The Therapist(79)

I go back to my study but I can’t concentrate on work because Ben’s visit is on my mind. Is it weird that he turned up? Ginny didn’t think it was, she said it was nice of him to call. I need to stop being suspicious of everyone.

Even of Will, it seems, because at eight o’clock, he comes to the door with a set of keys dangling from his finger.

‘Found them,’ he says, smiling happily.

‘Great!’ I say. ‘Where were they?’

‘On the side, amongst Eve’s clutter. They must have fallen off the hook and got buried before anyone noticed.’

‘It happens,’ I say, because it does. ‘Thanks, Will.’

When evening comes, even though I no longer have to worry about a set of keys being in the wild, I move to the sitting room. I plan to spend the night watching television. If I feel tired, I can doze on the sofa.

I don’t have the volume on the TV turned up loud but at around three in the morning, I find myself muting it. There was a noise, from the kitchen, I’m sure of it. My heart in my mouth, I get up from the sofa and look around the room. If someone has got into the house, I need to stop them getting in here. They’ll have heard the television, they’ll know where I am.

Moving quietly, I take a low table and put it tight up against the door, then fetch a couple of lamps and put them on top of the table. If someone opens the door, the table and lamps will go flying, buying me enough time to dial 999.

I wait five minutes, my body tense with nerves, my phone ready in my hand, then wait five minutes more and when I don’t hear anything else, I try and relax. But I can’t bring myself to go and check if there was anyone there. I don’t feel like going back to the film I was watching so I curl up on the sofa and wonder if it really is worth staying another week. The reason I asked for two weeks was because I hoped Thomas would have made some progress by then. And because, if I’m honest, I didn’t want to never see him again. But now that he’s said he’ll come and see me in Harlestone, I no longer have to worry. It’s probably better that I go. I told Thomas that I want Nina’s killer brought to justice, no matter who it is. But what if it does turn out to be someone from here, how will I feel then?

At six o’clock, I open the curtains and look outside. It’s still dark but there are lights on in some of the houses, people getting ready to go about their everyday lives. That’s what I want, I realise, an everyday life, not one with secrets and lies, fear and mistrust. I’m going back to Harlestone today.

The feeling of a huge weight being lifted off my shoulders is incredible. I go back to the sofa and sleep until my alarm rings at ten. The table and lamps are still in front of the door so I put them back where they’re meant to be and head to the kitchen for coffee. Now that I’ve decided to leave, I need to pack, phone Debbie, Leo, Ginny and Thomas. I can tell Eve that I’m leaving when I see her at lunch. For the first time in a long time, I feel happy. I don’t belong here.

As soon as I walk into the kitchen, I know that something has changed. I come to a stop, the weirdest of sensations coursing through my body. I was right, someone has been here, I can feel it on my skin, taste it on my tongue. I walk further in and take a careful look around. I can’t see anything but something is definitely different.

My eyes fall on the French windows that give onto the terrace. I go over and try the handle – they’re still locked. I stoop to examine the lock; it doesn’t look as if it’s been tampered with but, when I think about it, it’s logical that whoever is getting in is getting in this way, because of the mortice lock on the inside of the front door. Even with keys, nobody can get in if I’ve locked it from the inside. There have been times when I’ve forgotten to lock it. But not recently. Since Leo left, I’ve been obsessive about it.

I go to my study and find the keys that Will gave me last night. There are only the two keys for the front door. The smaller one that would open the French windows isn’t there. Did Will remove it before he gave the keys back to me? Or was it never there?

I phone Leo.

‘Is everything alright?’ he asks, as if he knows that it isn’t. It puts me on my guard. Everything puts me on my guard. I’m suspicious of everyone and everything.

‘Why shouldn’t it be?’

‘It’s just that you seem a bit all over the place at the moment.’

I bite back an angry retort. He’s right, I am.

‘The keys you gave Will – were they only for the front door or was there one for the French windows?’ I ask.

‘Um – only for the front door. There are only two keys for the French windows, the one we keep in the drawer in the kitchen and the spare in my study.’

‘Where in your study?’ I ask, already checking the kitchen drawer to see if the key is there. It is.

‘In my desk, top drawer on the right. Is there a problem?’

‘If someone is getting into the house,’ I say, running up the stairs, ‘the only way they could get in would be through the French windows, as long as I’ve locked the front door from the inside.’ I get to his study and open the right-hand drawer. The spare key is there.

‘Or through a window,’ he says.

‘They’d make too much noise. Are you sure there aren’t any more keys for the French windows?’

‘Quite sure. Ben gave me all the keys he had.’