The Therapist(28)

I’m pulling out the sofa bed when Leo knocks on the door.

‘Thank you for not leaving,’ he says, helping me move the cushions.

‘I still might. I haven’t decided what to do yet.’

He nods. ‘I’m going to commute to Birmingham this week, so that you won’t be alone in the house at night – if you decide to stay,’ he adds.

‘Thanks,’ I say, because I’d forgotten that I was meant to be by myself until Thursday. We make up the bed and I close the door behind him, struck by the irony of the situation. This was meant to be a new start, a chance – once his current contract was finished – for us to live as a normal couple where, after a day’s work, we would meet again in the evenings – every evening – to chat about our day face to face. Even if we can get over this, what if it doesn’t work out? What if we find we can’t live together day after day? Maybe our relationship only worked until now because we lived apart for most of the time.

I’m almost asleep when I remember I need clothes for the morning. Since Friday, I’ve lived in clothes pulled from the ironing basket but they’re now back in the wash. My clean ones are in the bedroom, where I don’t want to go.

I text Leo.

Before you leave, please get me some clothes from the bedroom and leave them on the chair in the hall. My white shorts, my red dress, a pair of jeans, two white T-shirts, two navy T-shirts and four sets of underwear. My white trainers and the blue sandals with the gold bar. And socks. Thanks.



I turn off my phone and go back to sleep.





Fourteen


I wake in the night, my heart beating hard against my ribs. Something woke me, I don’t know what. I lie without moving, holding my breath, my body tensed, trying to work it out. And then it comes to me. There’s someone in the room and I know instinctively that it isn’t Leo.

There’s no light near me, the nearest lamp is on my desk. I’m too scared to move, too scared to open my eyes. My eyes dart around under my closed lids. Where are they? Shouldn’t I be able to hear them breathing, detect some sort of movement? There’s nothing, just a feeling that someone is watching me. Then, when the effort of not moving, not breathing, becomes too much, the sense of someone being there leaves me.

My held-in breath whooshes from me, a shuddering gasp in the suffocating silence of the night. I wait for my heartrate to slow, then move my legs from under the covers. I feel too vulnerable to leave my bed so I stretch my arm towards my desk and turn on the lamp. The weak yellow light doesn’t reach into the corners of the study but I’m able to see that there isn’t anyone there. The door is slightly ajar, and I can’t remember whether or not I closed it before going to sleep.

I get out of bed, about to call for Leo, then stop. I can do this myself. My heart in my mouth, I switch on the light in the hall. Taking a deep breath, I walk through the downstairs rooms with pretend confidence, giving myself courage, turning on lights as I go. There’s a neat pile of clothes on the chair in the hall; Leo must have brought them down once I was asleep to save him doing it in the morning. I continue upstairs, checking his study and the guest bedroom. The door to our bedroom is shut. I put my hand gently on the handle and push it open. It creaks slightly and I hold my breath, expecting Leo to wake up, ask who’s there. But there’s no sound. I peep in; he’s sleeping soundly, his breathing deep and regular.

I’m going back downstairs when I see it, a white rose cut from the garden lying on the window sill next to the front door. I smile grimly to myself, amazed that he thinks I can be won over so easily. I carry it through to the kitchen, open the bin and dump it inside.

Back in bed, I leave the light on and my door half-open so I’m not in complete darkness. I expect to have trouble getting to sleep but suddenly, it’s morning and Leo has already left for Birmingham.

The next morning, a text comes in from Eve – Coffee? I check the time; it’s already nine o’clock but I can start work a bit later today. I go straight round. She comes to the door dressed in white running gear, eating toast spread thickly with peanut butter.

‘I did a five-mile run this morning, so I’m allowed,’ she says, offering me her plate. ‘And you’re allowed, because you had a crap weekend. Or maybe you didn’t?’

I take a piece of toast and follow her to the kitchen. ‘It was crap on the Leo front but the upside was that I managed to get a lot of work done. It took my mind off everything, which was good.’

‘You were able to stay in the house, then?’

‘Yes, but I slept downstairs, in my study.’

Eve puts her plate down, hoists herself onto the worktop, then picks up her plate again.

‘How did it go with Leo?’

‘We’re keeping our distance while I try and work out how I’m feeling. I’m so confused about everything. I feel I should be running away from the house, maybe even running away from Leo. But he said we should create new memories.’

She tilts her head to one side, looking at me. ‘How do you feel about that?’

‘I’m not sure. This might sound strange, but since Leo said that, I’ve begun to feel as if I owe it to Nina to stay. I feel drawn to her in some way. When I went back to the house on Thursday, I could almost sense her presence, I could see her in the sitting room with Oliver, see them together in the kitchen. And when I think how she must have suffered,’ I add quietly, ‘any hardship that I might be feeling is nothing in comparison. Maybe Leo is right, maybe the only way to rid the house of the evil that happened there is to create new memories.’