfortable. ‘I’m sorry to ask all these questions,’ I say. ‘I’m just trying to understand. But if you prefer me not to ask, that’s fine.’

‘No, it’s OK. It’s actually a relief to be able to talk about it to someone who wasn’t here at the time. It’s sort of become a taboo subject.’ She pauses, thinking about my question. ‘Apart from there being no signs of a break-in, there were several reasons why we believed Oliver must have killed her. First, the fact that he committed suicide made us think that he couldn’t come to terms with what he’d done, because he truly loved Nina – that’s what’s so tragic. And other things came to light which made us think it was not just possible, but probable.’

‘What things?’

‘The first was that he lied about the time he got home that night.’ She frowns, catching herself, then looks at me apologetically. ‘Actually, it doesn’t feel good to be repeating things I only heard second or third hand. As I said, I didn’t know Nina that well. Tamsin knew her better than I did. And Lorna was the one who witnessed everything.’ Putting her glass back down, she reaches for the bottle of wine. ‘Here, let me top up your glass for you.’

Although I’m curious, I’m happy not to talk about the murder. I also respect her for not wanting to gossip.

‘Shall we watch a film?’ Eve suggests. ‘Something light to take your mind off things for a while?’