The Therapist(81)

‘When?’

‘It doesn’t matter when, I only want to know if it’s something you’ve ever done.’

‘No.’

‘You’ve never left me a rose?’

‘No.’

‘Great, thanks.’

I hang up, think for a moment, then phone him a third time.

‘Sorry,’ I say, ‘I won’t phone you again, I promise.’

‘It’s OK.’ He pauses. ‘Was I meant to have left you a rose?’

‘No. I just wanted to thank you for the champagne you left for me in the fridge. I forget at the time.’

‘What champagne?’

‘The Dom Pérignon.’

‘Dom Pérignon?’

‘So it wasn’t you?’

‘No. Are you saying someone put a bottle of Dom Pérignon in our fridge?’

‘It was probably there from when we had drinks,’ I say hurriedly. ‘Somebody must have brought it along and stuck it in the fridge.’

‘A bottle like that would have jumped out at me,’ he says. ‘Alice, what’s going on?’

‘Just trying to work things out.’

I hang up before he can ask any more questions.

I leave my clothes and run downstairs, wondering how many other calling cards I missed. I’m sure he left one for me last night in the kitchen. I stand in the middle of the floor and turn slowly on the spot, scanning the room, looking for something that shouldn’t be there.

‘Where are you?’ I cry in frustration. I go back to where I was standing this morning, when I first sensed that something was different, just inside the door. This time, I keep perfectly still. Only my eyes are moving as I make a detailed, inch-by-inch search, letting them travel slowly over each of the worktops, then up and down the cupboards, back and forth along the shelves, along the rack where the saucepans hang, over the cooker, the ovens, the fridge. But I can’t see anything out of place.

I send a text to Debbie to tell her I’ll be arriving this evening. For a moment, I wonder whether to cancel lunch with Eve and the others and leave straightaway, but while half of my brain is telling me that I’m in danger, the other half is telling me that everything I’m imagining can’t be true. Anyway, I don’t want to leave without seeing Eve. I might not have known her for very long but I feel close to her in a way that I can’t explain.

Debbie replies that she’ll have a bottle of wine ready. I message Ginny and tell her that I’ve decided to go back to Harlestone today, and that we’ll speak over the weekend. And then I call Thomas.

‘Am I disturbing you?’ I ask.

‘It’s fine, I can take a few minutes. Have you managed to find the name of Nina’s therapist from Tamsin?’

‘No, and I’m not sure it’s even relevant. Sometimes I wonder if I haven’t gone a bit mad. I mean, isn’t it a little crazy to link a disappearance three years ago with Nina’s murder, just because the word therapist came into it? Even the murder in France – it’s ridiculous to think it’s connected to Nina’s, just because both women had their hair cut off. Leo told me I need to let go of my obsession with Nina’s murder and I couldn’t be angry with him because he’s right, I am obsessed. I’m so obsessed that I’ve suspected everyone that I know of being involved, even though everyone tells me that Oliver killed her.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says quietly. ‘You don’t know how much I regret dragging you into my investigation – which, to be honest, I probably would have closed by now, despite Helen.’ He sighs. ‘You’re not the only one questioning your motives.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Just that sometimes, I wonder if I’ve only been keeping it open so that I can carry on seeing you.’

I feel a surge of happiness. ‘You can carry on seeing me anyway.’

‘But only because you’re no longer with Leo. Until you made that decision, I only had the investigation as a reason to see you.’

‘Are you saying that you think Oliver murdered Nina?’

‘No, I don’t think he did. I think her killer is out there. But I don’t think I’m ever going to find him. Too many people are lying, and untangling that web of lies is proving impossible. And if they’re not lying, they’re covering something up.’

‘Like a conspiracy, you mean?’

‘Yes. And if several people in The Circle are all covering up for each other, the only way we’ll ever be able to get to the truth is if someone breaks rank.’

‘It’s just as well I didn’t tell you my other theory,’ I say.

‘Which is?’

‘Do you really want to hear it?’

‘I haven’t given up totally yet.’

‘OK. It’s that Ben is somehow involved.’

‘Ben? I haven’t heard of a Ben. What number does he live at?’

‘No, Ben from Redwoods. The estate agent who sold us the house.’

‘Wow,’ he says. ‘OK.’ There’s a pause. ‘I’m not saying you’re wrong,’ he adds hastily, ‘I’m just wondering how you got there.’

‘You know I think that someone has been getting into the house at night? Well, I think they’ve been getting in through the French windows at the back. Leo told me Will had keys to the house so I got them back from him and there were only two keys on the ring, both for the front door. I checked with Leo and he said Will never had a key to the French windows, that there were only two, and both were in the house. And both are in the house, I checked. It means that if someone is getting in through the French windows, there must be another key.’