The Therapist(68)
‘I’m sure there are.’
Thinking of Tamsin has made me remember something that I’ve been meaning to ask Thomas. ‘Tamsin mentioned something the other day. Apparently, after Nina was killed, she cut her hair and she wondered if subconsciously, she was worried that if the killer had a fetish about long hair, he might come after her next. Do you think he did? Have a fetish, I mean?’
‘It could be that. Or it could be symbolic. Throughout history, cutting off a woman’s hair was often used as punishment for those thought to be immoral, as a shaming tactic. During World War Two, in France, it was the fate of many of the women who slept with Germans. They were seen as collaborators.’
‘So, if Nina’s murderer thought she was immoral because she was having an affair, surely that points the finger at Oliver?’
‘Or someone who wanted to have an affair with her and was jealous that she was having an affair with someone else. Or someone who was judging her for having an affair.’ There’s a pause. ‘Sorry, Alice, Louis is waiting for me to read him a bedtime story. I’d better go.’
‘Of course.’
I hang up, smiling at an image of him reading a story to his son. Louis. It’s a nice name.
Thirty-Four
It’s raining the next day, so instead of going for a walk in Hyde Park, I head to the British Library, where I wander around in awe at the magnitude of the place. When I come across a bank of computers, I remember my conversation with Thomas the previous day and type in ‘hair fetishism’. I read a few articles and then, on impulse, type in ‘hair fetishism in murders’. Several links come up, to articles that appeared in a variety of French newspapers and as I scan them quickly, I realise that they all are about the same murder, which took place in Paris. My French is quite good and, as I read the first article my blood begins to run cold. The victim, a thirty-one-year-old woman called Marion Cartaux, had had her hair cut off before she was strangled.
I study the photos of her. Like Nina, she had long blond hair. I look at the date of the murder – 11th December 2017, approximately fifteen months before Nina was murdered.
It doesn’t take me long to read everything I can find. I want to dig deeper but when I check the time, I’m already late for my appointment with Eve.
I hurry to the Orangery.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ I apologise, tucking my wet umbrella under the table and giving her a hug. ‘I went to the British Library and got carried away looking at all the beautiful first editions.’
‘When I saw the rain, I thought you might change your plans.’
‘This is lovely,’ I say, looking around. ‘I’m glad you managed to get a table by the window.’
‘I nearly didn’t get a table at all. Apparently, you have to book ages in advance. They’d just had a cancellation, so I was lucky.’
We order tea and while we’re waiting for it to arrive, Eve tells me that she couldn’t sleep last night and almost phoned me for a chat, because she saw my lights on.
‘I actually slept well last night,’ I say. ‘But there’ve been a few times when I thought there was someone in the house, and even though I know it’s just my imagination,’ I add, because I’m not about to tell her that I believe in spirits, ‘I always leave the light on in the stairwell now.’ She frowns, so I carry on guiltily, ‘I know I shouldn’t waste electricity but it makes me feel safer.’
She shakes her head. ‘That’s not why I’m frowning. It’s just that there were a couple of times when Nina thought there was someone in the house. But as it was always when Oliver was away, like you, she put it down to her imagination. It used to freak her out, though.’
My heart thumps. ‘When was this?’
‘A few months before she died.’
‘Did you tell the police?’
‘No, because it was only you saying the same thing that made me remember. As it happened when Oliver wasn’t there, I thought the same as she did, that she was feeling vulnerable because she was alone in the house. I know if Will is away, I’m much more aware of noises in the house. Every creak could be a footstep on the stairs, that sort of thing.’
I sit back to let the waiter place a stand of sandwiches, scones and cakes on the table, followed by two pots of tea. ‘What did Nina say, exactly?’
‘Just that she would wake suddenly and think there was someone in the room. Then the feeling would disappear.’
I reach for one of the teapots and fill her cup, not wanting her to see how much her words have affected me. If Nina experienced the same thing as me, maybe it’s time to stop trying to convince myself that it’s her spirit I’ve been sensing – and face up to the horrible reality that someone really has been coming into the house at night.
I don’t say anything to Eve but when I get home, I open my laptop and find a small boutique hotel not far from The Circle. I book myself in for four nights, then go upstairs to the bedroom where Leo and I used to sleep and begin filling a large canvas bag with a few basic necessities – pyjamas, underwear, toiletries. I don’t like giving up but I can’t sleep in the house, not since my conversation with Eve. But if someone has been getting into the house, how have they been doing it? And why would they come back time and again and risk being seen? How do they manage to slip away undetected, without leaving the slightest trace of themselves? Whoever it is must have keys. As far as I know, only Leo and I have keys.