The Therapist(61)

Thirty


I go downstairs, taking the passport with me, a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, dreading the confrontation I’m about to have with him. I open the door and take a sudden step back. It’s not Leo, but Thomas.

‘Oh.’ I should have realised that Leo wouldn’t ring on the bell, he has keys. But why is Thomas here? Did we have an appointment?

‘Alice, I’m sorry to disturb you but could I come in?’

He seems almost as flustered as I feel.

‘Um. Yes, I suppose so.’ I open the door wider, realising how ungracious I sound. But my mind is still spinning with the discovery of Leo’s passport.

He comes into the hall and I close the door behind him.

‘Can I ask – did you get a letter from Helen, Oliver’s sister?’

It’s hard to focus. ‘Yes. Yes, I did.’

‘I’m so sorry. I saw her last week and she said she wanted to write to you. I intended to check that you were open to receiving a letter from her. But when I saw her this morning, she told me that she’d already written and had asked her carer to post it.’ He looks at me anxiously. ‘I hope she didn’t put pressure on you in any way.’

‘Not at all,’ I tell him. ‘It was a very sweet letter. It must have cost her a lot physically to write it.’

He nods. ‘She’s so weak she can barely hold a pen. She can’t hold a book either and she loves reading. Thank God for audio books.’ He frowns slightly. ‘Is everything alright? You look shaken.’

‘That’s a good question. I don’t really know.’ Even to my ears my voice sounds strangled. ‘I’ve just discovered something very strange.’

‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘No, thank you, it’s fine.’ I reach around him, intending to open the door so that he can leave, and find myself pausing. He’s a private investigator, maybe he can help me. ‘Actually, do you have a minute?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘I really need a coffee. Would you like one?’

‘I’d love one.’

He follows me to the kitchen.

‘Have a seat. How do you take your coffee?’

‘Black, please, no sugar.’

He sits down. I’m still holding Leo’s passport so I put it on the table and go to make the coffee. My movements feel heavy, and I have to concentrate on getting the capsule into the machine. I take the cup over to the table, then go back for mine.

He waits until I’m sitting down opposite him, then nods at the passport. ‘I haven’t seen one of those for a long time.’

I pick it up. ‘It’s Leo’s – my partner’s. He told me he didn’t have a passport and I just found this in a drawer.’

‘Perhaps he meant he didn’t have an up-to-date passport. These haven’t been in use for years.’

‘It’s not that. It’s in a different name.’

He frowns. ‘Then – are you sure it’s his?’

‘It’s his photo. It’s the name that doesn’t match.’ I pick up the passport and turn to the relevant page. ‘His surname is Curtis, here it says Carter.’

‘Could I see?’ I hand it to him. He studies it for a moment then looks over at me. ‘You could always check it against his birth certificate.’

‘I wouldn’t know where to find it.’

‘Hm. What about his bank cards? Are they in the name of Curtis?’

‘Yes, I suppose so. I mean, I’ve never noticed.’

‘What about his mail?’

‘Um, I don’t know. I’ve never actually seen any mail for him.’ I look at him, worry creasing my brow. ‘Is that strange? We weren’t living together before we moved here, he had a flat in London so his mail went there. And since we moved here – it was only a month ago but he should have received some mail here, shouldn’t he?’

‘I would have thought so.’

I raise my cup to my lips, trying to push away the black cloud of terror looming behind my eyes. My hand is shaking so much that coffee spills everywhere.

‘Sorry,’ I say, horribly aware of the tears pricking my eyes.

He reaches out and takes the cup from my hand, then goes over to the sink and comes back with a cloth.

‘Can I make you another coffee?’ he asks, mopping up the mess. ‘Or would you prefer some water?’

‘Water, please.’

He goes back to the sink and I hear the sound of running water, then cupboard doors being opened and closed as he looks for a glass. His movements are measured, giving me time to compose myself.

He brings the water over to me. ‘Thank you,’ I say, taking the glass gratefully. Our hands brush and I pull away, confused by the electricity shooting through me at the feel of his skin.

He sits down. ‘If I can do anything to help.’

I take a shaky breath. ‘I think Leo might have known Nina.’

He doesn’t seem shocked, just looks at me intently, and it crosses my mind that maybe he’s known all along that Leo knew Nina. Maybe that’s why he came to our drinks evening, maybe he wanted to see up close the man he believes is responsible for her murder. Is that the reason he’s been visiting me, hoping I’ll let something slip? The sense of impending doom makes my heart race so fast I feel dizzy.