The Therapist(63)

‘I’m so sorry, Ali,’ she says, stunned at what I’ve told her. ‘Coming on top of him not telling you about the murder, you must be devastated.’

‘I am,’ I say, brushing away the tears that I haven’t been able to hold back. ‘I feel so lost. I told him everything about me, everything. I didn’t hide anything, I was a hundred per cent honest. That’s what makes it so hard.’

‘I know,’ Debbie says. ‘Why don’t you come and spend a few days here, clear your head a bit?’

‘I’d love to but I need to speak to Leo first. He’s not back in London until tomorrow evening. I was going to ask him to go to Ginny and Mark’s like last week but I’ll get him to come here. He’s going to think I’ve forgiven him for not telling me about Nina.’

‘Would you like me to come to you?’

‘It’s lovely of you to offer but I need to speak to him alone.’

‘Let me know how it goes and if you need anything, just shout.’

‘Thanks, Debbie.’

It takes me a while to call Leo.

‘Alice?’ Once again there’s that hope in his voice, that I’m phoning to ask him to come back.

‘Are you working in London on Friday?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you can come home tomorrow evening.’

‘Really? Brilliant. Would you like to go out for dinner?’

‘No, it’s fine. See you tomorrow.’

‘Yes – thanks, Alice.’

In the morning, I find it impossible to concentrate on the translation I’m meant to be doing. My stomach jitters at the thought of seeing Leo this evening. He texts me when he arrives at Euston and suddenly, I’m scared. I have no idea how he’ll react when I tell him that I know who he really is. I don’t think he would harm me but who knows what he’s capable of when he’s already been capable of so much?

I press my face to the window and phone Ginny. I haven’t been out at all today. In the square, a fierce wind whips the fallen leaves into a frenzy. Under the nearest tree, a small child, his little arms outstretched, tries to catch them, and they fall around him like extra-large confetti. His parent is filming the scene on his phone. It’s Tim, I realise, with his youngest son.

‘Hi, Alice,’ Ginny says cheerfully. ‘How are you?’

‘Leo’s arriving any minute now,’ I say, my eyes still on the little boy.

‘Yes, I know, he told me you said he could go back.’

‘Only to talk.’

‘Oh.’

‘I hate to ask but would you mind coming over? It’s just that I might need some back-up.’

‘Is everything alright?’

I turn from the window. ‘No, not really, but I’ll explain when you get here. Could you leave now? It’ll give me time to speak to Leo on his own first.’

‘I hope it’s not what I think it is,’ she adds sadly. ‘I love you both.’

I want to tell her that it’s worse than she could possibly imagine.

Even though I’m expecting him, the sound of his key in the lock makes me jump. There are the usual sounds from the hall; the rustle of his Barbour being shrugged off, then his jacket, the chink of coins as he throws it over the newel post.

‘Alice?’

‘In here.’

He comes into the kitchen. He’s wearing a jumper I’ve never seen before. He’s had his hair cut and the stubble he had five days ago is thicker, almost a beard. It makes him look younger. It makes him a stranger.

‘How are you?’ he asks.

‘Not great.’

I’m sitting at the kitchen table, like I was last time, when I confronted him about the murder. His passport is balanced on my knees, out of sight.

There’s a scrape as he pulls out the chair opposite me.

‘Has something happened?’

Questions crowd my mind. There’s so much I want to ask him, too much.

‘Is there anything you want to tell me?’ I ask, needing him to come clean, because then, there might be hope for us.

‘Apart from being sorry I didn’t tell you about the murder?’

‘Yes, apart from that.’

‘No, I can’t think of anything.’ He rubs his hand over his chin. ‘I mean, I’d like to know how much longer you’re going to hold it against me, because we can’t go on like this.’ He leans forward, his eyes pleading. ‘I love you, Alice. Can’t we put this behind us? I made a mistake. I’m sorry. Can’t that be an end to it?’

‘I’m going to ask you something, and this time I’d like the truth. Do you have a passport?’

He sits back, fake puzzlement on his face. ‘You know I don’t. I told you that.’

I can’t look at him, I can’t believe he’s thrown our relationship away.

‘What about a birth certificate. Have you got one of those?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Can I see it?’

‘I don’t have it here.’

‘Where is it?’

‘It’s in a safe, in the bank.’

The pause was slight, but I noticed it. ‘In a safe? I didn’t know you had a safe.’ He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me mutely. ‘Why don’t you start by telling me who you are?’ I say.