The Therapist(83)

‘Because he didn’t tell you about the murder?’

‘It’s not always black and white,’ I tell her. ‘Just like the murder.’

She groans. ‘You’re not going to start going on about that again, are you?’

‘I just want to know one thing,’ I say quickly, ‘and then I won’t ask you anything else.’

‘What?’ she asks warily.

‘You said Nina saw a therapist. Male or female?’

‘Male.’

‘Did she ever mention his name?’

She arches an eyebrow. ‘That’s two questions. No, I did ask her for it, but as I told you, she didn’t give it to me.’

‘Do you know where his practice was? Was it local?’

‘It doesn’t matter where it was because he came to her,’ Eve intervenes before Tamsin can tell me I’ve run out of questions. ‘That’s why she stopped coming to yoga with us. It clashed with her therapy sessions.’

‘Yes, but she only arranged to have her sessions on a Wednesday afternoon so that she would have an excuse not to see me,’ Tamsin points out.

I frown, remembering that Nina had started avoiding her about four months before she died.

‘So the therapy sessions were a new thing?’

‘Yes.’

‘And he came to see her at the house? Is that usual?’

‘I know it’s not the same, because I’m a speech therapist,’ Maria says. ‘But I wouldn’t normally go to a client’s house unless they can’t get to me for some medical reason.’

‘I don’t suppose Tim would know the name of Nina’s therapist,’ I say, turning to her. ‘I know he decided to specialise in psychotherapy largely because of Nina. Maybe she mentioned a name to him?’

‘I can certainly ask him. But why do you want to know? If you’re leaving, wouldn’t you rather see a therapist nearer to where you’ll be living?’

‘It’s not for me,’ I say. And then I stop, because I don’t know what reason I can give for wanting to know the name of Nina’s therapist.

But it’s too late. ‘Don’t tell me – you think her therapist murdered her,’ Tamsin drawls, an amused look on her face.

‘No, but I don’t believe Oliver did. And neither do you,’ I add, infuriated that she’s laughing at me.

‘I’ve never said that.’

‘Yes, you did! The day you invited me for coffee, I overheard you talking to Eve and you said that you had never believed that Oliver killed Nina.’

Her green eyes flash with annoyance. ‘I guessed you were there, listening in the porch, but it’s good to have it confirmed that as well as everything else, you’re also an eavesdropper.’ She glares at me across the table. ‘I’m glad you’re going. We’ll be able to get on with our lives now.’

‘Tam.’ Maria puts a hand on her arm.

‘So you don’t mind that Nina’s killer hasn’t been caught?’ I say angrily. ‘You know it wasn’t Oliver but you prefer to sit there and do nothing, say nothing?’

Tamsin flushes. ‘Well, you’ve certainly done plenty. We were all happy before you came along and decided to stick your nose into something that had absolutely nothing to do with you. You didn’t even know Nina, or Oliver, so why the hell did you get involved?’ She looks appraisingly at me. ‘Shall I tell you what we all think?’

‘No, Tam,’ Eve pleads. But Tamsin is too far gone to listen.

‘You’re a fantasist, Alice. You invent a whole load of crap and then you start to believe it. We knew it the moment you pretended that a man had turned up at your drinks evening, a man that nobody saw except you, a man that nobody spoke to except you. That’s why we didn’t care whether or not you found out who he was. We knew he was just something you made up to make you appear more interesting than you actually are.’ She gives a snort of disgust. ‘You even admitted to Will that that’s what you do.’

‘I didn’t make him up!’ I say furiously.

She looks at me pityingly. ‘We know, Alice. We know that at one time or another you’ve suspected us or our husbands of killing Nina, we can see right through your invitations to lunch and dinner, right through the questions you ask, right through the lies you tell. You’re dangerous. You need to get a life, before you destroy everyone else’s.’

I wait for Eve or Maria to come to my rescue. But Eve, who would normally do her best to smooth things over, doesn’t say anything.

The silence becomes unbearable. Tamsin pushes her chair back. ‘I’ve just remembered I need to be somewhere,’ she says, her voice tight.

I push my chair back too. ‘No, you can stay, I’m going.’ I grab my bag from under the table. ‘If you must know, the reason I got involved was for Oliver’s sister. I was doing it for her. But as nobody else seems to care – not even you, Nina’s best friends – well, why should I?’ I start to move away and then stop. ‘And by the way, I didn’t make the man up, the one who came to the party. Lorna admitted to letting him in, remember?’

I manage to hold on to my tears until I get to the street outside. Then I dissolve. I walk quickly to Finsbury Park, my head down, my scarf pulled up around my ears, and crumple onto the first bench I find. Is that what I am, a fantasist? When I look at all the things I’ve allowed myself to believe over the last few weeks, I’m ashamed. Tamsin’s right, at one time or another I’ve suspected all of them of being involved in Nina’s murder.