The Therapist(58)

‘Would you like a glass of wine?’

He retraces his footsteps. ‘Thanks.’

I take a couple of glasses from the cupboard, find a bottle of red wine, open it, pour it.

‘Thanks.’ He takes a sip. ‘I hope you were joking when you asked me if I had an affair with Nina. I didn’t know her, I promise.’

‘It’s alright, I believe you.’

He pulls out a chair and sits down. ‘The woman who came to Harlestone – she was a journalist. She wanted to interview me about my job for an article she was writing. I’d already refused twice by phone so she thought she’d accost me in person.’

‘Wouldn’t it have been easier to accost you at your London flat rather than travel all the way to Harlestone? How did she know you’d be there, anyway? How did she get my address?’

He takes another sip of wine. ‘I have no idea.’

‘I’m not being funny, but your job has never struck me as particularly exciting, at least not exciting enough to devote column inches to.’

‘Certain aspects of it are. Risk management is a hot topic at the moment.’

I nod, because maybe it is.

I ask him about his weekend with Ginny and Mark and he asks about mine with the neighbours. Stupidly, I tell him that because of the face I thought I saw at the window, I found it hard to sleep.

‘You shouldn’t be here on your own, Alice.’

‘I’m fine.’

He toys with his glass. ‘I’d like to come back.’

‘I need more time.’

‘How much more?’ He leans forward, finds my eyes. ‘I love you, Alice. I want to be with you, not stuck in a dingy flat in Birmingham.’

‘You don’t have to be in a dingy flat.’

‘That’s not the point.’

‘It is. It’s as if you’re trying to make yourself as miserable as possible.’

‘I am miserable!’ When I don’t say anything, he sighs. ‘Do you want me to check the upstairs windows as well?’

‘Yes, please.’

He drains the rest of his wine. ‘I’ll do them first.’

I follow him into the hall, my arm brushing against his jacket as I stand at the bottom of the stairs. I pause, then make a split decision.

‘I’ll wait here in case you need anything,’ I say. ‘A screwdriver or something.’

‘OK.’

I wait until he’s disappeared up the stairs and into the guest bedroom, then wait a few minutes more.

‘Is everything alright?’ I call, my hand already in his jacket.

‘So far. I just need to check our bedroom.’

There are three windows in the bedroom, plus the one in the en-suite, which should give me enough time. I take out his wallet, open it, leaf through it quickly. At first, I think the key isn’t there but then I find it, tucked in one of the two smaller slots at the front, normally reserved for stamps. I slip it into my pocket.

‘All OK?’ I call, pushing his wallet back into place.

‘All good.’ My heart misses a beat – his voice is close, too close. I look up and see him standing at the top of the stairs. Can he see my hand inside his jacket? He starts coming down and I take a quick step back.

‘By the way,’ I say, looking for something to distract him from the guilt I’m sure is showing on my face. ‘Did you know there’s a gap in the fence between ours and Will’s? Oliver used to lend Will his lawnmower and they used the gap to get back and forth between the gardens. There’s one on the other side too, apparently, because Oliver used to cut Edward’s grass for him.’

‘No, I didn’t know. But it’s a good idea to have them there.’ He pauses. ‘Do you think I should be offering to cut Edward’s grass?’

‘Eve said that Geoff does it now.’

While I worry that he might need to open the filing cabinet again before he leaves – because if he can’t find the key, he’ll guess that I’ve taken it – he checks the downstairs windows.

‘What time is your train back to Birmingham?’ I ask, needing him to leave.

‘I have to be in London again tomorrow, so I’m staying with Ginny and Mark tonight.’

‘They must be waiting for you to have dinner.’

He gives a quick smile.

‘It’s alright, I’m leaving.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, guiltily. ‘I wish I didn’t still feel angry with you. But I do.’

I wait until he’s left, then take out my mobile and call Ginny.

‘You know when you phoned me on Saturday to say that Leo was staying the weekend with you? Where was he when you phoned me?’

‘Um – upstairs in his bedroom, I think. He told me that he’d left you a message to tell you he was staying with us and I realised I hadn’t told you that Mark had invited him, and I didn’t want you to think we were taking sides. Is everything alright? It’s not because he’s still here, is it? But he had to be in London today, and again tomorrow.’

‘No, it’s absolutely fine, it’s lovely of you to have him,’ I say.

‘Are you sure you’re alright with it?’

‘Yes. It’s just that on Saturday, I was out and when I got back, I was sure he’d been here. But he said that he hadn’t, that he was at yours.’