The Therapist(64)

‘What do you mean?’

It goes on a bit too long, the pretence that he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. Tired of his lies, I take his passport from my knees and lay it on the table.

‘I found this in your filing cabinet.’

The change that comes over him is dramatic. His eyes dart around the room, looking for somewhere to hide and, realising that there’s nowhere to go, because I’m sitting right in front of him, they come to rest on me. The panic I see in them sends waves of adrenalin coursing through my body. For one horrible, frightening moment, I think he’s going to lunge at me across the table.

The silence as we stare at each other becomes unbearable. My heart is racing so fast I think I might never be able to breathe again. Behind me, there’s a tiny drip-drip from the tap in the sink. I focus on it, counting each drop. When I get to ten, I swallow painfully and force words out.

‘Is your real name Leo Carter?’

It’s there in his eyes, the knowledge that he’s cornered. He puts his elbows on the table and buries his face in his hands.

‘Leo.’ His despair makes him oblivious. ‘Leo,’ I say, raising my voice.

He lifts his head. His tear-streaked face is ashen. ‘You must hate me.’

I can’t cope with his pain. I push my chair back and move to the sink, turning the tap so that it no longer drips. ‘I could never hate you,’ I say to his reflection in the window.

He rubs at his face. ‘I shouldn’t have lied to you, I know. But I couldn’t tell you the truth, I was too scared that if I did, you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore.’

I turn back to him. ‘What is the truth?’

He sighs heavily. ‘When I was young and stupid, I worked for an asset management firm. I allowed myself to be influenced by a couple of guys I worked with and spent a few months in prison for fraud.’

‘How many months?’

‘Four or five.’ I keep my eyes fixed on his face. ‘Maybe a bit more,’ he admits.

‘I looked you up, Leo. I looked up Leo Carter. You spent two years in prison.’

He shakes his head. ‘No. I was released early for good behaviour.’ I don’t say anything. ‘But you’re right, it was more than a year, I’m not sure—’

I walk over to the table, hating that he still hasn’t got it. ‘It doesn’t matter how long you spent in prison, whether it was two months or two years,’ I say. ‘What matters is that you’re still lying to me.’

The desperation on his face is hard to witness. ‘I’ll tell you everything, I promise. That woman, the one who came to Harlestone, I wasn’t lying, she was a journalist. She wanted to write about the irony of someone who was once convicted for fraud advising clients on risk management issues. She kept on asking me and each time, I refused, because I didn’t want you to find out what I’d done.’ New tears fall from his eyes. ‘Don’t you see, Alice? I’ve turned the bad stuff I did into a positive. I’m making amends.’

‘Which is great, Leo,’ I say. ‘But it doesn’t change the fact that at heart, you’re dishonest.’ I stop, struggling for the words to tell him why it feels like the ultimate betrayal. ‘What I can’t get my head around is why you didn’t tell me the truth when I told you everything about me. Everything.’

‘But I went to prison!’

‘Exactly. You paid the price for what you did.’ I turn at the sound of a car pulling up outside.

‘Where are you going?’ he asks.

‘To open the door. Ginny’s here.’

‘Ginny?’

‘Yes, I asked her to come.’

‘But we haven’t discussed anything yet.’

‘There isn’t anything to discuss.’

‘Alice, please!’

‘I’m sorry, Leo. It’s over.’

I go and open the door. Behind me, I hear Leo sobbing and I hate myself for not being able to comfort him.

‘Is Leo still here?’ Ginny asks anxiously, coming into the hall. ‘Yes.’

‘What’s happened?’

‘I’ll let Leo tell you,’ I say, reaching for my coat. ‘It’s his story, not mine.’ I give Ginny a hug. ‘I’ll call you later.’

In the square I sink onto a bench and let the vicious wind whip tears from my eyes.





Thirty-Two


Ginny calls me.

‘Where are you?’ she asks.

‘Sitting in the square.’

‘Coming now.’

‘I can’t believe it,’ she says when she arrives a couple of minutes later, looking as shocked as I still feel. ‘I can’t believe Leo spent time in prison.’

I shove my hands deeper into my pockets, only realising now how cold I am. ‘It’s why he could never admit to having a passport. He must have changed his name officially, because he bought the house in the name of Leo Curtis.’

‘I’m so sorry, Alice, this is awful for you.’

‘How is he?’

‘Upset, broken.’

‘Why do I feel guilty?’

‘Because you still care for him.’

‘Maybe. But I can’t forgive him.’